NON, this was NOT HAPPENING. Stumbling back, Axe felt the wall hit his shoulder blades and sank unsteadily down to a crouch. Gritting his teeth, he braced the wall with his hands in fists and squeezed his eyes shut, trying to acclimate to the total darkness. Dark was fine, dark was better. Dark would let him think, and if he was thinking, he could find a way out of this engine diabolique.
He was catching his breath when light flooded the small box, a shadowy suggestion of how close the walls were, the soft flicker from the lit wand tip giving a sinister sense of movement, like the walls were playing with him, creeping forward and backward in no discernible pattern. Choking on the breath he was trying to take, his heartbeat ratcheted up by the tens and a vague sense of nausea overtook him.
"Éteignez—éteignez—la," he rasped, dragging one hand across his forehead where sweat had already begun to bead, the other pounding on the floor, distracting him from the fear enough so that he could find words and making doubly sure he was getting her attention. "The light! Get—rid of it!" If he had the presence of mind to fish for his own wand and extinguish hers, he would, but he feared his hand was shaking too badly to even reach inside his own pocket. Axe felt the collar of his robes squeeze is throat and wondered in a vague sense of horror if cursing his robes so much when putting them on if he'd accidentally cursed them with sentience and this was the moment they had chosen to exact revenge.
He was going to die.
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