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He couldn't move. He couldn't move, and everything was dark. Panic was what set in first, as he tried frantically to determine where he was and what had happened. There was a heavy weight on his back, pinning him down and making it difficult to breathe, and the only light he could see was through small cracks in his range of vision, revealing chaos and churning water. Danger, his mind supplied, though his head was throbbing and it made thinking properly somewhat difficult.
He needed to get out of here.
He struggled, straining to move and finding that only his head and arms had any space to shift. Just barely. But doing so made the weight on top of him shift too, and he froze when a sharp edge pressed against his spine. Any closer and something was likely to snap, he knew. His legs were numb already, but a quick assessment told him that so far nothing was actually broken. He wanted to keep it that way.
But Ignis needed to get free. He needed to get out and reach the altar. He had to. Noct was there, possibly hurt and definitely in danger.
Ignis needed to protect him.
He tried to move again, more carefully this time, but whined in distress when the weight pressed even closer, constricting his chest further and forcing him to draw breath in short gasps. He would suffocate if he kept trying to move, even slowly.
He shivered. It was raining now, and he was already drenched from falling into the water more than once in his attempt to reach Noctis. He was cold, injured, barely able to breathe. There didn't seem to be anyone to dig him out.
He never thought his life would end like this.
Morbidly, he wondered just how deeply he was buried, and whether or not trying to pull him out would only have the same result as trying to move on his own. Having his spine snapped under the weight would certainly be better than dying, but he would be of no use to anyone if he couldn't walk. He definitely wouldn't be able to accompany the others after such an injury. Not with the treacherous paths and general danger they faced. Much like the current battle raging around him.
He couldn't help the small sob that escaped him as the reality of his situation sunk in. The odds of him surviving long enough to be found were slim, as was the chance of him managing to pull himself out, whether with or without the very serious injury both options risked. More likely, he would freeze or suffocate or maybe even starve, if the rescue efforts took too long and he even lasted that far. No, the odds of him getting out were essentially zero.
He was going to die here.
He didn't want to die and leave Noctis. He didn't want to freeze or be crushed or whatever else might claim him. He didn't want to be alone as he was dying. He needed someone, anyone–
A light caught his attention, though the small cracks in the rubble that would be his tomb. Bright, golden, far away. Luna. She was still alive, for now at least, and she was still on the altar. With Noctis. That meant he was safe, didn't it?
"Noct…" he managed to croak, reaching out towards the light that he couldn't touch. The numbness was spreading, and his hand trembled. He could barely lift his head. His vision was getting fuzzy even though his cracked glasses, and the throbbing in his head was suddenly a very dull ache, almost like it wasn't even his body. "Noct."
It was a useless plea, he knew that. Noctis couldn't hear him. Even if he was conscious– and he undoubtedly wasn't, or maybe he'd be here to help, or at least hold his hand– Ignis was too far away, and too weak and out of breath to manage anything above a whisper. He would never hear him. Not now, not ever again.
The numbness was spreading. He couldn't move. He was going to die cold and afraid, completely and utterly alone.
He had failed his king.