(As always, this is set in the same alternate timeline as my RP series. This is Kalla looking back during Part VI)
It's hard to believe it's been a year already. A year since the fateful battle at Bastion. When I lost both Greea Bodonawieedo Kaltas, my mother, and Andorra Evenstar, the woman I loved. My mother is dead, I know that for a fact, and in some ways, that might be better than what happened to Andorra.
Darth Virul had kidnapped her mother, hoping to use her to turn the tide of the war in his favor, and for that Andorra swore she would kill him. When my father faced him in combat once again, he chose to show mercy, letting the Dark Lord live. Mercy she exploited, as she hacked Virul into an unrecognisable mess of blood and organs.
This was exactly what Virul had wanted. His spirit had lived on, like so many times before, and he chose to claim Andorra's body as the replacement for the one she had just slain.
The thought of the Dark Lord inhabiting her body is unbearable. The idea of someone so kind, gentle, beautiful being twisted to the will of the most evil being in the galaxy to me, outweighs any victory we gained that day.
What did we gain from that battle? We conquered Bastion, but the New Empire survived, and so did the Sith. The Jedi Order lost one of its best, and the Governor of Avalon lost her daughter. From what I have seen, it was no victory.
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