A Zoologist’s Guide to Surviving Magical Creatures

It had been one of those mornings. Not just any ordinary kind of morning, but the kind that makes you question if the universe has a personal vendetta against you.

I had almost died in a buggy crash thanks to an unfortunate encounter with a Storm Wyrm—yes, they are just as terrifying as they sound, and no, a Zoology degree doesn't prepare you for that kind of thing.

Not to mention the special treatment I received at the Dragonling Den, which, honestly, should've come with a warning label, 'May cause existential crisis and minor burns from accidental firebreathing'.

After narrowly avoiding a fiery death at the claws of a dragonling, I was left with one simple, primal desire, food.

Real food.

Not magical fruits (which I stole—borrowed— from sweet tooth's stash) or the weird kelp chips they served at the Den. I needed something hot, cheesy, and most importantly, not on fire.

So, naturally, I made my way to the food court.

I arrived in one piece—barely—and glanced around.

The place was packed, and for a brief moment, it felt a little more like a bustling city than a magical sanctuary for mythical creatures. Employees bustled around, some in human form, some… not so much.

"Whoa, that's a real centaur," I muttered under my breath. "And is that… a leprechaun?"

A centaur was ordering a sandwich, his hooves clicking on the marble floor with the kind of grace that made me feel ridiculously underdressed in my caretaker uniform.

Next to him, a leprechaun sat precariously on a stool, holding a mountain of fries that looked like it could feed a small army. I couldn't help but chuckle. Leprechaun diet, huh?

The crowd didn't seem to care much for my mutterings, but I wasn't exactly the social butterfly type.

Not yet, anyway.

I kept my head down and made a beeline for the pizza counter. At this point, I wasn't looking for an adventure. Just a solid, no-frills meal.

The pizza line was a short one, much to my relief. My stomach growled in response, making sure I knew how starved I was.

I ordered a beef pepperoni pizza, something simple but hearty. The prep was shockingly fast, and within minutes, I had my tray, a steaming plate of pizza, and a sense of accomplishment.

Finally, food.

I had just taken a bite when the storm hit.

Well, maybe not a storm, but it was close enough.

The food court doors burst open, and in trotted a herd of unicorns—yes, unicorns.

Not just any unicorns either. These were the kind of unicorns that made you reconsider all the decisions you'd ever made in your life. They weren't prancing through the place— they were charging. Their horns gleamed menacingly in the dim light as they surrounded me with terrifying precision. It was like a magical SWAT team on a mission.

I froze mid-bite, pizza slice suspended in the air.

"Uh… is something wrong with my pizza?" I asked, my voice trembling slightly. I might've been a zoologist, but unicorns were another species entirely. And no one had prepared me for this kind of encounter.

The unicorns didn't respond. They just stood there, a silent but threatening force. It felt like I was about to get arrested by a gang of horned horses. Before I could even process the absurdity of the situation, the herd parted like the Red Sea.

And that's when I saw it.

A tiny unicorn, a sparkle as they're called, trotted through the gap. It was adorable, almost painfully cute. Until it fixed its beady eyes on my pizza.

Time seemed to slow as I watched it approach. Its tiny hooves tapped on the floor, the sound uncomfortably loud in the stillness of the food court. The sparkle stopped right in front of me and stared at my pizza—no, not just stared. Honed in on it like a laser-guided missile.

I blinked. "Uh, okay," I said, a bit unsure how to proceed. "Do you… want a slice?"

As though responding to my offer, the sparkle's horn began to glow. The soft, ethereal light brightened, and before I could do anything, my pizza—my pizza—vanished.

Poof. Just like that. Gone.

My mouth dropped open, and I stared at the empty plate in disbelief. My last hope for nourishment had just been snatched away by a glittery little horse with a magical horn.

"H-Hey! That was mine!" I sputtered, my hands clutching at the plate in desperation, as if I could somehow will it back into existence.

The unicorns around me shifted, their horns still aimed at me like I was about to be arrested. I wasn't sure what kind of laws I'd broken, but I was about to find out.

Then, to my horror, the sparkle trotted over to the last slice of my pizza—the one I was still holding—its horn glowing once more.

I didn't even have time to react.

With a soft zap, my final slice disappeared as well.

I sat there, slack-jawed, the plate in my hands now completely empty, my eyes tracing the trail of unicorns as they trotted away.

They didn't even bother to look back. The sparkle led the charge, its tiny hooves tapping with all the dignity of royalty. The unicorns followed closely, their horns trained on me as though I were a criminal.

"Did I just get robbed… by unicorns?" I muttered, staring at the empty space where my lunch had been.

For a moment, I just sat there in stunned silence. Then, I let out a long, defeated sigh and slumped forward, my forehead meeting the cold table.

I had seriously just been robbed by a herd of magical horses.

At a food court.

On my lunch break.

The lunch bell chimed, signaling that break time was over, and I reluctantly looked up to see Eldrin, the elf I'd befriended on my first day. He was waving at me from across the food court, but something was off.

His wave was a little too… awkward. And his smile didn't quite reach his eyes.

Weird.

I gave him a half-hearted wave in return, but he turned away before I could get any closer. It wasn't like I was expecting him to join me for lunch or anything, but that brief interaction left a knot in my stomach.

The next few days were an utter nightmare. It didn't matter what I tried—pizza, tacos, sandwiches—my lunch became the daily target of the unicorn SWAT team.

Every time, they'd show up, surround me, and steal my food, led by the same sparkle who always seemed determined to make sure I went hungry.

What puzzled me most was that no one else was bothered. I watched other staff members and creatures eat their meals in peace while I became a daily lunch victim.

I'd never even interacted with unicorns before. My assignment was baby dragons. Why was this happening?

But I didn't have time to dwell on that, my focus was on my rapidly decreasing sanity. I shot Eldrin a message on my Mythica phone, desperate for answers.

Me: "Hey, why do the unicorns keep stealing my lunch??"

He replied almost instantly.

Eldrin: "They probably don't see you as a threat. Unicorns can be territorial, but they're also good at reading people. They might think you're an easy target."

Me: "What? Why me?!"

Eldrin: "You have… how do I put this… a 'gullible face.'"

Me: "???"

I stared at the message, offended. I did not have a gullible face. I mean, sure, I wasn't exactly a battle-hardened warrior, but I didn't look like a target, did I?

I glanced at my reflection in the phone's screen. Nope. Still not a gullible face… right?

Then, Eldrin sent me a link. I clicked it, and my blood ran cold.

It was a video of me, on my first day in Mythica. Me, clinging to the flying buggy, face twisted in panic as I tried not to fall off.

My heart sank as I watched it, knowing exactly what was happening. The camera zoomed in on my face in excruciating detail. And, to my horror, the video had gone viral.

The comments were even worse.

"Intern panic mode," "Classic rookie," and, of course, a few unicorn emojis.

My stomach churned. This is why they keep stealing my lunch.

They weren't targeting me because I was gullible (still in denial). They were targeting me because I was famous—for all the wrong reasons.

I leaned back in my chair, letting out a long, defeated sigh. "This internship is going to be the death of me."

As the days passed, things didn't improve. The unicorns continued to steal my lunch, as though it was some sort of ritual. And every time I tried to eat something—pizza, tacos, sandwiches—it would be gone in an instant.

Eldrin kept sending me links to more viral videos of my embarrassing moments, each one more humiliating than the last.

I was becoming a meme. And the worst part? I didn't even know how to stop it.

But as I sat in the food court, feeling completely defeated, a thought crept into my mind.

Maybe this wasn't just about the unicorns.

Maybe, just maybe, this whole internship was one big, wild adventure—and I was going to have to fight for every single bite.

I glanced at the empty plate in front of me, then at the crowd of mythical creatures who continued to eat in peace.

I was just about to leave when I saw something else—a figure in the back corner of the food court, watching me closely.

A figure I had not seen before.

This was just the beginning.