Irish Werewolf Folklore Novels & Stories

I’m oblivious to how frozen everyone in the class are, especially the twins. She begins, “Werewolves live amongst us. Werewolves are legendary creatures. They appear in folklore, mythology, and modern popular culture. A werewolf is a human with the capability to shape-shift into a wolf or a wolf-like creature; the conditions for this transformation vary. Most commonly, the full moon is the catalyst. Werewolves symbolize the struggle between human intellect and animals, as they are powerful and dangerous creatures driven by instinct.”

"It's immediate death if any tries to cross the border" "Oh" Iris's tattoo got a third line added to her tattoo but the third line crossed the two lines she had before. "You have exactly the type of tattoo my mum has," Willow whispered to Iris. "Really?" "Yeah" Willow nodded. "Well, she was married to a werewolf and probably lived here before. Has she ever told you the story of her love and marriage?" Iris asked. "No. But I think that would probably be a great conversation" Willow smiled. "You see?" Iris waggled her eyebrows.

She was excited about the thought of meeting her mate, destined for her by the Moon goddess. Yes, you guessed right! Iris is a werewolf and I am a witch. And yes, all those stories you were probably told in the dark or around silly campfires by older kids just to scare the living shit out of you are true. Magic is real. Creatures, monsters, and things you would never believe were even possible were also very much real, and as a matter of fact, they all wanted me dead. I don't know what sin I must have committed in my past life but every single creature on this already fucked up planet wanted me dead.

He suggested they seek out Elder Rowan, the oldest and wisest of the werewolves, a keeper of ancient lore, whose knowledge spanned centuries. Elder Rowan lived in seclusion, deep within the Whispering Woods, a place shrouded in mist and mystery, where the veil between the worlds felt thin. The journey was perilous, the path treacherous, but the potential reward—unlocking the secrets of their past—outweighed the risks. Lyra and Ronan, accompanied by a small group of trusted warriors from different packs, embarked on their quest.

Iris said lightly, “you’ll have to eat.” This time, I took just one slice of pear before asking yet another question. “Did she have children or was she sacrificed?” “She had children.” My curiosity piqued. I took the last slice of pear and asked, “Where are they now? Do our children become Aubreys too? The children are werewolves too, am I right? Does that mean that I am going to be sleeping with my uncle?” Iris blinked once, clearly surprised, and then a slow smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.

The air in the chamber didn't just chill; it died. The figure standing in the corner was a grotesque mockery of life. Ronan’s body, which Zayden had broken with his bare hands, stood upright, but his limbs moved with a disjointed, mechanical twitching. The void-black eyes leaked a dark, viscous smoke that pooled at his feet. This wasn't a werewolf. This was the Hollow—an ancient, forbidden rite of the Virex line used only when a challenger refused to stay dead.

’ He pauses, but I still can’t find anything to say. ‘The myths and the legends, they’re real. Werewolves exist within our Illure, usually with noble bloodlines, there’s not many of us, but beyond our borders they’re not a secret.’ ‘Werewolves…’ I repeat the word as if I’ve never heard it before. But of course I have. I heard the stories of Fendragon, a great black wolf who became the king and settled the lands of Illure. A myth, a story to give a man status beyond mortality.

They are hiding not all human knowledge of their existence, they believe humans as weak creatures. werewolf in European folklore, a man who turns into a wolf at night and devours animals, people, or corpses but returns to human form by the day. One of the earliest known werewolf legends comes from a greek mythology. According to the legend, a man named Lycaon angered Zeus, the lord of the Gods, when he served Zeus a meal made from human flesh. As punishment, the enlarged Zeus turned Lycaon into a wolf and that was how werewolves came into existence.

He wanted to train me on how to use my new-found powers, and develop them to unlock new abilities I may not know I have. He had told me I was not the regular werewolf like the others. I was an Ñyora, a descendant from an old race of Celtic werewolves who were exterminated and banished. It all sounded strange to me. One day I was wolf-less, and the other day, I was not only a werewolf, but a unique type with violet eyes and floating hair. "Yes. Yesterday." He narrowed his eyes at mine, and held my gaze for a moment. "Are you sure you're okay, Iris?"

It was at that very time that something else started running through my mind. I sat back at my desk, creating a new search bar as I put in the word 'Werewolves.' There were several stories and folklore about the creatures from different cultures across the world. Most of them gave the same descriptions; half men, half beasts, who turned every full moon. Some described them as men eating demons.