The City fought against the pull as hard as it could, but there was something behind this calling that it couldn't break. It knew who was casting the spell, who was behind the pain and the draw. But it couldn't break away. She wasn't using any of it's powers against it. She was using her own.
But that wasn't all, was it?
The City tried to figure out what it was, to break the binding before it happened, but it could not see Baba Yaga, and it could not see what she was using to aid her. It didn't know the spell she was using, what tools she might have that she didn't have the last time. Because this was not like the last time at all.
When she had called it before, against it's will, there had been no pain. There had been no fear. It had known that there was enough power in itself ultimately to fight her and what she was doing. It had gone anyway, angry, and demanded to be set free.
This time, there was no way to fight it. There was no choice but to go where it was being called. It didn't even have the choice of summoning the physical form that it had created to talk to the citizens. There was no way to do it. No matter how hard it struggled, the spell was stronger.
After what seemed like an eternity, The City found itself in a room. The eyes it was looking through were blurry from pain and tears. It saw light. It smelled something horrible. It felt weak.