Cavern, fire and ink

  When I first opened Manticore’s Den years back, I had a small Etsy shop where I worked alongside my mother to offer custom dresses for Santísima Muerte. Every statue is different, every figure carved in its own way, so each client would send measurements and my mother would bring the dress to life by hand. That service wasn’t just sewing — it was spirit-led. My practices were deepening, and I was forming alliances with spirits along the way. Santísima Muerte is one of those forces I don’t speak about often, but the relationship has always been there. I used to talk with my mother about my ventures into the occult, and it was Santísima herself who sparked an image in my mother’s mind: the vision of a dress. That first dress was beautiful, unique, alive. After that, friends who worked with Santísima began asking for their own. Each dress followed the same rhythm: contemplation, vision, creation. My mother always started with her personal statue, dressing it as the model, and from...

This weekend someone asked me if El Salvador has a word like “coven.” I said, “That’s an American concept.” They didn’t believe me. Googled me in real time. Then: “Oh… I guess you’re right.” So a Salvadoran tells you, you doubt it; Google nods and now it’s gospel. Cute. That little moment shows how normalized occult practices have become in the U.S.—treated as trendy, buyable, part of the everyday. Step outside America, though, and you’re in a whole different weather system. The Invention of the Coven When I told them it was an American concept, I didn’t get the chance to fully explain why. The word itself comes from Latin conventus via Old French/English “convent/covent,” meaning a meeting or assembly. The “gathering of witches” sense shows up later, with Scottish associations and a 19th-century revival-era boost. The tidy “thirteen members” idea? That’s a modern add-on. What most people think of today as a “coven” comes straight out of modern witchcraft movements in Britain—particula...