It has been many years since Samara left asari space. Centuries, generations for other species, and even for asari. She did not hesitate to leave, however. Where her quarry goes, she must follow. Her quarry (better not to think of her by name—neither the one she received at birth, nor the one she now uses) ventured to Illium, from there to Omega; so Samara will pursue.
For a moment, she remembers her bondmate’s face. They had wept together, when they heard the news, the other’s soft cheek pressed against her own; later, they had argued; later still, they had parted, in acrimony and regret. Her lover could not truly understand what Samara felt, nor what she needed to do. These were the children of Samara’s body, a twist of her own genes that made them what they were. Her responsibility, then, to rectify. She concentrates on her duty, on her meditation, on breath and the coil of dark energy between her hands, and the image in her mind fades away.