Among the Mythos

In the time before time, the First War ended the peace of the peoples of the Earth.

Driven and desperate, survivors bred for power and magic, and succeeded with a legacy too great for their mortal forms. Decimated by enemies and their own ill plans, gasping survivors clawed their way to the new worlds born from their shattered home, remaking those spheres in their own image.

Unsure of uncertain future and unpredictable might, as one they turned to Naktam, the Lord of Night Whispers for advice—for he was oldest, strangest, and the most resilient. 

He who knew Death by name and embodied the hunger of all worlds advised them to divide by soul’s desire and blood’s prime power, and so all fell like falling seeds into seven Peoples.

They hoped to prevent further conflict. That did not work. 

The Peoples, however, retained the silos of safety and community, even if the Ever-Dying had no magic, and the Kin were of no account. And so each came to choose their names, their passions of blood and spirit, and the runes which named them clear. In time, simpler symbols were added for the sake of children and the lesser educated. 

Today, the Seven Peoples remain strong, and few there are who fight this many-reined yoke.

Throughout the books, I have tried to use the symbol of the protagonist’s People both as chapter headings and as ornamental divider to set the stage. 

No one is defined by their People, any more than an ethnicity or culture determines who a person is, but it does influence environment and options. Understanding this ancient rubric is the first step into this world, and explains why these beings always introduce themselves thus: Among the Mythos, I am [People,] called [name.] Who are you?