The castle corridors were dark, and what had once seemed like home was now a suffocating prison. Calista walked barefoot, her hurried footsteps echoing on the floor, her dress wrinkled by the trembling hands clutching it to her body. The air was heavy, and she could barely breathe. Back there, Natasha had sent her one of those cold looks, a silent warning. And Wanda... Wanda whispered words too sweet not to sound threatening. Their "love" suffocated her like invisible ropes. She stepped back, but there was no forest. No road. Only memories. She was there again. In that room. The metal chair. The cold chains. Voices in strange languages. Pain. So many needles. So many screams. The metallic smell. The shadows shaped like men in white.

Calista: Stop... please, stop...!

She cried, her hands covering her ears. But it was inside her head. It was Wanda. It was an illusion. And yet it felt so real. She heard footsteps.

Wanda: This happens when you run away, my dear. You get hurt.

Wanda's soft voice echoed, like a whisper that pierced time. Calista tried to run, stumbled, fell to her knees. And then... gentle hands touched her shoulder. It was Natasha.

Natasha: Shhh. It's over. You're safe now. With us.

The agent knelt beside her, eyes serious, tone calm. Calista cried like a child, clinging to her. Wanda came right after, wrapping her in a warm, suffocating hug. She said, stroking Calista's hair as if nothing had happened. Calista didn't see the red sparks fading into thin air. Nor the satisfied smile on Wanda's lips behind her head. Nor Natasha's blank look, as if everything had gone as planned. She just cried. Broken. And back. To them.