He's increasingly paranoid and living in fear of what's to come.
The tragic hero's plan is unraveling, and he can sense that an opposing force or fate is closing in. They might be small annoyances, but in dealing with them, the protagonist commits additional dark acts that seal his fate and alert the reader that the only way this can end is badly. Right about here is where the tragic hero hits his first roadblocks. He might be well on his way down the path of evil, but no one is calling him out on it, or no one can stop him, so he proceeds further into the depths. Something occurs that tells the reader that this is a no-turning-back situation (Booker cites Faust's deal with the devil), and things start to go strangely well for the protagonist. The tragic hero sets out on their path to obtain their MacGuffin. This might be power, fame, a specific love interest, or something else, but the protagonist has their motivation for the disaster dominoes that are about to fall. The tragic hero gets it into his or her head that something is missing, and they want it.
His prime example is that of King Lear, in which the title character recognizes his error, but it's too late to repent by the time he figures it out, and he dies. In Booker's realm, a tragedy focuses on a villain protagonist, and the reader sees them delve further into darkness and evil before their ultimate death or destruction at the hands of the hero. Clearly there's more depth than that, but you have to start small with eleven-year-olds. In sixth grade English, when I was first exposed to Shakespeare, I was taught essentially that a tragedy is a play where everyone dies in the end. It helps writers like you make their plot better and write books readers love. Want to learn more about plot types? Check out my new book, The Write Structure, on sale for $5.99 (for a limited time!). Everybody dies in Shakespeare's tragedies.
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