Aboard the transport, Andorra rose and told her foster mother she was going to her quarters to think and meditate. She had a slight headache. "Maybe I should lie down," she thought to herself as she brushed back a tendril of white-blonde hair from her face. Once entrenched in her quarters, the young Avalonian felt her headache twinge with a signal that meant it was getting worse. The war, the skirmish, the uneasiness she felt...
Andorra fell into a strange dream that was not a dream, full of a dull violet haze.