Mythic Fiction Novels & Stories

But what they didn’t expect is that their heads was severed from their body the second they come near him with his barred hands, and started eating some misfortune one’s body, some children cried, women begin to panic, holding their children away, while most of the men that are few in numbers, holding whatever weapon their hand reach to kill the crazy guy as soon as possible before he can take with him more causalities. After all they are not some peaceful oppressed people, but ruff mountain villagers and Vikings who’s hands are filled with blood and experienced war with people and nature, fighting both men and beast, however what they are facing now is not some mortal, but another creature

"I haven't. And if I have it doesn't matter. Sometimes Old Nan would tell the same story she'd told before, but we never minded, if it was a good story. Old stories are like old friends, she used to say . You have to visit them from time to time." "That's true." Meera walked with her shield on her back, pushing an occasional branch out of the way with her frog spear. Just when Bran began to think that she wasn't going to tell the story after all, she began, "Once there was a curious lad who lived in the Neck. He was small like all crannogmen, but brave and smart and strong as well. He grew up hunting and fishing and climbing trees, and learned all the magics of my people." Bran was almost ce

Although this information is well known, mythicals are still a mystery to the rest of civilization, if encountered, don’t stare into its gaze. HM, what bullshit. Slamming the book, I huff before pushing it away from me and stare at it while it joins the other books on the floor. I stand and stretch my legs that have been sitting under me for the past 2 hours. This library might be helpful at times, but comfort is definitely not one of its strong suites.

Instead, because rationality had been quietly losing ground for days, I heard myself say, “Folklore.” Judith’s brows rose just slightly. “Local?” “And… broader.” I tried to sound casual. “Wolf myths. Shape shifter stories. That sort of thing.” Judith did not laugh. That, somehow, was worse. She only nodded and came around the desk. “Back left corner. Mythology, regional legends, comparative folklore. We also have some fiction if you want the less academic versions.” Less academic versions. Like I was shopping for bedtime stories instead of trying to decide whether my life had cracked open into impossibility.

Sometimes, late at night, I thought about the Madrigals. About fae and dragons and mythics that blurred the line between story and truth. About bloodlines powerful enough to be hunted—or hidden. If I was one of them, it explained things I’d never had words for. The way music felt like language instead of sound. The way certain places hummed under my skin. It didn’t explain why I’d been left behind. Maybe that part didn’t matter. I wasn’t sure yet whether being mythic meant destiny—or just survival with better adjectives.

He has a wife for crying out loud. "So let's continue from where we stop." Grace said when she saw the handsome newcomer wasn't staring at her. "What's a Myth?" "A traditional story, especially one concerning the early history of a people or explaining some natural or social phenomenon, and typically involving supernatural beings or events." One of the students answered. "That's very nice definition of Myth John." Grace said smiling at John. "So who can explain more of Myth functions?"

Lucian catches a falling star and hurls it back into the sky as a new constellation. Kayo convinces the moon god that stealing the moon is actually his idea. Rowan quotes a footnote so obscure Death forgets why it came. We keep crossing, keep rewriting, keep breaking every legend that was written before we were born. At 00:03 left on the timer, all six stories collapse into one. We stand in the center of the Crucible Ring again, surrounded by the smoking remains of six dead myths. The pedestals are gone. Thunderstrike takes a slow sip of coffee.

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.

“We don’t have anything, let alone a rapport. I barely know you, Dr. Scott.” He gave a melodramatic wince. “Ouch. You don’t have to hurt my feelings, precious.” She rolled her eyes. “Just tell me what you have to say so I can get out of here.” Where she was going, she didn’t entirely know, but she was certain it wasn’t going to be back to the Allises, and she wasn’t staying around here with these six weirdos—no matter how handsome they were. “We aren’t really called the mythics, except as a collective term we all agreed upon a few hundred years ago. It’s almost a tongue-in-cheek poke at the obliviousness of humanity.”

'Myths are different than fairy tales or legends. Legends are stories based in history and are more or less true. Myths, on the other hand, are stories containing a deeper truth—stories that transcend time. If you were to travel the world, you would find myths that are remarkably similar to one another—stories of heroes fighting the darkness with the light.' ❤❤❤❤ ☀️MY RAE OF LIGHT (Part Two) ☀️ ❤❤❤❤