[His gaze follows her to the edge of the mountain, framed by the whiteness of the snow-laden terrain beyond — perilous, rocky, untraversable. It is hard to take this place in without memory tainting the quietude of the moment. Knowing that Wong once lay just below that ledge where she stands, or America’s fearful look on that heavy stone slab that rests just beside him. That so much conflict culminated in this place, and Wanda herself had been swallowed whole in the wreckage that followed.

Still, he shears all that away from his mind. Focuses on what she has to tell him now — now is what matters, after all, even if the presence of the past is so close it still casts a long, uncomfortable shadow.

You were right, Stephen. My children are not real. Words that should be a relief, a truth he had tried so hard for Wanda to acknowledge past the haze of the Darkhold’s corruption. But he finds that even he is not so coldly practical to rejoice in this belated revelation.]

You always think that I’m here to dole out some kind of punishment, don’t you?

[The recollection feels so far away, now, like a distant dream, but he remembers. Wanda’s hesitation when they meet in Abraxas for the first time, thinking that Stephen had come to police her actions of the past. In a way, it echoes what is happening now, as though they are caught in a strange, irreversible cycle.]

I think we’re well past that point now. Me and you… [He trails off, then picks up again.] I won’t lie to you. I can believe what you’re telling me now; I can see as plain as day that you’re hurting. But what you did— [He catches himself. Does he really need to reiterate her crimes?] Trust is going to be hard to… to glue back together.

But you are wrong about one thing.