KRAMPUS

Cold air bites immediately, sharp enough to sting the lungs. This scent is stark and watchful, shaped by winter nights, judgment passed without ceremony, and the thin line between warning and punishment. Krampus does not rush, and this carries that same deliberate chill.

Winter Ice – Clean and cutting, almost metallic with cold. Stillness and consequence, the silence that settles when everything has been weighed.

Mistletoe – Green and faintly sweet, alive against the frost. Old customs and uneasy mercy, tradition that remembers both kindness and threat.

Birch Branches – Pale wood and snapped twigs, dry and raw. Discipline and correction, lessons learned the hard way and never forgotten.

Coal – Dark and dusty, warm only in potential. Judgment rendered, reward and punishment separated without apology.

After it fades, there is the crunch of snow underfoot, breath fogging the dark, and the uneasy comfort of knowing that someone was watching, and that balance, harsh as it may be, has been kept.