Astaroth Abstract Tarot

November 1, 2026

Seal of Astaroth in gold on a transparent background

There are decks that explain themselves, and there are decks that make you slow down. This one belongs to the second kind. The deck holds 78 cards, each described as a high quality art piece in itself. The art is abstract, and that single choice changes everything about how the deck reads.

Abstract art does not hand you a scene. There is no little story painted on the card for you to read off like a picture book. Instead you get colour, shape, movement, and pressure, and you have to meet the card halfway. For some readers that is frustrating. For others it is exactly the point. A deck that will not explain itself forces you to notice what you actually see, rather than what you have been told to see, and that is a different and older kind of reading.

Astaroth, and why a deck through one spirit reads differently

A deck built around a single spirit reads differently from a general deck, because it has a centre of gravity. Everything in it is pulled towards one presence. That through matters. You are not just using a deck that happens to have a demon's name on it. You are approaching the tarot from inside one spirit's territory, and the cards will answer in that territory's terms.

In the Grimoire Verum material, Astaroth stands as a Superior, tagged with power and knowledge. Those two words are a good compass for this deck, and they are worth holding apart. Power, in this sense, is not bluster. It is the capacity to act, to hold a position, to carry something through. Knowledge is not trivia. It is knowing what is actually going on, including the parts you would rather not know. A reading that gives you power without knowledge is reckless. A reading that gives you knowledge without power is paralysing. A deck centred on Astaroth, read well, should give you both, or at least show you which one you are missing.

That also means this deck is not a neutral tool, and you should not pretend it is. Approach it the way you would approach any serious spirit work: with respect, with a clear question, and with the understanding that you are the one who has to act on what is shown. The cards do not do your work for you. They show you the shape of it.

How to read abstract cards without inventing the answer

The danger with abstract art is that it can mean anything, and a reading that can mean anything means nothing. The discipline is to anchor every impression in something you can point to. Start with what is actually on the card: the dominant colour, the direction of movement, whether the shapes feel crowded or open, heavy or light, sharp or soft. Say it out loud or write it down before you interpret anything. That written observation is your evidence, and it keeps the reading honest.

Then ask what that evidence resembles in the situation you asked about. A crowded, pressing image may resemble a week that has too much in it. An open, empty image may resemble a space you have not yet used, or a silence you have not yet named. A sharp, cutting shape may resemble a decision that needs to be made cleanly. The image does not dictate the meaning. It gives you a shape, and your knowledge of your own life gives that shape its content.

This is slower than reading a scenic deck, and that slowness is the deck's gift. A scenic deck can be read at a glance, and a glance is often all a habit gets. An abstract deck makes you stop. In that stop, you often notice the thing you were about to hurry past, which is frequently the thing the reading was about in the first place.

A daily practice for this deck

This deck suits a daily single-card practice better than a large spread, at least to begin with. One card in the morning, one question: what do I need to see clearly today? Look at the card, write down what you actually see, and write one sentence about what that might mean for the day ahead. Then put the card away and live the day. In the evening, look at your sentence again and ask whether the day matched it, contradicted it, or showed you something you missed.

Over weeks, that evening check becomes the real teacher. You will start to learn how this deck speaks to you specifically: which colours tend to mean pressure for you, which shapes tend to mean opening, which kind of image tends to show up before a difficult conversation. That personal vocabulary cannot be bought or borrowed. It is built, one day at a time, and it is what turns a beautiful set of art pieces into a working deck.

Keep that record in one place. A deck like this, read daily, produces a journal that is worth more than any guidebook, because it is written in the language of your own life. When you later do a larger spread with the deck, you will read it with that vocabulary behind you, and the larger spread will make sense in a way it would not have on the first day.

Power, knowledge, and being specific about what you want

It is worth being specific about what you want when you work with a deck centred on power and knowledge, because vague questions get vague answers, and vague answers from a powerful deck are easy to misread as deep ones. Before a reading, write your question in one sentence, and then ask yourself whether that sentence actually asks what you mean. If you mean to ask about a relationship, do not ask about your life in general. If you mean to ask about a decision, name the decision. Reflection about being specific in this way is not a restriction on the work. It is what makes the work usable.

A useful test is to ask whether the question could be answered by an action you could take. Questions about what you can do, what you need to see, or what is in the way will usually serve you better than questions that only ask what someone else will do. The first kind leaves you with something to work with after the reading. The second kind leaves you waiting, and waiting is not a practice.

This is also where the deck's centre of gravity helps. Power asks: what can you actually carry? Knowledge asks: what do you actually know, and what are you pretending not to know? A reading that holds both questions at once is a reading you can act on, and acting on it is the point. A deck is not a mirror to admire. It is a tool to use, and a tool is judged by what it helps you do.

Working with the deck alongside spirit work

If you already work with Goetia, this deck has an obvious second use: as a focus for approaching Astaroth herself. You might lay out a card before spirit work as a way of settling your attention, or draw a card afterwards as a way of reflecting on what the working showed you. Used that way, the deck is not a substitute for the working. It is a frame around it, a way of beginning and ending deliberately.

If you do not work with Goetia, the deck still works as a tarot deck, but you should know what you are holding. There are many decks, and the right one is the one whose company you actually want to keep.

Either way, treat the cards with the care their quality suggests. A deck described as 78 high quality art pieces is a deck to handle cleanly, store properly, and shuffle with attention. The physical care is not superstition. It is a habit of respect, and respect is what keeps a working relationship with a deck, or a spirit, in good order over time.

Who this deck is for

This deck is for the reader who is willing to be slowed down, and who wants a deck with a single strong centre rather than a deck that tries to be everything at once. It is for the reader who is drawn to Astaroth, or to Goetia more broadly, and who wants their tarot practice to sit inside that world rather than apart from it. It is for the reader who trusts their own eye enough to meet an abstract image halfway, and who is willing to build a personal vocabulary with a deck over weeks rather than expecting it to explain itself on the first shuffle.

It is not for the reader who wants a quick, scenic answer, or for the reader who wants a deck that means the same thing to everyone who picks it up. Abstract art will not do that, and a spirit-centred deck will not do that either. Both of those refusals are features, not faults, but only if you want what they offer. If you do, this deck has a long life in it. A deck you have to learn is a deck you keep, because the learning becomes part of your practice, and the practice becomes part of you.

A reading for a decision, step by step

When you have a real decision to make, this deck's power and knowledge pairing gives you a useful two-part reading. First, draw a card for knowledge: what do I need to see clearly about this decision that I am currently not seeing? Look at the abstract image, write what you actually see, and then write what that might mean for the decision. Do not rush to a conclusion. Let the knowledge card sit with you for a day if you can, and notice what it brings to mind in ordinary moments, when you are not trying to interpret it.

Then draw a second card for power: what can I actually carry, and what step is mine to take? This card is not asking what will happen. It is asking what you can do. A power card that shows a heavy, pressing image may mean the step is heavier than you admitted, and needs breaking into smaller parts. A power card that shows an open, moving image may mean the step is simpler than you feared, and you have been delaying it for no good reason. Together, the two cards give you what a decision actually needs: a clearer view, and a step you can take from where you stand. That is a modest result, and it is the most useful kind.