Myths Stories Novels & Stories

Stories and folklore that have partly inspired my decision to climb it. Ever since I was a child, I have heard stories of the different monsters that exist at the very top of this mountain. My belief in these stories has gone through multiple stages. I spent most of my childhood thinking them to be the gospel and often wondered what it would be like to see these monsters and go on an adventure. Then, I became a teenager and disbelief took its place in my mind. I scoffed at those monster stories I once believed and made fun of anyone who brought them up. “Monsters don’t exist anywhere,” I often said. “They’re just stories that your parents tell you to keep you from going up that mountain.”

I say, "Something that no-one else knows...." She twists to look up at me, forehead puckering. ".... Tell me something, that when I think about it, will just be mine; a little piece of you that no-one else has." Understanding dawns. Her expression goes distant for a moment, her gaze outward again, and empty; then turning back, she looks up into my face. "When I was a little girl, we didn't have a lot of books, but all the ones we had, I read. And my favourites were always the old myths and fairy tales; stories about Greek and Roman and Egyptian gods, Norse warriors and ice giants in the north, Hans Christian Anderson, Brothers Grimm, all that sort of thing....

Seeing that she would not give up from siding the night roamer, he decides to tell her a story to compliment her belief. “You know, according to our popular children stories, some believe he is a handsome prince from a far away kingdom made of gold, and enchantment and magic. While others believes he is a demon that haunts evildoers and people of little conscience until they give up their evil ways, or pay for their sins with blood” He narrates, captivating her attention. “Tell me more please?” She pleads with irresistible eyes. “You are in luck, as I am a lover of myth!” he gestures towards a dry piece of log just opposite them.

Stories that are waiting for the right wolf to tell them. I smiled. "Then I will tell them." I gathered the wolves of Silvermoon in the great hall. "I have found the first story," I said. "The tale that started everything. But there are other stories. Stories that have not yet been told. Stories that are waiting for us to tell them." The wolves listened, their eyes bright with curiosity. "These stories are the future. They are the tales of wolves who have not yet been born, worlds that have not yet been created, possibilities that have not yet been realized. They are waiting for us to bring them into being."

he continued. No one explained further, and even Baxter started to nod his head. “I mean, even I was certain it was just a myth,” I added. “And this would not be the first time a place had myths surrounding it. There were many locations where strange stories emerged. Those places were scarier because there were witnesses, until everything was debunked.” “So it is foolish of us to leave a perfect place over a myth,” Baxter commented. Besides, as Ron had said he was trying to get us a place in his pack, I guessed it was better that we stayed here until we moved there.

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.

If she walked in now, I might have finished what my wolf wanted earlier. A heavy silence settled. Then one elder, grey-haired, scarred across the cheek, eyes too alert for his age, finally spoke. “What was that?” he asked, voice low. Not curiosity. Fear. His question wasn’t what happened? His question was what have we awoken? Another elder answered before Ethan could. “The myths,” she whispered. “The stories we told pups so they wouldn’t wander too close to the barrier.” A third elder, older than the rest, cane in hand, leaned forward slowly.

Over the last several days, the information I learned, and my conversation with Judith revolved around in my mind. Vampires, that was too comical to entertain such a notion. Europe, I know is filled with ancient myths and legends because of how old the country is. Each culture has a different myth. The whole vampire idea is fueled from culture myths and legends. It’s a fantasy based on superstitions because some people centuries ago contracted an illness that no one could understand at the time, so they labeled it ‘vampire’ and killed them. Innocent people killed because of epidemic hysteria and not real evidence, with no reliable medicine to diagnose an illness. Humanity can be so stupid at

Other stories were mere myths that were intended to scare children or dissuade them from doing a particular thing. The stories told, usually differed from one village to another, as did their gods, but a few were generally held and respected by all. One myth in Umuoku that was known only to the members of the village was a story about using a broom to sweep. If a child or an adult mistakenly uses the sharp edges of a broom to pierce someone, it was believed that the victim who was in contact with the edges of the broom was at risk, and may suffer a terrible disease unless the person who caused his or her predicament, raises the broom high and pierced its edges towards the earth to cleanse th

For that… could kill them. The little orphans of the slums bundled together, a hand for each ear. They remembered the old myth and deemed it the cause. It was one of the oral folktales of Antacast, passed from one generation to another. The demigods of lightning and thunder fighting again for the wind goddess’ favor, as the old tales had told.