Solace collapses against the cave wall, shamed that again she has proved the weakest of the party. She thinks of herself as an imposter, unable to carry the responsibility of this group. They are, for the moment, safe.
It is around now that the protection offered by the Mage Armor begins to fizzle out: there is a crackling sound, which she has not heard previously, and an occasional sparky burst as eldritch energies return to the ether. It is not clear that she is aware of this. She picks up the hand crossbow, and sheathes the dagger. You are not ready. You are not capable the voice of the old woman who led her to school as a child rings in her ear. You will fail. You will fail them all.
She is able to stand though she is wobbly. The skeletons seem dispatched, and if they returned, she does not know what her hand crossbow could do. It hurts to move, and she suspects she has cracked a rib or two. But there are no open wounds.
Solace moves to speak, but just coughs instead. She makes her way to the door of the closet, as if that has been her singular purpose for the past minute or so, and examines the handle. If there are no lock mechanisms, or if she feels it is safe, she opens the door.