Myths and folklore serve as timeless gateways into the soul, especially for women. These stories, passed through generations, bypass reason to touch the depths of our inner worlds, highlighting themes of transformation, loss, and renewal. They reveal a wild, instinctive part of us, waiting to be rediscovered.

Engaging with myths invites a journey into self-discovery. These tales remind us that our struggles are part of a shared human experience, echoing through time. In them, we find permission to release, to grieve, to change, and to reclaim what has been lost. Myths call us back to our true selves, showing that healing begins in the dark spaces where inner strength and transformation lie in wait.

Watch Martin Shaw tell the story here.

Once upon a time, in a kingdom far away, there lived a king and queen who had everything they could ever desire—wealth, a grand castle, loyal subjects. Yet, despite their many blessings, there was one thing they lacked: a child. The queen yearned deeply to hold a baby in her arms. Each day she would pray and wish, but her womb remained barren.

One day, while wandering the castle gardens in despair, the queen met a strange old woman who seemed to appear from nowhere. The woman, her eyes sharp and knowing, listened to the queen’s sorrow and offered a peculiar solution. “Eat these two onions from your garden,” the old woman instructed, pressing the bulbs into the queen’s hands. “But remember, peel each one carefully before you eat it, or you will regret it.”

The queen, eager to follow any advice that promised her a child, hurried back to her chambers. But in her excitement, she forgot the old woman’s warning. She devoured the first onion without peeling it, her mind racing with thoughts of a baby. Only then did she remember and carefully peel the second onion before eating it. In time, the queen found herself with child, her heart swelling with joy.

When her time came, she gave birth not to one child but to twins. However, her joy was short-lived. The first child, born of the unpeeled onion, was no ordinary baby. He was a hideous creature, part human and part serpent—a Lindworm. Horrified, the queen looked away, unable to bear the sight. Moments later, her second child was born, a beautiful and healthy prince.

To protect her family and her kingdom, the queen ordered that the Lindworm be taken away and hidden. No one was to speak of him again. Years passed, and the kingdom all but forgot about the serpent prince. The second-born child grew into a fine young man, beloved by all. As he reached the age of marriage, the king and queen began searching for a bride for him. The whole kingdom prepared for a grand wedding.

But on the day he was to set out in search of his bride, a shadow appeared on the road. The prince pulled back his horse, startled, as the Lindworm slithered before him, immense and terrifying, blocking his way. The Lindworm’s voice was thick and dark as he hissed, “Older brothers marry first.”

The prince, horrified, returned to the castle and told his parents what had happened. The king and queen, remembering their hidden child, were filled with dread but could not deny the Lindworm his birthright. “Older brothers marry first,” they muttered to themselves, the words weighing heavily on their hearts. Reluctantly, they arranged a marriage for the Lindworm.

The first bride was a young maiden, fair and innocent. She was sent to the Lindworm’s chambers with trembling hands and a veil over her face, but by morning, she had vanished. The only thing left of her was a single bloodstain on the bed. The kingdom fell silent, grief mingling with fear.

The Lindworm’s demands did not end there. Another bride was sent to him, and again she was devoured. Time after time, the kingdom offered brides to the monstrous prince, and each met the same fate. The people grew desperate, whispers of curses and sins long buried began to fill the air. No one dared to offer another maiden.

Until, at last, a young woman of no great standing came forward. She had no family to grieve her loss, no dowry, no noble name. With calm eyes and steady hands, she agreed to be the Lindworm’s bride. Before her wedding night, she sought out the wise old woman who had given the queen the onions all those years ago. She listened closely to the crone’s instructions, accepting the peculiar tasks laid before her.

That night, the young woman entered the Lindworm’s chambers, dressed in a gown of many white shifts, layered one over another. The Lindworm awaited her, his serpentine body coiled and his eyes gleaming in the dark.

“Take off your clothes,” he hissed.

The young woman looked at him, unafraid, and replied, “Only if you shed your skin first.”

The Lindworm let out a terrible hiss but agreed. He began to wriggle and squirm, peeling off his thick, scaly skin, layer by monstrous layer. When he was done, a new layer of flesh lay exposed, raw and vulnerable. Only then did the young woman remove one of her shifts, standing before him with the next layer still in place.

“Take off more,” he demanded.

“Only if you shed another skin,” she replied.

And so it went, layer by layer. For every skin the Lindworm shed, the woman removed another shift, slowly revealing herself as he, too, exposed more of his hidden self. Beneath each layer, he grew smaller, his form softening, his monstrous scales giving way to tender flesh. She shed her shifts until at last she stood in only her bare skin, and he was no longer a Lindworm but a young man, pale and trembling, his true self finally revealed.

The woman took him into her arms, and together they lay down, no longer bound by the curses or fears of the past. In her compassion and courage, she had freed him from the spell that had twisted him into a monster. With her love, she had called him back to his humanity.

The next morning, the people of the kingdom awoke to the news. The Lindworm was no more, and in his place stood a young prince, redeemed and whole. The king and queen wept with joy and sorrow for what had been lost and found. And as for the young woman, she and the Lindworm, now fully human, were wed in a ceremony that celebrated not just a marriage, but a profound transformation—a journey from darkness into light.

From that day forward, the kingdom remembered: sometimes we must shed many skins, many layers, to reveal the truth beneath. And sometimes, the path to healing requires a brave soul who will stand unflinching before the monsters within us, waiting patiently as each part is brought to light.

The archetypes in any story are mirrors reflecting the deeper truths within us. By exploring these archetypes, we uncover hidden aspects of ourselves—our fears, desires, strengths, and vulnerabilities. In this way, the characters we encounter in stories are not just distant figures; they are pieces of us, guiding us toward greater self-awareness and transformation. Through them, we learn to embrace the complexity of who we are.

In The Lindworm, several archetypes emerge, reflecting deep aspects of our journey toward self-discovery and transformation:

• The Crone – The wise old woman represents the archetype of the Crone, carrying deep wisdom and foresight. She understands life’s cycles and the consequences of tampering with the unknown. By advising the queen about the onions, she becomes the gatekeeper of knowledge, foreshadowing the trials ahead and underscoring the theme of careful preparation in any act of creation. Later, her guidance to the bride makes her a crucial figure for transformative wisdom, teaching that facing darkness requires inner strength and a ritual of release.

• The Queen (The Mother) – As the Mother archetype, the queen embodies creation but also impatience and unintended consequences. Her desire for a child leads her to act without heeding warnings, resulting in the birth of the Lindworm. This archetype highlights the shadow side of motherhood, where unchecked desire or a rush to create can bring forth not only life but also darkness and struggle. Through her, the story speaks to the duality of motherhood: the capacity for life and love, alongside the potential for pain, separation, and transformation.

• The Lindworm (The Shadow/Monster) – The Lindworm himself embodies the Shadow, the hidden and monstrous parts of the self that must be acknowledged and transformed. As the archetype of the monster, he represents the darker aspects of the psyche—those that society rejects or fears. His monstrous form must be shed, layer by layer, before his humanity can emerge, symbolizing how confronting and integrating the shadow self allows for transformation. The Lindworm’s demand that “older brothers marry first” suggests a primal, raw need for recognition and healing before the rest of the self can fully thrive.

• The Bride (The Maiden) – The brave young bride represents the Maiden, stepping forward as an archetype of courage, innocence, and vulnerability. Her willingness to face the Lindworm’s darkness marks her as a transformative force, one who brings healing through confrontation. She undergoes her own symbolic death by shedding her white shifts alongside his scales, revealing her own vulnerability as she guides the Lindworm through transformation. Her innocence and strength work together to bring redemption, making her a powerful vessel for change.

Exploring the Inner Crone

"Reflect on a time when you were given advice or a warning that you didn’t fully understand but later found significant. What wisdom did this experience hold, and what was transformed in you as a result? How might you connect more with your inner Crone—the part of you that holds wisdom and foresight in your life?"

Facing the Shadow (The Lindworm)

"Consider the parts of yourself that you might view as a ‘Lindworm’—the hidden, perhaps monstrous aspects that you or others find difficult to accept. What layers might these parts be hiding, and what would it mean to peel them back? How can you approach these aspects with compassion, transforming them rather than rejecting th

The Maiden’s Courage

"Reflect on a situation where you chose to face something unknown, intimidating, or painful, even when others might have turned away. How did this experience transform you? In what areas of your life might the Maiden archetype be asking you to step forward with courage and openness?"

Embracing Transformation

"What layers or ‘skins’ do you feel are ready to be shed in your life? These could be beliefs, habits, roles, or fears that no longer serve you. Imagine yourself peeling them away one by one. What new aspects of yourself might emerge as a result? How can you honour this process as an act of transformation and renewal?"