Florian's fingers moved with practiced precision, delicately handling the unique ingredients laid out before him. The Selûr en'Vareth petals felt feather-light, almost fragile in his hands, as though a single careless touch might crush them.
Meanwhile, the Moonlit Dew shimmered like liquid starlight, its silvery hues catching the soft glow of the garden's ethereal light as he carefully heated it over the flame. His movements were steady, his breathing even, the rhythm of his actions almost meditative.
He wasn't nervous—if anything, he felt oddly detached. Exhaustion clung to him like a persistent shadow, the kind that seeped into his bones and weighed down his limbs, but his hands didn't falter. They moved methodically, following the recipe step by step.
The faint aroma of Emberroot, earthy and smoky, mingled with the sweetness of Honeyvine Nectar as it dissolved naturally into the mixture. The scent curled around him, calming in its simplicity.
