Where No.3 roars, No.4 whispers — at first. But don’t be fooled. This is a sequel with more nuance, more cunning, and just as much fire when the time is right. At 64.3%, it’s still ferocious — but this time, it’s been sharpened to a fine edge.

In the glass, it’s rich gold with a slow, swirling viscosity. The nose is dense and dynamic: orange oil, cinnamon stick, sea salt fudge, caramel-glazed nuts, and the glow of glowing peat. Beneath it all, a swirl of dried herbs, briny sea air, and lemon peel charred on driftwood.

The palate starts bold but calculated: baked citrus soaked in honey, gingerbread crust, smoked vanilla bean, and peat smoke curling like Norse poetry. There’s a chewy, oily mouthfeel that amplifies every note — from the warming cinnamon bark to the salted toffee. It's spice, smoke, and sweetness in perfect triad.

Mid-palate adds new layers: dark chocolate shavings, oak tannin, pine resin, and the warmth of barrel char. The peat isn’t dominant — it weaves in and out, guiding, not overwhelming. With water? It softens into something orchestral. All elements harmonise.

The finish is long, smouldering, and balanced: a fading echo of caramel, spice, and coastal smoke. No.4 isn’t just louder. It’s wiser. The mark of a distillery flexing its full strength with restraint, clarity, and character.