What Meesei found when she came upon her pack's chambers was a very hunched and distraught Sabine. Normally whenever she performed alchemy, she was in her element. Nothing seemed to agitate her while she was so focussed. Here, though, her every action suggested that something was not right, that she was trying to salvage a rapidly deteriorating situation. Kaleeth was nearby, but any approach to work out what was wrong was met with a rapid swipe of Sabine's hand. She didn't want anyone to interfere.

Sabine had become so flustered that when Meesei made her presence known, Sabine turned around and burst into tears in the space of a few seconds. She dropped the pestle in her hand and buried her eyes in the inside of her elbow, sobbing in frustration. Jerrick's waterskin was still half-full off to one side, but there was also a bucket on the opposite side of Sabine's equipment that was full of a thin black water. Failed tests. Sabine didn't respond in any way that explained what exactly the problem was, but the tightness of her breathing and sobbing told of overwhelmed frustration more than grief and loss.

In the meeting room, the lieutenants were gathered once again. The reality of the situation had made them quiet and solemn at first, but the idleness was starting to wear on their nerves to varying degrees as time passed. Harriet was picking at a splinter on the table. Darahil had his arms crossed and his eyes closed, but it was hard to tell whether or not he was sleeping. Vera stared forward, breathing lightly and looking hollow. Oswall also had his arms crossed, but he was sitting low in his seat and fidgeting his legs, his lips pursed behind his beard with his waning patience. He couldn't hold out much longer before he had an outburst.

"Mmmn..." he growled, shaking his head, then looking to Lorag. "How much longer is the champion going to be? Are we expected to sit here awake all night?!" he spat.