Gods & Goddesses

The goddess of witchcraft, crossroads, and the night. Hecate guards the liminal spaces between worlds. She is the patron of witches, guiding practitioners through darkness with her twin torches. Offerings are left at crossroads in her name.

The jackal-headed god who guides souls to the afterlife and weighs their hearts against the feather of Ma'at. Anubis is the protector of the dead and the guardian of tombs. He stands between life and death.

A triple goddess of war and fate who appears as a crow on the battlefield. The Morrigan is fierce, prophetic, and unyielding. She chooses who lives and who dies, and she does not suffer fools.

The trickster god of Norse mythology. Loki is neither fully good nor evil — he is change itself. He breaks what is stagnant, reveals uncomfortable truths, and forces growth through chaos.

The dark mother goddess who destroys evil and liberates souls. Kali dances on the corpse of ego, wearing a necklace of skulls. She is terrifying and compassionate in equal measure — destroying only what prevents your liberation.

The Lwa of death who stands at the crossroads between life and the afterlife. Baron Samedi is loud, crude, and hilarious — but beneath the humor lies profound power over life and death. He can cure any disease if he chooses.

Queen of the Underworld and goddess of spring. Persephone embodies the duality of life and death, light and darkness. She rules the dead with authority while bringing life to the surface world each spring.

The horned god of the wild, lord of animals and the untamed forest. Cernunnos represents the raw, primal force of nature — growth, decay, and the eternal cycle. He is the green man, the wild hunt, the forest itself.

The god of resurrection and eternal life. Osiris was murdered by his brother Set, reassembled by his wife Isis, and resurrected — becoming the first mummy and the ruler of the dead. His story is the original death-and-resurrection myth, predating similar stories by thousands of years.

Daughter of Loki, ruler of Helheim — the realm of those who died of illness, old age, or any death not in battle. Half her body is living flesh; half is rotting corpse. She is not cruel. She is simply honest about what death is. She receives the majority of the dead and tends them without judgment.

The god of chaos, storms, and the desert. Set is not simply evil — he is necessary. He protects Ra's solar barque from Apep, the serpent of chaos, every night. Without Set's violence, the sun would not rise. He is the force that disrupts order so that order can be renewed.

The wild witch of Slavic folklore who lives in a hut on chicken legs deep in the forest. Baba Yaga is neither good nor evil — she is a test. She helps those who are worthy and devours those who are not. She is the keeper of ancient wisdom and the boundary between the living and the dead.

Before Hades. Before Hel. Before any male god claimed dominion over the dead, there was Ereshkigal — the Sumerian Queen of the Great Below, the oldest named ruler of the underworld in human history. Her kingdom, Kur, existed beneath the earth, and every soul that died descended to her domain and knelt before her throne. Ereshkigal did not choose this role. She was carried to the underworld against her will — seized by the dragon Kur and dragged beneath the earth. But she did not weep. She took the throne of the dead and made it hers.

Before she was the cat goddess of hearth and home, Bast was Sekhmet — the lioness, the destroyer, the Eye of Ra sent to punish humanity for its disobedience. When humans rebelled against the sun god, Ra unleashed Sekhmet upon the world. She waded through blood and could not stop killing. Ra, horrified by what he had created, ordered 7,000 jars of beer dyed red with pomegranate juice poured across the fields of Egypt. Sekhmet, mistaking it for blood, drank until she passed out. When she woke, the rage was gone. She was Bast. The transformation from Sekhmet to Bast is one of the oldest stories of rage becoming gentleness — but the rage is still there, sleeping inside the cat. Every cat owner knows this.

Every culture has a trickster. The Norse have Loki. The Greeks have Hermes. West Africa has Anansi. But none of them match the sheer, chaotic, world-shaping audacity of Coyote — the trickster god of dozens of Indigenous North American traditions, from the Navajo to the Crow to the Nez Perce to the Salish. Coyote is not a villain. He is not a hero. He is the force that breaks things so they can be rebuilt differently. In Crow tradition, Old Man Coyote created the earth itself — not through careful design, but through accident, impulse, and a refusal to leave well enough alone.

Most people know Freya as the Norse goddess of love and beauty — and she is. But that's the brochure version. The full version is darker, stranger, and far more powerful. Freya is the goddess of love, beauty, fertility, war, death, and seiðr — the Norse magical practice that was considered so dangerous and so feminine that men who practiced it were shamed. Odin practiced it anyway. He learned it from Freya. She taught the All-Father his most powerful magic, and the sagas never let him forget where it came from. When warriors died in battle, Freya got first pick. Not Odin. Not the Valkyries. Freya walked the battlefield first and chose half the slain for her hall, Fólkvangr — the Field of the People. Only the warriors she didn't choose went to Valhalla. No one knows her criteria. She wears a cloak of falcon feathers that allows her to fly between worlds. She rides a chariot pulled by two cats. She weeps tears of red gold when she grieves. She is not gentle. She is not tame. She is the goddess who looked at love and war and said: these are the same thing.

She was offered Olympus. She chose the forest. Artemis — twin sister of Apollo, daughter of Zeus and Leto — is the Greek goddess of the hunt, the moon, wild animals, and the wilderness. At three years old, she sat on her father's knee and made a list of demands: a bow and arrows, a pack of hunting dogs, a tunic short enough to run in, eternal virginity, and dominion over all the mountains in the world. Zeus granted every request. Artemis does not hunt for sport. She hunts because the wild is her jurisdiction, and she patrols it the way a general patrols a border. Her arrows never miss. Her hounds never lose a scent. When the hunter Actaeon stumbled upon her bathing, she turned him into a stag and his own hounds tore him apart. When Orion — the one man she may have loved — was tricked into a contest by Apollo, she shot Orion through the skull from a distance so great she couldn't see what she was aiming at. She placed him in the stars afterward. The constellation is not a tribute. It is a warning. Artemis protects women, children, and wild things. She is the patron of those who choose freedom over comfort, solitude over society, and the forest over the palace.