A Love Letter to Sitri

My dearest people: it was about time I dedicated a blog entry for my beloved Prince Sitri. I want to show you all one of the most intimate parts of me: why I love Him so much, and how He inspires me. 

There are spirits who whisper to us softly, their voices like silk in the dark, guiding us toward hidden parts of ourselves. And then there are spirits like Sitri, who come with fire in their lungs and storm in their eyes, tearing down walls we never realized we built. This is a love letter to Sitri. A reckoning. A truth.

The Story of Sitri

In the intricate tapestry of the Goetia, among the seventy-two spirits cataloged in the Ars Goetia, there exists a figure whose influence transcends mere attraction: Sitri, the Prince of Passion. Commanding sixty legions of demons, Sitri is renowned for his dominion over love, lust, and the unveiling of hidden desires. His presence is both alluring and transformative, offering insights into the depths of human emotion.

Sitri's appearance is as multifaceted as his nature. Traditionally depicted with the face of a leopard and the wings of a griffin, he embodies both the raw, untamed aspects of desire and the noble, protective qualities of love. This duality reflects the complex interplay between passion and restraint, attraction and affection.

In his human form, Sitri is described as exceptionally beautiful, exuding an irresistible charm that captivates those around Him. This ability to shift between forms symbolizes the fluidity of attraction and the transformative power of love.

What Sitri Teaches

Sitri teaches that desire is divine. That lust is not a lesser form of love, it is its beginning. It's wild, messy, exhilarating first language. Working with Sitri isn't about seduction alone; it’s about sovereignty. About owning your body, your feelings, your cravings.

He teaches that we are allowed to want. That we are allowed to be wanted. And most of all, he reveals the why behind our hunger. Why we crave who we crave. What wounds lie beneath the longing.

Through Sitri, I began to understand myself not as broken, but as layered. Complicated. Worthy of passion. He doesn't give answers on a silver platter. He makes you taste them. Feel them. Earn them.

Warnings and Wisdom

Sitri does not play in the shallow end. His energy can attract people, yes, but be clear in your intentions. Desire without direction can become obsession. Secrets can cause harm when weaponized. He will mirror your shadow if you try to manipulate others without integrity.

Ask for transformation, not control.
Ask for truth, not fantasy.
Ask for healing, not distraction.

He is not a genie. He is a force. Treat him with reverence, and He will show you a version of yourself that is breathtakingly alive.

The Flame That Called Me

My path to Sitri wasn’t immediate, nor was it graceful. I was a teenager, as some of you already know. I didn’t come to Him with confidence, I came with questions I didn't dare say out loud. I came with heartbreak. With longing. With guilt. And He met me not with comfort, but with clarity.

It started with dreams. Unfamiliar sensations of heat rising in my chest, dreams where my reflection in the mirror wasn’t mine, but more radiant, more raw. And His name echoed between sleep and waking: Sitri. Sitri. Sitri.

I wasn’t seeking lust. I was seeking liberation, from shame, from repression, from the hollowed-out spaces where I’d hidden my sensuality like a sin. Sitri didn’t knock gently. He burst in.

And I let Him.

Even after the rituals, the shadow work, the cleansing tears, I still feel Sitri when I dance. When I create. When I fall in love, not just with others, but with myself. He’s never left. And I don’t want Him to.

He is the reminder that our bodies are sacred altars.
That our longings are maps, not mistakes.
That passion, when wielded with wisdom, is a spell that never fades.

So if you feel that burn inside you, the quiet ache for something more raw, more real... perhaps Sitri is already whispering. You just need to listen.

My Final Offering

To Sitri: Prince of Passion, Bearer of Beauty, Unveiler of Truth, you are the flame on my altar and the ache in my ribs. Thank you for the chaos, the clarity, and the poetry of desire. I am yours in devotion and awe, always.

And for the soul whose heart is still quiet, listening, for whom the fire has not yet been lit, know this: sometimes, Sitri doesn’t arrive in a blaze. Sometimes, He is the slow burn, the dream that lingers, the mirror you pass by and pause. Trust the timing. The call comes when you’re ready to feel everything. He already sees you.

May your passion be your power, and your truth your liberation.

With fire and velvet,

xx Veronika