Oliver didn't notice when the spell stopped him from speaking. He was too busy listening, and feeling. He couldn't bring himself to look at what Robespierre was doing, but he wondered what it would be like--what it would do to him. What would it feel like to die?

When the numbness came over him, it was alarming in its unexpectedness. He would have cried out then, but no sound escaped him. He wished, for an instant, that he'd kept his eyes open, wanting, irrationally, to understand what was being done to him. Was the shield still hiding this? Did his friends know? Had he died already? It was too late now to find out. He hadn't wanted to show his fear, but it was beginning to consume him. He didn't want this. He didn't want to die! There were so many people--so many things--and he didn't know what was happening! He couldn't feel anything--didn't know when it would end or if it would hurt. It was terrifying, and he wanted it to stop. He wanted--

And then his thoughts, too, ended.