Our Origins

From Prime Time to the Paranormal Aisle: The Origins of Lair of Mythics

Long before the first product ever shipped, before the dragons flew off the digital shelves and goblins delivered customer order numbers by enchanted scroll, Lair of Mythics was something else entirely: a spark. And that spark ignited during the golden age of weird television.

To trace the roots of Lair of Mythics, you have to go back to creaky late-night floors, glowing screens, and the haunting voice of Robert Stack on Unsolved Mysteries. For many of us, that was the first time we heard about shadowy creatures in the woods, unexplained lights in the sky, or government agents whispering about cover-ups that just didn’t add up. The stories weren’t always proven, but they didn’t have to be. They stirred something more important—possibility.

Then came The X-Files, a cultural earthquake cloaked in trench coats and cigarette smoke. Each episode was a masterclass in myth-making, weaving aliens, cryptids, and ancient conspiracies into modern legend. Mulder believed. Scully demanded evidence. And viewers? We hovered somewhere in between, bingeing both belief and skepticism like popcorn and soda.

That sweet spot—where truth meets tale—is exactly where Lair of Mythics was born.

Founded with a deep love for the uncanny and the unexplained, Lair of Mythics isn’t just a store; it’s a shrine to that childhood curiosity. Every product is handpicked (or summoned) to evoke that feeling you got when you first heard about Mothman hovering over Point Pleasant or a UFO landing in a snowy field. Whether it’s a mug featuring the Loveland Frogman wielding a wand, or a shadowbox relic that looks like it was pulled from Area 51’s broom closet, each item whispers the same promise: The truth might be out there, but the merch is right here.

What started as hours of paranormal programming became a lifelong obsession—and finally, a brand. Lair of Mythics is for the kids who grew up reading Weekly World News like scripture, who paused their VHS tapes to catch blurry glimpses of something unnatural in the woods, and who now want to bring that same spark into their homes.

So light a candle. Dust off your copy of Communion. And welcome to the lair.

Your childhood obsession just became your favorite store.