Lunetta Starwick's Arc

Chapter 8 of 8

Lunetta woke before dawn and lit three candles on her worktable. She pulled out her moon phase journal and studied the notes from her failure. The waning moon had been the problem, not her recipe or her skill. She needed to wait for the right time instead of rushing. She marked the calendar—five days until the next full moon. Until then, she would prepare. She sorted through her dried herbs, removing anything past its peak. She cleaned every jar and cup. She practiced measuring portions until her hands moved without hesitation. When the full moon finally rose, she would be ready. This time she would get it right. On the second day of waiting, she carried a heavy mortar and pestle to her worktable. The silver finish caught the candlelight as she set it down. She needed to practice grinding ingredients until the texture was perfect every time. She selected dried moonflower petals and placed them in the bowl. The pestle felt solid in her hand as she pressed down and worked in slow circles. The petals crumbled into powder, finer than anything she'd made before. She tried the same process with three other herbs, checking each result. Her arms ached by midday, but the powders were all smooth and even. The next morning she assembled a kettle suspended from a wooden tripod outside her workshop. Silver accents decorated the curved spout and a long chain held it over space for a flame. She had studied how moonlight could be captured and used for heat, and this kettle would let her test the theory. She filled it with water and positioned it carefully. When night came, she would see if the moonlight she'd collected in glass bottles could warm the water enough for brewing. If it worked, her teas would carry moon energy from start to finish. On the fifth day, just before sunset, Lunetta set out a delicate light blue cup with a silver moon painted on its side. She filled it with water from the kettle and added a pinch of the powdered herbs she'd spent days perfecting. The cup warmed in her hands as she watched the full moon rise over the trees. Everything was ready—the timing, the ingredients, the tools. She had learned from her mistake and prepared with care instead of rushing. Tomorrow a fairy would come seeking help, and this time her tea would heal instead of harm. She lifted the cup and took a small sip. The blend tasted clean and bright, exactly as it should.