Witch Symbols Explained: Ancient Meanings & Hidden Histories

Here's something interesting about witch symbols.

Some of the symbols once intended to keep witches away are now worn by people who proudly identify as witches.

Yes, really.

For centuries, people carved strange geometric shapes around their doors and fireplaces, hoping to keep witches and evil spirits out. Today, we call some of these carvings witch marks.

But they weren't necessarily made by witches.

Quite the opposite.

And that's just the beginning.

The serpent was once a sacred protector. The pentagram, now so closely associated with witchcraft, was also used to ward off evil. And some of the spirals we associate with modern spirituality were carved into objects thousands of years before written history.

So how did symbols of protection, religion, death and fear become part of the world we now associate with witches?

Well, the history is a little more complicated than you might expect.

First, we need to remember that the word witch hasn't always meant the same thing.

In ancient mythology, we encounter figures like Medea, famous for her magical knowledge. In medieval and early modern Europe, people accused of witchcraft were often feared as dangerous outsiders. Alongside those accusations existed practitioners of folk magic, healing and divination. And today, many people proudly identify as witches, following spiritual traditions of their own.

These histories overlap, but they're not identical.

And neither are the symbols.

Some were used in actual magical practices. Others appeared in religious rituals, protective charms and ancient mythology. Some were connected to witches through the fearful imaginations of artists and storytellers.

Over time, their meanings became tangled together.

And honestly, that's what makes them so interesting.

Let's look a little closer.

01. THE HEXAFOIL — The Symbol Meant to Keep Witches Away

Let's start with perhaps the greatest contradiction of all.

The hexafoil, also called the daisy wheel, is a geometric design made from six overlapping, petal-like curves.

You'll find it carved into old English churches, barns, houses and even caves.

But why would someone carefully carve a flower-like symbol into a wooden beam above a fireplace?

One widely accepted explanation is protection.

During periods when people feared witchcraft, some believed that protective markings could prevent witches or evil spirits from entering their homes.

The hexafoil was one of these marks.

Its continuous, overlapping lines were sometimes interpreted as a kind of trap, capable of confusing or containing malevolent forces.

And where people placed these markings tells us something interesting.

They often appeared near doors, windows and fireplaces.

Places where the outside world meets the inside.

Anthropologically, thresholds are fascinating spaces. They're boundaries between safety and uncertainty, between the familiar and whatever might be waiting beyond.

For people who feared invisible threats, protecting those boundaries made sense.

The hexafoil turned an ordinary doorway into something more than an entrance.

It became a guarded threshold.

Of course, historians still debate the meaning of individual carvings. Some may have been decorative designs or geometric exercises rather than magical protection.

But here's the remarkable part.

A symbol we now associate with witches was sometimes carved by people who were terrified of them.

Quite the reputation change.

02. THE PENTAGRAM — From Protection to Witchcraft

Few symbols have experienced such a dramatic transformation in reputation.

Today, the five-pointed star is practically inseparable from witchcraft, occult imagery and supernatural horror.

But in medieval Europe, it could mean something very different.

The pentagram, also called the pentangle, appeared in Christian symbolism and was sometimes used as a protective marking.

In the medieval poem Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, the pentangle represents virtues, faithfulness and Christian devotion. Its five points are associated with several sets of five, including the five wounds of Christ.

Not exactly what most people picture when they see a pentagram today.

And that's not all.

Pentangles were also carved into the stone and woodwork of buildings, sometimes near entrances, where they were believed to help ward off evil.

In certain contexts, that included witches and other feared supernatural forces.

The same symbol later became important in Western occult traditions and modern Wicca.

Today, the pentagram and the enclosed pentacle can represent the elements, spiritual balance, protection or ritual practice, depending on the tradition.

So was the pentagram used by witches or against them?

Both, but in different historical contexts.

And perhaps that's what makes its story so fascinating.

The symbol itself didn't fundamentally change.

The beliefs surrounding it did.

What once offered protection against feared supernatural forces could later become an emblem of a spiritual practice that embraces magic.

Symbols have a strange way of switching sides.

03. THE CROSS — When Religion and Magic Weren't Opposites

We tend to imagine crosses and witches on opposite sides of history.

Christianity on one side. Witchcraft on the other.

But everyday life was rarely that simple.

For centuries, crosses were worn, carried and placed inside homes as symbols of faith and protection.

In European folklore, Christian prayers, blessings and religious objects were also used to ward off harmful magic.

So yes, crosses could be used against witchcraft.

But here's where things become interesting.

Christian symbols also appeared in folk-magic practices.

Some people who offered healing, blessings or protective charms drew on Christian traditions while performing rituals that others might have described as magical.

And we have physical evidence of this overlap.

The Museum of Witchcraft and Magic in Cornwall preserves a remarkable box of charms collected and used by a Belgian woman named Eugénie Évrard around the turn of the twentieth century.

Inside were crucifixes, religious medals, a silver key, small skulls, bones and nails.

Christian devotion and objects associated with folk magic, all gathered in one little box.

The distinction between religion and magic often depended on who was performing the ritual, and who was judging it.

A prayer might be considered an act of faith.

A charm using similar religious language might be considered suspicious.

The intention, the person and the social context could change everything.

The same symbol could exist on both sides of the spell.

Religion and magic weren't always opposites.

04. THE EYE — The Power to Curse and Protect

For thousands of years, humans have feared the power of a gaze.

And in some traditions, they believed a look could do more than express emotion.

It could cause harm.

Across parts of Europe and the Mediterranean, the belief in the evil eye suggested that envy, jealousy or malicious attention could bring misfortune.

Sometimes the harm was believed to happen intentionally. Other times, the gaze itself was feared, even without a deliberate curse.

In European witchcraft folklore, certain people accused of witchcraft were believed capable of causing harm through their eyes.

Imagine being considered dangerous simply because of the way you looked at someone.

But the eye has another history.

In ancient Egypt, the wedjat, or Eye of Horus, was one of the most important protective amulets.

According to mythology, Horus's eye was injured and later restored. The symbol became associated with healing, protection and regeneration.

People wore it as jewellery, believing it could guard them against harm.

The Eye of Horus and the Mediterranean evil-eye traditions have different origins, but their histories reveal something remarkably similar.

The gaze could be feared.

And an image of an eye could offer protection against that fear.

This is one of the great contradictions of protective magic: the thing that represents a threat can also become the thing believed to defend against it.

Feared as a curse. Worn as protection.

Perhaps that's why the eye remains so powerful in witchcraft symbolism today.

It suggests perception, intuition and the possibility of seeing what others cannot.

But its history also reminds us how easily a person's gaze could become something feared.

05. THE SERPENT — Protection, Magic & Transformation

The serpent has always had a complicated reputation.

Dangerous, mysterious, sometimes feared.

But also sacred, protective and deeply connected to the history of magic.

In ancient Egypt, the cobra represented Wadjet, a powerful protective goddess.

Her image adorned royal crowns, ready to defend the wearer against enemies.

Think about that for a second.

One of the most feared creatures in nature became a symbol of divine protection.

But the serpent's relationship with witchcraft goes much deeper.

In ancient Greek religion, serpents appeared alongside Hecate, the goddess associated with magic, crossroads and the unseen world.

A Roman marble relief dating to approximately AD 1–160 depicts Hecate in three forms. One figure holds a dagger and a serpent, another carries torches, and another a key and a nail.

A collection of objects that would feel remarkably familiar in a contemporary witch's jewellery box.

And then there's Medea.

One of the most famous sorceresses of classical mythology, Medea is closely associated with Hecate, magical knowledge and serpentine imagery in ancient literature.

So the connection between serpents and witchcraft isn't simply a modern invention.

It appears in ancient stories and religious images connected to magic.

And there's another layer.

Snakes shed their skin.

It's easy to understand why a creature capable of leaving its old exterior behind became such a compelling image of transformation and renewal.

But the serpent also carries a contradiction.

It can heal or harm. Protect or threaten. Inspire reverence or fear.

And perhaps that's what makes it such a fitting companion to the witch.

Both have existed somewhere between danger and protection, depending on who was telling the story.

06. THE DAGGER — A Blade That Defines Sacred Boundaries

Now this one has a direct connection to modern witchcraft.

In Wicca and certain other contemporary witchcraft traditions, a ritual knife called an athame is used during ceremonies.

Unlike an ordinary kitchen knife, its primary purpose is generally symbolic rather than practical cutting.

It may be used to cast a ritual circle, direct symbolic energy or define sacred space.

And that last detail is particularly interesting.

Why would a blade be used to establish a boundary?

In many ritual traditions, creating a sacred space means distinguishing it from ordinary life.

A circle might mark the place where a ceremony begins, where different rules apply, or where the practitioner feels protected.

The blade becomes an instrument of separation.

Not necessarily separating flesh.

Separating spaces, intentions and states of being.

But the relationship between blades and protective magic is much older than modern Wicca.

In ancient Egypt, certain protective deities were depicted carrying knives to defend against dangerous supernatural forces.

And Hecate, the ancient Greek goddess associated with magic, sometimes appeared holding a dagger.

One remarkable Roman relief preserved at the British Museum shows her carrying that very object alongside a serpent, key, nail and torches.

Of course, this doesn't mean ancient worshippers used an athame in the modern Wiccan sense.

Those are different traditions.

But they share an interesting idea.

A blade can represent more than violence.

Sometimes it is the thing that draws the line between what is permitted to enter and what must remain outside.

07. THE PENDULUM — When Jewellery Became Divination

Here's one of the most surprising stories in this entire collection.

In fourth-century Rome, a ring suspended by a thread was reportedly used in a divination ritual to reveal the identity of the next emperor.

Yes. An actual ring.

The story comes from the Roman historian Ammianus Marcellinus.

According to his account, a group of men consulted a divinatory apparatus consisting of a circular dish marked with the 24 letters of the Greek alphabet.

A consecrated ring was suspended above it by a fine thread.

As the ring moved, its contact with different letters was interpreted as a message.

The ritual was intended to reveal who would succeed Emperor Valens.

And things took a rather dark turn.

The movements were interpreted as spelling the beginning of a name, leading those present to believe they had discovered the future ruler.

The affair eventually became part of a treason investigation, with accusations, interrogations and executions.

Apparently, asking the universe about the next emperor wasn't a particularly safe hobby.

The story is preserved in an ancient historical account rather than an archaeological reconstruction of the ritual. But it offers a remarkable glimpse into the relationship between divination and political power.

And the ring?

It shows how an ordinary piece of jewellery could become something entirely different through ritual.

Centuries later, suspended weights became associated with various forms of divination and dowsing.

Today, some modern witches use pendulums to seek answers, interpreting their movements according to established ritual conventions.

From an anthropological perspective, divination is about something deeply human.

Uncertainty.

We want to know what comes next, what cannot be seen, and what lies beyond our immediate understanding.

Across cultures, people have developed countless ways of interpreting signs to approach those questions.

The pendulum is particularly intriguing because it transforms a tiny physical movement into something meaningful within a ritual.

A simple object becomes a way of asking questions about the unknown.

From jewellery to divination.

08. THE SPIKE — Sharp Objects and Counter-Magic

Not every pointed object was associated with a weapon.

And not every sharp object in magical history was used by someone considered a witch.

In seventeenth-century England, people sometimes prepared objects now known as witch bottles.

These vessels could contain urine, hair, nails, pins and other materials.

The bottles were then sealed and hidden inside buildings, buried or otherwise incorporated into protective rituals.

Why?

Because people believed they could counteract harmful witchcraft.

In some versions of the practice, the sharp objects were intended to cause pain to the witch believed responsible for a curse, compelling that person to remove it.

An unusual form of magical retaliation.

And here's the contradiction.

The people preparing these bottles often believed they were defending themselves against witchcraft.

But they were using a magical ritual to do it.

Fighting witchcraft with witchcraft.

The distinction between acceptable protective magic and condemned harmful magic was not always clear.

It often depended on intention, reputation and social circumstances.

Similar pointed objects also appear in other forms of folk magic, including practices involving figures, charms and ritual healing.

The spike itself isn't a universal ancient witch symbol.

But pointed objects have a documented place in the history of magical practices.

And outside those historical associations, the shape carries a more immediate meaning.

A thorn protects a plant.

A spine discourages contact.

Sharpness can signal danger, but also defence.

Perhaps that's why these forms continue to feel powerful when translated into jewellery.

Not every protective object needs to look gentle.

09. THE SPIRAL — A Shape That Keeps Returning

Long before written history, humans were drawing spirals.

And here's the fascinating part.

The same basic shape kept appearing in different parts of the world.

In Siberia, archaeologists discovered a piece of mammoth ivory decorated with a spiral dating to approximately 18,000 years ago.

Thousands of years later, spirals were carved into enormous stones at Newgrange, a prehistoric passage tomb in Ireland built around 3200 BCE.

Similar forms also appear in rock art across different regions of the world, including the Americas.

Different cultures.

Different eras.

A remarkably familiar shape.

These examples don't prove that the people who created them shared a religion, or that they all understood the spiral in the same way.

Some communities may have exchanged ideas. Others may have developed similar designs independently.

But the recurrence itself is fascinating.

Why does the human imagination keep returning to the spiral?

Perhaps part of the answer lies in the natural world.

We encounter spiral-like forms in shells, plants, storms and the movement of water.

And unlike a simple circle, a spiral seems to travel.

It can move inward or outward, suggesting movement without a clear beginning or end.

At Newgrange, the original meaning of the spiral carvings remains uncertain.

The monument's passage is aligned with the rising sun around the winter solstice, but that doesn't tell us exactly what every carved design meant to its makers.

Some archaeologists have proposed connections to celestial cycles, ritual journeys or ideas about life and death.

These remain interpretations.

Much later, spirals became associated with different spiritual traditions, including modern witchcraft.

Today, some witches embrace the spiral as a symbol of cycles, renewal and transformation.

And while we cannot claim an uninterrupted magical tradition stretching back to the Ice Age, there's something extraordinary about this continuity of form.

Thousands of years, countless different lives, and humans are still drawn to the same curling shape.

Maybe its oldest meaning is lost.

But its story certainly isn't over.

10. THE BONES — Death, Memory & The Witch's Reputation

Bones have a complicated history.

Today, we associate skulls and skeletons with witchcraft, gothic imagery and the macabre.

But historically, bones weren't always intended to frighten.

In medieval Christianity, the physical remains of saints were treated with reverence.

These relics were believed to possess spiritual significance and were often preserved inside elaborate containers made from precious metals and gemstones.

Bones could be sacred.

They could connect the living to the dead.

They could even be associated with healing.

And then there's memento mori.

During the Renaissance, skulls, skeletons and coffins appeared in jewellery as reminders of mortality.

One extraordinary Renaissance wedding ring preserved at the Metropolitan Museum of Art contains two tiny hidden compartments.

Inside one rests a miniature baby.

Inside the other, a skeleton.

Life and death, hidden inside the same ring.

It's an incredibly intimate object.

A reminder that love, birth and mortality are inseparable.

But bones also became part of how European artists imagined witches.

In 1510, the German artist Hans Baldung created a woodcut depicting witches gathered around a cauldron, surrounded by bones and unsettling ritual objects.

The image helped shape the frightening visual language of witchcraft.

But here's something important.

Those paintings and prints tell us how artists and their audiences imagined witches.

They don't necessarily tell us what women accused of witchcraft actually did.

The distinction matters, especially in a period when accusations could lead to imprisonment or execution.

In contemporary witchcraft and certain spiritual practices, bones and skulls may be associated with ancestors, mortality, the natural world or the relationship between life and death.

Their meaning varies considerably.

But perhaps that's what makes them so compelling.

A bone can represent something that has ended.

Or something that remains.

Not simply death, but the traces of a life that existed before us.

11. THE WINGS — Protection & The Possibility of Flight

We usually associate wings with freedom.

But historically, they have carried much more complicated meanings.

In ancient Egypt, winged divine figures represented protection.

Goddesses such as Isis could be depicted with extended wings, sheltering or guarding those beneath them.

Winged scarabs were also placed with the dead, associated with rebirth and the hope of continued existence.

Wings weren't simply about flying.

They could represent protection and passage between different states of existence.

Now, what does this have to do with witches?

One of the oldest and most persistent features of European witchcraft imagery is supernatural flight.

Witches were imagined travelling through the night, sometimes on animals or ordinary household objects transformed into magical transportation.

In Hans Baldung's 1510 woodcut, witches appear suspended in the air amid swirling smoke.

The power to fly was central to how the witch was imagined: someone capable of escaping the limits that governed ordinary people.

But wings themselves weren't necessarily a defining symbol of historical witchcraft.

Their connection is broader.

Across mythology and folklore, wings belong to beings that move between worlds.

Birds, angels, divine messengers and supernatural creatures all share this ability.

In contemporary witch-inspired imagery, wings can suggest transformation, otherworldliness and freedom from ordinary boundaries.

And that creates an interesting contrast.

The same power to move beyond human limits could be celebrated as divine or feared as witchcraft.

Depending, once again, on who was telling the story.

12. THE KEY — The Power to Open and Close

A key is an ordinary object with an extraordinary symbolic history.

It decides what opens.

And what remains closed.

In ancient religious imagery, keys could represent guardianship, access and authority over particular spaces.

One of the most fascinating examples is Hecate.

Associated with crossroads, boundaries and magic, the goddess was sometimes depicted carrying a key.

Remember that Roman relief featuring a dagger and serpent?

There's a key in it, too.

But to understand why this matters, we have to talk about thresholds.

Across cultures, doorways and crossroads have often been treated as meaningful places.

They mark transitions.

Between inside and outside. One territory and another. The familiar and the unknown.

In anthropology, such in-between conditions are often described as liminal.

And liminal places have frequently attracted stories about supernatural beings, spirits and magical encounters.

Hecate's association with crossroads makes her an especially compelling figure within this symbolic world.

A goddess who belongs at the meeting point of different paths.

Her key can be understood in relation to access, guardianship and the ability to cross boundaries.

In some contemporary devotional and witchcraft practices, keys continue to be associated with Hecate and ritual symbolism.

But not every antique key was a magical object.

Sometimes a key was simply a key.

Its symbolic power comes from the action it makes possible.

To open.

To close.

To enter.

To keep something safely hidden.

And perhaps that's why keys have remained such compelling objects in the history of magic.

After all, few things are more intriguing than a locked door.

13. THE MOON — The Rhythm of the Unseen

The moon is almost inseparable from our modern image of the witch.

Moonlit gatherings. Rituals under the night sky. The changing phases of the lunar cycle.

But people were wearing lunar symbols thousands of years before modern witchcraft existed.

In ancient Egypt, crescent-shaped amulets appeared in personal adornment.

In ancient Rome, crescent-shaped pendants called lunulae were associated particularly with girls and could serve protective purposes.

The moon was not simply an astronomical object.

It could become something worn close to the body.

A small symbol of protection.

Across different cultures, the moon was also associated with specific deities, religious traditions and systems for measuring time.

But its meaning was never universal.

Nor was it always feminine.

So how did it become such an important symbol of witchcraft?

Part of the connection developed through associations between nighttime, supernatural activity and figures such as Diana and Hecate, whose identities and attributes became intertwined in later traditions.

And in modern witchcraft, lunar phases are often incorporated into ritual calendars.

Different phases may be given different meanings, depending on the practitioner and tradition.

But there's something much more universal underneath all these interpretations.

The moon changes in a way we can actually see.

It disappears.

It returns.

It transforms, yet remains recognizably the same.

Before modern clocks and calendars, observing lunar rhythms was an important way of experiencing and organizing time.

The moon connected human activity to a cycle larger than any individual life.

Perhaps that's part of what makes it so enduring.

It doesn't need to promise supernatural power to feel significant.

It reminds us that change is one of the few things we can always expect.

14. THE OUROBOROS — The Serpent That Consumes Itself

And finally, a serpent with a story of its own.

The ouroboros depicts a snake biting or swallowing its own tail, forming a circle.

At first glance, it seems almost impossible.

A creature consuming itself.

An ending that becomes a beginning.

Versions of this imagery appeared in ancient Egyptian religious contexts and later in Greek and Roman magical traditions.

But here's a particularly fascinating example.

The British Museum preserves a Late Roman magical amulet, dating from approximately the fourth or fifth century, decorated with an ouroboros surrounding a symbol of a womb and a key.

Think about that combination.

A serpent.

A circle.

A key.

A symbol of the human body.

All contained in an object small enough to wear.

These kinds of magical gems are important because they provide material evidence of actual ancient magical practices.

Not just mythological stories about sorceresses.

Objects that people made, carried and used.

The ouroboros also appeared in later alchemical and esoteric traditions, where it acquired associations with cycles, eternity and the relationship between opposing forces.

Over time, its circular form became a powerful image of continuity.

But we should be careful not to assume that every culture gave it exactly the same meaning.

A protective amulet from the Roman world and an alchemical manuscript from centuries later belong to different intellectual and religious traditions.

Even when they feature a familiar image.

For modern witches and practitioners of esoteric traditions, the ouroboros can evoke transformation, renewal and the interconnectedness of life.

And perhaps that's why the symbol keeps returning.

It captures an idea that humans have wrestled with for thousands of years.

Can something end without truly disappearing?

Can destruction also make room for creation?

Few symbols express the relationship between endings and beginnings so beautifully.

SO, WHO REALLY OWNS THESE SYMBOLS?

Here's what makes this history so interesting.

Some symbols were worn to protect people from harm.

Others were carved into buildings to keep witches away.

Some appeared in religious ceremonies, funerary objects and actual magical practices.

And others became associated with witches because artists, storytellers and frightened communities imagined them that way.

Over time, these very different histories became tangled together.

The serpent could be feared, even though it had once protected royalty.

The pentagram became associated with witchcraft, despite also having a history as a protective symbol.

The cross could be used against magic and appear within magical practices.

And objects like rings, keys and daggers moved between everyday life and ritual.

Perhaps the greatest misconception is that there was ever one single meaning behind all these symbols.

There wasn't.

The same image could represent protection in one culture and danger in another.

Something sacred to one community could be suspicious to its neighbours.

And what one generation feared, another might embrace.

The history of witchcraft makes this particularly clear.

For centuries, the word witch could be an accusation, used to describe someone believed to possess dangerous or forbidden powers.

Today, many people have reclaimed that identity as something meaningful, spiritual or empowering.

The symbols have travelled with that transformation.

Some of the symbols once intended to keep witches away are now worn by people who proudly identify as witches.

How strange is that?

But perhaps symbols have always worked this way.

They travel between cultures, religions and generations. They lose meanings, acquire new ones and sometimes become the very opposite of what they once represented.

And that's why their histories matter.

We don't need to pretend every strange little object was invented by an ancient witch to find it fascinating.

The real stories are already strange enough.

A protective carving above a medieval doorway.

A serpent guarding an Egyptian crown.

A wedding ring hiding a skeleton.

A Roman ring swinging above an alphabet, supposedly revealing the name of a future emperor.

These aren't just decorative shapes.

They're fragments of how humans have tried to understand danger, death, uncertainty, transformation and the unseen.

And centuries later, we continue to wear them.

Not necessarily for the same reasons.

Not always with the same beliefs.

But with the same human instinct to give meaning to the objects we keep close.

Symbols change. So do the stories we attach to them.

And maybe that's the most interesting part.

We're not simply repeating the past.

We're adding another chapter to it.