Blackfire was impressed by the new arrival the moment the elven girl, tall and strangely regal in posture, stepped into the Captain's ready-room. Newcomers were usually wary of their first one-on-one encounter with the Ghidorah's "Lord", if not downright terrified, but only Commander Paxton had shown such fearlessness on their first private meeting.

"Ensign Darkhawk, reporting as ordered, Captain", the girl said, calmly and confidently. Starsword was right, thought Blackfire, recalling her security chief's evaluation, compiled when the Glider observed the latest crew influx coming aboard. Such strength of spirit - but is her mind as strong...?

As she considered how best to test the new Ensign's magic, Blackfire examined Darkhawk with critical eyes. The girl was a most exotic specimen, with lightly tanned skin that seemed almost golden, and unusual dark red hair longer than she was tall, worn tucked into the tops of her boots in the same manner Dreamsong wore hers, although the excess that spilled free of the boots was carefully plaited. Uniform-wise, the girl adhered closely to the approved standard, the only exception being long glistening black gloves.

There's nothing exceptional in her record, Blackfire observed, looking again at the PADD the girl had brought aboard, and surrendered to Starsword in the shuttle bay. Six months on the Cromwell, then a tour of duty at Starbase 221, and finally here. Nothing but satisfactory reports from all her commanding officers. Satisfactory - nothing more, nothing less...

"So, what is your specialisation?", she asked, setting the PADD down before her.

"I pride myself in being flexible", replied the Ensign. "Just direct me to where I'm most needed, ma'am."

"It's 'Captain' or 'My Lord', Ensign", said Blackfire. "I believe in keeping tradition alive, wherever possible."

"Understood - My Lord."

My, she's a spirited one, thought Blackfire. She'll go far, if she doesn't ruffle some wolf's fur.

Outwardly, the Captain reached for the PADD on her desk and consulted the information displayed there, but beneath the surface her powers were stirring, reaching out like wide, trawling nets to catch whatever particles of psychic energy the newcomer might let slip from her control.

Those nets snared nothing. She's very good, conceded Blackfire. I'm impressed - but there's no need to tell her that. "report to Lieutenant Commander Brightsting", she said, in a thoroughly matter-of-fact way. "He'll find you something for the time being."

Darkhawk impressed her Lord again, with a crisp salute worthy of an Academy drill-master, and left without delay to receive her orders. Blackfire could not fail to see that even the Ensign's movements as she walked exuded such self-assuredness, and the Captain knew that something had to be done...

***Brightsting? See that "The Goddess" here gets a duty schedule that brings her back down to our level...***

***Understood, My Lord***, replied the Captain's personal guard. It was the second time in only a few minutes that Blackfire had heard those exact words, this time delivered in the truly deferent manner she expected from all her crew - without exception.

Lieutenant Mayhew, in temporary command of an engineering team in one of the most distant corners of the ship, was glad to hear he was getting another pair of hands, but when the elven Ensign arrived at the RCS quad mooring emitter at the sternward end of the starboard warp nacelle, his heart sank. There were no elves in any position of seniority in Engineering, and word was that they had little aptitude for technology, getting to high positions by their own mystical means and good, old-fashioned, knife-in-the-back murder.

This was only an Ensign, though, and superior rank had its privileges. he was going to put this elf through hoops and over jumps until it made her head spin...

"Commander Bergmann wants the phase accuracy boosted on all the mooring emitters", Mayhew announced once his team was assembled and attentive. "We start here, and work forward. I'd like them all done before we next dock for refit - if you would all be so kind...

"Finch, you take Kaddo and DiCarlo and get to work on the lower unit. Galloway, Humbolt, B'Kerl - Darkhawk - you're with me."

Two humans, a Bolian and the elf in tow, Mayhew headed for the source of the "problem", knowing full well that nothing needed adjustment. Chief Engineer Bergmann was a text-book perfectionist and he made sure everyone knew it, working junior officers ragged to keep everything in order with his vision of perfection. Hassle tended to filter downward, and in mayhew's mind, Darkhawk was pretty much rock-bottom.

The Lieutenant made sure the elf was nearest to him when the maintenance work began. "Give me a 50 micron differentiator", he ordered, head inside the inspection port, right hand extended.

There was a pause, then an instrument was placed in Mayhew's hand. By touch, he knew it was not the tool he had asked for - in fact, it was the correct one.

"A differentiator would upset the coil balance, Lieutenant", Darkhawk said calmly and with infuriating confidence. "To even activate such a tool this close to the field amplifiers could be disastrous."

Mayhew's trap had backfired. He kept his head - and reddening face - inside the inspection hatch as the Bolian, B'Kerl, started to giggle.

As the day progressed, Brightsting dreaded reporting back to Blackfire more and more. Despite his best efforts, he had so far failed to trip up the high-and-mighty Ensign Darkhawk. The mooring emitters, conduit maintenance in the turbo-shafts, that tricky and messy waste-management problem in the arboretum...the girl had handled her duties flawlessly, and with such unwavering composure that Brightsting was left wondering if the girl was actually a Vulcan.

Of course, you never get Vulcans that look like that, he told himself. Or elves, for that matter...

The Commander turned his chair away from the private security console in his quarters, and looked to his closest companion for reassurance. "You didn't like something about her, eh, you wily old wolf!" , he said as his bond-beast got up and loped over to press his head against the Wolfrider's chest. "I saw your hackles rising...but then nothing. What was it - magic? Sending? Something you won't tell me about, that's for sure."

Won't, or can't, the Captain's guard thought as he reached into the wolf's head for any trace of interference. No-one knew this wolf better than he did...

There was barely any time to make use of his expert knowledge, for his concentration was abruptly disrupted by the yellow alert siren and Commander Paxton's voice. "Senior staff report to the bridge immediately!"

Elf and wolf were at the turbo-lift in seconds, the animal bounding ahead to clear the way. One crewman ended up on his back in the corridor and another was pinned against the inside of the lift car by the wolf's bulk as Brightsting leapt aboard. The Wolfrider considered trying to get further information about the current situation from the crewman, but the human was clearly in no fit state to be coherent.

Through the hum of the turbo-lift, Brightsting listened to the changing pitch of the warp-drive's purr. Warp four... five... six... seven - eight, he counted as he listened. A Wolfrider lived by knowing his environment down to the last detail, whether it was a deep, ancient forest or the corridors of the most advanced vessel in the Empire.

Stepping out of the lift at Deck One, Brightsting headed straight for his seat at the Captain's left hand, and sat before even thinking of looking at the main view-screen. Displayed there was a field of stars, all drawn out into the familiar rainbow streaks of high warp, with the sole exception of one glittering point at the centre of the screen.

Our quarry, the Wolfrider realised. Good prey, if it can sustain Warp 8 for any length of time.

Blackfire ordered the image magnified, and Paxton spoke up the moment he saw the "winged" hull and down-turned nacelles. "A K'Tinga class cruiser!", growled the half-Klingon. "An old one. War salvage, perhaps."

The last thing you want is to fight your father's people, eh Paxton?, thought the Wolfrider. You're desperate for it to be someone else - anyone else.

"Your evaluation may be correct, Number One", said Blackfire, relaying Security Chief Starsword's Sent report. "Starsword says their warp signature is showing discrepancies that suggest non-Klingon modifications..."

Paxton rose from his Number One's seat and strode up the slope to the tactical console, almost pushing the elven head of Security out of the way. "Speak so I can hear you, little bird", he hissed under his breath. "No more mind-tricks!"

Brightsting, his ears as sharp as his wolf's, heard the Commander's words clearly, and knew the Captain heard them too, even though she had no wolf-blood within her. Be grateful, Number One, he said to himself. Starsword's replacement could just be Darkhawk, and I'd be glad for her to become your burden instead of mine.

The thought of Paxton's discomfort lingered with Brightsting for a while longer - until the aft torpedo launcher of the Ghidorah's prey came to life, spitting three torpedoes into the starship's path.

Lieutenant Irina Solovna was officially listed on the crew roster as a "specialist surgeon", but everyone knew that was merely a round-about way of saying she was the ship's torturer. She had received full medical training all the same, and if an emergency arose, she was required to help keep people alive - rather than have them begging for death.

Solovna was moments away when the torpedo struck Deck 12, and she rushed to give assistance. A service conduit had blown in the forward section of the deck, burning a number of crew with super-hot steam and trapping others. The former she could help, and set about doing so, but the latter were beyond assistance until the leak was sealed, and that was not likely not be happening soon enough for some of the victims...

The Lieutenant was in the process of extracting an emergency med-kit from one of the wall-panels when the tall, almost regal elf strode past, heading in the direction of the ruptured conduit, wholly oblivious of the danger. Solovna hardly had time to draw breath, let lone shout a warning, before the elf was within the scalding stream -

- and the steam parted before the Abodean like flimsy curtains caught on the breeze.

The torturer watched, hypnotised, as the elf stood in the super-hot vapour, quite unconcerned by her situation. She gestured towards the damaged wall, and the torn panels started to move, becoming molten and fusing together again as the jet of steam subsided and was contained once more.

Imperial Intelligence have to be told about this one, Solovna thought. She could prove valuable...

Suddenly, Solovna was not alone inside her own head. ***You didn't see me doing this, Irina***, said the smoothly confident female voice. ***In fact, you never saw me at all, and Imperial Intelligence will never hear of this particular incident...***

The elf stared straight into the torturer's eyes...

Solovna was moments away when the torpedo struck Deck 12, and she rushed to give assistance. A service conduit had blown in the forward section of the deck, burning a number of crew with super-hot steam, but as she arrived, it was clear that the engineering problem was under control. The rupture had been sealed by vigilant crewmen, and it was now her turn to get to work. In a few minutes she would be back at her usual post, preparing neural solvent for any survivors from the ship that had so foolishly attacked the Ghidorah.

The fleeing ship, discarded by the Klingons but recovered and refitted by independent raiders, managed to draw first blood against the mighty Ghidorah, but everything went down-hill from there. The Galaxy Class starship responded fiercely, torpedoes and phasers ripping apart the pirates' patchwork shields, then precisely-aimed phaser beams went for the jugular, severing power-feeds and crippling what had once been a proud fighting vessel of the Klingon Empire.

Drifting, defenceless, the raider ship was ripe for the taking. Within two minutes, over a hundred Imperial Marines had been beamed aboard, clearing the way for the precision clear-up teams. The clear-up teams came in to track down those who tried to hide, employing tricorders and wolf-senses to run survivors of the first wave to ground, and they were the ones with orders to secure prisoners.

Half-Cardassian, half-Bajoran Korsha Shilor had always been an outcast, despised by both her parental races, and so it seemed quite natural for her to find her way into the ranks of a multi-racial band of raiders, where she could mix with Klingons, Andorians - even Gorn - and all were effectively equals. Korsha, with her talent for computers was much valued, and earned additional privileges with her hard work. Right now, she was one of the rest again - as doomed as the others.

Korsha was not about to meekly accept that the Empire's huntsmen would eventually find her. She knew the ship well enough to find a hiding place that would fool most sensor devices - a service conduit with heavy raidation shielding - and was safely installed there long before the clear-up teams had properly begun their sweep.

It wasn't a perfect hiding place, but a computer access node nearby gave the young woman options no-one else had. With a tricorder tied into the ship's system's she could have the Imperial forces off on a wild goose-chase, or even have the environmental systems discharge gases that could confuse the wolves' sensitive noses. There was so much she could do to foil her would-be captors...

...but she never got the chance to try any of her ideas out.

One moment, she was completely alone in the service conduit, but the next time she looked up from her tricorder, someone else was there with her.

Floating in the exact centre of the narrow, dimly-lit tunnel was a tall, beautiful woman in the unifrom of a Starfleet junior officer. The eyes, the ears, the four fingers - this was one of the infamous "Elves".

Korsha expected her mind to be turned inside out by the elf's mental powers, or to take a phaser stun-blast at the very least, but instead the striking female reached into the top of one of her thigh-length boots and produced a small golden disk.

"Take this", the elf told her, flipping the coin-like object in her direction. Not knowing what the device would do, Korsha tried to dodge out of the way, but there was little room to manoeuvre.

The object stopped in mid-air, barely an inch from the tip of Korsha's nose, then dropped to the tunnel floor. "Activate this when the coast is clear - and before the Ghidorah blows this ship to atoms", the elf explained. "At the other end, do exactly what you're told, no matter what. Any problems, tell them Darkhawk sent you."

Just one thought crossed the girl's mind. "Are - are you from the resistance? What do they call you - the Maquis?"

The elf smiled in a most unsettling fashion. "Ah, that would be telling", she whispered - and then she was gone. Disappeared as though transported, but without lights or sound.

Warily, Korsha picked up the "coin", and examined it, quickly finding a touch sensitive pad. It appeared to be some kind of communicator or automated beacon, but when she scanned it with her tricorder, the device became a mystery all over again.

The technology, the material were all totally unknown in "civilised" space.

Gritspittle was expecting a sizable crowd to turn up to watch the destruction of the convoy raiders' ship from the comfort of Ten Forward, and he was not disappointed. Marines and clean-up teams alike gathered in the space of a few minutes to celebrate another victory, but they were not the first. The tall golden-skinned elf with the dark red hair tucked into her boots had been there for quite a while, securing herself the best seat in the house before the rush started.

The troll had taken the opportunity to introduce himself earlier, and asked a few probing questions. "So, what tribe are you, my dear?" had netted him the answer "No tribe you would know", however, and further enquiries gained only a curt request for dreamberry wine. The barkeeper apologised, saying that supplies were restricted by Captain's orders, and the elf responded by conjuring a flawless eyeball-sized diamond out of thin air, which she planted in the troll's paw.

"In that case, I may just be able to magic something up myself", he replied, and "happened to come across" a bottle that "wasn't on the stock-file, for some reason."

The balding troll kept one eye on the strange elf all the time, even when the crowds grew thick and the torpedoes were fired, blasting the pirates' ship to oblivion. All the same, Gritspittle still managed to lsoe track of the elf, never seeing her leave.

"Sneaky little minx", he muttered, smiling in that typically sly trollish way. He wasn't that bothered that she had gone without a "goodbye" or word of thanks, especially when that diamond was still safely in his pocket.

The interception of the raider ship, and the capture of a fair number of its crew, had provided Brightsting with a most welcome divesrion, the hunt for prisoners bringing back memories of a forest far, far away, and a hunt from a time before the Empire set foot on Abode. "Now" - that eternal focus of Wolfrider life - was dominated by duty and conquest and, as always, those thing managed to catch up with him eventually.

Duty, in this instance, required the elf to make another of his routine private security checks before turning in, and he made use of the opportunity to find out what Ensign Darkhawk had been up to throughout the day. He hoped to catch her in the midst of some unforgiveable treason, but never once expected what the computer had to tell him.

"Computer, detail the movements of Ensign Darkhawk..."

"0405 - Ensign Darkhawk boards ISS Ghidorah at Shuttlebay 1 from shuttlecraft Renfield.

0409 - Ensign Darkhawk takes turbo-lift to Deck 9

0411 - Ensign Darkhawk arrives at allotted quarters, Deck 9..."

...and so it went on, listing every place the newcomer had visited, every place she had been to as part of her duty schedule. She kept good time, it seemed, until...

"1321 - location error. Closest match, Deck 12. Error trace inconclusive.

1328 - Ensign Darkhawk detected aboard vessel under attack by ISS Ghidorah boarding parties

1331 - Ensign Darkhawk arrives at Ten Forward..."

She wasn't assigned to a boarding party, recalled Brightsting, so how did she get onto the raiders' ship?. "Computer, identify which transporter room was used by Ensign Darkhawk", he enquired.

"Ensign Darkhawk has not used any transporter since boarding ISS Ghidorah."

Brightsting let Blackfire know his feelings at once. ***My Lord, I believe we have a problem.***

Three phaser rifles were pointing in Ensign Darkhawk's direction when she opened her cabin door, and was confronted by a heavily-armed security team. "So soon?", she sighed, her tone more flippant than previously. "I guess I should have been more careful."

"There is no Ensign Darkhawk" snarled Brightsting. "No such individual is on the Academy records, or ever serevd on the Cromwell. Any reference to you is nothing but a fabrication!"

Darkhawk folded her arms, and lent against the door frame. "If I'd intended to stay on permanently, you wouldn't have been able to tell the difference between fabrication and fact. Suppose I have to put this one down to experience."

"Your have a poor attitude for one who is now a prisoner of the Empire", the Wolfrider snapped back.

"That's what you think", smirked the false Ensign. ***Try and stop me...Rast..."

Brightsting staggered backward, eyes wide in fearful disbelief. darkhawk knew his soul-name! ***H-how...?***

***All minds in this reality are open to me***, Sent Darkhawk. ***No-one's secrets are safe.***

"Kill her!", roared the elf, deperate to ensure that the key to his innermost self would never be used against him.

Three phaser beams, powerful enough to melt stone, flashed towards the female elf, but she vanished before they could reach her, leaving behind the satin robe she had been wearing over her uniform. One beam caught the garment as it fell, and burned it to atoms.

This did nothing to reassure Brightsting, who all the while could hear Darkhawk's mocking laughter inside his head.

***Captain...!***

Starsword barely had time to register what was happening on Deck 9 before the trouble spot relocated to the bridge. Blackfire stood up and turned to face the Security Chief the moment she received the sending, then turned back towards the view-screen once she had received the report of phaser fire at Ensign Darkhawk's quarters.

It startled the usually ice-cold and calm Blackfire to find Darkhawk standing before her. It took her even more by surprise to be the recipient of a rather passionate kiss from the fake Ensign.

"I just had to do that", said Darkhawk apologetically as she released the Captain. "Would have tried it out first on the Holodeck, but you might have been monitoring that too."

Blackfire sent her rage into Darkhawk's mind, but her attack was quite in vain, for the intruder's mind was like a wall of iron, and the Captain's sendings were as effective against it as handfuls of feathers.

The counterfeit Ensign could have struck back in less than a heartbeat, and Blackfire did not know if she could have defended herself against an assault of such magnitude, but the red-haired elf woman did not even hint at retaliation. Instead, she appeared distracted, a wry smile growing across her beautiful face.

"Ah - my ride is here", she said merrily.

Blackfire shot a glance at Paxton, up at the tactical console. "I'm not reading anything", the half-Klingon reported.

"Raise the shields", ordered the Captain.

"That won't make any difference", assured Darkhawk, still confident and cheerful even though Starsword and half the bridge crew had phasers trained on her.

It was then that the focus of attention shifted to the view-screen as a colossal space-vessel, bird-like in design, dropped in from nowhere. All eyes were drawn to it, if only for a second, and in that second Darkhawk again performed her disappearing act, despite the Ghidorah's shields.

"Open fire!", barked Blackfire, incensed that her superiority, her power, had been so blatantly flaunted in front of her own crew.

"We're too close, Captain...", began Paxton, but he halted in mid-sentence as the huge space-craft, previously hovering nose-to-nose with the Ghidorah, pivoted on the tip of one long slender wing, cloaking the Imperial ship in shadow. The next sceond, the alien craft blurred out of sight.

"Track it!", ordered Blackfire, dropping into her chair.

***Not possible, My Lord", said Starsword. ***That ship jumped straight - straight to trans-warp speed, then its sub-space trail just...stops.***

"Pursuit might not be such a good idea", added Commander paxton sullenly. "We managed to scan them before they left - I think they wanted us to - and, well, I think you should see what the sensors picked up."

Blackfire joined her First Officer at Tactical, and read the sensor report for herself. Disruptor cannons, thousands of torpedoes - it's a fleet in itself! And worst of all, we didn't even know it was there until it showed itself...

Reclaiming her customary composure, in appearance at least, Blackfire returned to her seat to brood over what she had experienced and read. She did not like to be so unsettled, but the feeling remained that she would, one day, go through it all again.

Contact with Darkhawk's mind left Blackfire in no doubt that this was far from over.

Time and again, Blackfire went over every scrap of information her crew had gathered about the woman Darkhawk, but nothing seemed to lead anywhere. She ended up trying to read some significance into the smallest things - what and where Darkhawk ate and drank, what personal effects she had brought on board, when she had booked Holodeck sessions for - and very nearly missed exactly what she had been seeking.

Darkhawk had accessed the library computers just once, calling up star-charts for what had, until a few years ago, been Ferengi territory, and the Captain checked the access records thoroughly, reconstructing the intruder's path through the ship's databases...

The computer suddenly made an announcement. "Access pattern recognised. Activating program Darkhawk 1, on Holodeck 1."

Blackfire stormed out of her ready room, only briefly slowing in her progress to the turbo-lift to summon Starsword and Brightsting to her side. *** Darkhawk?***, asked the Wolfrider as the three elves headed for Deck 11, and Blackfire merely nodded once in reply.

At the Holodeck, the Captain ordered Starsword to remain outside. "Monitor everything", she told the Glider. "If this turns out to be a trap..."

***Understood, My Lord.***

The double doors hissed open , and there was Darkhawk - or what looked much like the false Ensign. Her features were more...human, and in place of the uniform she had no right to, she wore a dark red leather bodysuit, the same gloves and boots as before, and an ornate golden belt-like arrangement, the central feature of which was a bird of prey with wings outspread. The image was motionless to begin with, but turned to look at the Captain as she walked through the doors.

"You took your time", snorted the hologram, a throne of red leather and gold that was more couch than chair appearing under her as she moved to sit down.

"What are you?", snarled the elf in reply. "What kind of creature? You're clearly no elf, and no human has your kind of powers. What kind of arrogant, self-centred..."

"If you're quite finished bad-mouthing me", interrupted the hologram, "I'll give you the one scrap of credit due to you. I had fun whilst on your ship. You've made it very...entertaining."

Blackfire was at a loss for something to say by way of retort. This Darkhawk was many times more self-assured than the one she had encountered in the flesh, if not downright haughty, and the hologram merely looked through the Captain as though she was not there. It's preprogrammed, she realised. I'll get no answers from it, save those she chooses to give me...

"I could have been really clever with this program, and made it really dramatic and stuff", the holo-image continued indifferently, "but why bother? If you're watching this, I'm not here any more, and what's the point of putting so much effort if I'm not going to be around to enjoy it, eh?"

"Get on with it", growled the elf.

"Darkhawk" swung her legs up onto the throne and stretched out on it. "Bet you wished you had one of these, instead of that sorry effort on the bridge", she chuckled. "You've got the looks, the poise - hey, even the boots - to make it look good."

Blackfire was too irritated to admit to herself that Darkhawk was right. ***Starsword, find me something relevant amongst all this idiotic babbling.***

***I can't, My Lord. There's a complex lock-out, and the program will only run with you present.***

"More torture", groaned the Captain. "High Ones, let this be over soon..."

Darkhawk had a long list of observations to make, primarily about a number of female members of the crew - Dreamsong included, much to Blackfire's growing displeasure - and just as the tedium became almost too much to bear, the Captain's torturess abruptly changed subject. "Oh, and before I forget, I've got a riddle for you, Blackfire baby-doll - what's neither high, nor low, and is lost in the shadows in between, where gold is dust?"

Blackfire frowned, momentarily bewildered - and not a little concerned. This Darkhawk creature sounded insane, possibly dangerously so. "I'll wager you're not going to tell me", she muttered.

"You already have one clue", the hologram continued. "It should be enough to keep you busy - until I choose to visit you again..."

The image flickered, rippling as though projected onto water, then faded away. Blackfire should have been glad she was free to leave now, but she very much wanted to know more, perhaps uncovering another clue that would help solve the riddle. Somehow, she felt that Darkhawk's conundrum was more than merely another attempt to annoy her. Much, much more.

***Do you have a record of all that?***, the Captain asked Starsword.

***Yes, but the original program has auto-erased***, came the reply. ***I don't know what - if any - of it I'll be able to recover.***

***Do your best***, Blackfire sighed. ***The more we have to present to Starfleet Command, the less embarrassing this whole business is going to be.***

Exiting the Holodeck without incident - Darkhawk clearly felt it was best to keep her elven adversary alive and healthy for now - Blackfire left her Security Chief to her work, and headed back to the bridge with Brightsting. The Wolfrider did not speak to her, seeing on her face the grim determination of a woman who now had to contact her superiors, and make her inability to capture or neutralise a possible threat sound as little like a defeat as possible.

Defeat was an alien concept to Blackfire. Explaining it away this time was going to be like expecting a fish at the bottom of the ocean to explain the sensation of flight.

Korsha Shilor nearly didn't make it off the raider ship Fire-Sword. Hoping to use the impact of the Ghidorah's torpedoes to cover her escape, she left activating the strange elf's coin-device to the very last second - and found herself wishing she hadn't waited, when she saw the engineering crawlway burn away around her, almost at the same instant as the alien transporter beam locked on, and whisked her away.

The disconcerting combination of the heat of melting metal and the chill of open space was almost too much for the young space-pirate, and she almost lost her grip on consciousness. Her legs gave way under her as the transporter beam finished its work, depositing the girl in a silent, darkened chamber. Darkened, but not totally dark, for light of a sort struggled to penetrate the gloom from panels, filled with swirling, glowing liquid, halfway up the walls.

It was when Korsha hauled herself upright that part of the darkness came to life, separating from the deepest shadow and moving towards her. It seemed to avoid the light almost without effort, and only ever let illumination fall upon it once or twice - and the young woman was certain the dark shape intentionally strayed into the light, so that hints of glistening black and ivory skin could be glimpsed, but only fleetingly...

When the figure in darkness spoke, Korsha was a captive audience - a captive of her own fear, and smooth silken tones that demanded respect, yet the threat of punishment for any transgression was nothing more than a vague...feeling in the air. Nothing needed to be repeated, and everything was understood.

Everything except why - but Korsha left that question unasked. The girl owed the strange elf - and this mysterious woman - her life, and she didn't want to give her benefactors any reason to call in that debt. They could do that in the blink of an eye, of that Korsha was entirely certain.

Knowing that made the girl even more afraid. She didn't know whether she could do everything that was being asked of her - until she saw the equipment her benefactors were going to put at her disposal. That left her wondering whether there was anything that her rescuers couldn't do...

...to be continued.