The Sentinels all hope in eclipse

Dominant was a tangible atmosphere that Lucani had only ever experienced during death. Strings of strange calm had tied up some of those present — and certainly the dark male, their leader. Lucani herself did not feel a sense of great urgency, though she had been quick to provide water, and to silently bemoan the crowds that had surrounded him. The water trickled down from her messily wet coat and dampened him, and perhaps it was right and proper that the druid, so tied with the land, would feel the element one last time before he drifted away.

She wanted to look away, feeling that those closest to him right now should not be her but his family, those he loved. But some emotional force kept her eyes upon his face, and she actually saw it — she saw the moment he died, close and true. She also felt it, having been breathing in tandem with him, such was their proximity. Around Lasher, sorrow and despair, and harsh new stories being born from his silence.

But Lucani simply looked upon him, sad and soft and quiet.