As the group brush themselves off from the escapade, the knight sits, trying to recall the exact moment when his own recall stone had been knocked out of his hand by debris. Looking around, he sees nothing but pitch blackness surrounding him, while hearing what can be assumed to be the muted sound of loose rubble grinding against more rubble.
“…am I dead?”
After a few seconds, or perhaps whole hours, he draws and strikes one of his daggers down against the hard ground he’s standing on, creating a spark of dim illumination flashed across a stone surface. “…I suppose not.”