Ten Minutes to Midnight - The Secret Duty at the Rainbow Terraces

The twilight over

The twilight over the

Terraces was a deep, bruised violet, swallowing the orderly rows of medicinal herbs and turning the stone irrigation channels into dark ribbons of mirror-glass.Down in the lower bend of the

Valley, where the air grew heavy with the sweet, humid rot of wild clover,

Lin stood with an unstrung yew bow in his left hand, his shoulders dropping in a long, ragged sigh.

He reached up, wiping a streak of dark garden soil and sweat from his forehead with the back of his forearm.

His ribs still gave a dull, resentful throb every time he twisted his torso, a persistent souvenir from

Xu’s brutal martial lesson earlier in the week.Beside him,

Brier stood motionless, her pale fingers wrapped loosely around the grip of her own practice bow.

She didn’t look tired—her frail frame seemed almost weightless in the gathering dusk, her large dark eyes fixed quietly on a weathered timber target frame fifty paces down the terrace.”Rest,” a raspy, gravelly voice broke the quiet rustle of the evening wind.Instructor

Torin stepped out from behind a thick lattice wall covered in climbing moon-vines.

He wasn’t carrying a ledger or a whip today; his bare, corded arms were folded across his chest, and his single flint-grey eye reflected the last pale streak of gold lingering over

Ridge.”You’re both dropping your draw-arms on the final release,” Torin said, walking slowly down the terrace path, his iron-shod boots squelching softly in the damp earth. “Lin, you rely too much on the brute surge of your double

Aether core.

When your muscles get heavy, your wrist twists half an inch to the left.

At fifty paces, that half-inch means you miss a running scout’s eye and hit his iron gorget instead.”Felix offered a weary, self-deprecating grin, leaning his bow against his thigh. “Give me a break,

My ribs feel like someone tried to patch them together with wet twine after

Xu’s little exhibition.”Torin’s single eye flicked toward

Felix with a glint of hard, unyielding amusement. “Xu uses a willow branch to teach you that flesh is cheaper than steel.

If you can’t shoot straight through a bruised ribcage, you won’t last ten minutes in the

Marches.”The scarred veteran turned his gaze to

Hazel, his tone shifting imperceptibly—losing its harsh edge and softening into something closer to professional respect.”And you,

Brier,” Torin said quietly. “Your wind-affinity is stabilizing.

You’re letting the

Aether cushion the limb-stave naturally.

But you’re still fighting the valley draft.”Hazel blinked, her fingers tightening slightly around the yew bow. “Fighting it, sir?””Look at the mist rising off the irrigation ditches,” Torin commanded, pointing a thick finger toward the lower drainage basin. “The air coming off the hot springs in the south collides with the cold mountain current sliding down

It creates a rolling shear-line right across the middle of your target lane.

If you aim straight at the bullseye, the wind-shear will lift your arrow six inches before it covers thirty paces.”Torin stepped between them, taking a notched training arrow from

Hazel’s hip quiver and holding it up horizontally between his palms.”A true

Windwalker doesn’t shoot through the wind,” Torin explained, his voice dropping into the steady, rhythmic cadence of a veteran field sniper. “You listen to it.

You let the ambient

Aether resonance carry the shaft across the pressure gap.

When you draw using the

Three-Finger

Feather-Grip, you don’t just anchor your thumb to your jaw—you feel the air pressure shifting against your knuckles.

If the air feels heavy and sluggish, you drop your point a fraction.

If it’s thin and cold, you let the current pull the arrow home.”Felix watched the veteran closely, his mind—trained on the physical laws of his previous life and sharpened by the strange geometry of

Frank’s stele—suddenly clicking into place.Vector compensation, he thought, a quiet, analytical spark lighting up his dark eyes. It’s just dynamic fluid mechanics wrapped in an

Aether-core skin.“Try it again,” Torin ordered, stepping back into the shadows of the moon-vines. “Ten arrows each.

Use the ditch-mist as your baseline.

And if any apothecary monitor wanders down here asking why you’re practicing archery near the moon-lilies instead of clearing weeds, tell them you’re doing mandatory pest control on the root-borers.”Hazel gave a quiet, determined nod.

She lifted her bow, closed her eyes for three long seconds to settle her breathing, and drew the grey tendon string back to her jawbone.Felix shook his arms out, letting the lingering ache in his ribs settle into the background, and raised his own bow alongside her under the deepening violet sky.