Born of storm and soil, this candle hums with strange life.

Clove sparks first — sharp, medicinal, and warm — like a crack of lightning splitting the sky. Beneath it, damp earth rises thick and mineral, the scent of freshly turned ground and rain-soaked graveyard loam. It’s cool, shadowed, and undeniably alive.

Smoldering embers glow at the heart, soft smoke curling through the air as if something has just been awakened. Cedar steadies the flame with dry, splintered wood and old laboratory beams, while heavy moss creeps along the base — lush, green, and ancient, clinging to stone and memory alike.

Frankenstein is dark and elemental: earth, fire, and forest bound together in one flickering breath. It smells like creation at midnight — raw, electric, and beautifully unnatural.

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