Love & Obsession Spells Review 2026: Is It Worth It?

What Love & Obession Spells is, in one sentence.

A $17 digital kit—PDF, audio, and automated email—sold under the story that High Priestess Scarlet Rivera will cast a love or obsession spell on your behalf. The story is the product; the files are the receipt.

You are not buying a service. You are buying a themed PDF with ritual instructions, a binaural-beat audio track, and a confirmation email that inserts your name into a prewritten message. That’s what $17 gets you, and that’s what you should expect when you click.

What you actually get

Four items, none of which require a priestess:

• The main spell guide. A PDF of roughly 25–35 pages, formatted for screen reading. It covers candle colors, herbs, moon-phase timing, and a script for a love-attraction ritual. The content is generic—you can find near-identical instructions on free occult forums—but it’s organized into a single document.
• An audio track. Titled something like “Attraction Frequency,” it runs 8–12 minutes of binaural beats with a guided visualization. The production quality is basic; the voiceover is likely a text-to-speech or a stock recording. It’s not personalized.
• A bonus “Get Your Ex Back” PDF. A shorter guide that recycles the main ritual with slight variations (candle color swaps, a different chant). If you’ve read the main guide, you’ve read 80% of this.
• The “personalized spell casting” email. Within 24 hours, you’ll receive an email that addresses you by name and states that High Priestess Scarlet Rivera has performed the spell. It’s a template. The only personalization is the name field you entered at checkout.

No physical items ship. No actual person lights a candle on your behalf. The entire deliverable is digital.

How the marketing oversells

The sales page uses the classic “cast by a real practitioner” frame, complete with a persona (Scarlet Rivera) and imagery of candles, altars, and mystical symbols. The promise is that someone else is doing the work for you—that’s the core sell.

The reality: you’re buying a self-serve ritual kit. The “High Priestess” is a pen name for a digital product vendor. The spell isn’t cast; it’s downloaded. The marketing relies on the buyer’s willingness to suspend disbelief, and for many buyers in emotional distress, that suspension comes easily.

The upsell path is where the real money is. After checkout, you’ll be offered additional spell kits at $27, $37, or $47—for faster results, stronger obsession, or “binding” magic. The initial $17 is a foot in the door. The refund window covers these too, but only if you remember to use it.

How it tells you to use it

The guide instructs you to gather specific items (candles, herbs, a photo of the target), wait for the appropriate moon phase, and perform the ritual while listening to the audio. It suggests repeating the ritual over several nights. The instructions are safe—no dangerous ingredients or actions—and are essentially a form of focused meditation with props.

If you treat it as a self-soothing exercise or a piece of theatrical self-help, you might extract some value. The ritual structure can help someone feel a sense of agency after a breakup. That’s not magic, but it’s a real psychological effect—and it’s the only effect you should expect.

What it costs and how the refund works

$17 one-time at the front-end checkout. No recurring billing. Upsells after purchase can raise the total, but the initial charge is exactly what the sales page shows.

ClickBank handles refunds. Email their support with your order ID within 60 days and the money comes back in under a week. The vendor has no say in this. That means you can buy, read everything, and still get a full refund if you decide the kit isn’t worth $17. This is the only part of the offer that is completely reliable.

Where the marketing oversells (the specific lines)

Two claims to flag:

“High Priestess Scarlet Rivera will cast your spell.” — There is no evidence that any individual named Scarlet Rivera exists as a practicing spellcaster for this product. The name appears on the sales page and in the confirmation email; it’s a branding device.

“Make anyone fall in love with you or get your ex back.” — The language implies a guaranteed outcome. No ritual can guarantee another person’s feelings. The guide itself contains no guarantee language—only the marketing does.

Who should buy, who should skip

Buy this if you’re curious about love-spell aesthetics, want a cheap script for a personal ritual, and fully understand that you’re buying a PDF, not a service. Treat the $17 as a rental fee for a few hours of theatrical self-reflection, and use the refund window if it doesn’t land.

Skip this if you’re hurting after a breakup and hoping for a real change in someone else’s heart. The product will not do that, and the upsell funnel is designed to exploit that hope. Skip it if you expect a genuine practitioner to intercede on your behalf—that’s not what’s being sold, no matter what the sales page says.

The honest read

Love & Obession Spells is a digital costume. The costume is a $17 PDF dressed up as a personalized spellcasting service. The PDF is coherent, the audio is functional, and the ritual might help you focus your thoughts for an evening. But the promise—that a priestess will cast a spell and alter someone’s feelings—is a fiction sold to people who want to believe it.

If you know it’s a fiction and want the props anyway, $17 is a small price for a themed journaling exercise. If you don’t know it’s a fiction, the product is taking advantage of you. The refund window is your exit. Use it.

— House Editor