Chapter 37 - Three, Two, One

Chapter 37 - Three, Two, One

The dropper shook in my hand like it was alive, slippery with nerves and sweat. I’d frozen mid-pour, hovering over the softly bubbling flask. The sharp scent of rosehip oil hit me hard, cutting through my focus like a slap. My arm felt locked, stiff with tension. My thoughts scrambled, tumbling backward to the moment this chaos started.

Some woman... plain-faced, in a regulation tunic... had leaned in close before the first gong rang out. “You’ve got the full two hours for your formulation,” she’d whispered quickly, then vanished. I’d felt relieved then. Two hours. That was enough for “Lunar Veil”... the complex, delicate potion I’d poured my soul into for weeks. It was slow work, demanding precision and patience. Rushing it? Unthinkable.

But now? Now I had fifteen minutes. That final warning bell wasn’t just a sound... it was a punch to the chest. My lungs locked up. My carefully built plan crumbled in front of me, and panic surged like a tide. Weeks of work... ruined. All those nights alone in my workshop, candles burning low, my hands aching and stained with crushed petals and powdered roots... gone. And if I failed now, in the very first round, it wouldn’t just be a loss. It would feel like a betrayal of everything I was fighting for.

Then I saw it... clear as if it stood right in front of me. The Blood Moon Tree.

Its glowing leaves. The way it stood watch over Lucian and me during those quiet, stolen moments. The way its roots had become part of our story. And deeper than all that... it was the heart of the Blood Moon Pack. Their symbol. Their strength. Their history. That tree wasn’t just sacred. It was a promise. I had to fight. For them. For Lucian. For our future.

The fear snapped. Like diving into freezing water, the shock pulled me straight. I couldn’t afford fear. Or pride. Or anything else. Just focus.

I scanned my notes... half-abandoned, messy, but still usable. The mixture already in my flask shimmered faintly. Not wasted. Just… something new. A start. Could I pivot? Build something fresh from what I had left?

And then, like sunlight through storm clouds, it hit me.

Not moonlight. Not mystery. Summer.

The feeling of barefoot days and honey-thick air. Running through apple orchards as a kid. Laughter. Simplicity. Joy.

My hands moved before my brain caught up. I reached for chamomile extract, golden and sweet-smelling. Then apricot kernel essence... fruity and soft. Amber resin, warm and deep, scraped from ancient trees. And finally, a pinch of powdered sandalwood, like sun on old wood. Ten minutes.

I lit the flame beneath my flask with a whispered word. The stabilizing ether sizzled when it hit the mix. My hands shook, just a little, as I swirled it all together. I held my breath. Please. Please work.

And then... it did. Just when I thought I’d lost it, the potion stilled. The chaotic swirl settled into a glowing gold liquid. Like it had caught the sunlight and held it inside.

Less than five minutes. My pulse was a drumbeat in my chest, but my hands were steady now. I swirled it once, gently, and brought it to my nose.

It smelled like happiness.

Bright chamomile. Ripe apricot. Creamy sandalwood. And under it all, that deep, comforting warmth from the amber. I smiled. Really smiled. For the first time that day.

I poured the elixir into the presentation vial and sealed it with a crystal stopper just as the final bell rang out across the hall.

I’d done it. I’d survived the first round.

Lucian found me not long after, his presence grounding me like a tether. Together, we approached the judges. I told them about the woman, described her as best I could. The response was swift. The judges found her... some junior coordinator. Her excuse about "mixed messages" didn’t hold water, and they kicked her out on the spot. Publicly.

Still, even with Lucian's hand steady on my back, I couldn’t shake a chill crawling down my spine. Why me? I wasn’t anyone special. Just a stranger. The question lingered, unanswered.

---

The days after blurred together... fast, tense, unforgiving. Sleep came in stolen scraps. The championship hall, all polished stations and sharp-eyed judges, became my whole world.

Each round tested something new: balancing elements, brewing transformations, healing tonics. Each was its own beast. But somehow, my hands kept moving, and the potions kept working. The sabotage hadn’t broken me... it had hardened me.

One by one, the other competitors dropped out. Until there were just two names left: mine and Isolde de Montclair.

The final challenge was announced with all the pomp they could muster: *Love.*

We had three days. Two for prep in private rooms. One final day for the live demonstration. No hiding. No do-overs.

Those first two days were a strange, sacred kind of haze. The theme hit something deep inside me. There was only one answer.

The Blood Moon Flower.

That rare, haunting blossom that only opened under the Blood Moon. Wrapped in legend. Linked to love, loyalty, and loss. I couldn't imagine crafting a potion about love without it.

And so, “Heart’s Covenant” was born.

Its core was the flower's scent... metallic, sharp, yet oddly comforting. The rest built around it. Powdered moonstone for clarity. Phoenix tears... symbolic but potent... for passion. Purified morning dew for new beginnings.

Each step was careful. Precious. The black-bound grimoire Lucian had given me on Valentine’s Day sat by my elbow, open and waiting. Its pages were already filling with notes and runes. Just touching it made me feel closer to him.

Time ticked down, the hourglass in the corner a steady reminder that perfection didn’t wait. Every addition mattered. One mistake could ruin it all.

The final day dawned bright and brittle. Sunlight poured through the arched windows, making the brass fixtures and glassware sparkle. The room buzzed with quiet excitement.

Lucian was there, standing near the front with Darian beside him. His confidence wrapped around me like a shield. Darian gave a small nod of encouragement. But I knew what I was up against.

Isolde de Montclair wasn’t just a contender. She was a legend. Her name was on elite elixirs across the continent. Her family’s estate was packed with trophies. She moved with the calm certainty of someone used to winning.

And me?

I was Selene.

Just… Selene. Unknown. Unproven.

But I had something real.

And maybe, just maybe, that would be enough.