Evander Darkroot

Water takes and carries. This sigil is drawn for release — of burdens, of grief, of ties that drag too deep. It teaches the art of drowning without dying: of letting go so that breath may return. How to Use It: 1. Draw the sigil on paper. 2. Speak aloud what you wish to release. 3. Submerge the paper in water, letting ink blur or graphite run. 4. Whisper once: “Gone.” Notes: Best drawn during rain or near running water. Retire by discarding the dissolved remains into stream or soil.

In the rusted silence of fields, in the forgotten watch of scarecrows, in the shadows that walk with us at dusk — there lies the effigy. It has always been with us. Husk and rag, bone and wax, clay and ash. I am proud to announce my latest book, The Hollow Effigy: A Manual of Straw, Bone, and Shadow. This is not a book of comfort. It is a manual of absence, a mirror of what we fashion from silence and what silence gives back. Within its pages you will find: Pocket Charms: Small companions crafted from straw, ash, bone, wax, and clay. Rites of Fire and Burial: The burning of husks, the interment of doubles, the dismissal of shadows. The Watchers: Effigies that stand in silence, guarding fields and thresholds. The Vessel and the Curse: Effigies filled with spirit, or raised as doubles of the living. The Archive of Ashes: What remains when the hollow is burned away — and what lingers still. Effigies are more than symbols. They are vessels, mirrors, curses, and guardians. They ...

Roots hold, stones endure. Bound together, they become a charm of weight and steadiness — a reminder of the ground beneath your feet, and of strength that does not waver. This charm is carried to anchor restless thoughts, to keep one from drifting too far, and to tie spirit back to soil. How to Make It: 1. Find a small, smooth stone. 2. Take a dried root, thin and twisted, and wrap it around the stone. 3. Bind root and stone together with black thread, knotting it tightly. 4. Carry it when you feel unmoored, or place it where stability is needed. How to Use: Grip the charm in your hand and whisper: “Hold.” The stone grounds, the root ties, and the spirit steadies. Notes: Renew by tightening the thread when it loosens. Retire by burying the charm in soil beneath a tree.

Not every bell is meant to ring. This sigil stills the air, silences intrusions, and draws a curtain over words that should not be spoken or heard. It is a shield against noise, chatter, and distraction. How to Use It: 1. Draw the sigil on paper. 2. Place it over your workspace, under your pillow, or in a doorway. 3. Whisper once: “Hush.” 4. Leave it until the silence has settled. Notes: Strongest when drawn at midnight. Retire by tearing the sigil in four pieces and scattering them to the wind.

The veil leans thin, and silence grows heavy. October is upon us. I’ve written many books of shadow, but this one walks closer to the cold breath of the dead than any before. The Darkroot Séance: Rites of Spirits and Shadows is a grimoire of ghost-work — not a collection of tales, but a manual of practice. Within its pages you will find: Rites for summoning and dismissing spirits. The language of omens — how to read knocks, flickers, whispers, and dreams. Experiments with smoke, dice, thread, and voice. Standalone workings such as the Candle of the Silent Room, the Key of Hollow Doors, and the Bone Candle. Methods for cleansing haunted homes, honoring ancestors, and shaping the phantom body. A full master rite — The Darkroot Séance itself. This is a book for those who do not wish only to believe, but to practice. For those who would light the candle, close the circle, and wait for the whisper. The séance is not a trick. It is not a parlor game. It is a door. And this book i...

A flame burns, but when sealed, it waits. This charm is for those who carry fire in their chest — quick tempers, restless spirits, and sparks of inspiration that risk burning too fast. Bound in thread, the charred matchstick becomes a vessel: a way to contain fire without extinguishing it. How to Make It: 1. Burn a single match until its tip is blackened. 2. Let it cool completely. 3. Wrap the matchstick’s body with black thread, but leave the charred head visible. 4. Carry it when your temper, passion, or energy feels difficult to control. How to Use: Hold the sealed match in your palm and whisper: “Contained.” The fire waits, steady and unspent. Notes: Renew by rewrapping the thread when it frays. Retire by burning the matchstick completely in candle flame.

Light does not banish darkness — it shows the way through it. This sigil is drawn to guide, to offer clarity when choices cloud, and to light the path for those wandering without direction. How to Use It: 1. Draw the sigil on paper or wood. 2. Carry it when traveling into the unknown, or place it on your desk when decisions must be made. 3. Whisper once: “Guide.” 4. Let the sigil serve as a steady flame. Notes: Strongest when drawn at dusk. To retire, burn the sigil by candlelight and scatter the ashes.

The hum in the walls is not silence. It is song. It is spirit. It is alive. I’m proud to announce the fourth volume in the Industrial Arcana series: The Wire Grimoire: Spells of Sparks, Currents, and Electrical Spirits. Where The Rust Grimoire dealt with decay, The Clockwork Grimoire with gears, and The Smog Codex with poisoned breath, this new work dives into sparks, coils, and haunted current. Inside you’ll find: Pocket Charms of Copper and Steel — small protections and blessings woven from wire and scrap. Circuit Curses — baneful workings that tangle, drain, and disrupt like shorted lines. Conduits of Blessing — rituals of protection, focus, and empowerment. Wire-Bound Divinations — reading static, coils, and flickering lights for hidden answers. Quick Spells & Jolt Charms — sudden workings sparked in moments of need. The Rite of the Current Serpent — a full invocation of the primal spirit in the grid. Crackling Rites of Power — lightning communion, radio seances, sh...

Iron bends but does not forget. This charm holds fast, binding loyalty, endurance, and unbroken bonds. The rust speaks of time endured, and the thread seals that strength to the bearer. How to Make It: 1. Find a small rusted chain link or metal ring. 2. Wrap a portion of it with black thread and knot it firmly. 3. Carry it when you need endurance, or leave it where bonds feel strained. How to Use: Grip the charm and whisper: “Hold.” The rusted link steadies what would weaken. Notes: Renew by rewrapping the thread when it frays. Retire by burying the link in soil.

Every lock waits for its key. This sigil is drawn to open the way — to reveal hidden opportunities, to turn closed doors, and to unseal what lies behind barriers. How to Use It: 1. Draw the sigil on paper. 2. Speak aloud the barrier you wish to overcome. 3. Fold the sigil once, as if turning the key. 4. Whisper: “Open.” Notes: Best when drawn before beginnings — new ventures, hard tasks, or fresh paths. Burn or bury the sigil when its work is done.

Rain is more than weather. It is blessing and curse, silence and thunder, flood and renewal. Every drop carries the weight of the sky, and every storm writes its own spell across the earth. I’m excited to share the release of my newest book, The Rainwater Testament: A Grimoire of Storms and Showers. This grimoire dives into the many forms of rain — from the first hesitant drops to the roar of tempests, from puddle-scrying to flood omens, from rainbow blessings to the hush after storms. Inside you’ll find: Charms crafted from gutter nails, puddle stones, and rainbow-touched tokens. Daily spells whispered into drizzle, shouted into thunder, or carried by mist. Rites of cleansing, renewal, and baneful stormcraft. Three great standalone rituals: The Calling of the Deluge, The Covenant of Clear Skies, and The Nocturne of Falling Stars. Appendices on collecting rainwater, tools of storm-working, and rain’s place in folklore. This is not a book of metaphor — it is a book of practi...

Every fire leaves embers behind. This charm holds that ember, hidden in coal, to remind you that even when flames fade, strength remains. It is carried for resilience, willpower, and the endurance to keep going when the world grows cold. How to Make It: 1. Find a lump of charcoal or a dark stone. 2. Wrap it once with red thread, knotting it tightly. 3. Carry it with you whenever your strength feels dim. How to Use: When despair presses, grip the charm and whisper: “Burn.” The ember within will keep its glow, lending its heat to you. Notes: Renew by retying the thread after it frays. Retire by casting it into fire, letting ember return to flame.

Iron doesn’t dream, and neither will you when this sigil keeps watch. It stills the restless mind, quiets the wandering spirit, and turns back what prowls at night. How to Use It: 1. Draw the sigil on paper or a stone. 2. Place it beneath your pillow or beside your bed. 3. Whisper once: “Rest.” 4. Leave it there until your nights feel quiet again. Notes: Works especially well when drawn in charcoal or graphite. Burn the sigil in the morning light to release its hold.

There are books you study, and there are books you survive. The Vermin Gospel belongs to the latter. This grimoire does not flatter the reader with beauty or easy symbols. It crawls. It gnaws. It whispers from beneath the floorboards and behind the walls. Here you will not find angels in white robes but rats as saints of hunger, cockroaches as prophets of resilience, maggots as choirs of decay, and termites as architects of collapse. The book is built as infestation: twenty full chapters with over 160 detailed spells, charms, and rites — each practical, each meant to be carried out. Add to that four extended multi-day systems: a three-night vigil, a seven-day nest consecration, a thirteen-day cycle of rot and renewal, and a nine-night psalm to the swarm. The Vermin Gospel closes with a benediction, then opens again into appendices: a catalogue of charms, correspondences of vermin, dream omens, and psalms of the swarm. It is scripture, it is field manual, it is nest. If you ...

A promise kept is a promise bound. This charm ties words and holds them, sealing them in wax so they do not fray or wander. It is used to preserve loyalty, protect oaths, and remind the bearer of what must remain unbroken. How to Make It: 1. Take a length of black thread and coil it into a small bundle. 2. Knot it firmly. 3. Melt a drop of red wax and drip it over the knot to seal. 4. Keep the charm close whenever you must trust in words or promises. How to Use: Hold the charm when speaking an oath or hearing one. Whisper once: “Kept.” The thread binds, the wax seals, and the words remain strong. Notes: Renew by adding a fresh layer of wax each season. Retire by burning the charm in flame when the oath no longer matters.

Some doors are not meant to open, and some secrets are not meant to be seen. This sigil is drawn to cover, to obscure, to keep hidden what must not be uncovered. It is not a lock, but a veil. How to Use It: 1. Draw the sigil on paper. 2. Place it over what you wish to conceal — a letter, a journal, a thought. 3. Whisper once: “Veil.” 4. Leave it in place until the danger of exposure passes. Notes: Best for privacy and secrecy rather than permanent barriers. To release, tear the paper across the vertical line and burn the halves.

The third volume of The Industrial Arcana has arrived. Following The Rust Grimoire and The Clockwork Grimoire, this work turns to soot, smoke, and smog — the breath of industry and the residue of fire. This book is not about purity. It is about burden, residue, and transformation. Every cough is a chant, every smear of soot a sigil, every exhalation a spell. Inside, you’ll find: Pocket Charms, Daily Spells, and Curses crafted from soot and smoke. Extended Rites and Systems, including The Great Suffocation and The Ceremony of the Ashen Veil. Chapters on smog elementals, poisoned weather, silent factories, and the breath of machines. A full back matter appendix with a soot lexicon, seasonal rites, and a practitioner’s toolkit. The Smog Grimoire teaches that even pollution is sacred, even ash carries power, and even the lungs of the city can become altars. Ash settles on all things — and now, so will your magic. Available now in paperback and Kindle

Some burdens cling too tightly. This charm is meant to hold them in place, to weigh them down in stone so they do not weigh you down instead. How to Make It: 1. Find a smooth stone small enough to carry. 2. Rub it with ash or charcoal until it bears the mark of shadow. 3. Wrap the stone with black thread once or twice, then knot it tight. 4. Keep it with you when sorrow presses close. How to Use: When your mind feels heavy, grip the charm in your hand and whisper: “Hold.” The stone will carry what you cannot. Notes: Renew by adding fresh ash at each new moon. Retire by casting the stone into running water.

Not every reflection is true. This sigil is drawn to break the surface, scatter lies, and reveal the truth that waits beneath. How to Use It: 1. Draw the sigil on paper or glass. 2. Speak the falsehood you wish to shatter. 3. Tear the paper (or smear the drawing) across the jagged line. 4. Whisper once: “Break.” Notes: Strongest when placed near a mirror, window, or reflective surface. Can also be carried to guard against deception and illusion.

From the black waters of the abyss comes a new grimoire — The Cephalopod Codex: A Grimoire of Ink and Tentacles. This book is the squid’s scripture. Within its pages are spells of concealment, charms of grasp, rites of endurance, and omens drawn from ink and water. It is a manual of practical abyssal magic: pocket charms for daily use, medium-length workings for the dedicated, and extended rites for when you must descend fully into the deep. The squid teaches us how to vanish when hunted, how to reach with many arms, how to endure crushing pressure, and how to change shape when survival demands it. Its ink is both veil and weapon; its triple hearts and blue blood are symbols of resilience. In this codex you will find: Ink and shadow magic for concealment and erasure. Tentacle rites of binding, holding, and protection. Camouflage workings for blending and veiling. Abyssal dream practices and omens. Threshold rites for crossing gates of change. Like the squid itself, the magi...

Keys open doors, but this one closes them. Bound in thread, it becomes a seal rather than an opening. The charm is made to guard secrets, protect possessions, and keep what should not be touched from being reached. How to Make It: 1. Find an old key, the heavier and more worn the better. 2. Place a scrap of paper marked with a cross, X, or dot against its shaft. 3. Wrap the key with black thread, knotting it tight. 4. Keep it in your pocket or hide it near what you wish protected. How to Use: When you fear intrusion, hold the key in your hand and whisper: “Closed.” The charm seals what should remain sealed. Notes: Renew the binding at the new moon. Retire the charm by burying it at the base of a locked gate.

A flame does more than burn — it reveals, it warns, it keeps watch in the dark. This sigil is drawn to guard thresholds, to give warning of what approaches, and to keep the unseen from creeping closer. How to Use It: 1. Draw the sigil on paper, wood, or stone. 2. Place it near a doorway, window, or threshold. 3. Whisper once: “Watch.” 4. Leave it in place until the need for vigilance has passed. Notes: Strongest when paired with a burning candle. To release, tear the sigil in half and scatter the pieces in fire or ash.

The rivers remember. The wells whisper. The lakes mirror more than the sky. With The Freshwater Testament, I have turned the cycle of grimoires inland — away from salt and blackwater, toward the rivers that carve valleys, the springs that rise from stone, and the wells that open like throats into the underworld. This book is filled not with symbols alone, but with practical rites: Pocket charms made from reeds, stones, moss, and dew. Rituals of safe crossing, purification, and release. Extended workings to call upon floods, waterfalls, and river guardians. Pilgrimage and vigil practices to unite the practitioner with living waters. The Testaments have always been about covenant — between practitioner and element, body and land. This third volume gathers the voices of inland waters and places them in your hands. It is a book meant to be practiced at the bank, the spring, the cistern, and the hidden pool. Freshwater is renewal, but also peril. It heals and drowns in the same ...

Iron bites deep. Sealed in cloth and bound with thread, the nail becomes more than a tool — it becomes a ward. This charm grounds ill will, turns curses aside, and nails malice in place. How to Make It: 1. Take an iron nail — older is stronger. 2. Wrap it tightly in a small piece of dark cloth. 3. Bind the cloth shut with red thread. 4. Carry it on your person, or leave it where harm might approach. How to Use: When danger feels near, press the charm in your palm and whisper: “Hold.” The sealed nail grounds what would strike and keeps it from breaking through. Notes: Renew by tying fresh thread when the old grows loose. Retire by hammering the nail into earth or wood far from home.

Not all roads are marked. Some turnings hide themselves until you look twice, or until a sign reveals them. This sigil is drawn to uncover the path that lies unseen — the door you didn’t know was there, the fork you never noticed. How to Use It: 1. Draw the sigil on paper. 2. Hold it when you feel lost or cornered. 3. Whisper once: “Reveal.” 4. Fold the sigil and keep it in your pocket until the choice or opportunity shows itself. Notes: Works well for decision-making, travel, and problem-solving. Best drawn at a crossroads or doorway for greater effect.