The Witch's Name: Crafting Identities of Magical Power

by Storm Faerywolf, Mat Auryn (Foreword)

Claim the power of your magical name

This revised edition offers meditations, rituals, and guidance to craft meaningful identities rooted in myth, nature, and spirit. With new material on coven and familiar naming, it’s a transformative guide to finding yourself as a witch.

A name is more than a label—it’s a spell, a sigil of power, and a gateway to your magical self. In this revised and expanded edition of The Witch’s Name, Storm Faerywolf guides you through discovering a name that reflects your spiritual identity. Drawing on mythology, history, nature, astrology, tarot, and numerology, this book offers inspiration for crafting a name that unveils your true self.

Through guided meditations, journaling prompts, and over two dozen hands-on exercises and rituals, readers explore their unique magical essence and learn to express it with intention. Whether you're naming yourself, your coven, or a familiar, this book provides thoughtful frameworks and philosophical insights for authentic self-expression.

Featuring wisdom from renowned witches including Mat Auryn, Phoenix LeFae, and Laura Tempest Zakroff, this book is an essential guide to reclaiming your magical identity.

252 pages, Kindle Edition

Published March 10, 2026

About the author

With a name gifted by vision and dream, Storm Faerywolf is a professional warlock. He has studied and been initiated into various streams of practical witchcraft, most notably the Faery tradition, where he holds the Black Wand of a Master. He is the chancellor of Modern Witch University, co-founder of Black Rose Witchcraft, and a columnist for The Wild Hunt. He has given lectures, taught classes, and led rituals all across the US and Europe, in a career spanning over three decades.

A Master/Teacher in several lineages of Reiki, and a trained folk magician, he is also a published author having penned several books including “The Stars Within the Earth”, “Awakening the BlueLotus”, “Betwixt & Between”, “Forbidden Mysteries of Faery Witchcraft”, “The Satyr’s Kiss,” and "The Witch’s Name."

A proud queer poly man, he lives in the beautiful San Francisco Bay Area with his loving partners, where together they run an online magical boutique, Datura Trading Co., surrounded by dogs, cats, chickens, and a plethora of trees and plants. He believes in beauty, kindness, equality, true love, and magic.

Reviews

[David Allen Vargo]

I came to The Witch’s Name not knowing why I had been guided to read it, but sensed strongly that it had been deliberately placed on my path. What I did not fully appreciate until reading Storm Faerywolf’s wonderful book was just how much of myself I was ready to instinctively place inside my new name. One of the great strengths of The Witch’s Name is its insistence that a magical name is not merely something that sounds suitably mysterious. A name can be an act of intention. It can become a spell, a symbol, a magical persona, and even a declaration of the person we are becoming. And Storm does not simply tell us this. He gives us ways to explore it. Drawing upon mythology, history, animals, plants, astrology, Tarot, numerology, meditation, journaling, ritual, dreams, and personal symbolism, he invites the reader into an extraordinarily rich process of self-examination. The exercises are practical without being rigid and spiritual without becoming inaccessible. Rather than handing the reader a formula for constructing a suitably “witchy” name, Storm continually leads us back to the far more interesting question: Who is the person behind the name? That distinction is what makes this book so special. The revised and expanded edition also ventures beyond personal magical names into the naming of groups, covens, familiars, and even the creation of original magical words. But throughout the book, the deeper subject remains identity: how language, symbol, imagination, and intention can help us encounter parts of ourselves that have perhaps always been there, waiting to be named. Whether you are searching for your first magical name, questioning one you have used for years, beginning a new chapter in your spiritual life, or simply fascinated by the extraordinary power human beings invest in names, I enthusiastically recommend this book. Storm Faerywolf has written something far more valuable than a guide to choosing a witch name. He has written a guide to asking one of magic’s oldest and most important questions: Who am I when I step fully into my power? This book helped and guided me on that quest.

[Sylvia Moore]

I have always been fascinated by the moment when a name stops feeling like a word and starts feeling like a person. The Witch's Name takes that strange phenomenon seriously and asks what happens when a witch chooses to participate consciously in the process.

Storm Faerywolf's central idea is wonderfully potent: a magical name can function as a spell that is cast again and again every time it is spoken, written, signed, invoked, or used in ritual. That immediately makes choosing one feel much more significant than finding something that sounds suitably mystical. A name becomes a repeated act of magical self-definition.

This was the aspect of the book that stayed with me most strongly. We usually think of identity as something we discover, as though an authentic self already exists somewhere underneath everything else and our only task is to uncover it. Faerywolf introduces another possibility in which identity can also be cultivated, shaped, empowered, and deliberately inhabited.

That does not mean inventing a false persona. The exercises repeatedly push the reader toward deeper self-knowledge, asking what qualities already exist, what qualities are emerging, and what aspects of the self deserve greater expression. The magical name then becomes a vessel capable of holding both recognition and aspiration.

I loved that tension between who someone already is and who they are becoming. A magical name can reflect something deeply familiar while simultaneously calling forward qualities that have not yet been fully embodied. Every repetition becomes a small reminder of the direction in which the practitioner has chosen to grow.

This makes naming unexpectedly similar to enchantment. When a spell is repeated over time, the practitioner builds association, emotional charge, symbolic density, and intention around it. A magical name can accumulate those same layers until hearing it produces an immediate shift in consciousness.

That idea helped me understand why some practitioners experience their Craft names almost like ritual garments. Using the name can signal that ordinary consciousness is giving way to magical consciousness, while hearing another person address you by it can reinforce the identity being cultivated within that particular space. The name becomes a threshold.

Faerywolf also does an excellent job of showing that the process should not be rushed. There are abundant sources of inspiration here, including animals, plants, mythology, astrology, tarot, personal history, and other symbolic systems, but the book never feels like a catalog telling you to combine two impressive nouns and call the job finished. The sources matter because of what they reveal about the practitioner.

The journaling and meditation exercises are especially effective for slowing that process down. They force you to sit with possibilities long enough to notice whether a name merely sounds appealing or actually begins to resonate. That distinction can be subtle at first, but the book gives the reader several ways to test it.

I also appreciated the attention given to how a name feels in the mouth and body. Magical practice can become overly visual or conceptual, while names are inherently sonic things. They have rhythm, breath, vibration, pronunciation, and emotional texture, and speaking them aloud can reveal qualities that never appear on the page.

The material on signatures and sigilization develops that idea beautifully. Once a name can be spoken as a spell, it can also be written as one. The letters themselves become available for magical manipulation, turning a signature into something closer to a personal seal.

That was one of the areas where the book became unexpectedly practical for me. A magical name does not have to remain confined to formal ritual because its written form can become part of protections, petitions, magical records, talismans, and other workings. The identity becomes portable.

The discussion of names as taglocks adds another layer of seriousness. Names can connect magical work with particular people or beings, and traditions around hidden names, secret names, and names of power suddenly make much more sense when viewed through that lens. Naming is not merely descriptive because it can also establish magical relationship.

I was also glad to see the book approach cultural material carefully. Names carry histories, languages, religious meanings, and relationships to communities, and borrowing one simply because it sounds exotic can create problems that go far beyond poor aesthetics. Faerywolf encourages research and discernment rather than treating the world's cultures as a giant naming database.

That awareness makes the creative process richer rather than more restrictive. Finding a name that genuinely emerges from your own history, relationships, spiritual practice, symbols, and experiences is ultimately much more interesting than borrowing significance from somewhere you barely understand.

The book also leaves room for magical identities to change. That may be one of its most liberating ideas because people sometimes treat choosing a Craft name as though they are signing an eternal contract. A name can belong perfectly to one stage of development and eventually cease to describe the person who has grown from it.

There is something profoundly initiatory about recognizing that change. Moving into a new name can mark a threshold, while retaining an old one can preserve continuity with a previous self. Either choice becomes meaningful when it is made consciously.

I found myself thinking about ordinary names differently as well. We are all named before we understand what naming means, and most of us spend our lives carrying combinations of sounds and inherited associations selected by somebody else. Choosing a magical name offers the unusual experience of becoming an active participant in one's own naming.

That act of authorship feels especially appropriate within Witchcraft. So much magical practice involves recognizing that the self is neither completely fixed nor infinitely malleable, but something with which we can enter into deliberate relationship. We inherit circumstances, histories, bodies, tendencies, and identities, yet we also possess some capacity to shape how those things are expressed.

The Witch's Name turns that capacity into ritual. Choosing the name becomes one act of creation, claiming it becomes another, and living under it becomes the longest spell of all.

By the end, I understood why Faerywolf treats a magical name as a tool rather than an accessory. A tool changes what becomes possible through repeated use, and a well-chosen name can gradually alter how a practitioner enters ritual, relates to power, understands identity, and imagines their own potential.

The most compelling magical names may therefore be neither disguises nor labels. They are promises made audible, words chosen carefully enough that saying them repeatedly helps the witch become capable of keeping them.

[Katie Stockton]

I have always thought magical names were treated strangely in witchcraft books. They are often mentioned as though everyone already understands what they are for: choose something suitably mystical, perhaps calculate its numerology, use it in ritual, and move along. Storm Faerywolf takes the subject far more seriously. The Witch's Name asks what happens when naming becomes an act of magick in itself, and that shift turns what could have been a very niche subject into a fascinating exploration of identity, power, consciousness, and deliberate self-creation.

What resonated with me most is the idea that a magical name can do something rather than simply signify something. A name can become a container for a particular current of power, an aspect of the self, a magical vocation, or the person we are actively becoming. That immediately made me think about magical identity differently. Repeatedly entering ritual under a particular name, charging it with experiences, invoking it, hearing it spoken by trusted magical partners, and associating it with specific states of consciousness could gradually make that name into a powerful psychological and energetic trigger. Eventually the name itself can help call the witch forward.

Faerywolf explores the subject from an impressive number of directions, including folklore, mythology, occultism, psychology, queer identity, magical tradition, spirit relationships, and personal experience. Names can conceal and reveal, protect and empower, connect us to lineage, mark initiation, facilitate transformation, or establish a relationship with spirits and gods. I particularly appreciated that there isn't a single prescribed reason everyone needs a magical name. The question becomes what kind of relationship with naming actually serves your practice.

The psychological dimension is especially interesting because magical identity can provide permission to access qualities we have difficulty embodying in ordinary life. Confidence, sensuality, authority, psychic receptivity, ferocity, creativity, sovereignty, or vulnerability might become easier to inhabit through a consciously constructed magical self. That doesn't make the process imaginary or superficial. Ritual practices have always used names, titles, masks, vestments, and assumed identities to shift consciousness. Faerywolf gives the reader ways to approach that transformation deliberately rather than stumbling into it accidentally.

I also loved the attention given to names that arise through dreams, divination, spirits, gods, and other forms of revelation. As someone interested in psychic development, this opens an entirely different question from simply inventing a name you like. Sometimes the magical task may involve listening for a name rather than constructing one. But discernment still matters. A dramatic psychic impression doesn't automatically become a lifelong identity, and the book leaves room for experimentation, change, and the possibility that different names may belong to different periods or functions within a magical life.

There is plenty of practical material for actually finding, testing, crafting, consecrating, and working with magical names, which is where the book really succeeds for me. Faerywolf gives enough structure to make the process meaningful without turning it into another occult formula where the correct number of letters supposedly unlocks your destiny. The exercises encourage reflection on language, sound, symbolism, ancestry, spirits, identity, intention, and personal power. By the time a name is chosen, it has the potential to carry considerably more weight than something selected because it sounded witchy.

Mat Auryn's foreword is also a particularly good fit because the larger idea here connects naturally with the kind of consciousness work I associate with his writing: identity itself can become part of magical technique. The person who enters ritual is one of the ingredients of the ritual. Changing how we understand, name, and embody that person can therefore change the magick we are capable of performing.

The Witch's Name took a subject I had previously considered interesting but relatively small and revealed an entire magical technology inside it. A magical name can be spell, invocation, boundary, mask, key, aspiration, spirit-contact point, and declaration of becoming. Storm Faerywolf understands that witches have always worked with transformation, and sometimes the most powerful thing being transformed is the witch. After reading this, I don't think I could ever treat the question “What is your magical name?” as casual again.

[Amanda Graham]

I read the original edition of The Witch's Name several years ago and really enjoyed it, largely because it took a subject I had always considered a fairly minor part of Witchcraft and convinced me that there was much more going on beneath the surface. I had expected a book primarily about choosing a cool-sounding magical name, but Storm Faerywolf was much more interested in why witches take magical names in the first place and what happens when we deliberately choose the words through which we identify ourselves.

What stayed with me most from the original was the idea that a magical name can function almost like a spell that is repeatedly cast upon the self. A name can embody qualities we want to cultivate, establish a particular magical identity, protect aspects of ourselves, or help us step into a different mode of consciousness when practicing Witchcraft. That made choosing one seem considerably more consequential than browsing mythology until something sounded sufficiently mysterious.

I also loved how many different avenues Storm provided for discovering a name. Mythology and deities are there, but so are animals, plants, astrology, tarot, numerology, personal experiences, meditation, divination, and other sources of inspiration. The exercises encourage you to explore what actually resonates rather than simply handing you lists of names and meanings, which was one of the things that distinguished the original from other books I had encountered on the subject.

When I saw that a revised and expanded edition was coming out, I was curious about whether there would be enough new material to make returning to it worthwhile. I'm happy to say that this doesn't feel like an old book with a new cover and a few pages added to justify another edition. The additions feel like natural extensions of the ideas that made the original interesting in the first place.

I especially enjoyed seeing the magical theory of naming expanded beyond naming yourself. There is new material dealing with the naming of covens and groups as well as familiars, and I hadn't really considered how different those processes might be. Naming a magical group isn't simply choosing something everyone thinks sounds good; you're giving an identity to a collective entity that may develop its own history, reputation, personality, and magical current over time.

The material on creating original magical words was probably my favorite addition. The original edition already encouraged creativity, but this takes that further by asking what happens when the magical word you need doesn't already exist. Instead of always borrowing from mythology, ancient languages, or established occult vocabulary, there is something wonderfully witchy about deliberately creating language and then investing it with meaning and power through use.

I also found that revisiting the older material after several years made me appreciate parts of it differently. Storm's discussion of names as magical tools, identities, invocations, and even potential taglocks feels richer once you've had time to observe how names actually function in magical communities. Names accumulate associations, experiences, relationships, reputations, and power simply through being repeatedly spoken and used, which makes the act of consciously choosing one much more interesting.

The revised edition ultimately strengthens what I liked about the original without changing its central argument. A Witch's name doesn't need to be permanent, bestowed by someone else, discovered through some dramatic mystical revelation, or pulled from a predetermined list in order to be meaningful. It can be consciously crafted, experimented with, grown into, transformed, and sometimes eventually outgrown.

I'm glad I returned to The Witch's Name because the new material gave me genuinely new things to consider while the rereading reminded me why I enjoyed the book in the first place. What initially looks like a very specialized book about choosing magical names turns out to be a much broader exploration of identity, language, intention, and the strange power created when we decide what we will call something and then begin treating that name as real.

[Julian Mercury]

A magical name is one of those things that can sound faintly ridiculous until you have actually lived with one for a while. Then you discover that names accumulate history. They become attached to rituals, initiations, lovers, covens, mistakes, revelations, and earlier versions of ourselves we may barely recognize anymore. A name chosen at twenty can feel profound at twenty-five and strangely like an old leather jacket at fifty. Storm Faerywolf understands that a witch's name is powerful precisely because identity is alive rather than fixed.

This revised edition goes considerably further than simply helping someone choose an impressive occult alias. Faerywolf draws from mythology, plants and animals, astrology, tarot, numerology, meditation, and personal symbolism to help the reader figure out what sort of identity they are actually trying to embody. There are now more than two dozen exercises and rituals, along with expanded material on naming familiars and covens. I particularly like the latter addition because a group name presents a different magical problem from a personal one. A coven name has to become large enough for several people to inhabit together. It can eventually acquire a reputation, history, egregoric quality, and emotional charge that none of the original members could have manufactured deliberately at the beginning.

Mat Auryn's foreword is especially appropriate because his own work repeatedly returns to the relationship between imagination, psychic perception, identity, and magical consciousness. But Faerywolf's real accomplishment is making naming feel less decorative and more operative. A magical name can function as a spell you repeatedly cast upon yourself. Every time it is spoken in circle, written beneath a sigil, used in invocation, or recognized by others within the Craft, another layer is added to what the name means. Eventually you are no longer merely calling yourself something. You have spent years teaching your nervous system, imagination, magical community, and perhaps the spirits themselves who answers when that name is spoken.

As a gay man, I cannot read this subject without thinking about chosen identity more broadly. Queer people have a long history of discovering that what others call us and what we call ourselves can carry radically different kinds of power. Sometimes a name conceals. Sometimes it reveals. Sometimes it gives us enough imaginative distance from the person we were expected to become that another self finally has room to emerge. Faerywolf understands that this does not make identity false or theatrical. Witches of all people should understand that something consciously constructed can become profoundly real.

I liked the earlier version of this book, but the expanded edition feels more complete. It recognizes that magical naming is not simply the amusing ceremony near the beginning of one's witchcraft journey where everyone chooses something involving a moon and an animal. Names can be inherited, discarded, transformed, shared, bestowed, guarded, or grown into over decades. Some describe us. The better ones make demands of us. And every so often we are fortunate enough to choose a name that begins as an aspiration and, years later, discover that we have finally become the person who can answer to it.

[Michelle Avery]

A magical name can seem like such a small part of witchcraft until you really start thinking about what a name actually does. It identifies us, shapes how others perceive us, carries associations, and can become inseparable from the person we grow into. Storm Faerywolf takes that deceptively simple subject and goes much deeper with it in The Witch’s Name, treating the magical name not as a cute witchy nickname but as a deliberate act of magical identity and self-creation.

This is one of those books where you quickly realize there is far more to the subject than you expected. Storm explores names through mythology, history, nature, astrology, tarot, numerology, and spiritual practice, giving you multiple ways to approach something that is ultimately incredibly personal. What I especially appreciate is that he doesn't just give you lists of impressive-sounding names and tell you to pick one. The point is discovering what resonates with who you are, what you are becoming, and what kind of power you intend to embody.

The idea of a name as a spell or sigil is where the book really clicked for me. A magical name can be aspirational. It can contain mythology, relationships, qualities, spirits, memories, and intentions. Over years of use, all of that can accumulate around it until the name itself carries power. Storm understands that process and gives readers practical ways to consciously participate in it through meditations, journaling, exercises, and ritual. You aren't just choosing a word that sounds magical. You're crafting an identity and then stepping into it.

This revised and expanded edition goes even further by exploring the naming of covens and familiars, which I was really happy to see. Naming a magical group creates a shared identity and current in much the same way that taking a magical name can mark a transformation within an individual. Even when you don't use every method presented here, the book changes the way you think about names and the magical act of naming itself.

There are also contributions from witches I greatly respect, including Mat Auryn, Phoenix LeFae, and Laura Tempest Zakroff, and Mat provides the foreword to this new edition. That feels particularly appropriate because all of these writers approach witchcraft as something living and personal rather than a collection of inherited instructions. Storm's work fits beautifully into that conversation while remaining unmistakably his own.

Storm Faerywolf has been one of my favorite voices in contemporary witchcraft for a long time because he has a gift for taking subjects that can easily become superficial and finding the actual magic underneath them. The Witch’s Name is a perfect example. Whether you're searching for your first magical name, reconsidering one you've carried for years, naming a coven or familiar, or simply curious about the occult significance of names and identity, there is an incredible amount here to work with. By the end, a magical name no longer feels like an accessory to your witchcraft. It feels like witchcraft.

[Sandra Fargo]

Taking a Craft name used to feel almost like a rite of passage. I remember witches spending weeks trying names on privately, looking through mythology books, checking meanings, asking friends whether something sounded suitably witchy, and occasionally emerging with a name they would quietly regret five years later. What we didn't have was an entire book asking what taking another name actually does to a person magically and psychologically. Storm Faerywolf's The Witch's Name goes much deeper than helping you find something attractive to sign in your Book of Shadows. He treats the magical name as an identity deliberately created and empowered, something that can protect, transform, invoke, and gradually shape the witch who answers to it.

I especially enjoyed Faerywolf's exploration of where names can come from. Mythology, plants, animals, astrology, tarot, numerology, dreams, and personal symbolism all become possible threads, but the process involves considerably more self-examination than simply combining the name of a Celtic goddess with your favorite tree. There are meditations, journaling exercises, magical practices, and rites for discovering, testing, claiming, and empowering a name. His discussion of names functioning almost like taglocks particularly caught my attention, as did the idea of working magically with the letters of one's own name. Mat Auryn's foreword is a lovely addition, and the contributions from other witches reinforce something I've certainly observed over the years. Magical names can arise for very different reasons and mean very different things to the people carrying them.

What delighted this old crone most was being made to reconsider names I've heard and used for years as active pieces of magic rather than colorful Pagan custom. A magical name can mark initiation, conceal one identity while revealing another, embody an aspiration, or eventually become so thoroughly inhabited that it no longer feels adopted at all. I've watched people outgrow names, grow into names, and occasionally become almost uncannily like the names they chose when they were much younger. Faerywolf understands that choosing what you will be called can also be choosing something you intend to become. I wish we'd had this book when so many of us were fumbling our way through that process, although heaven knows it might have spared the Pagan community a few unfortunate names involving ravens and moons.

[Alex M]

Anyone who survived the era of elaborate Tumblr usernames already knows that choosing a name can involve an unreasonable amount of soul-searching. The Witch’s Name takes that impulse seriously and gives it a magical purpose. Storm Faerywolf approaches naming through the larger question of identity, which makes this a more interesting subject than simply finding something evocative to introduce yourself as at a ritual.

The idea of a magical persona raises worthwhile questions about who you become when you practice. What qualities are you trying to develop? Which parts of yourself feel easier to express within sacred space? I appreciate the use of meditation and journaling to investigate those questions. A name begins to carry more significance when you’ve spent time considering what you’re asking it to express.

The variety of approaches is appealing, particularly the use of tarot and astrology alongside connections with plants and animals. Those offer different ways to explore the symbols you identify with and why they matter to you. I like having several avenues available, since a meaningful discovery doesn’t always arrive through the method you expected. Sometimes the symbol that keeps returning deserves more attention than the one you initially thought sounded impressive.

Ritual practices for claiming a name give the process a sense of commitment. Choosing how to name yourself can involve deciding what you’re prepared to grow into, and that has implications beyond the moment of selection. The contributions from other practitioners also make room for different experiences of naming. That personal variety suits a subject where someone else’s answer can be illuminating without becoming your own.

The revised and expanded edition, with Mat Auryn’s foreword, offers a focused exploration of an aspect of witchcraft that deserves consideration. I’d recommend it to someone choosing a magical name or reconsidering their relationship with one they already use. The broader work around identity gives it relevance in either situation. I appreciate a book that encourages me to ask what I’m invoking when I introduce myself.

[Kevin Worcester]

a witch name can sound like such a small piece of the craft until you start thinking about what it actually means to deliberately name the person you become when you step into magical space. faerywolf takes that idea much further than i expected, treating the name as something closer to a spell or magical identity that gets strengthened through use. there’s some genuinely interesting material here on the history and power of names before he gets into the actual process of finding one, and i liked that he doesn’t pretend there’s a single traditional method hiding somewhere that everyone is supposed to follow. mythology, plants, animals, astrology, tarot, numerology, dreams, and personal symbolism all become possible ways into the process, with exercises that are meant to help you discover what actually resonates rather than just picking something that sounds suitably witchy.

the part i found most useful was what happens after you have a possible name. there’s quite a bit here about testing it, claiming it ritually, working with its letters and symbolism, and allowing the identity attached to it to develop over time. the revised edition also expands the idea beyond personal craft names into naming covens and familiars, which makes the underlying magical theory of naming feel much broader than the title initially suggests. i can imagine someone who already has a name getting almost as much out of this as someone looking for one, because it made me think about whether the names we use magically are actually doing anything for us or whether we’ve just gotten accustomed to answering to them. that question alone gave me more to chew on than i expected from an entire book about names.

[William Alan]

Names are peculiar magic: a handful of sounds can contain a childhood, a reputation, an ancestor, a secret, or the person we are still trying to become. Storm Faerywolf takes the familiar practice of adopting a magical name and opens it into something much larger, exploring identity, spirits, gods, ancestry, initiation, power, and the ways naming can reshape our relationship with ourselves and the unseen world. There is practical work here for discovering, choosing, receiving, and consecrating names, but the more interesting current runs underneath it all: the possibility that identity itself is something magical, capable of being consciously crafted without becoming false. Faerywolf understands that a magical name can be mask, key, mirror, and invocation at once. By the end, the question is no longer simply what you would like to be called, but who answers when that name is spoken.

[Jon Daniels]

Faerywolf takes magical names alot more seriously than just picking something witchy sounding, the basic idea is that a name becomes a spell you keep casting on yourself until the identity attached to it starts having real weight. Theres history and mythology here but also exercises with dreams, animals, plants, astrology, tarot and journaling, then ritual work for actually claiming the name instead of leaving it as an occult username. Chaos magick people talk constantly about belief and identity being mutable so this fits surprisingly well, changing what you call yourself can be a very sneaky way of changing the person doing the magic.

[Kitty]

Claiming a magical name feels overwhelming, but a guide to help focus the effort really helps! Faerywolf includes brief meanings for a variety of sources to find a name and some simple tools to for divination/numerology.

I also really appreciated Faerywolf's openness about their own journey to claiming a name, and what that meant to them on a personal level. The autobiographical details of this one make it a very compelling read.

I'd recommend for sure to anyone interested in the process and what it means to claim a witch name.