𝙩𝙤𝙣𝙮 𝙬𝙖𝙩𝙘𝙝𝙚𝙨, unease gnawing at him, as Stephen steps back and waves his hand, causing the candles in the room to flicker back to life. The flickering flames cast long shadows, adding an eerie quality to the scene. Stephen’s legs cross, and he begins to levitate, murmuring words that Tony can’t understand but knows are vital. Tony shifts uncomfortably and the glow of the mystic's spell reflects in his eyes, but all he feels is a growing dread, a sensation he can’t shake as he watches Strange weave his magic. It’s maddening to stand idle, every instinct screaming at him to take action, but all he can do is wait and hope.
When Stephen glances at him and says he's lucky to be kept updated, lips press into a thin, grim line. He forces himself to stay silent, but the tension is evident in the way his jaw tightens. Trusting someone else, especially in a situation as dire as this, goes against every instinct he has. But he has no choice. Not now. He nods, a terse acknowledgment of the gesture, watching as Stephen’s eyes shut tight, then open to reveal a glowing blue light. A soft mist circles around the sorcerer, its tendrils weaving through the air like ghostly fingers. Tony feels a chill creep up his spine, an icy sensation that has nothing to do with the room’s temperature. The ethereal fog seems to seep into his bones and his heart races as he stands there, helplessly observing. It feels like torture.
Then he hears Stephen’s voice, faint but unmistakable, “Impossible...” His breath catches in his throat, and he steps closer, his eyes fixed on the wizard’s face, desperately searching for any hint of what’s unfolding. But Stephen’s expression remains an enigma, offering nothing to ease the mounting dread gnawing at Tony’s insides. The uncertainty tightens around him like a vice, squeezing every ounce of his composure.
" What’s happening ? " Tony demands, his voice sharp, edged with panic. " What do you see ? " Stephen’s eyes flutter, a chaotic dance that offers no answers. Another murmur escapes his lips, and Tony's frustration reaches a boiling point. " Dammit, Strange ! What’s going on in there ? " he barks, his voice tight with barely controlled panic. He feels the weight of dread settle in his chest, a suffocating pressure that makes it hard to breathe. His heart pounds while his mind races with possibilities, none of them good.