Andorra felt as if a ton of transparisteel bricks had suddenly rained down upon her. She gave a soft, involuntary gasp. "Mother?!" she cried. "By the Force! I have not seen her since--well, you know, since I first wound up in this medical facility. To be honest, I'm not sure she even knows that I, her lovely adopted daughter, was the Dark Lady of the Sith. You can imagine that I'm not eager to tell her, if she doesn't know." She shook her head.
"The worst part," Andorra continued, "is that it's entirely my fault this whole crisis happened. Yes, I was possessed by Lord Virul, and he controlled my faculties at least 90% of the time. What of the other 10%, I ask you? Also, if I had only stayed my hand at Bastion, and not dared to strike the Dark Lord down in a violent fit of rage, I never would have been seized by his pestilent spirit. At the moment when I slew him, or thought I did, my mind was only focused on vengeance. He'd killed so many already, and I wanted to pay him back in kind." She wiped her pale hand across her teary eyes.
Once she composed herself, she stared with numb fixation at the walls of the rehabilitation complex that had been her home for the past few months. "So drab. So cold and sterile. I suppose that's how medical facilities have to be, but you think the staff here could at least have done something to make this place a bit more cheerful!" Andorra tried to laugh, but her chuckle came out sounding nervous and hollow. "No matter. I wasn't here to give anyone interior decorating tips anyway." As she and Reyvan headed for the exits, several doctors and nurses waved, bidding her farewell. She did the same.