𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐑𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐍-𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆
The raven holds a high seat in the tradition of svartkonst and northern baneful magic. Known in the tongues of our dead kin as hrafn, it is not merely a creature of the battlefield, but a bearer of fetches, a scout of the unseen roads, and an enforcer of the sorcerer’s will.
To the old ones, ravens were not pets or totems, but servants and watchers—beings that walked between the corpse-road (helvegr) and the breath-road (öndveg) with ease.
They consume the eyes of the fallen to see what lies beyond. They speak not in riddles, but in clear signs—if one is trained to listen properly.
This rite—Krákualjóð, “The Chant of the Raven’s Maw”—is not for novices, nor those seeking gentle counsel. It is for those who require the eyes of the raven in the dark, the claws of the raven in their working, and the call of the raven to pierce the veil between worlds. This is true summoning, not symbolic. It draws upon ancient trollkunnig methods from the hinterlands, where animal-bond, blood, ash, and binding are used to enforce obedience from the spirits summoned.
This chapter provides the correct construction of the rite, including tools, ingredients, vocal methods (throat-sung overtones), protective boundaries, and instructions for binding a raven-ally into service. This is not Wiccan fluff, and it contains no rhymes or false light. It is ancestral, brutal, and effective.
If you proceed, do so knowing the raven remembers all. It watches the hand that calls it—and it punishes the hand that misuses its trust.
Proceed with discipline. Or not at all.
In elder tales, ravens are tethered to Huginn and Muninn—the Thought and Memory of Óðinn—but the true witch of the underwood knows they also serve darker powers beneath the world-tree: bearers of underworld secrets, witnesses of blood-oaths, and eaters of the fallen. In the black practice, they are summoned not for light, but for insight torn from bone.
The fire should be built at the centre of your ritual space, positioned on bare earth or within a shallow pit dug specifically for this rite. This grounding into the natural earth is essential, as the fire acts as a bridge between the worlds—its flames a living portal flickering between the seen and unseen.
Use only Ash, Rowan, Elder, Blackwood, Cypress, Stringybark.
Avoid Fir, Willow & Pine.
Ginnungagap is the primordial void in Norse cosmology—the vast, yawning abyss that existed before creation, a yawning emptiness between the fiery realm of Muspelheim to the south and the icy realm of Niflheim to the north. It is the chaotic, formless space where neither light nor life existed, a dark chasm pregnant with potential.
From Ginnungagap’s swirling nothingness, the first beings emerged when the warmth of Muspelheim met the frost of Niflheim, causing ice to melt and giving birth to Ymir, the primeval giant, and the cosmic cow Audhumla. Thus, Ginnungagap is both a void and a sacred space of genesis—a mysterious and powerful gulf that precedes the ordered cosmos.
It symbolizes the boundary between chaos and creation, darkness and light, non-existence and being. In magical and mythic terms, it represents the deep unknown, the raw potential before shape and form, a place of infinite possibility but also of primordial danger.
ᛁᛁᛁ. 𝐓𝐎𝐎𝐋𝐒 & 𝐎𝐅𝐅𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒
𝘛𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘶𝘢𝘭 𝘱𝘶𝘳𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘦, 𝘤𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘯𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘢𝘴𝘩 𝘢𝘯𝘥 "natural" 𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘳:
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A carved raven-bone talisman (ethically sourced only; treat the remains with sacred care. If found naturally, offer three drops of blood and a breath of gratitude).
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A blade of obsidian or iron, unpolished, used only for spirit work.
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A bowl of blackened mead or fermented crowberry wine (sweet drinks will offend them).
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Incense of juniper, cypress, dry birch bark, crushed crow feathers, and one pinch of dried henbane leaf (𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨: henbane is toxic; do not ingest. Use only a single pinch on charcoal outdoors).
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A length of weathered trollhair cord (twine soaked in blackthorn and grave-dust, tied into thirteen knots).
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A claw or feather gifted from a raven (never taken by force; if found, it is a sign).
ᛁᛁᛁᛁ. 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐎𝐀𝐓 𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐎𝐅 𝐁𝐈𝐑𝐃𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐒
To summon ravens of flesh or spirit, you must call not with words, but with resonance. This is done through 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘢𝘵 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘨—a deep harmonic overtone chant that mimics the war-call of ancient troll-kind and stirs beast minds.
𝘔𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘥:
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Breathe deep into the belly. Fill the lungs slowly.
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Let the voice sit in the chest, not the throat.
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Use a low growl—almost a drone—then open the mouth without forming words. Vibrate the uvula.
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Shape the tongue forward and back to create overtones.
The sound must carry, not loudly, but with a pulse that causes the trees to stiffen. This is the language of old blood.
ᛁᛁᛁᛁᛁ. 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐁𝐈𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐍 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐄
Light the incense. Sprinkle ash around your feet. Breathe the darkness in and draw the blade across the air—not your flesh—to stir the unseen.
Then, speak:
heiði frá hauni, seið með fokk.
trę́r af galgi, blóð í gras,
kom og meld, min pass.
Undir gapi, skygg og sorg,
bider jeg rafnar, med morg.
Ver min ren, flyv i blóð,
kist meg i drømme, og frem som mód."
Actions During the Chant:
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Movement:
Stand rooted but not rigid. With each line, raise your arms slowly—open palms facing upwards to invite, then curve your fingers like talons when bidding them closer, mimicking raven wings and claws. This subtle mimicry strengthens your connection, speaking in the body’s language as well as the voice. -
Eyes and Gaze:
Maintain a steady, unwavering gaze either at the fire’s centre or toward the northern sky. The raven is a creature of sight and shadow; your eyes must pierce through veils as you summon. -
The Bone Whistle:
Between each stanza or every two lines, blow softly on the bone whistle, producing a low, haunting call that carries across the night. This sound is the raven’s signal, a call of kinship and recognition. -
Offering of Blood or Mead (Optional and with caution):
If you choose to deepen the bond, drip a single drop of your own blood onto the ash or into the fire while chanting the final “komi þér” (come to me). Blood is the oldest binding force—use only if you understand the gravity and cost.
Alternatively, offer a few drops of mead or a small amount of dark honey to the fire as a gift, symbolizing shared sustenance and respect.
ᛁᛁᛁᛁᛁᛁ. 𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐁𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆
When the ravens come—by wing, by whisper, or by vision—bind their presence with the trollhair cord. Loop the thirteen knots once around your hand as you thank them:
"Yðr biðr meg, trú mér með blóð."
Let the incense burn to ash. Pour out the wine into the earth. Take the feather or claw and wrap it in black cloth. Do not wear it for show. Keep it sealed until needed. This is no trinket—it is a pact.
"Trollhair", in the context of old Norse black magic, is not mere twine but a sacred binding element imbued with the raw essence of troll-spirit and nature’s wild darkness. It must be made from the hair of a wild horse, goat, sheep, fox, feral cat, or dog — animals associated with liminal forces and borderland guardianship — but only those hair strands gathered from wild, free-roaming creatures found or obtained naturally, never forcibly taken or plucked.
Preparing the Cord:
Soak the collected hair strands in a small bowl of cold spring water infused with crushed blackthorn bark and a pinch of grave-dust (collected with reverence, ideally from a consecrated burial mound or an old battlefield). This soak connects the hair to the world of spirits and death, vital for troll magic.
Leave soaking until the water turns darkened and heavy with essence (usually 3–5 hours).
Remove hair and lay it on a blackened stone or wooden plank to dry naturally under the shadow of moonless night.
ᛒᛁᚾᛞᛁᚾᚷ ᛏᚻᛖ ᚱᚨᚢᛖᚾ’ᛋ ᛈᚱᛖᛋᛖᚾᚲᛖ ᚹᛁᛏᚻ ᛏᚱᛟᛚᛚᚺᚨᛁᚱOnce the raven or raven-spirit has appeared, whether by sight, sound, or vision, the next step is to bind their presence—this seals the pact and ensures the familiar’s loyalty.
Hold the trollhair cord in your dominant hand, the one you will use to manipulate the binding, feeling the weight of each knot.
Circle your hand slowly three times clockwise, envisioning the raven’s spirit weaving into the cord’s fibre.
Pass the cord over the raven talisman (bone, claw, or feather), wrapping it around the item once, tightly but without breaking the hair.
Draw the cord around your wrist or ankle (choose the site depending on your intent — wrist for communication, ankle for protection and tracking).
Close the ritual by anointing the knot with a few drops of your own blood or black mead to seal the bond with living essence.
Respect Note: The trollhair cord is not to be casually removed or shared. It carries the weight of your pact and may summon consequences if discarded disrespectfully.
When the final chant has been spoken and the bone whistle’s last breath fades into the black wind, you do not rush to end. Stand silent, letting the shadows settle around you. The raven-spirits linger in the thinning boundary, watching, weighing your worth.
With a slow, deliberate hand, trace the spiral of ashes inward, closing the portal you have opened. Speak softly, in the same low, harsh tongue:
“Komi þér, en þinn veg er bundinn.
Vernda, fylgja, og veita skugga,
svo lengi sem ég kveiki eldin minn.”
("Come to me, but your path is bound.
Protect, follow, and grant shadow,
as long as I keep my fire alive.")
Place the raven-bone talisman at your left hand, anointed with a smear of the ash from the spiral, and wrap the trollhair cord once around your wrist or ankle to seal the bond. This binding is not merely symbolic; it is a tether of blood and spirit, woven through the night’s breath and your will.
Never break this binding lightly. To release the raven-ally, you must return to this sacred place and unravel each knot of the trollhair cord, offering a final sip of mead or dark wine into the earth and whispering farewell in the Black Tongue.
ᛁᛁᛁᛁᛁᛁᛁ. OFFERINGS AND CONSUMPTION
Once the ritual is complete, honour the raven-spirits with offerings both sacred and physical:
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To the Fire: Cast a few drops of dark mead or fermented crowberry wine into the embers, whispering thanks for their presence and protection.
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At the Earth: Bury a piece of dense, black bread—rye or pumpernickel, dense and coarse, reflecting the raven’s nature—near the spiral’s edge, beneath an elder or rowan tree if possible. This bread is a gift, an anchor for spirit and earth.
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For the Practitioner: Consume a modest amount of the same mead or crowberry wine used in the offering. This drink binds you with the spirits, grounding the work in your body and soul. Do not overindulge—this is not a feast, but a sacred communion.
ᛁᛁᛁᛁᛁᛁᛁᛁ. WHEN AND WHY TO USE THIS RITE
Use the Rite of Raven-Calling when you require:
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Eyes in the dark: to gain hidden knowledge, secrets from the beyond, or insights into fate’s weaving.
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Watchers and watchers: familiars who will follow your will, guard your borders, and carry your commands through the unseen.
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Enforcement: to send messengers or enforcers of your will, whether in the spirit realms or the waking world.
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Protection from unseen dangers: the raven’s shadow wards against curses, spies, and predators of the spirit world.
Appropriate Purposes:
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To spy beyond the veil: before engaging in spirit-walks, necromantic divinations, or soul-trackings.
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To command raven allies for tasks: such as delivering omens, guarding rituals, or gathering malefic will.
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To bind a fetch or familiar: animal-bodied or phantom-winged, into contract with the witch or warlock.
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To bear witness to blood-oaths or rites of vengeance.
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To consecrate the tongue before speaking dark truths or death curses.
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To follow the death-road—in funerary rites or when accompanying the soul of the newly dead.
Seasonal Note:
Best performed in Autumn or early Winter when the breath of the land grows still and the veil thins. In the Southern Hemisphere, this aligns with late April through July, particularly on moonless or storm-hung nights.
This rite is not for casual inquiry or light-hearted petition. It is best employed when the stakes are high, when shadow and blood speak louder than words, and when the balance of power hinges on unseen eyes and silent wings.
Once your working is complete—whether the raven-spirits have answered with flight, shadow, vision, or silence—you must close the rite with the same gravity by which it was opened. Never leave the black path gaping. A raven called and dismissed poorly will linger, discontented, and may fray the seams between your flesh and spirit.
Steps for the Closing.
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Still the Fire — Let the flames dwindle naturally. Do not quench them with water. Instead, smother with ash or cover with black earth, symbolizing the burial of the moment.
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Unwind the Spiral — Walk the ash-spiral backwards, counterclockwise, with slow, deliberate steps, whispering:
“Hrafnskuggi, þú flýgur heimaftur. Ek lœt lausan fjǫðr þína. Ek lokka þik eigi meir—nema við ǫnnur bǫnd.”
(“Raven-shadow, you fly homeward. I release your feather. I call you no more—unless under new bindings.”) -
Dismissal of Spirits — Raise your carved talisman and speak into the void:
“Með tǫnnum ok andvara, með aski ok þræði — far nú sem þú komst. Engi fjǫturr er eftir nema sá er rétt smiðr var. Lát allt verða innsiglað.”
“By fang and breath, by ash and thread—go now, as you came. No bond remains but that which was rightly forged. Let all be sealed.”Clap three times into the night to fracture the contact and signal the veil’s reweaving.
This is a rite of shadowed dignity, not theatrics. It does not answer to the softened voice of modern craft, nor bow to the gods of safety. It is a practice of blood-memory, of breath cast into the abyss, of alliance forged with the black-winged emissaries of the deep North.
If you walk this path, know it will watch you back.
The raven never forgets.
In the old ways, to call the raven is to call the void’s sharp edge—proceed with reverence, discipline, and iron-bound will.
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