Night fate, spoken in five tongues. Simcoe, Citra, Krush, Azacca, and Citra Hyperboost converge in a tropical West Coast eruption of citrus, pineapple, mango, and pine. The darkness has never tasted this alive.
Fenrir was born wrong, and the gods knew it. Son of Loki the trickster and the giantess Angrboda, the wolf grew at a rate that terrified even Odin. The Aesir raised him in Asgard, thinking proximity would tame what prophecy had already promised: that this wolf would one day swallow the sun and devour the Allfather at the end of all things.
They tried to bind him. The first chain, Leyding, Fenrir snapped like sinew. The second, Dromi, shattered when the wolf flexed. So the gods commissioned the dwarves of Svartalfheim to forge Gleipnir, a ribbon made of six impossible things: the sound of a cat’s footfall, the beard of a woman, the roots of a mountain, the sinews of a bear, the breath of a fish, and the spittle of a bird. The binding held. But it cost Tyr his right hand, sacrificed as a pledge of good faith into the wolf’s mouth while the chain was set. Even restraining fate requires sacrifice.
Gleipnir holds. For now. The prophecy of Ragnarok promises that Fenrir will break free at the twilight of the gods, and when the chain finally fails, his jaws will stretch from earth to sky. Nox Fatum. Night fate. The darkness that is not a possibility but a certainty, written into the architecture of the cosmos from the beginning.
Nox Fatum is a West Coast IPA at 7.0% ABV, bound by five hops where the myth demanded six impossible things. Simcoe, Citra, Krush, Azacca, and Citra Hyperboost strain against the glass like chains around a wolf that cannot be held forever. Citrus, pineapple, mango, and pine speak the night fate in five tongues. The binding is beautiful. But nothing made of impossible things lasts forever.
