MOTHMAN

The forest goes quiet before you notice the wings. This scent carries that same uneasy stillness, warm spice threading through dark woods, as if the air itself is holding its breath. Mothman is less monster than omen, and this feels like the moment just before something changes.

Pine – Sharp and resinous, green with night air. The deep woods at the edge of town, familiar but suddenly wrong.

Cinnamon – Warm and biting, flaring briefly before settling. A warning pulse, urgency wrapped in comfort.

Clove – Dry and spiced, almost medicinal. Old folklore and whispered stories, protection tangled with fear.

Cedarwood – Solid and grounding, dark with age. Watchfulness and endurance, a presence that does not move but does not leave.

Amber – Warm and glowing beneath the shadow. Time and memory, something ancient lingering long after it was seen.

After it fades, there is the sense of standing alone under streetlights that hum too loudly, woods pressing close, heart beating faster, and the uneasy certainty that whatever you just felt was not meant to harm you, only to warn you.