Here we stand at the edge of a dark wood. Hear the rasps, the crackle, the chittering, the whispers…

This forest is alive with strange and dangerous things.

Now, see, emerging from the darkness: A pale, wraithlike hand extends to you, palm open, inviting you to grasp it. Will you take it?

You do—and step into an ancient landscape that is a story just waiting to be told.

The story is an old one; it contains everything that ever was. After all, the heart of the folk is embalmed in their lore. And HEXENCVLT is a realm where the lore of old is enlivened through poetry, praxis, and magic. It matters not what nation’s sod covers the bones of your ancestors, or which country you call home. We invite you, just as you are, to claim your place in this story.

Come with me: I will show you the hidden places. Together we will meet the hidden people.

Hear that howl? The wolves are gathering at the outskirts. See there? A maiden with no hands cries over her bloody stumps. Behold: Lost children become clever children. The horizon glitters: Stars are plucked from the sky and carried away in song. Below our feet, something shifts, rearranges itself: The elder Mother cracks her brittle green bones. The North Wind blows them sere. Then with little warning great snowflakes drift down from a great bedspread in the sky.

A horn echoes? Look up: Above us, amid the swift stormclouds, the Wild Hunt commences!

Surprisingly, you find yourself longing to be snatched up by that host of terrible spirits—that winding train of gods, ghosts, devils, daimons, Valkyries, witches, and the Hidden Ones themselves. A flame flares hot within our breasts to join that blazing party.

What are we waiting for? Let us be taken!

Let us step through the Door to the Otherworld. Let us go beneath the hill. Let us encounter the strange tales that we half remember from childhood. And let us immerse ourselves in them, lose ourselves in them, live them again through the arte of magic, craft and ritual.

Be ready to shed your skin. Be ready to spread your wings. Be ready to bare your fangs. After all, this place stinks of feral musk, fresh blood, and the verdant fragrance of the forest of dreams.

The Pale Goddess knows you are here. Wraithlike, she awaits your offering on her throne of hearts. Her hand extends once more. Will you take it?

She is ready to initiate you into her fabled cvlt.

You take it. She pulls you to her.

Wilkommen, mein Kind, zu Hexencvlt.

We have been waiting for you.