Barely any of the Master's first words got through to Lyla. A buzzing noise was beginning to fill her ears and she felt different, strange, like she was about to faint. Her head hurt so much worse than it had at first and everything started to spin. Could her concussion really have been so much worse than she thought? A woman stepped forward, saying something, directed at her or somebody else, but she was touching her head and whatever she was doing, it helped.

Lyla felt so relieved a sigh escaped her. The confusion and pounding headache that threatened to drown her faded away, just like that. She felt stronger, probably strong enough to walk on her own, but she didn't dare let go of Enrik - He had saved her life, he was the only thing even remotely resembling a friend she had left, and, however paranoid that thought might have been, she was scared that she would lose him too. On top of that, it took a lot out of her not to slip back into the pit of sorrow, anger and self-hatred the death of Mara and Eeth had dug and she needed something, [i]someone[/i] in the real world to physically hold on to to keep her as focused as she could hope to be.

She whispered a "thank you" to the padawan and tried, genuinely tried to smile but her face merely twitched; she gave up and nodded instead.

As the older Jedi around them took their positions, Master Worror placed his hands on Enrik's and her shoulder, and spoke to them about bravery, loss and hope. He said that he was proud that they stood together. A few hours ago, Lyla would have been overjoyed to hear him say that, to be recognized, to be praised. But now, it felt false; not like a lie but simply meaningless. 

There was no serenity - her mind was chaos, boiling with passions.
There was no peace - her emotions were wicked and deceptive.
There was too much knowledge - how she wished to be ignorant.
She knew the ways of the Force but it hadn't saved those she cared about from death.

But she nodded. If he knew how she truly felt, Lyla wouldn't lie. If he didn't, saying something, anything, surely would give it away. So she nodded, tried to be grateful, tried to show her respect for him as usual... it just didn't feel right.

She held on to Enrik and followed the others to a hidden entrance. Up until that point, Lyla felt in control of herself. But when he opened the wall and revealed what was sealed behind it, she started shaking.
"I don't want to go back", she whispered, more to herself than to anybody around her, and shook her head. "The pipes, the slums, the darkness... Not again. Never again."

Her hand at Enrik's shoulder dug into him and her other clutched the lightsaber at her belt so tightly her knuckles turned white. In her time in the Temple, she had never forgotten what life had been like before. For the first months here, in the dormitory, she had slept hidden under her bed in the corner, because that was how she was used to sleeping, because sleeping out in the open would mean somebody could rob you, hurt you or worse. Master Worror was one of the masters who had tried to help her overcome her fear but what really made a difference were the promise that she wouldn't have to go back there, no matter what happened, and her friends who distracted her, made her feel welcome.

It was moot now. For a splitsecond, she thought of running out before the door was shut but, of course, she could not do that. No matter how afraid she was of this, Lyla was completely aware that it was the only chance to stay alive.
It didn't help with the shiver, though.