Mama

Origin & Lore

Across Slavic, Baltic, and borderland traditions, Devana appears under many names, most famously as Baba Yaga—a figure variously described as witch, crone, spirit, or forest demon. In folklore, these identities blur together: a woman who lives beyond settled land, who bargains rather than blesses, and whose aid is never without cost.   In this world, those stories are not wrong—but they are incomplete.   The names Baba Yaga, Ježibaba, and Jedza are titles, not identities. They were applied by travelers, petitioners, and communities who encountered Devana’s work without knowing its origin. Over generations, the titles accumulated mythic embellishment: walking houses, monstrous appetites, moralized cruelty. What remained consistent was not her appearance, but her function—a woman sought when ordinary solutions failed.   Devana herself has never corrected the legends. Stories, like paths through deep woods, tend to form where they are most needed.

Identity

Devana is believed to be her birth name, or the closest surviving form of it. The name carries associations with pre-Christian woodland divinities and personifications of untamed nature, though Devana does not claim divine status and has never accepted worship.   She is not a goddess, nor a spirit, though she has been mistaken for both. She is best understood as a largely mortal witch whose lifespan and nature have been profoundly altered through prolonged proximity to older forces—territorial, elemental, and binding magics that predate formal religious systems.   She does not volunteer her name. Those who know it do so by circumstance, not invitation.

Practice & Power

Devana’s reputation rests on work that others cannot—or will not—attempt.   Devana does not undo the rules of the world. She finds where they still apply. Her magic is not fueled by incantation or force of will, but by alignment: between place, consequence, and necessity. She does not work quickly, and she does not accept payment lightly. What she takes is rarely what is offered.   The gap between folklore and reality is not accidental. It is protective.