Eldritch Terrors Mythology Novels & Stories

'Flee, Rhea'" The sound of my father, Draven, bounced between the leafless branches. There I was, back when I was young, dashing through dark fog that slithered low on the earth. That sickness had its own way of moving, not like fever or cough, but more like something starved, draining green from trees and warmth from fur, turning wolves hollow. One after another, those I’d grown up with dropped. No wounds opened. Just bodies shrinking, cracking like brittle parchment, sight fading as though some unseen force tugged their inner fire downward into silence. Yet this time, the dream felt off. Before, terror had locked my attention straight ahead, now, without choice, my eyes lifted skyward. Up

“A lich and a draugr? It would explain the monstrosities all being forms of undead and it would explain the need to avoid as much light as possible. But how long has he been working on this? How many failures before this? Both rituals have a high failure rate by themselves.” “A draugr that’s a word I have not heard in ages. Correct me if I am wrong but it’s a form of revenant? How did you come to that conclusion?” Rolo came back to the table and sat down in a chair beside Dean again. “Well, I couldn’t make out this word on multiple pages. He’s written it as he was excited or something while he wrote it so it’s very hard to read. But when you said lich it made sense when I was looking at it

Idris immediately noticing my heat, and getting up from his chair to come behind me to rub my shoulders in an attempt to make me feel better. “Aurora, something like this doesn’t happen a lot. Or really hasent happened at all in a very, very long time. We do not make mistakes, nor do we allow humans into our lives as it is very dangerous for us. A human has not been changed in centuries. Part of one of the old scared peace treaties, made long ago. No human was allowed to be changed unless he or she was of blood relation to a mythic entity. Being as such, no human mythical relationships have happened in longer then centuries. We all stay hidden, and quiet in our lives. We have our own ways of

Drake says. “Does it say how you will change the world, bringing the broken factions together?” I ask. He frowns at me. “Did you read it?” “No, I didn’t have to. It’s what you’re doing.” After the first night, the tension goes away and over the next week, we meet GoldMoon, the Ceryneian Hind from Greek mythology, the techrechauns, the trolls, and finally, we got to meet Lucero, the unicorn.

"She lived through it Di. She got through and survived, just like you." "How could they try to sacrifice a child to a god that may not exist?" "What god? You mean the moon goddess?" "No...Lycrith, god of the Lycans, or god of Darkness to others... The cult tricked my grandfather in believing it was her, but it was never her, it was Lycrith that they worshipped. They believed that one day Lycans will return back from extinction, ruling over wolves and humanity alike. " I looked down to the rabbit and stroked my hand across its soft head one last time before gently placing it on the ground.

“My father used to rap me over the knuckles if I didn’t write neatly.” A melancholy smile plays over my mate’s lips as he reaches for my notepad and pen. He compares my inept translations to his own. “These are recipes for potions that kill various creatures. Vampires, nymphs, werewolves, Lycans-” he looks up at me – “this word-” he points to something that I couldn’t find in any of the dictionaries I’ve tried -“doesn’t translate as demon, it translates to she-dragon.” “What? Seriously? There were dragons?”

We pored over crumbling pages filled with cryptic symbols and forgotten languages, our hope a fragile flame flickering in the encroaching darkness. Elijah, his scholarly fervor now tinged with a desperate urgency, tirelessly translated passages, his fingers tracing faded inscriptions under the dim lamplight. He spoke of ancient rituals, of forgotten lore, of desperate measures taken by Thorne lineage members in the face of similar threats. Many of the accounts ended in tragedy, serving as grim reminders of the power and ruthlessness of the malevolent entity.

I pressed the blade of my knife to the flesh connecting her ear to her head. “Make no mistake, Lilith. Lying to me will only worsen your situation,” I spat, and she nodded, trembling with fear. “Talk.” She swallowed hard, lowering her gaze to the floor. “It’s a mythical creature that was created from both celestial magic and darkness. Due to its terrifying bloodlust, it was sealed in oblivion by the goddess of light.” She bit her lower lip, shifting slightly. “It awakens every eclipse to possess the body of its vessel.”

The warriors tightened their grips on their weapons, muscles coiled like springs. From the shadows stepped a figure — gaunt, cloaked in tattered leather, eyes wild yet clear. “I am the scout you seek,” the figure said hoarsely, voice trembling with fatigue and fear. “The enemy grows stronger. They are not merely men or beasts… but something far older and darker.” Elara’s breath caught as the scout recounted a tale of a hidden force, ancient and malevolent, rising beneath the surface of their lands — a force that thrived on their division, feeding on despair and chaos.

They emerge from a hole in the ground, a dark and menacing opening that seems to be the very gate to the underworld. The Drider, an equally terrifying entity, accompanies them. Its appearance is a grotesque blend of spider and humanoid, with a body covered in dark hair and long, sharp legs that creak with every movement. Its eyes, a bloody red, reflect pure malice and an insatiable thirst for power. Together, Drider and the Skinning of the mind are the embodiment of horror, a sight that could chill the bravest of souls to the bone.