Marvel Main Universe, New York.
Scarlet Witch Wanda Maximoff was strolling along a relatively secluded street.
The lingering light of the setting sun stretched her shadow long. She tried to use the peace of solitude to soothe the vague, seemingly endless sense of emptiness deep within her heart.
Ever since the Westview incident, although life had returned to "normal," she always felt that she had lost something crucial—something that should have carried weight in her life, leaving behind only an unfillable void.
Just then, an extremely faint whisper, as though it came from beyond some distant void, slipped into her mind without warning.
The voice came in fragments, indistinct and unclear. It was not any known language, more like fragments of pure thought laced with indescribable chaos and temptation.
It conveyed no clear message, yet like a cold needle, it kept probing the most vulnerable parts of her consciousness.
"Ugh..." Wanda let out a pained groan and clutched her forehead.
A violent headache struck, accompanied by a strange sensation, as though certain deeply buried, sealed memories were stubbornly trying to break through the surface, only to be tightly bound by invisible shackles.
She shook her head, trying to dispel the sudden discomfort, but the whispers clung to her like a festering disease. Rather than fading, they became clearer, pointing their source toward a definite direction.
As a member of the Avengers, dealing with abnormal phenomena was her responsibility, and also a way for her to distract herself from the pain in her heart.
Wanda endured the headache and the unsettling pounding in her chest as she followed the direction of the whispers, her pace involuntarily quickening.
She crossed several increasingly desolate streets before finally stopping in front of an industrial factory that had been abandoned for years.
Its rusted gates