Synopsis
The Kingdom of the Eternal will awaken when the Way of Edan holds sway over all of Eormenlond. So say the prophecies. With unrivalled power in the gift, the Supreme Priest Bledla leads Torrlond and its mighty army to convert rival kingdoms by the sword and by the fang.
Among the gathering resistance is the sorceress Sequara, whose mission is to protect her island and her Andumaic faith from the Torrlonders’ aggression.
As holy war looms over the kingdoms of Eormenlond, a chance encounter bestows a terrible curse upon a young man. Dayraven’s curse may decide Eormenlond’s fate. But first, with the help of unlikely friends, he must survive the shattering of his world.
Equal parts epic and lament, The Way of Edan is the lyrical opening of The Edan Trilogy.
Review
The Way of Edan opens with the warm glow of a noblebright tale, but Philip Chase quickly reveals a world far more complex. Beneath the hopeful veneer lies grit, sorrow, and no small amount of violence. At first, the tonal shift caught me off guard—but in the best way. Chase uses that contrast to explore the full spectrum of humanity, illuminating both the gentleness and the brutality that shape individuals and societies alike. The emotional experience is richer for it.
One of the novel’s greatest strengths lies in its characters and factions. What begins as a seemingly straightforward cast slowly unfurls into something layered and wonderfully nuanced. Each group, each individual, reveals hidden depths as the story progresses. The characters’ voices are especially impressive—distinct, vivid, and so well-crafted that every POV shift felt seamless and engaging. I was always excited to return to each perspective. And the antagonists, in particular, are given remarkable attention: their chapters offer insight, tragedy, and texture that elevate the entire narrative.
The plot begins with a familiar setup—an ordinary protagonist thrust into extraordinary circumstances, longing to return to the safety of home. It’s a classic fantasy foundation, one I’ve seen countless times, yet Chase manages to make it feel fresh again. He plays with tradition while infusing the journey with enough originality, tension, and character focus that it never feels derivative.
Chase’s prose is another standout. His writing is beautifully descriptive—grounded, gritty, and honest without ever sliding into needless cynicism. There is a clarity and musicality to his style that often evokes Tolkien, yet his voice is unmistakably modern. The story maintains a generally optimistic tone, but when darkness falls, the prose shifts with it. Chase doesn’t shy away from showing fear, terror, or violence, and those moments hit with a raw honesty that feels earned rather than gratuitous.
The worldbuilding, too, blends the familiar with the new. It begins with a classic fantasy feel but incorporates modern sensibilities and structure. Chase clearly loves his lore, and while I’m not usually a fan of stories-within-stories, he keeps them tight, meaningful, and surprisingly punchy. The magic system, shrouded in mystery for much of the novel, feels like the outline of something vast and ancient—just enough is shown to intrigue, while enough remains hidden to spark curiosity. By the end, I found myself eager to see what lies fully in the light.
Overall, The Way of Edan is a thoughtful, emotionally resonant, and beautifully crafted fantasy debut. Chase balances hope and hardship with remarkable skill, creating a world and cast that linger long after the final page. I’m thoroughly looking forward to continuing the journey.
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