I recently watched the new horror film Weapons (read more here) and was struck by its unapologetically grotesque portrayal of the Crone. If you haven’t seen it yet and want to avoid details, consider this your warning: spoilers ahead.

But first, what exactly is a Crone?

In mythology and witchcraft, the Crone is the final face of the Triple Goddess: Maiden, Mother, and Crone. She is the elder, the wisdom keeper, the one who walks with death and endings. Her sister archetype, the Hag, is the shadowed version of this figure—often grotesque, feared, or demonized. Together, they embody the mysteries of age, shadow, and transformation. The Crone represents intuition, prophecy, and the stripping away of illusion. The Hag embodies what society calls ugly or monstrous, forcing us to confront decay and mortality.

Both are teachers. Both are initiators. Both remind us that aging women are powerful, whether we honor them as wise elders or fear them as witches in the woods.

In Weapons, Aunt Gladys played by the incomparable Amy Madigan is revealed as a Crone Witch who feeds on children’s life force to heal her own illness. Her eccentric costuming, wild hair, and feral performance made her unforgettable. She is monstrous, parasitic, magnetic: the perfect embodiment of the “evil Crone.”

This archetype is not new. From the cannibal witch of Hansel and Gretel to Baba Yaga in her chicken-legged hut, to the Celtic Cailleach storm hag, the Crone and Hag have long been portrayed as grotesque predators. What fascinated me about watching Weapons wasn’t the horror; it was the unapologetic power. Gladys does not fade. She takes.

If Weapons revealed in the monstrous Crone, The Substance (2024), written and directed by Coralie Fargeat, explored the opposite: the erasure of her. Demi Moore’s Elisabeth Sparkle is split into two selves: her older body discarded, her younger body exalted. It is a devastating metaphor for how society treats women once they are no longer young or “useful.” The film’s surreal body horror and flawless art direction make it one of the most potent meditations on aging, beauty, and violence against the female body.

Together, these films show us two scripts: the Crone as devourer, and the Crone as erased. Both expose our culture’s terror of women who can’t be controlled by youth or desirability.

The Crone in witchcraft reminds us that endings are sacred. She is the dark moon, the crossroads, the ancestor’s voice. She teaches us that decay feeds the soil, that destruction makes way for new life, that power is born in shadow.

Ritual Reflection

Where have you absorbed the lie that aging makes you irrelevant?
What monstrous parts of yourself—rage, grief, hunger are you still hiding to stay acceptable?
How would it feel to honor your Crone self, not as villain or waste, but as sovereign power?

In witchcraft, the Crone is more than a figure of fear; she is the wisdom keeper. She is the dark moon, the one who teaches us endings are not failures but gateways. She is Hecate at the crossroads, guiding us through shadow and liminality. She is the ancestor who whispers secrets in our dreams, the one who reminds us that descent is as sacred as ascent.

The Crone represents death, yes, but also clarity, prophecy, and the stripping away of illusion. She teaches that destruction is sacred, that decay feeds the soil, and that nothing truly ends; it only transforms.

Whether she appears as devourer, hag, or guide, the Crone remains. She is not here to fade.

If this speaks to you, I’ve shared a deeper exploration of the Crone archetype exclusively on Patreon