Your practice.
Your grimoire.
Your craft.

I built Grimoire for the witch who works alone, and there are more of you than the rest of the internet seems to know.

For the practitioner returning to her craft after years away, looking for a private space to begin again. For the witch whose tradition does not have a formal name: the kitchen witch with a herb shelf and a moon journal, the green witch who learns from her garden, the hedge witch crossing thresholds in the small hours. For the curious beginner lighting her first candle, looking for somewhere to record what she notices. For the long-practising solitary whose grimoire is paper, who knows the limitations of paper, and who wants the digital and the bound book to work alongside each other.

Grimoire is tradition-agnostic by design. It does not assume Wicca, or any single lineage. It does not require initiation. The tools accommodate the witch who works one path with depth and the witch who weaves several. What unites every reader of this page is the choice to practise privately, at her own pace, in her own voice, with no one watching over her shoulder.

If that sounds like you, the rest of this page is written for you.

In the morning, the Daily Pulse shows the day’s tarot card, the moon phase, the planetary hour, and the solar timing. A glance, a card, a thirty-second pause to consider what the draw might mean for the day ahead. That is the practice for many readers. And it is enough.

For others, the practice deepens. A new moon brings out the spell builder, a deity journal entry, an offering noted and dated. The herbs in the apothecary get topped up. A piece of shadow work, written somewhere only she will read, lives quietly in its own protected corner of the app.

The wheel of the year turns and the sabbats arrive. Beltane in May. Lughnasadh in August. Each one a chance to mark the season: a candle lit, an intention written, a ritual recorded so that next year there is something to return to. Over time the grimoire fills. The natal chart sits at the back, the witch path archetype identified through the discovery quizzes, the patron deities log holding the slow work of relationship-building.

When I was building this, the question I kept returning to was simple: what does a practice actually look like when it lasts? Not the version started in January. The one still running five years later.

A practice is the accumulation of small, returned-to acts. Grimoire holds them all in one place: without ads, without notifications competing for your attention, without anyone but you watching the work grow.

The first decision I made about Grimoire was that your grimoire would stay on your device. Not because it was the simpler technical path (it wasn’t) but because a practitioner’s private journal has never belonged to anyone but her. Every other privacy choice in the app follows from that one.

Your grimoire journal and your shadow work entries are stored locally on your device. Not on a server. Not synced to a cloud account. Not visible to us. An AI exclusion toggle lets you confirm your content will never be used to train any AI model. There are no advertising trackers and no behavioural fingerprinting. No data is sold.

There are no streaks asking you to log in every day to keep your record alive. No notifications competing for your attention. No algorithm deciding what you should believe or what your practice should look like next. The app is yours to use deliberately or to set aside; it does not perform engagement.

The free tier is generous because a witch who has not yet started a practice should not be paywalled out of one. Premium unlocks the full reference library, the deeper journaling tools, and the discovery quizzes; the daily tarot, the moon phase, the herbology compendium, and the beginner lessons remain free, always.

This is the design choice that runs underneath every other one: a private space for your craft, kept private.