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It's an illusion. He knows it is. It's a sick and twisted illusion, something meant to break him.
Thanos uses methods that are horrifyingly creative, he knows this. With three stones in his hand, the possibilities are endless. Casting an illusion is one gesture away now that he has the reality stone.
But if anything, Stephen won't let it bring him down. He's been going through this for several days now–he's lost count, he doesn't think there's any way of keeping track of time here–and he certainly won't give up now. He's lived (or rather died, over and over) through a time loop with Dormammu. He's lived over 14 million lives. He's gone through so much, far too much; this should be nothing. Granted, he did not leave any of these events completely unscathed, but he's sure he won't leave this one the same, either.
He swore an oath to protect the time stone. He'd do so with his life. He'd do so even if it meant breaking him. Even if it meant crushing the last shards of his sanity.
Thanos having access to his body was one thing. Thanos having access to his mind is another. They put him in a machine, some sort of skrull technology that allows them to access his memories. It's horrifying. They've searched through every corner of his mind, every vulnerable memory revealed in front of his own eyes, every secret he's been locking up in a box in his head being revealed, one after the other. They made him relive them; are using them against him.
He will not break. He won't.
This is all an illusion. It's not real.
The little girl in front of him is not Donna. The flaming head above it–it's an it, lifeless and unreal–is not Dormammu.
The flames raining down on it is unreal. The spikes impaling it is unreal. The way it burns, screeches, begs at him to stop this, help me, Stephen! Make it stop! Help me!–
None of it is real. None of this is real.
Stephen lets his hands clench into fists, and despite knowing better his eyes feel glued to the sight before him.
He will not break, he will not break, he will not–
Its screams pierce his ears, high-pitched and screeching, and a sickening wave of deja vu hits him as his mind supplies the sound of cracking ice.
"Stop! Please!" he sobs, "Stop! Stop it, please!"
The illusion pauses, frozen, but the stone still glows red.
"No, please…" he sobs, "Please… Please, let her–"
"Will you give up the time stone now, sorcerer?"
He closes his eyes.
It's not real. All of it is not real.
Stephen feels himself tremble, feels his resolve cracking into pieces, but he patches them together with whatever is left of his will.
"No," he says, and it takes every bit of strength in him to pour certainty into his voice.
Thanos hums.
"You've strong will, Terran," he says, and Donna's screams begin again.
He will not break.