The mead of poetry broke and ran into the nine worlds. You are the last cupbearer of Asgard: hold a bottle, let go on the line, and put every dram back where the song remembers it.
Thirty cups. Four acts. One girl sealed in amber.
Every cup is a verse. Three stars means every layer landed inside the line.
Nothing spills while you are gone. The wax, however, remembers.
Read the verse. The panel lists the layers from the bottom of the cup up, with the exact drams for each. The glass carries a faint gold line for every one of them.
Press and hold a bottle. The stream runs while you hold; let go and it stops — but a little keeps coming. Honey and rime dew drip the longest, so release early.
Density decides. Heavy liquids sink. Ember draught always falls to the bottom, rime dew always floats. You cannot put a layer in the wrong order — only the wrong amount.
Mind the wax. From Act II a wax line drops when the cup reaches a marked volume. After that, nothing heavier than the wax can get under it. Pour the heavy group first.
Do not overfill. The cup spills its lightest layer over the rim, and the verse counts every lost dram. Leave the headspace the recipe asks for.
Seal the cup. When every layer is in, the cup is judged layer by layer. Three perfect layers in a row is a verse; a cup poured carelessly is only a drink.