The familiar corridors of the Stormtrooper Corps lulled Terra Lorn into nostalgic comfort, despite the severe poise she often wielded while in uniform. Fermenting ambition motivated the fiery bombshell to report in early, having barely survived close quarters combat instruction during training. Being bested by nearly all she confronted was a stinging blow to her survivalist ego, goading her into a fervor for the conditioning she would require to overcome yet another obstacle.

She admired the grace with which martial artists competed, their limbs concise and deliberate in motion. Their wanton waltzes were of a beauty that Terra could not articulate, a frustration that plagued the selfish female's elitist complex. Such discipline challenged Terra's temper, which lacked the will to conform to anything more smoldering. Defiant to such sentiment, Terra desired to prove that she could do it - to herself and to all that remembered the humiliation of her failure.

As always, her explosive tenacity was far from serendipitous.

She announced her presence to a man behind a desk, saluting formally. He seemed amused by the female soldier immediately, his posture full of confidence and sleazy guile. He offered her a sloppy greeting in return, smacking the edge of a hand against his forehead and not bothering to stand.

Terra hesitated, scorning his conduct while frustratingly unable to change it. She cleared her throat, softening a flexed brow and resigning her dislike of the clerk before her. Her heart urged her to submit to overwhelming rage, a habit that marked her character to many who had known her on Naboo.

Pride sunk in her stomach like a rock as she gulped it down.

"I wish to enroll in combat training, sir. What facilities are available?" Terra inquired, shortly. She stood rigidly with her hands clasped over the small of her back, her eyes focused on nothing and refusing to blink.

The young administrant tapped a holoscreen and sighed boorishly, dryly reciting his official response to such queries.

"All available men here have been called to active duty, including many local reserves and resident instructors."

Dismissing the girl, he added queerly,"At the moment there are none to be charged with your.. tutelage."

With unsettling hesitation, he rose from a worn chair, lurching over the front of the desk.

"However, I heard that there is one...unofficially." he tempted, leaning on his forearm. He grinned, flicking a slimy tongue over a spaced row of bottom teeth. He was not a hard-featured man - rather, his slinking manner eclipsed all fairness exuded by his form. It was clear to Terra that this man did not obey protocol, nor did he obey the unwritten code of conduct governing the way a man should treat a lady.

Terra gulped and flashed him a seductive smile, digesting the roiling cur that rolled about her stomach. It was convincing, and she waved a set of endless black lashes, forcibly relaxing the ingrained formality of her posture.

"What's the catch...Bresden?" she inquired musically, glancing down at his breastpocket. The  officer leaned forward, casually observing his flanks before conceding the answer.

"This one...she only trains females." he breathed, nearly whispering. A broader smile crept over his face, ear to ear as he undressed the girl before him with his eyes. Terra didn't notice - she was already daydreaming.

The notion was curious, but appealed to Terra's elitism, offering the privelege of secret and capturing her interest. She fancied the prospect of augmenting her capabilities beneath the tutelage of someone who would understand her, and appreciate the torment of gender archetype.

"How...can I meet her?" she demanded, restricting a scheming grin into something more deceivingly tepid. It jostled the man's poise, as he noticed the bluff, his mind racing amongst every interpretation of Terra's bewildering manner. The ploy forced his hand and he struggled for words, stumbling over his syllables as they escaped without purpose.

He whispered something behind the curtain of a cupped hand, to which Terra replied just as stealthily. Her answer contorted his face into a nervous frown, and he sauntered off with an armful of folders as Terra swaggered assuredly away.

He seemed to notice.

=====
Later
=====

The room was intimate, bathed in dust and emanating a lack of presence that sent chills down Terra Lorn's perfect spine. Ilumination was fleeting and weak, brittle rays struggling to overcome cold darkness.

This can't be right. There's nobody here.

Terra considered that officer Bresden had fabricated the entire story, to coax her from the garrison uniform she wore so well...

Sable dimness painted itself over the build of a concealed figure, beckoning to an aghast Terra Lorn. Before she could grope for her sidearm, the gun vanished without alarm - frightened eyes found the holster to be empty.

"Who's there?" Terra shouted, to no one. She struggled against the threat of the unknown, refusing to resign her composure and turning her back to a corner of the room. She buried herself within the ephemoral solace it offered, peering out in curious taciturnity.

Materialized before her was suddenly the clandestine silhouette of a woman, concealed by dark garments and the anonymity of a hooded cloak. Her framework was rife with sapient aplomb, unnerving Terra with the simple absence of action.

"So you have come..." lulled the stranger, her solemn voice velvet and laden with bereaved reticence. Terra was unsure of exactly what the woman knew, or whether she had been expecting her. The lack of information was disconcerting, deconstructing Terra's usual arrogance and scaring her into propriety.

"Trooper Private First Class Terra Lorn..." she muttered, sweating.

After much noiselessness did the mysterious woman speak, a portion of her bottom lip the only semblance of facial expression available amongst the deliberate umbrage of shadow.

"Hit me." she pronounced, sharply.

Without consideration, which baffled even her, Terra obliged, lashing out at the obscured being. She recalled her rudimentary knowledge of hand to hand combat, performing drilled combinations that failed to so much as graze her opponent. Heaving breaths escaped a clenched jaw, her top row of teeth forced against the bottom. The shadow woman moved so quickly that Terra lost sight of her, recognizing nothing but the blur of her own hand in front of her face.

"Your form is unrefined. Awful." the voice advised, soberly. The insult washed over her like waves, as the calm before the storm, and a moment later, Terra's green eyes were staring into the uninviting blackness of the ceiling above her. Her shoulder blades ached, as they collided with cement, her arms ringing with an unpleasant tingle from the elbow out.

Terra cringed, thankful to be upright as she struggled to her trembling feet. She was immediately aware that the her foe was not even trying - the realization stung her more emotionally than the sweep of her legs that preceded it, warping her fear into a more furious manifestation.

"How can I learn from you, if I can't even see you?!" Terra bellowed, harried by her lack of control. The question was not answered, plaguing the wayward girl with anxiety. She screamed, unable to draw anything besides vexation from the engagement.

Nursing her ribs from the impact of her fall, Terra closed her eyes, nearly sobbing as she yearned for closure. "What am I to learn from such cryptic deed? Such conference is surely counter-intuitive! I am a soldier. I am here to better myself, in order to better my Empire. Mighty as you are, I will not be made a fool of. I resign!" she threatened.

Bitter tantrum drew Terra towards the door in which she came, pain tearing at her torso as she fought to stay upright.

"Fine. You wish to forfeit your destiny to tyranny? To anger? So be it."

The words were spoken with passion, suddenly, as if their speaker empathized with their audience. Indeed, the hardened warrior recognized a shard of herself in the raw potential of Terra Lorn. Perhaps, Terra disturbed her as much as vice-versa.

"Who are you?!" Terra demanded, waiting impatiently for the congnac tone of her assailant's voice. It finally arrived, though unrelenting in it's riddling mystery.

"You may call me S'hada Marilys. I am the hand of oblivion." she offered, obtusely, "Shadow Guard of the Misytrl."

The syllables spilled upon thirsting ears as Marilys spoke them, provoking Terra Lorn's stupefied excitement. Terra knew little about the legendary beings, save for the tale of their defeat against the might of Palpatine's Empire, and the deadly potency of their secretive "assassins." Speculation immortalized the reputation of the Mistryl, though few were aware of their true fate. Probably, only the Mistyrl truly understood themselves, and perhaps, not even completely...

"You...are of the Mistryl? But...I thought you...all of you...hated us? The Empire destroyed you. Now, you would share the secrets of your trade - your heritage - with your conquerors?"

Terra's curiosity and boldness earned her Marilys' respect, and clarity of purpose.

"Yes." Marilys asserted, stepping forth from the cover of the dark. Her face remained mostly hidden behind the folds of spider-silk, each thread vibrant and searing as the minimal available light tripped over it. Terra scowled, permeating the obstinate visage offered by her instructor. She swallowed, pressing her tongue against the roof of her mouth. Her own saliva tasted like rain, aloof and achromatic.

"I...I don't understand. Why?"

Marilys sighed, her silken hood obscuring eyes that bore into the ground beneath her. She closed them, to relieve the pressure.

"True to our mythos, our home, Emberlene, was indeed ravaged by the Empire. Our pride often stifles our well being, and the most unyielding of us refuse to function in accordance with the Empire. However, there are those of us...out there...that were willing to dismiss such loathing and animosity, be it out of convenience or...necessity." she admitted painfully, gently clenching adept hands into fists.

With few words, in short time, had the two discovered much about one another...

An opaque silence encircled the pair, murky and hindering nerves. A sudden tumult in Terra's breast urged her forward, bending her knees and steadying her hands on svelte thighs. She knelt at Marilys' feet, sensing virtue in her obeisance. Power. Even in aspect of endured torment and struggle, Marilys retained her practicality, adequacy, and, above all, humanity. Terra envied such strength. Had she been able to maintain such composure, perhaps the trials of her adolescence may have been circumvented...

"Teach me." Terra implored softly, gazing earnestly into the chasm cast by the warrior woman's mantle. An eternity of seconds lapsed as Terra waited, hanging in the vast expanse of quiet. In such aeon, she noticed the lithesome allure of the Mistryl woman's physique, her contours teasing the observer and drawing moisture back into the mouth.

It was a strange feeling...

Marilys finally surrendered her cowl, revealing the white locks trimmed succintly to her scalp. Her shapely hand cradled Terra's chin, raising her pale face to meet a doting gaze. It was a ruthless tactic, constricting the young girl's bleeding heart. Her expression became that of one who had suddenly arrived at clarity.

"You are already learning..."

Terra Lorn smiled sinfully, embracing her mentor's tender caress. Not for long, however -

There was much to be done.