General Hospital is once again plunging viewers into psychological terror and long-buried nightmares, as shocking spoilers suggest that the figures Anna Devane encountered

during her captivity were not hallucinations after all. Peter August. Cesar Faison. Liesl Obrecht. Three names from Anna’s darkest past, three forces she believed she had survived—

and three presences that now threaten to redefine everything she thought she knew about death, loyalty, and survival in Port Charles.

When Anna opens her eyes in captivity, weak, drugged, and disoriented, the sight before her seems impossible. Standing over her are the unmistakable faces of men she watched die and a woman whose loyalties have always been dangerously complicated. At first, Anna clings to denial. Given her physical condition and the psychological strain of confinement, hallucinations would be a logical explanation. Her mind has been under siege before, and trauma has a way of resurrecting ghosts.

But this time, the ghosts do not fade.

Peter August’s familiar smirk cuts through the haze with chilling clarity. He does not hover silently like a memory—he speaks. He warns. He reacts. His presence feels intentional, calculated, and deeply unsettling. Fans remember Peter’s brutal demise, the confirmation of his death, and the sense of finality that followed. Seeing him alive, coherent, and manipulative again feels like an outright assault on reality itself.

Even more destabilizing is the looming presence of Cesar Faison. Long presumed dead after a violent and definitive end, Faison has always existed in the shadows of possibility. Men like him rarely vanish quietly. His appearance in Anna’s cell carries a suffocating weight, reviving years of trauma with nothing more than his posture and his stare. He barely needs to speak; his dominance of the room is absolute. If Faison survived, then his return here—when Anna is most vulnerable—feels cruelly deliberate.

And then there is Liesl Obrecht.

Unlike Peter and Faison, Liesl is very much alive. But her presence in this context is perhaps the most disturbing of all. Anna cannot immediately read her expression. Is it concern? Calculation? Control? Liesl has always been capable of great compassion and breathtaking cruelty in equal measure. Seeing her alongside two men who have destroyed countless lives ignites a terrifying theory in Anna’s mind—one she cannot easily dismiss.

As Anna struggles to determine whether she is losing her grip on reality, her intelligence instincts refuse to shut down. The details feel wrong for a hallucination. These figures do not behave like fragments of a fractured mind. They behave with intention. Peter anticipates her doubts. Faison waits, watches, and lets her unravel. Liesl observes with a calm that suggests knowledge rather than confusion.

Peter’s behavior only deepens Anna’s unease. He positions himself as a reluctant messenger, warning her that Faison is far more dangerous than she realizes. The audacity of it is staggering—Peter, architect of chaos and destruction, now casting himself as a voice of caution. Yet his words carry an unsettling authenticity. His fear of his father feels real, layered with reverence and resentment. Peter has always been a study in contradictions: victim and villain, desperate to escape Faison’s shadow while never truly free of it.

Faison, when he finally speaks, confirms Anna’s worst fears. His voice is weaker than she remembers, but no less authoritative. He implies that his death was strategic, another move in a long game. He suggests that people underestimate him because they want him gone. This version of Faison—patient, calculating, conserving strength—is perhaps the most dangerous one yet. A weakened Faison would not rush back into the open. He would rebuild quietly and strike when no one is prepared.

Anna’s thoughts spiral to the precedent that has already been set in Port Charles. Nathan West. Britt Westbourne. Both were believed dead. Both returned alive, their survival shaking the foundation of what the town thought was possible. At the time, their returns felt miraculous, shocking, and emotionally overwhelming. But now, Anna is forced to consider a far darker possibility: what if those survivals were not isolated miracles at all?

What if they were part of a pattern?

That realization changes everything.

Anna’s attention sharpens on Liesl. As a doctor with extraordinary resources, questionable ethics, and a history of doing the unthinkable for family, Liesl is uniquely positioned to facilitate survival against all odds. What if she helped save Faison and Peter? What if she hid them, treated them, protected them until the right moment? The implications are staggering. If Liesl played a role in their survival, then Nathan and Britt’s returns take on a far more sinister tone—not crimes in themselves, but outcomes of a much larger deception.

When Anna challenges Liesl directly, she does not deny helping people survive. Instead, she reframes it as refusing to accept loss when solutions exist. It’s a carefully chosen answer—one that avoids confession while revealing everything. Liesl’s composure cracks only briefly, but it’s enough. Guilt, fear, anger—something raw flickers beneath the surface. Anna knows then that Liesl is not ignorant. She knows more than she has ever admitted.

Whether Liesl is actively aligned with Faison and Peter or simply entangled in the consequences of past choices remains unclear. But one truth becomes undeniable: ignorance is no longer a credible defense.

As the encounter unfolds, Anna realizes this is not just about proving who is alive and who is dead. It is psychological warfare. Faison has always excelled at destabilizing his enemies, forcing them to doubt their instincts and perceptions. If Anna cannot trust her own mind, she becomes easier to control. Hesitation is weakness—and Faison knows it.

Anna refuses to give him that victory.

Even as fear and exhaustion threaten to overwhelm her, she does what she has always done best: she observes. She analyzes. She notes the tension between Peter and Faison, the resentment simmering beneath their alliance. Peter’s need to assert independence from his father is palpable—and exploitable. If these men are real, their unity is fragile. If Liesl’s priorities are rooted in family rather than ideology, her loyalty is not absolute.

Divisions create opportunity.

By the time the figures withdraw, leaving Anna alone once more, she is changed. Whether the encounter was real or a manifestation of extreme psychological stress, the questions it raised cannot be ignored. If Peter and Faison are alive, their return threatens far more than Anna’s safety—it signals that old networks may still be active and old vendettas unresolved. If Liesl has been involved, intentionally or not, trust within their circle is shattered.

Anna makes a silent vow. If she survives this captivity, she will demand the full truth. No half-answers. No convenient explanations. She will revisit every unanswered question surrounding Nathan and Britt’s returns. She will trace every thread that leads back to Faison and Peter.

Because one thing is certain: the past is not finished claiming victims.

Suspended between reality and illusion, Anna Devane steadies herself. She has navigated shadows her entire life. And whether she is facing resurrected enemies or the darkest corners of her own psyche, she will confront what comes next head-on. Believing she is helpless has never been an option—and it never will be.