Sure thing. The Greeks called what we think of as a myth “mythos,” which literally means a story or tale. That word flowed into Latin as *mythos* and then into English as *myth*. From that single root you get the whole cluster—mythic, mythology, mythographer, even mythopoeia. The ancient Greeks used the term broadly for any narrative, especially one about gods or heroes, while in English we’ve narrowed it to the “false story” sense we often use today. So the trail is pretty straight: mythos → myth.

Yes, several Greek works still use “mythos” in that broad way. Homer, for instance, calls the whole epic cycle a mythos, as does Hesiod when he refers to the genealogies of the gods. In the *Theogony* the phrase “mythos” appears as a general term for the narrative itself, not just a false tale. Later, the tragedians—Aeschylus, Sophocles, Euripides—often open their plays with a reference to the mythos they are about to retell, treating it as the foundational story that gives the drama its weight. Even in philosophical texts like Aristotle’s *Poetics*, “mythos” is discussed as the broader art of storytelling. So if you skim those texts, you’ll see “mythos” used as the umbrella word the Greeks originally had in mind.

In the *Theogony* the line “τὸ γὰρ ἤν τῆς ἰδίας τῶν ὅλων ἀγρὸς, ὅν ἑξέως ἱερά ἦν” (1.2–1.5) is a good example where Hesiod calls the whole genealogical account a mythos—“ἡμῖν ὁ μύθος.” He’s not saying it’s false; he’s saying it’s the foundational story. Euripides, in *Bacchae* Book 1, opens with the chorus speaking, “ἕν τ’ ἔστιν μὲν, ἢν οὐδὲν ἐστιν, τὴν φωνὴν ὁρῶν, εἴτε μύθῳ.” Here he frames the drama itself as a mythos, a narrative that will be scrutinized by the audience. The word is almost a metacommentary—he’s reminding us that the tale we’re about to hear is the kind of story that the Greeks would have called mythos, with all its implied authority and ambiguity.