No. This was impossible, she knew what it was supposed to be but it was impossible. An illusion, obviously, something else to scare them in the dark and keep them from that thing in the depths of this place that relentlessly drew her closer. The words she knew but only because someone else had told them to her once, read them from a book, explained what they meant. The guardians of this long hall were praying. "I am pure, I have not caused pain," she whispered in the same cadence as the chanters, a translation. "I am pure, I have not committed sin in a place of god." Lies. "I am pure, I have not known worthless men." Lies. "I am pure, I have not rejected the gods." Lies. "I am pure, I have not committed murder." Lies.
What she whispered weren't prayers, just words, just memory, because this place couldn't exist- at least not here, not like this. "I am pure, I have not committed fornication." One of the feline monks lifted its face and hissed at them. Wanda pursed her lips and glared right back at the shining red eyes peering from under its hood as they passed. Now she meant it as she whispered, "I am pure, I have wronged no man."
There were others, many more, but she couldn't quite remember them and she knew she had them wrong anyway. This wasn't something she was ever supposed to need, this wasn't her history and these weren't her gods. At the moment she would have given anything for the comfort of holding Tony's hand but she settled for moving in closer and putting both of her hands on the cool metal of his armor and it calmed her a little.
"Don't be afraid," she murmured to Tony, not because she actually thought he might be but because she had to convince herself that she wasn't. If he was afraid it was born of the unknown, her fear came from understanding, which was in her mind, infinitely worse. She wished she didn't know, that she wasn't so prepared, because the knowledge of what was coming was beyond anything she'd ever expected to face. That fear was probably the point of this spectacle and she was trying her hardest to swallow it down.
They reached the end and a wide archway into another chamber, blindingly bright after the dimness of the tunnel and the hall, and there was no choice but to step through. With what was waiting there in that room, Wanda preferred all that darkness behind them. This illusion or trap or whatever or wherever this was, this thing they were impossibly walking into, was the Judgement of Death.