There's an unfamiliar girl standing along one wall of the antechamber, one hand tangled in the red material of her skirt and the other tapping a staccato beat against the stone wall behind her. It's not loud to normal hearing and though the occasional armed guard glances her way she's not done anything to draw attention to herself and they remain at their posts.

She watches the people being swept into the bottle by its magic, filling the antechamber and then disappearing. By the looks of it, it's starting to agitate her. "Wait," she says in a low, urgent undertone as someone passes by her. "How do they go?"