Madoka was remaining firm, and that attitude was just the thing to make Maxwell’s hysteria worse. She was past the point of angering him now, sheer hatred in the way the demon spoke to her. What he was showing the Goddess just grew to be more gruesome and painful, all in an attempt to prove his point and prove Madoka wrong.
But what Maxwell didn’t know, or perhaps didn’t understand --was Madoka’s very being.
For Madoka to lose hope would be to lose herself. It would mean forgetting who she was, forgetting her power and losing everything she worked so hard to create. Madoka was hope. This feeling was now impossible to lose, and the feeling was never forced by Madoka, either. She still managed to find it, even in the darkest of places.
She winced a little, breaking her eyes away from the terrible sights. She definitely didn’t like them, she didn’t feel comfortable, but they weren’t enough to break her. She was different than her former self, much more strong-willed and nearly impossible to crush.
“It’s painful here, Maxwell. You’re right.”
The Goddess cupped her hands, a small orb of light appearing in her palms. There was a vision inside of it, showing one of the survivors before they died. They were fighting monsters in the scene, doing what they could to continue living despite the horrid elements in this part of Maxwell’s world.
“It’s true, things sometimes end cruel or sad. But...there was still hope before their end, wasn’t there? Before they died, they fought. They didn’t give up so easily..that’s hope.” She let the vision fade away, the orb in her hands vanishing too. “Their death still means something, just like their lives meant something. They too felt hope, even if it ended for them too soon.”
With a sigh, Madoka’s expression softened. “I’m sorry. But...I can’t believe that hope is impossible. Even here.”
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