Myth Writing Novels & Stories

But if it was possible… As the search results populated the screen, I clicked on the first article that caught my eye, hoping it would shed some light on my problem. Article 1: The Mythology of Werewolves 'Werewolves, also known as lycanthropes, are mythical creatures that appear in folklore and legends across various cultures. The transformation into a werewolf is typically associated with the full moon, although variations exist in different traditions. The exact methods of becoming a werewolf vary, but common themes include being bitten by an existing werewolf, a curse, or practising dark magic. The notion of werewolves congregating in packs is prevalent in many legends, often in remote o

Now, looking at the words sliding across the screen in my own cadence twisted slightly wrong, I understood: I hadn’t just been fighting systems. I’d been writing their myths. And someone, somewhere, had decided to make a god out of my shadow. I smiled, thin and sharp. “Okay,” I said, more to myself than the machine. “Let’s see who survives who.” My fingers found the keys again. And for the first time, I walked willingly into a conversation with my own ghost.

Although my pulse was pounding with a mix of surprise, anxiety, and interest, I tightened my jaw and forced myself to remain still in order to maintain the steadiness of my voice. My inner historian came to life. Once, before I was overwhelmed by conflict, duty, and blood, I spent years poring over literature that most people wrote off as myths. Forgotten documents, half-burned scrolls, or broken tales carved into stone. Stories about creatures that formerly roamed with wolves but had disappeared so thoroughly that the world had dismissed them as myths. Stories about fire, blood, and elements that could bend to their will were whispered.

However, to some others, I don’t, still thinking about how I would develop things. The difficulty for me is on how I have really no template to follow. The entire universe had to be plotted by me. There are no CEO/werewolf/academy/mafia/cultivation patterns to copy or reference. I have yet to find any other Philippine myth inspired story yet (which just proved how unpopular and less known it is). But at the same time, I believe this is the beauty of this concept. Later, I would be able to feel proud that I wrote something about my country’s local myth (screw inconsistencies and lack of information which I patched up with my own imagination).

“Do you like fantasy?” “Like dragons and Lord of the Rings stuff? No. I don’t think of the Greek gods as fantasy. I think of them as history.” He looked surprised. “So, you believe in it all?” I shrugged. “I don’t know that I don’t believe in it. I think you have to wonder where the stories came from. Every myth stems from something. What sparked the stories? And it is so elaborate. It would have taken a mastermind to just make up this whole world of people and give them each a story.”

Then a few lines to make the story complete. With every word I penned, I felt the energy of magic coursing through my veins. I realized that writing was not just a means of communication, but a conduit for the mystical forces that lay dormant within me. Through mt words, I could shape reality, heal wounds, and manifest my deepest desires.

Talk of ‘spirits separated from their bodies’ reminded him of Ashkan and the ruined remains of the other men. “All myth starts as story,” said the driver. “Sometimes we call the story history, sometimes religion, eventually it all becomes myth. Beneath every myth is an ancient tale, a hidden belief that gives shape and form to every god that’s ever received a prayer on a dark and lonely night.” “Okay, now you’re getting wa-ay deep. Does this ‘ancient belief’ have a name then?” “It’s had many names, in every language ever spoken. Some call it ‘the Oldest Truth,’ others—the ‘Faith that Came before Man.’”

CHAPTER 18 DAYLIGHT AIDEN I write and sometimes I paint. At first I started with writing stories, stories of strong heroes who went off to distant lands to vanquish powerful foes and bring honor to their kingdoms. I wrote of princesses trapped in magical towers, fated to live a life dictated by their horrible conniving mother but through the power of true love and determination manage to free themselves from such a fate. One time I wrote of a ghost that haunted a village for a hundred years but that ghost was actually a misunderstood little boy longing for a friend.

"It's a beautiful one. You have read it?" "Um. No, not yet." "Myth of The Broken Throne. Do you believe in myths?" He looked at me. "I didn't, not until I read this book. Do you believe in them?" I asked back. He kept the book on the table and looked out of the window, staring into the dipping moon. "Isn't that the purpose of a myth? To keep you thinking about its historicity. But its originality can only be said by someone who was a part of it. Don't you think so?"

I watched her fade because I could not find the blood of the Ancient known as ‘The Myth. I felt a pang of sorrow for Alexander. The book went on to describe the tragedy of "The Myth." He had been the King of all Alphas, a being of such power that his blood was rumored to have magical properties, it could heal any wound and even bring a wolf back from the brink of death.