This isn’t a blog. It’s a spellbook.

Every word you read here is a little louder than survival.

This is where the molting happens. Where spells unstick. Where “too much” becomes sacred. Where voice, ritual, and real talk meet under a sky full of crows.

We talk boundaries like blessings. We roast your shame spells with love. We don’t bypass the pain—we compost it.

So if your soul’s been tired, tangled, or looking for a sign?

🪶 This is it.
Scroll like you’re sifting for feathers.
One of them is yours.

New here? Start with a spell. Or pick a post at random. Crows always circle the good stuff.