As much as she wanted to protest, believe that this was just some terrible joke, her brain was already putting the pieces together and she felt sick about it. "How-" she began but even that Wanda had worked out the answer to. There were a thousand dark ways to lose your soul and she could pinpoint the moment her strange restless empty feelings had begun, even though she rarely acknowledged them to herself. Alaska. That was the last time she'd used any elaborate spells beyond her familiar point and hex. It made sense and although she'd known something was off, realizing the exact cause brought no relief. "How do you know?" she finally asked, a little weakly. This wasn't an ability she knew Wicked had.