"The future," Andorra repeated softly, nowhere near as self-assured as Doctor Pradhes seemed to be. "Who knows what it...holds...?!" All of a sudden, she began to tremble uncontrollably. It was as if a blizzard had enveloped her! Falling to her knees, she grabbed one of Reyvan's hands, and one of Lenatha's. "Death--destruction," she stammered. "So soon? I see...a ship, completely dark. Monstrous creatures. Still, some live." Her eyes were rolled all the way back into her skull, so that only the whites showed. "We must hurry. There is very little time to lose."
After her chest stopped heaving, the Avalonian shook her head in disgust. "I am sorry," she snarled with a voice full of self-loathing. "That was not Lord Virul. I must admit to you that in times of duress or great danger, I fall into an altered state of consciousness known as sublustrum. Most of the time, this state is helpful, as it serves as a distress signal or an augmentation of my fighting abilities. However, this time..." She was tempted to spit on the ground, but Andorra knew that would be positively unladylike. "This time it warned me of some phantom situation that we can do nothing about."