Some issues feel like reading. This one feels like stepping onto a footpath older than your bloodline and realizing the land has been watching you the whole time.
The Old Ways Issue is pure, distilled Hellebore — that perfect blend of folklore, landscape, and the uncanny sense that the world is bigger, stranger, and far more alive than we pretend. It leans into the idea that landscape isn’t just scenery; it’s a living archive, a place where imagination, memory, and something ancient braid together.
This one celebrates the stories we walk through:
pilgrimages, marsh‑lights that lure you off the path, stone circles humming with old intent, rivers that remember, moors that brood, and those invisible lines of force that make you stop and think, something happened here.
It’s less about “here’s a fact” and more about “here’s a feeling you’ve had your whole life but never had a name for.”
That ineffable tug — the one that makes you pause on a lonely road or feel watched in a field at dusk.
The essays move through landscapes like they’re characters:
the sea with its moods,
the marshland with its secrets,
the moors with their melancholy,
outer space with its mythic pull.
It’s all threaded with that Hellebore signature: eerie, thoughtful, reverent, and just a little unsettling.
And the art?
Moody.
Haunting.
The kind of imagery that makes you want to pack a bag, put on boots, and go find a stone circle to brood near.
This issue feels like a pilgrimage — a quiet, contemplative walk through the places that shape us, scare us, and whisper to us when we think we’re alone. It’s folklore as lived experience, not academic exercise.
A beautifully eerie, landscape‑soaked entry in the series — perfect for anyone who’s ever felt the land tug at their sleeve.