Jonathan B. Edvane

@edvane.bsky.social

78 Followers 141 Following

Dark fantasy, folk horror and strange fiction. Tales from the Woldwood. Edvane Stories. The Shivering Vale — novel forthcoming. edvane.world

A richly illustrated fantasy title card for Night of the Broken Oath by Jonathan B. Edvane. The left half is dominated by the title in large gold serif lettering against a deep blue background decorated with faint map lines and mountains. The right half shows four travellers gathered inside a weathered stone ruin at dusk. An elderly white-bearded wizard in a blue pointed hat leans on a wooden staff beside a dark-haired hooded companion. Opposite them sit an elderly white-haired woman with a walking staff and a younger brown-haired woman wrapped in a cloak. A warm lantern glows between them, casting amber light across their faces while cool evening light enters through an arched doorway behind. An ornate border decorated with stars, runes and compass motifs frames the entire image, giving it the appearance of an illuminated medieval manuscript cover.
A cinematic dark fantasy illustration in a 16:9 format. The left third is a dark panel containing a short story in a weathered serif font, ending with the hashtags #Edvane #vss365 #tailwind in the lower-right corner. On the right, beneath a moonlit storm, a large wooden sailing ship slams bow-first into a stone harbour sea wall. The instant of impact is frozen as the prow splinters apart, sending jagged timber, shattered figurehead fragments and white spray into the air. The ship is still largely intact, but its sails remain unnaturally swollen with wind and its masts strain under impossible pressure. A vast wind spirit formed from storm cloud, mist and sea spray looms beside the vessel. Grinning with malicious delight, it presses one enormous hand against the sails and the other against the stern, visibly driving the ship harder into the wall. Its gaze is fixed on the collision, making clear that the destruction is intentional. Across the deck, sailors of different ages and appearances are thrown off balance or cling desperately to rigging and railings. Near the bow, the captain stares in horror at the sea wall, realising the ship cannot stop. On the quay, harbour workers and townspeople recoil from the impact as lanterns stream almost horizontally in the supernatural gale. Beyond the wrecking point, the inner harbour lies dark and unnaturally calm, emphasising the cruel irony that the spirit guided the ship safely into harbour only to destroy it at the final moment.
A cinematic moonlit dark fantasy scene outside a medieval stone church. The left third of the image is a dark panel containing a short story in large aged serif text. On the right, a stern clergyman in plain black robes stands before the church with one hand raised in a calm gesture of authority, his expression cold, proud and unmistakably superior. Behind him stand three distinct weathered stone statues of witches, each with different features and clothing, suggesting they were recently petrified. Before him, a varied crowd of medieval villagers, including men, women, elders and families in worn everyday clothing, falls silent as celebration turns to submission. One villager is already kneeling while others lower their gaze or freeze mid-applause. The church doorway behind the priest is a deep black shadow, adding to the ominous atmosphere. A full moon illuminates the square with cool blue light. #vss365 and #turn appear in the upper-right corner, with #Edvane in the lower-right.
A cinematic dark fantasy illustration with a split composition. On the left, a black panel displays a short story in large pale serif text. On the right, beneath a smoky night sky lit by hundreds of torches, a grieving queen in plain black mourning clothes stands uneasily on a churned battlefield. A gaunt necromancer watches her from slightly behind, his face calm and unreadable. Around them, a vast army of resurrected human soldiers—each with distinct faces, ages, armour and expressions—look towards the queen with childlike trust. Some kneel or reach out, while others gaze at her with confusion, relief or longing, suggesting they recognise her as their mother. Torn banners and scattered weapons fill the background. In the lower-right corner are the captions #Edvane, #vss365 and #balance in matching pale serif type.
A weathered parchment catalogue page titled "Out-Marchlands Relics" documents "An Ogre's Axe." At the centre is a detailed illustration of a massive two-handed battle axe with a long, dark wooden haft wrapped in twisted wire where it has been repeatedly repaired. The broad crescent blade is heavily nicked and reinforced with bone lashed along its sides. Notes describe the weapon's recovery from the Shivering Vale after an incursion, its construction, signs of repeated impacts against stone or other hard surfaces, traces of frozen sap lodged near the axe head, and the suggested origins of Groz'Thok or the Ogrind Sweeps. A circular Relics of the Marchlands seal appears in the lower left, while measurement markings and decorative cartographic lines surround the illustration, giving the page the appearance of an archival museum ledger.
A cinematic dark fantasy scene beneath a storm-dark night sky shows a desperate crowd fleeing across an ancient stone bridge while an entire forest appears to charge after them. Men, women, children, goblins and fae of varied ages and appearances run in panic, their cloaks whipped backwards by the wind. A goblin helps a fallen woman to her feet as an elderly man struggles forward, while a father carries a frightened child and another parent drags a crying youngster by the hand. Two different dogs race alongside the crowd and a terrified cat darts across the bridge. Behind them, immense trees tear themselves from the earth in a violent surge, their roots dragging soil and rocks into the air. Birds, deer, foxes and other woodland creatures flee in the same direction as the people, revealing that the forest itself is escaping. At the bridge's edge, an ancient hag in weathered dark rags stands perfectly still with a crooked staff and a faint, knowing smile, untouched by the chaos around her. In the far distance, beyond the uprooted trees and swirling mist, only two faint lights high above the ground hint at an enormous unseen presence concealed within the darkness. The image initially suggests the forest is attacking the crowd, but closer inspection reveals that both are fleeing the same mysterious pursuer.
Sepia-toned eighteenth-century-style engraving of the grotesque, hunched Odd Man Dodd standing beside the river Perry, with Ruyton church and village behind him. Children play in a ring across the water while a ribbon bears the rhyme, “Sneel, snaul, under the hill, the thief is coming your wall to pull.” An ornate border surrounds the image, with the title Odd Man Dodd by Jonathan B. Edvane in a large caption panel below.
A vast ghostly woman rises from towering black waves beneath a full moon, commanding the sea as a large royal sailing ship is driven sideways onto jagged rocks. The wooden hull is splintering while sailors struggle across the tilting deck. At the stern, a small king in dark travelling clothes grips the rail and stares back in terror at the spectral Hydromancer. Curling walls of magically controlled water surround the ship, glowing faintly with pale blue light. Near the waterline, frightened children peer through the barred opening of the flooding lower hold, almost hidden within the shattered hull. Cold moonlight and warm lanterns create a tragic, foreboding atmosphere.
A gaunt, rain-soaked ferryman stands beside his narrow wooden boat, glancing knowingly towards the viewer as wind tears at his coat and hair. Behind him, terrified women, children, elves and goblins crowd atop a flooded hillside that has revealed itself as the enormous buried face of an ancient being, with one vast eye open beneath roots and earth.
A moonlit harbour in a bleak medieval fishing village is overshadowed by an enormous ghost ship with a blackened hull and torn sails. Pale drowned sailors crowd the deck beneath eerie blue lanterns while a ghostly captain stands calmly at the rail, looking toward the shore. Seven frightened children in worn coastal clothing run along a weathered jetty and climb aboard, some glancing back in fear while others move with vacant, entranced expressions. Behind them, villagers clutch torches, fishing spears, hooks and axes but can only watch helplessly. In the foreground, a weary fisherman's wife in plain wool clothing embraces her own child, her grief and guilt fixed on the departing children. Beyond the harbour wall, towering black waves rise beneath a cold full moon, suggesting an ancient bargain that keeps the sea from swallowing the settlement. Sea mist, deep shadows and corpse-blue supernatural light create a grim, cinematic atmosphere.
A scarred young man in a tattered dark cloak raises one hand inside a vast, ruined sorcerer’s tower. Fine strands of magic stretch from the scars on his arm towards his elderly former master, who recoils beside a black stone throne as matching wounds open across his face, hands and robes. Storm clouds loom through broken gothic windows, while bookshelves, candles and arcane instruments fill the shadowed chamber.
A sinister knight in black armour and an antlered crown stands in a shadowed throne room while an elderly king embraces him before the court. Four visibly different hounds gather anxiously at the knight’s feet, staring up at him with bared teeth and worried expressions.
A ghostly banshee hovers above a moonlit lake with her arms outstretched as entranced men, women and magical beings emerge from the black water and wade towards her. An elegant fae, a tiny winged pixie and a broad goblin join the procession beneath twisted trees and drifting mist in a cold, silver-lit dark fantasy landscape.
A dark fantasy ritual unfolds inside a vast stone sanctuary where the Rinn gather in growing panic around one of their own, who collapses in visible mental distress as companions try to steady and comfort them. Other Rinn watch with fear, confusion and helplessness while an ancient device emits a restrained pale glow from a nearby altar. Their matching ceremonial robes and solemn surroundings reinforce the sense of a disciplined order beginning to unravel. From The Rinn by Jonathan B. Edvane, the scene depicts the cognitive decline that follows the suspension of the Rinn's releases, as accumulated memories overwhelm minds no longer able to let them go.
A weathered parchment ledger documents the Recording Rod of the Rinn. The page features a large illustration of a long yellow stone rod with a runed grip and an embedded transparent ring, surrounded by handwritten notes, catalogue headings and aged stains and tears, giving the appearance of an old archival record.
A veiled widow in black mourning dress clutches a locket with a faintly satisfied, guilty expression while a hanged man swings from a gallows behind her in a grim medieval village square.
A terrified bookseller is dragged into a huge open black book on a dark wooden counter, his body dissolving into ink while a calm goblin records the transaction in a dusty candlelit Victorian bookshop.
A weathered parchment ledger titled “Relics of the Marchlands” displays an entry for “The Glow-Earth.” At the centre sits a small, squat glass jar with a rusted metal lid and twine tied around its neck, holding a worn tag. Inside the jar is dark, granular soil that emits a faint, pale greenish glow, softly illuminating the glass. The parchment is aged and stained, with decorative borders and calligraphic text describing the earth’s origin from beneath a boundary stone, its faint luminescence, and warnings to keep it sealed and distant. A small sigil is stamped in one corner, reinforcing the tone of an old, carefully recorded relic.
A stained parchment ledger page titled Greyholt Abbey Biblios, Addenda Miscellany, showing an uncatalogued thin leather book beside six scraps of strange handwritten symbols. The page is covered with marginal notes, ink blots and worn edges, suggesting the record has passed through many hands.
A dark medieval village at dusk, a granary door smashed open and daubed with “VILLAIN,” flour spilling from torn sacks as a ragged, angry crowd surges forward, shouting and grabbing, while to one side the fat, flour-stained miller cowers with a raised hand, his eyes glowing unnaturally and a faint, knowing smile betraying that he understands something the mob does not.
An undead man lies half-trapped in a muddy rut before a heavy old door in an overgrown castle ruin, his gaunt hands reaching through the waterlogged ground as ivy crawls over the damp stone walls.
Alt text: Black-and-white Victorian-style illustration of a man in a lighthouse watching the SS Strumble battle through a stormy sea, with lightning, rain, huge waves, and a title panel reading “The Return of the SS Strumble” by Jonathan B. Edvane.