Eldritch Terrors Mythology Novels & Stories

Her drawings had filled the entire room—symbols etched on paper, on fabric, even carved gently into the wooden floors. Dahlia stepped in, her lips pursed in barely disguised fear. “She’s drawing glyphs,” she said. “But not from our grimoires. These... these are from the Third Door.” Yvette frowned. “What is that?” “A myth. Even the Circle feared it. It’s said to be the realm beneath the mirrors. A place where time bleeds and souls invert. Elise tried to reach it once. She failed.” “What happens if someone succeeds?” Yvette asked.

"It was familiar, you see. A echo of something once known." "A echo of me." The smile grew on Draven's face killed. "The gods consider themselves so clever, having their new hero take up where the one they rejected has left off. But they erred in one place." He had investigated as far as he could into the encampment, where his territory ended with an encircling row of standing stones, the demarcation between his territory and the neutral ground beyond. The stones bore inscriptions that it was agony to view directly, binding spells inscribed in languages older than man. In the center of the circle, three forest spirits contorted in cages of shadow and misery, their forms fluking manward and b

Creatures like blood wraiths, banshees, vampires, skin-walkers, and soul eaters, all now believed to be myths and almost completely forgotten by modern werewolf society. My eyes slowed over the next line, my headache dulling just slightly as something about the wording caught my attention. I leaned forward, squinting as I tried to piece together the translation in my head, sounding the words out quietly under my breath. “Ithra’kil,” I read. Ithra meaning “one who wields,” and Kil meaning “power.” “One who wields power,” I muttered, my brow furrowing before it suddenly lifted as I sat up straighter.

“Not Void. Not pack. Something old. Something that lived before wolves and even before the realms were split.” Eryndor staggered backwards, almost falling. “The Primordials,” he whispered with eyes wide in terror. Dax cursed. “You’re telling me there’s something in existence that is far worse than the Void?” Aria whispered, “My child is afraid of them.” That terrified everyone more than anything else. That night, Aria had a dream. She saw fire, roots and stars tearing apart. She woke screaming in fear. Dax held her until her breathing returned to normal.

Anything that could give him answers. He stopped in the mythology and local folklore section. His eyes were drawn to an old, worn-looking book with a cover made of untitled leather. As if a magnet were pulling his hand, he reached for it. The book opened by itself to a certain page. The illustration there made his blood freeze. It was a drawing of a handsome man with eyes shining like a predator, standing over a pile of corpses, with a dark, horned shadow shape stretching out behind him. Below the image was one word in ancient script that he somehow knew how to read: MORAT.

The hall finally grew quiet. Then something new hit me through the bond. Not from Drax. Not from the pack. Something wider. Deeper. Like the land itself had woken. Nythera pushed forward sharp and sudden. Images flooded me. Ancient stones far beyond the border territories. Runes glowing blood-red instead of silver. A shadow moving under the ground, thick and ancient. Voices whispering old warnings. The bloodline had been buried for a reason. Not just fear of power. Fear of what it would wake when it finally returned.

First off, Dragons don’t even exist anymore, not since the ancient wars. “I’ve never seen most of those creatures. And a Dragon, Griffin and Sphinx?” I question incredulously. Dylan shrugs his shoulder. “I’m telling you, he watches over a few in Tri-ad,” Dylan once again explains. Tri-ad? From what I know, that’s a realm between Eldora and Hell, only spirits of the dead pass through it. “Have you gone crazy?” I wonder loudly. Theia giggles. I’m momentarily surprised she’s here. She seems to be as interested in the conversation as I am.

A while later the rabbit came back, the young chief caught it and it scattered as mana and dissolved into his palm. The young chief signaled others to charge forward, they entered Dracendale very cautiously taking cover behind the trees and bushes. The Dracendale was a very terrifying valley because of its shape and the beings that reside in the valley. It had two entrances alining with each other nearly 180 degrees, it was literally O shaped and was surrounded by mountains. In the center of the valley, there was an enormous lake. In numerous legends, people said that the water contained pure mana, the lake was upon a mana pit. But no one dared to take ownership of the lake, because it was t

For the night is dark and full of terrors," Sryrn and her queen's men replie d. Moriah peeled off the glove and let it fall to the ground, ready to turn into the Legend. The gods in the pyre were scarcely recognizable anymore. The head fell off the smith with a puff of ash and embers. Myra sang in the tongue of Waterfall, her voice rising and falling like the tides of the sea. Ezekiel untied his singed leather cape and listened in silence. Thrust in the ground, it still glowed ruddy hot, but the flames that clung to the sword were dwindling and dying.

The priest, who now had been killed, foresaw the tragedy to come and had enclosed their world, making it disappear from the face of the earth, yet in existence. When this had been done and another vision instructed that the people would voice out complaints to move to the new world, the other druids, came together and created the ‘Mylanthrope’- a misty cloud that takes one to the outer world under his wish. Their long-time counterparts heard of so and by the help of the demon, enclosed their own world, preparing ardently for Aberdeen so as to strike and lock them forever in the ancient land and make them slaves. They prepared, with snatches of upsetting Aberdeen. And on many occasions, the p