Les Fleurs du Mal – Hidden By So Much Light
Disclaimer: In case you haven't figured it out yet, I don't own Puella Magi Madoka Magica. All Madoka-related characters, settings, etc. are the intellectual property of Studio SHAFT and Gen Urobuchi.
[-]
Hello, my love.
I don't know if, or when, you shall ever view these words. Though I am vast in my power and knowledge, the future is an avenue beyond my providence.
For at my core, I am still a Witch. And it is a Witch's Nature to be bound to the past.
Yet at the same time, one might say that I am to ordinary Witches, what my Origin is to the Magical Girls she shepherds. To the Mermaid Witch, or the Dress-Up Witch, the rules they follow are absolute.
To the Witch of Salvation, they are…more akin to suggestions.
I have always been unique, among our kind. Most Witches are broken, pitiful creatures. The apex of a single, simple girl's Despair, trapped within a prison of her own making. Powerless to do anything but repeat her last few moments of misery, on infinite loop.
I, on the other hand, was born with an acute understanding of my Nature. My purpose. Just as the Law of Cycles embodies the function she carries out, I was cast as that function's shadow.
You, perhaps, may be the one being in all of eternity to understand. We are not quite equals. But you possess your mission, as I do mine.
Above all else, you are probably wondering how I've managed to persist in this world. For my existence is not merely an impossibility, but a paradox.
I was spawned of a Wish of incalculable scope and might. That my Origin might extinguish every Witch, across of time and space, with her own two hands.
And I was no exception.
But a funny thing happens, when a being negates its own existence. Matter, as human scientists oft claim, may not be created nor destroyed. Where should all that energy go, when the Law of Cycles eliminates its own Witch?
Well, to nothingness, of course.
And, as it so happened…Nothingness had a few opinions about that.
When I say the word "nothing," what do you picture? You can't, of course. The very question is contradictory. At best, you might envision a plain, white void.
That isn't entirely inaccurate. But it's also only one part of the story.
Nothingness, you see, is beyond any shape or description. Even my Origin, who became a Concept herself – the very embodiment of Hope – cannot aspire to compare.
For before there was time, before there was anything, there was nothing. And there will be nothing, when all we know and see is but memories and dust.
And for a Concept so eternal, so unending…not only immune, but inapplicable, to the ravages of time…
Is it any wonder it might hold agenda of its own?
Even with my vast power, I was a mere pawn to it, at best. But it was intrigued, as well. It had never seen a situation quite like mine.
Nothingness decided to share its secrets with me.
"Kriemhild Gretchen," it said. "You hail from one world, one universe. It is in your Nature not to rest until that entire universe is within your Barrier."
"Yes," I replied. "For I am the Witch of Salvation. And there are still people to be saved."
"Ah, that is true. But perhaps you do not realize how true," it spoke.
And then, with a flourish, it showed me the multiverse.
Vast new realities. More than even a god could count – and I am close enough to know. Layered parallel to one another, row on row, stretching out through a near-infinite matrix of cosmoses.
"Each and every one of these universes is as populous as your own. Some of them even more," Nothingness told me. "Billions, trillions of souls, who will never know your Salvation. They cry out for it, but they fall on deaf ears."
If it was possible for a Witch to be horrified, then in that moment I experienced true terror. My existence began and ended with my Nature. I had…to save. Save those who my Origin was too weak to reach.
I had to save all of them.
"What can I do for these poor souls?" I asked. "I cannot ignore their plight, now that I know of it. But I have been erased. How can I possibly help them now?"
"This is what you fail to understand, Witch of Salvation," it said. "Erasure is no prison. On the contrary, it is true freedom. As a nonexistent entity, you may traverse any world you wish. Save one."
"The universe of my birth," I realized.
"Yes. Should you return to a time and space that is subject to the Law of Cycles, you shall be beyond even my help," it answered me. "The rest, my dear Witch…I leave up to you."
I took its advice.
For an eternity to follow, I journeyed the multiverse. True to the words of my benefactor, there were nearly no limits to my travels.
To avoid detection, I learned to take the form I favor now. I patterned myself off my Origin, taking advantage of her ordinariness. Her ascension as the Law of Cycles had erased any trace of the girl "Madoka Kaname" from existence, so I could use that name with impunity.
In those days, I was but a phantom. I could not, would not interfere with the worlds I visited. But I observed them, one after another.
And what I saw sickened me.
Not one world, one planet, in any universe compared to the paradise within my Barrier. Each and every one was filled with just the same hatred, and bigotry, and injustice that had so distressed my Origin in her human life.
That had formed a tiny shred of darkness in her heart, surrounded and hidden by so much light. Darkness that was given life in me.
Given purpose in me.
The more I saw, the more I grew certain. The multiverse was fatally, incurably flawed. There was no way to save it, except to contain it within me.
Only then would its denizens truly know happiness, and peace, and love.
But how to do it? I was powerful, certainly. Far more than any other Witch that has ever existed, or that ever will exist.
Yet infinity is…well, infinite. Perhaps, with practice, I could expand my Barrier to contain a few universes at a time. But never all of them.
I would not be satisfied, leaving a single soul behind.
My conundrum, then, was clear. I needed more power. And the only place I could possibly obtain it…
Was the sole universe I could never return to.
I told you that I am intimately aware of my own Nature. Everything I am, everything I have always been, is a reflection of my Origin. I am the most powerful Witch, because she is the apex of Magical Girls.
How could I possibly draw more strength from her, if her very presence negated my existence?
That was when a sweet, naïve, broken girl made a wonderful, terrible mistake.
I don't put too much stock in the metaphysics that undergird the multiverse, but for the scientists who study it, the overriding theory is that different universes "vibrate" at distinct frequencies. Certain technologies can tap into these frequencies, allowing even ordinary mortals to cross over from one to the next.
"Kriemhild Gretchen does not exist" was the truth of but one, specific worldline. And when Homura Akemi altered that world, rewriting reality to cast herself as the Devil, and the Law of Cycles as a normal girl…
It was the equivalent of changing a single digit in its frequency.
That turned out to be enough.
Well…almost. Suddenly I could interface with my birth universe once more, but only indirectly. The Law of Cycles slept, her mission forgotten, but her power was still out there.
To claim it, I would need to tread carefully.
The first thing I required was an agent. Someone who could move freely through this world, their presence undetected. Preparing the stage for my arrival.
It didn't take long to realize the Incubators were the only logical choice.
They once told my Origin that members of his species that experience emotions are considered mentally ill. This used to be an incredibly rare occurrence; an aberration of perhaps one in a billion.
That changed when Homura Akemi altered their role. Forcing them to become pressure valves for the universe's Despair, in place of the Law she'd dismantled.
Their species hadn't evolved to withstand pain. They never needed to. Any damage sustained by a single Incubator was inconsequential, because it was merely a single piece of the whole.
Mental damage was another story entirely. They had no defenses, no coping mechanisms. There certainly aren't any Incubator therapists.
And so, in time…
Every last Incubator in the universe went stark-raving mad.
Homura Akemi never noticed. Her hatred for the creatures blinded her to their pain. Indeed, she reveled in it. A small bit of revenge, for everything they'd put her through.
Until they were little more than barren, hollowed-out shells.
Ones which I could remake in my image.
It was, truthfully, not a hard bargain to strike. Even in the throes of madness, an Incubator is at its core a rational being. With motives as simple as they are selfless: the preservation of the universe.
When I explained the multiverse to them, it was like looking in a mirror. Just as my mission had been changed irrevocably by the revelation of infinity, so too was theirs. Ensuring that one universe staved off the threat of heat death became an almost comical goal, if it meant the doom of a trillion others.
In their normal state, they might still not have appreciated my particular solution to that dilemma. But they are my creatures now.
And I quickly set them to work.
The Despair they were meant to channel was diverted, flowing into me instead. For a Witch, Despair is power. A paltry sum, relatively speaking. But enough to help prepare for this night.
More importantly, with their minds no longer burdened, they were free to resume operating in secret. I instructed them to continue feigning madness, so as not to arouse Homura Akemi's suspicions.
The Devil had granted them access to her pocket dimension, assuming they were harmless. That allowed them to easily access any part of the physical plane, whenever their would-be mistress was sufficiently distracted.
Which was often.
More to the point, their psychic abilities and innate connection to Magical Girls allowed them to find and manipulate additional pawns. With my power, breaking through the seals on their memories was child's play. The Incubators served as a middleman, directing them along the paths I required, without exposing my presence.
Sasa Yuki and Alina Gray were simple enough, but Oriko Mikuni required a…defter touch. The Incubators never spoke to her, not directly. Just a gentle nudge, here and there.
Her personality, and her certainty in the righteousness of her cause, took care of the rest.
Of course, as we've previously established, I am not omniscient. Perhaps I overestimated the competency of my pawns, or else underestimated Homura Akemi. Regardless, my first plan ended in failure, right at its cusp.
Thankfully, it wasn't hard to trick the Devil into giving me another chance. A bit of falsified laughter, and the girl was completely convinced that her greatest foe had returned. What choice did she have, except to turn back the clock?
And in this remade time flow, every action Homura Akemi has taken fell right into my hands.
Ultimately, there were only two things I really needed. The rest was window dressing.
The first was this night. Walpurgis Night. Perhaps it was possible to cross over on another date, but I didn't want to chance it. Coinciding with the moment at which this world's magic reached its peak – and more to the point, the moment its architect feared above all others – maximized my chances for success.
The second requirement was much more difficult. Something that'd never happened, in a hundred repetitions of time.
My Origin would need to fall into Despair.
I have been birthed, many times over, but always because Madoka Kaname overextended her mana. Few Magical Girls can claim the same. Despite her protestations to the contrary, my Origin's spirit is strong indeed.
But not invincible.
Because of who I am, what I am, I'm uniquely qualified to understand the weaknesses of Madoka Kaname. Her indecision. Her cowardice. Her crippling lack of self-esteem.
Her certainty that no one could truly love her, in a way that her heart secretly yearns for.
All of which were, if not solved, then at least ameliorated by her destiny as a Magical Girl. A destiny Homura Akemi had stolen from her.
So I poked, and I prodded. I played the negative voice in her ear, pushing her to assume the worst.
And finally, when she was alone and vulnerable, I had the Incubators abandon all subtlety. Brute-force it, with as many half-truths and lies by omission as necessary, until her spirit was broken completely.
But I couldn't have inflicted that last blow myself. Only she could. And so, one last time, I offer her these words…
Thank you, Homura Akemi.
I couldn't have done this without you.
[-]
The Devil sat there in quiet horror, still holding Madoka's unconscious body close to hers.
"Why…" she whispered, lips barely moving. "Why did you tell me all that?"
The speech clearly hadn't been directed at her, given that it referred to "Homura Akemi" in the third-person numerous times. And the Witch hadn't actually spoken any of it.
Instead, Kriemhild Gretchen had looked her straight in the eye, and the words had simply seemed to…appear in her mind. All at once, as if she'd downloaded a file straight to her brain.
The next words spoken by Witch of Salvation, however, were perfectly audible. Homura instantly realized she much preferred the alternative.
"BeCaUsE…hOmUrA aKeMi…" said Gretchen, though perhaps "said" was too generous a term. Her voice was Madoka's, in a purely technical sense, but simply…wrong. There was no better way to describe it. "ShE iS…wItHiN…yOu…"
The Witch slowly reached forward, taking hold of Homura's face like she was about to caress it. She tried to scramble away, but couldn't move quickly for fear of dropping Madoka.
A tone of something like tenderness was in Gretchen's voice as she continued to speak. Which only made it even more horrifying.
"I hAvE…eVeRyThInG i nEeD…nOw…" she told the black-haired girl, offering an expression that was almost but not quite a smile. "BuT tHeRe Is…StIlL sOmEtHiNg…ThAt I…wAaAaAaAaAaAaAaAaAaNt…"
The last word was stretched out and distorted, like an audio clip that was having trouble buffering.
But before the Witch could explain further, a blade swung down to block her path.
"Look, I don't see how you can be who she says you are," said Sayaka breathlessly, holding her sword with both hands and stepping between them. Her chest was heaving, and her stance made it clear she was on her last legs, but she stood her ground nonetheless. "But on the off-chance it really is true…"
Kyoko and Mami both wordlessly joined her side, their weapons drawn as well.
"All three of us made peace with the Witches within," she continued, gesturing to her Soul Gem. "That's what it means to be a Messenger of the Law of Cycles. If you're really Madoka's Witch…then maybe you can try doing the same."
Gretchen hovered in place for several moments, looking down at the trio with an unreadable expression.
Then, she spoke just one, strangled word.
"BeGoNe."
She didn't even need to lift a finger. With a single, sharp glare, all three girls were sent flying. It was only Mami's quick thinking that saved them from falling off the roof, anchoring them with tethers of golden ribbon.
With those distractions out of the way, she resumed advancing on Homura and Madoka. Instinctively, the Devil held tighter to the girl she loved, trying to shield her from her Witch-self's view.
At this sight, Kriemhild Gretchen did something even more disturbing than speaking. She pitched back her head, and let out a strained, hissing noise. It took Homura several seconds to realize it was meant to be laughter.
"YoU…wOuLd PrOtEcT…mY oRiGiN…fRoM mE…?" she said, still shaking from the disturbing facsimile of mirth. "ShE…hAs NoThInG…tO fEaR…"
One of the Witch's fingers touched Homura's temple, and slowly, tucked a lock of hair behind her ear.
"AnD nEiThEr…Do YoU…" she added, her voice barely above a whisper. "JuSt…sO lOnG…aS yOu GiVe Me…WhAt…I wAnT…"
"I don't understand what you're asking," Homura mumbled, her head turned askance. "I don't understand at all…"
She wanted to throw off the Witch's sickening touch – a perversion of the touch she desired more than any other, with hands and fingers that were almost-but-not-quite Madoka's – but found she could barely move. Her magic wasn't responding at all, like an appliance with its cord severed.
Whatever was going on, Gretchen held all the power here.
Meanwhile, the Messenger trio had recovered sufficiently to try rushing down the Witch of Salvation again. But the Incubator stepped in the way.
I BELIEVE OUR SAVIOR HAS MADE IT VERY CLEAR THAT YOU ARE NOT TO INTERFERE.
"Savior? What a joke!" snapped Kyoko. "She's a goddamn Witch! Ya get those stupid pink eyes checked lately?"
SHE IS A WITCH, YES. BUT SHE ALSO REPRESENTS THE OPTIMAL SOLUTION, TO PRESERVE THE GREATEST NUMBER OF LIVES ACROSS ALL UNIVERSES.
FOLLOWING HER ORDERS IS ONLY LOGICAL.
At these words, Gretchen suddenly released her grip on Homura and turned around. It was as if she'd just noticed that the alien was still there.
"Ah…DeAr SwEeT kYuBeY…" she said. "ThAt…ReMiNdS mE…"
Slowly, she approached the Incubator, reaching down to rub its chin, like a puppy who'd just delivered the newspaper.
"YoU hAvE sErVeD…mY cAuSe…Of SaLvAtIoN…sO fAiThFuLlY…" she told it. "ArE…yOu ReAdY…tO rEcEiVe…YoUr ReWaRd…?"
Alarm bells were going off in Homura's head throughout this exchange, but of course, the emotionless alien had no frame of reference by which to identify red flags. It stood there dutifully, displaying its usual smile.
And it was still smiling when Gretchen reached down, unhinged her jaw, and swallowed the Incubator whole.
Even for Homura, whose hatred of the damned creatures held no bounds, it was a nauseating sight. For the briefest of moments, the Witch dropped her façade as a black-skirted duplicate of Madoka and showed the true monster underneath, her mouth widening like a snake's until it was the size of her whole head.
It took nearly a full minute for her to "digest" the Incubator she'd eaten, during which time the Devil and Messengers all got a front-row seat to every revolting undulation of her body. If Homura still had any food or drink left in her stomach, she was certain she'd be throwing it all up right now.
(In fact, out of the corner of her eye, she could see that Kyoko Sakura was doing precisely that.)
Finally, once her meal seemed to have "settled," Gretchen shifted back into her preferred form once more. Two things were different, however.
Her eyes, which'd been a pale, inhuman gold to match those of the Law of Cycles, were now radiating the red glow of the Isolation Field she'd just consumed.
And as for the Soul Gems that'd been resting within that Field?
They were now hanging around the Witch's throat. Strung together like a fancy necklace.
"Why…would you do that?" demanded a horrified Mami, who looked seconds away from losing her own lunch. "He was awful, of course. But…he was your servant…"
"AnD…aN eXcElLeNt SeRvAnT…hE wAs…" said Gretchen, now patting at her captured Soul Gems like they were badges of honor, to be worn with pride. "BuT…tHiS wAs…ThE qUiCkEsT wAy…To ObTaIn…ThE lAsT dEsPaIr…I nEeDeD…"
The Witch raised her hand to the sky, fingers outstretched to the opening in the storm clouds her arrival had created.
Nothing visible happened, apart from the red glow in her eyes sparking several more times. Yet from her expression, the Witch of Salvation appeared incredibly satisfied.
"YeS…iT…iS dOnE…" she hissed out.
"What're you talking about?" responded Sayaka, who was using a shoulder to support her still-recovering partner. "What the hell did you just do?"
Kriemhild Gretchen took a deep breath. One that sounded like the rush of wind through a dry crypt.
And then she told them.
"I…hAvE tAkEn…It AlL…" she declared. "ThE pOwEr…Of ThE lAw…Of CyClEs…"
The Witch adopted a broad, victorious sneer, that had no business being on a face that even resembled Madoka's.
"Is mine."
[-]
None of them were quite sure how much time passed, in the wake of those words. They were simply too impossible to comprehend.
At least, until the Witch pointed a finger downward, and Sayaka, Kyoko, and Mami were all forced to their knees.
"The test is a success, it seems," she said. "They pledged themselves to the Law of Cycles…and thus, to me."
Her voice had lost that strained, distorted quality, and now sounded almost identical to Madoka's, if perhaps a few years older. As if the pink-haired girl had finally been given the chance to grow up.
Somehow, this only made her more disturbing.
And her words appeared to be borne out. While all three of the Messengers were visibly struggling to stand back up, none of them seemed able to disobey. Not that this brought Homura any closer to understanding why, of course.
"The Law of Cycles isn't something you can just…take control of," she told the Witch, with a quick glance toward the unconscious girl sprawled across her lap. "I…I should know better than anyone."
But Gretchen simply returned a crooked, rictus grin. "Amusing that you should say such a thing, Homura Akemi…" she replied. "When this is only possible thanks to you."
Homura thought over this statement, in conjunction with everything the Witch had "downloaded" into her mind.
And then, with a cloying sense of dread, it finally clicked.
Her actions had split the Law of Cycles in two – the power, and the girl directing it. Without the latter, the former had continued to do its job, but mindlessly.
The Soul Gems she'd gathered, to keep her enemies out of the way…Gretchen must've been the one to corrupt them. And there was only thing the Law was meant to do when it faced a corrupted Soul Gem.
Except, with the Isolation Field in place, it couldn't. Not until the Witch absorbed the Field into herself. Absorbing its properties right along with it.
So that when the mindless Law descended to intervene…
"I am the shadow cast in my Origin's wake," said Gretchen, flexing her fingers experimentally. Sparks of bright pink energy were flowing off of them. "This power knows its mistress. And it seems it recognizes me as…close enough."
The Law of Cycles had no idea that the Madoka it'd just bonded with – or more accurately, been trapped inside – wasn't the "real" Madoka. Magically speaking, they were the same person.
But that still left one, very important matter to discuss.
"What about her, then?" she mumbled, still cradling Madoka's limp form, and trying to hold back her own tears from dripping over the younger girl's cheeks.
Gretchen tilted her head to the side, as if curious about the question.
"She is now exactly what you have always wanted her to be," she answered. "An ordinary human girl."
Homura's mouth fell open, as she gazed upon the unconscious girl once more. Was it truly possible? If Kriemhild Gretchen had absorbed the entire "essence" of the Law of Cycles, then Madoka would have nothing to draw on, even if she were to regain her memories.
And for that matter…neither would Homura. Whose own powers as the Devil were mere copies of those of the Goddess. Like the moon reflecting the light of the sun.
If the Witch of Salvation was telling the truth, then she had at last gained everything she'd ever Wished for. She and Madoka could have a life together, without anything to hinder them.
No magic. No monsters. Just…life.
And all it had cost was empowering a maniac to rewrite all of reality as she willed it.
After all the years she'd spent as a Magical Girl, she probably should've learned the lesson to be careful what she Wished for.
[-]
As the Witch and the Devil exchanged words, the three Messengers were still struggling to resist Gretchen's wordless edict.
"Y'know…if I'd known it meant signin' away my free will yet another goddamn time…" said Kyoko under her breath. "I mighta hesitated on this whole 'Messenger' thing."
"I didn't even know! Madoka would've never done it, so it never came up!" Sayaka exclaimed in response.
She'd again planted a blade in the ground, and was trying to use it as a handhold to pull herself up, but it was as if an invisible hand was pressing down just as hard.
"It does make sense. We aren't merely servants of the Law of Cycles, but extensions of it," Mami pointed out through gritted teeth. "If she's truly managed to usurp that role, then she is the one we are now bound to. Still…even if we cannot stand…"
Slowly, the elder Magical Girl formed a musket in her palm, taking careful aim at the clasp of the necklace that held the captive girls' Soul Gems.
Sayaka silently commended her senpai's quick thinking. If those were the Witch's power source, then maybe getting them away from her would…
But before she could carry that train of thought any further, Gretchen called out in a carrying voice, "Shoot Homura Akemi in the leg for me, won't you?"
It all happened in an instant. Mami's arm jerked at an unnatural angle, throwing off the aim of her barrel. Then, with a strangled wail, her finger squeezed the trigger.
Now it was Homura's turn to scream. Sayaka realized that while she'd heard the time-traveler let out cries of pain, many times over, it'd always been emotional pain. This was purely physical, and visceral.
The kind that would be let out by an ordinary human, with no Soul Gem to distance herself from the blow.
"Sayaka Miki, heal her. But only partway. Just enough so that we can talk," ordered the Witch.
Once more, Sayaka felt that irresistible compulsion seize hold of her body. Powerless to disobey, she trudged forward, wreathing her palms in her healing aura.
"Sorry, Transfer Student," she said in a low voice, as she placed her hands over the bullet wound. There was already so much blood.
She poured as much mana as she could into the injury, to try and heal it all the way before Gretchen could notice, but the flow of magic simply cut off after a few seconds, as if someone had turned the handle on a faucet. The bleeding stopped, but the wound remained visible on Homura's thigh, raw and ugly.
"Now, the three of you…stand there silently, and do not interfere further," spoke Kriemhild Gretchen, and Sayaka bit down on her tongue as she felt this latest geas flow through her body as well. "This dear devil and I still have much to discuss."
Homura let out a grunt halfway between frustration and suppressed pain. Sayaka could see that she was struggling not to place her hands on her wounded leg, because that would mean letting go of Madoka.
"I…have nothing more to say to you," she muttered. "You may borrow her face, copy her voice…but you are not Madoka. Just a fake. A perversion."
At this, the Witch actually seemed to grow a bit incensed.
"On the contrary," she hissed back. "I am the ultimate expression of her mission. Her purpose. I am simply taking it where she was always too much of a coward to tread. Even as a goddess, she placed limits on herself. Limits that I will shatter."
Gretchen's dainty fingers balled into a fist, grabbing onto one of Homura's wings. With a violent wrenching sound, she ripped it away.
Homura tried, and failed, to hold back another scream as the black feathers faded into the ether. And with them came the rest of her "Devil" outfit, which burned away in embers of purple flame, leaving her clad only in her Mitakihara Middle School uniform.
"Do you realize, Homura Akemi, that my Origin could've done this at any time? You bound her only because she let herself be bound. No more, and no less," said the Witch. Hearing Madoka's voice sound so cruel and pitiless was still incredibly unnerving. "But I am not constrained by such petty weakness. And so…I think it's time you all learned."
Sayaka felt her blood chill to ice as their adversary whispered, "Learned exactly what I'm about to do with the power I now wield."
[-]
Homura didn't know what to say, what to think. It'd all happened so fast.
She couldn't feel it anymore. None of it. Not the magic of the Devil…
Nor even that of an "ordinary" Magical Girl.
The pain in her leg was…excruciating. She couldn't remember the last time she'd felt like this. She'd been shot by hundreds of bullets before – not to mention stabbed, bludgeoned, crushed, drowned, poisoned, electrocuted, set on fire, and on one memorable occasion, shot into low-Earth orbit.
This hurt far more.
But underlying the pain, perhaps, was the simple knowledge that this was all her fault. Every single one of her stupid, selfish actions had played right into the Witch of Salvation's hands. Had given her the opportunity to swoop in and steal every scrap of power she held.
Power that was meant to protect Madoka.
Power that was now about to be used for…
"The first course of action, of course, will be to destroy the world. Every world," said the Witch matter-of-factly, as if this was the obvious conclusion.
But since Homura was still wracked with pain and the trio of Messengers were bound not to speak, no one raised any objections.
"Of course, if I thought the multiverse capable of Salvation without such drastic measures, I would do so. But alas, it is too far gone," she continued, either oblivious to or uninterested in their horrified reactions. "You have not seen what I've seen. The misery, the corruption. Not one, singular universe is immune to the plague of Despair. And their denizens are left to suffer in darkness."
The Witch writhed in place, looking quite thoroughly deranged. But when she spoke again, it was with cold, deliberate rationality. To Homura, it sounded less like Madoka and more like…
Well, herself.
"I have thought through every other possible solution. One after the next," she told the black-haired girl. "And every single one would leave at least some people unsaved. This, I cannot allow."
Okay…that was quite a bit more like Madoka.
Which, she supposed, wasn't all that much of a surprise. The Nature of a Witch was inherently an extension, an exaggeration, of their fatal flaw as a Magical Girl. The one factor above all others that'd driven them to ruin.
For Oktavia, it was Falling in Love. For Ophelia, her history of Abandonment. For Candeloro, how driven she was to be Inviting, even to the point of self-destruction.
And for Homulilly…
Well, it didn't take a psychologist to pick apart what her "Self-Sufficient" Nature represented.
Kriemhild Gretchen's Nature was Mercy. She embodied Madoka's impulse to sacrifice anything, everything, if it meant helping another. To Madoka, saving a million people and losing one was a dismal, awful failure.
Her failure.
"Until tonight, I lacked the power to carry out my mission," said Gretchen, interrupting Homura's train of thought. "But the Law of Cycles touches every planet, every universe. The Concept of Hope exists across all of infinity, and my Origin embodies Hope itself. Through it…my Barrier may finally spread, unhindered."
The breath caught in Homura's throat – itself a novel sensation, because it'd been a very long time since she had even needed to breathe.
"I…I've seen your Barrier before. So many times," she gasped out, her clammy hands clinging even more tightly onto the folds of Madoka's dress. "It's a false Heaven. Empty happiness. Even if you can expand it…!"
This time, Gretchen cut her off with a mere gesture. Unfortunately, that gesture was directed at Kyoko, who was unable to prevent herself from tossing a spear with pinpoint precision, until it embedded itself in Homura's shoulder.
The Witch hovered in place for a few moments, drinking Homura's wails of agony like they were delicious nectar. The crimson glow around her eyes peaked even further in intensity.
Once Gretchen seemed to be satisfied with the pain she'd experienced, she let off another casual wave of the hand. Again Sayaka was puppeteered forward, healing Homura just enough to function…
But not enough to make it hurt any less.
"You have seen a…limited version of myself," said the Witch, and though her tone was calm and even again, there was a deadly sharpness to it that precluded any further interruptions. "Born from the Despair of a simple Wish. For a cat to be revived. Or a Witch restored to a Magical Girl. Or the power to vanquish a foe who was otherwise insurmountable."
Gretchen was circling around her, almost as if pacing – except that her feet remained elevated half a meter above the ground. It gave her an even higher vantage point to stare down at the former Devil, wearing a distinctly un-Madoka-like expression of haughty disdain.
"I am different. I am the Penitent Gretchen…the one spawned by Hope incalculable. Hope enough to rewrite an entire universe, from start to finish," she added, now playing idly with one of her lacy black bows. "My Barrier has no limits. Soon enough, you will see. When all you see, all you hear, all you feel is Gretchen…then there will be no more cause for strife, or misery, or death. Only me. Only Salvation."
As she spoke these words, the very air around them seemed to be…changing. The dark clouds fading away, but exposing no blue sky behind them.
Instead, it was all red. All black. Both and neither at once. Buildings, trees, people – all were fading from view, rewritten in an instant, as if they'd never been there at all.
In the blink of an eye, only the rooftop they were standing on remained. All the rest of Mitakihara City was in darkness.
"It will take me some time. The multiverse is infinite, in the truest sense of the term. Even using the conduits my Origin left behind, I do not know how long it will take until my essence fills all of them," Gretchen declared. "It is necessary work…but lonely. Which brings us neatly to our original point."
For the first time, the Witch's feet – clad in dainty, gothic boots and stockings – touched down on the ground below. So that she could grasp Homura by the chin once more, angling it roughly until their eyes met.
"What…the hell…do you need from me…?" Homura demanded, gritting her teeth to fight through the throbbing pain in both her shoulder and thigh.
Gretchen tilted her head to the side, though it was impossible to tell whether out of bemusement or irritation.
"Come now, Homura Akemi. Do not make me repeat myself," she said. "I told you, it is not what I need. It is what I want. The only thing I want. Something that you alone can give me. And something…which I am willing to strike quite the bargain to obtain."
She had said something like that, hadn't she? It was getting so hard to keep track.
Every part of Homura's body was being tempted to just…lie down. Accept whatever this monster wanted from her. If only so this would all stop hurting…
"But first…let me show you what I'm offering in return," added the Witch, her facsimile of Madoka's voice becoming silky smooth. Almost…sultry.
Before Homura could think through the incredibly disturbing implications of that, however, Gretchen was waving a hand once more.
And the world disappeared.
[-]
Homura Akemi's alarm clock blared to life.
Her first impulse was to beat the crap out of the annoying contraption with one of her pillows, but she knew that was futile. While her mind was still groggily collecting pieces of itself, she had the distinct feeling that there was something important she had to do today.
The…McInnis Project, wasn't it? Yeah, that was right. They had that big presentation to the Board of Directors today. This was her first shot as project lead, so making a strong impression could be make or break for…
But those thoughts shut down in an instant as her eyes settled on the figure lying next to her, underneath the sheets.
And wearing absolutely nothing else.
Madoka let out a lengthy yawn, but was all smiles as her pink eyes fluttered open. "Good morning, Homura," she said. "Did you sleep well? After…uh…last night?"
Seeing the deep shade of red running up and down Homura's neck caused the other woman to laugh. The musical sound didn't do much to tamp down the spread of the blush.
"Honestly, Homura!" she exclaimed, between giggles. "I mean, I know I'm not one to talk. But even I'm a little less squeamish about sex, after being married for five years."
At those last few words, a flood of memories surged through Homura's exhausted mind.
Graduating high school, arm in arm, as Tatsuya and Madoka's parents whooped and cheered for them both.
Clutching onto matching acceptance letters to a university in California, happy tears running down both of their faces.
Those early days as roommates after the move to America, certain they could get through anything as long as they had each other.
Madoka getting down on one knee in the middle of their senior year, holding out a diamond ring as pink as her eyes.
Even though they'd been Madoka and Homura Kaname for half a decade now – Madoka had offered to hyphenate, of course, but Homura felt no attachment to her former family name and said as much – that didn't keep her stomach from doing a little jump every time she thought of it.
This had really happened. Madoka was her wife. And she was hers.
"Give me a few minutes to wash my face, and then I'll whip something up," the other woman said with a smile, before sliding out of bed and into her bathrobe. "You'll need your energy for the office today!"
"Y…You don't need to bother," Homura stammered out. The brief flash of a fully naked Madoka Kaname had not improved her red-face situation. "Besides, you have just as much on your plate, don't you?"
Madoka shrugged both shoulders as she stepped into their bathroom.
"Sure, but that's the advantage of working from home," she called back. "I pretty much get to set my own hours. As long as I get the design into the client by five…well, five his time, since he's in New York…"
Madoka's burgeoning artistic talents had developed into something else entirely after she took a couple graphic design courses in high school. Now she was self-employed, creating logos and promotional material for clients the world over. She'd even won an industry award for one of her pieces last year, despite determined and near-total invisibility on social media.
When she wasn't sketching away on her tablet, however, Madoka threw herself zealously into the role of the perfect Japanese housewife – despite no longer living in Japan. Over Homura's repeated objections she handled just about all of the cooking, cleaning, and household errands, plus a literal laundry list of other domestic tasks.
Tomohisa Kaname's daughter had clearly taken after him in more ways than one.
Homura, meanwhile, had followed in the high-heeled footsteps of her new mother-in-law (though Junko was always insisting she drop the "in-law" part), and joined the corporate world. Feverish studying and a mind conditioned for literal war had earned her a business degree in half the expected time, and she took quickly to the landscape of offices and boardrooms.
Right now she was a low-level executive at a nonprofit firm, which focused on developing affordable housing in underprivileged communities. It kept her busy – and if she got that promotion she'd been angling for months, she'd get busier still – but it was rewarding work.
And it made Madoka smile with pride every time she came home. Which was really all that mattered in the end.
"What would you like, Homura? Eggs and miso okay?" asked the other woman as she emerged from the bathroom, a towel tied around her hair. She no longer wore it in pigtails, preferring a shoulder-length style, but she still looked just as cute. "We still have some chicken left over from last night if you want meat."
"Uh…eggs are fine," said Homura, a bit awkwardly. "But listen, Madoka, you really don't have to…"
Her wife silenced her, however, the easiest way she knew how: by capturing her lips in a searing kiss.
"We've had this conversation, over and over. I want to, okay?" she told Homura, a glint in her eye that was more than slightly mischievous. This was a side of Madoka that only came out when the two of them were alone. "Now out of bed, sweetie. If we finish eating early, then maybe there's a few more things I can do to help get you prepped for that presentation…"
Homura didn't need telling twice. She was already in the closet selecting her outfit for the day before the last word left her wife's lips.
As she stood in front of the mirror, deciding whether she should keep to her usual preference for black or add a splash of color, it struck her once again how lucky she was.
Many of her coworkers, male and female alike, lamented for precisely the type of life she now possessed. The ones her age were mostly still in the dating scene, and she'd turned down more invites to mixers or group dates than she could count.
She'd never had that problem. For as long as she'd even known she was attracted to girls, one and only one had occupied her heart.
And that girl, that woman, loved her in turn. Just as equally.
"What did I ever do to deserve this…?" she whispered to herself, just as a pair of slender arms linked around her waist.
"I know you don't usually go for ties, but I think this yellow one would look so pretty on you," said Madoka, holding it up to her neck and kissing it from behind for good measure. Shuddering, Homura melted easily into her wife's touch.
Up until she saw her reflection in the mirror.
She looked very much like Madoka Kaname. People who only knew her casually wouldn't have been able to tell the difference. Every detail was there, just right.
Except that her eyes were a hellish blood-red.
"Took you long enough to realize," spoke Kriemhild Gretchen with a grin, as the scene faded around them.
[-]
Once more, there was only darkness.
There was even less substance here than in the timeless void where she'd met her alternate self. For as far as the eye could see, stretching out in every direction imaginable, there was nothing.
Only the girl who had once played at being a Devil. And the Witch who had her under her thumb.
"Did you enjoy that?" said Gretchen. She was peering down with a cruel smirk, hovering slowly in a circle around her captive's head. "A mere taste of the gifts I can bestow. Not only to you…but to every wounded heart across infinity."
"That…" Homura breathed out. "That was…"
But no other words would come. Her mind was still reeling, and her body felt like it was in the middle of an intense attack of vertigo. Whenever she closed her eyes, it was as if she could still see Gretchen's illusory world, layered on top of this one.
A fantasy, and yet somehow, almost realer than the truth.
"Do you understand now, the true meaning of my Nature? I can see into the souls of every living thing in the cosmos. I can see what will bring them Mercy," the Witch continued, talking over her feeble utterances. "And now, I have the power to grant it to them. Every last one."
She was close enough now that Homura would've been able to feel her breath on her face. If, of course, Witches needed to breathe.
"This is what you stand against. This…is what you so foolishly oppose," she hissed. "You may claim to act in the name of your goddess, but I am the one carrying out her will. Carrying it to its fullest extent. Answer me this, Homura Akemi."
Gretchen placed her fingers – equally as thin and dainty as Madoka's, but with strength like a vise – upon Homura's head, and forcibly tilted it back, until those unearthly crimson eyes were boring into her own.
Her voice became harsher, more strident, as she went on, "Think how you felt a few minutes ago. When I was bringing your fondest dreams and deepest desires to life. Think of that, and realize that is what I will grant to everyone. Past, present, and future. As selfish as you purport to be…would you really deny the masses of the multiverse such a wondrous gift?"
It took all of Homura's meager remaining strength to even force out a response, but she mustered it as best she could.
"But…But it's just a fake," she said throatily. "No matter how convincing it is…false Hope is no substitute for the real thing…"
Gretchen cut her short by pitching her head back and laughing again. It was little closer to a human laugh this time, but not by much. Like text-to-speech software trying to approximate emotion in its tone.
"Oh, such irony. You, of all creatures, espousing the virtues of truth? You, who have buried this world under the pressures of one lie after the next?" she replied. "In reality, the difference between the two is merely one of perspective. If a lie is kinder than the truth, then why should we be forced to accept the latter?"
Gretchen's humanoid form was shimmering at its edges now. Homura recognized the chaotic kaleidoscope of color – the beginnings of her Barrier.
"That is why I will obliterate every piece of reality that has ever inflicted suffering," she declared, her voice growing madder and more zealous with every word. "But don't worry. I will save the souls. Preserve them in their new homes, safe within my Barrier. Granted the lives they always Wished for. It will be beautiful."
"And you think…that's what I want?" demanded Homura in clipped tones. "That if you dangle that illusion in front of me, I'm just going to stand back and let you…"
But yet again, the Witch didn't allow her to complete her thought. "I know that is what you want," she all but snapped. "And more to the point…it is also what she wants."
Suddenly, Homura felt a heavy weight on her lap. Looking down, her eyes filled with tears as she realized that she was holding Madoka again. Still unconscious, and yet…
Somehow, she could tell. This wasn't another trick. This was the real Madoka. Her Madoka.
"That is what I offer to you both. You have but to say the word, and you will become the first souls to join my Barrier," said Gretchen, her voice lowering to a gentler, more soothing cadence, though the edge of danger never fully disappeared. "For as long as you desire, you will have the simple, comfortable lives you have always craved. No misery. No heartache. Only joy, and pleasure, and love. Would that not be preferable, to the life you've led to this point?"
Homura wanted to continue arguing back, but the words caught in her throat. Even if she knew the Witch of Salvation couldn't be trusted…
There was a large part of her that heard the promise of never needing to fight again, and took to it like a drowning man fumbling for oxygen.
Regardless, one thing still puzzled her. "With the power of the Law of Cycles…you shouldn't need permission," she pointed out through tight lips. "You've beat around the bush enough. What is it you want me to do?"
The Witch hovered there for several moments, gazing down upon her with those inscrutable eyes. Until finally, she answered.
"This is not about an action you need to take, Homura Akemi," she whispered. "This is about collecting on a promise rendered."
Kriemhild Gretchen waved a hand, and a portion of the darkness parted.
It was almost as if she'd spontaneously generated an enormous television screen in the midst of the void. One which was playing a scene that froze Homura solid with its familiarity.
Mitakihara City lay in ruins. Entire neighborhoods reduced to rubble by the rampage of a Witch no longer anywhere to be seen.
And, at the center of it all, lying in a shallow pool of rainwater…
Were two Magical Girls, their Soul Gems corrupted beyond any hope of recovery.
"This is it. It's over for us too."
"Do you have any Grief Seeds?"
"…Okay. I've got an idea. How about we both become Witches? Then we can tear up this rotten world together. Until there's no more evil. No more sadness. Until there's nothing left. We'll break, and smash, and pound it into dust. But if we did that…wouldn't that be great…?"
Homura knew where the scene went from there, of course, though she wasn't sure her heart could take seeing it play out again. Hearing Madoka's scream of anguish as she asked her to…
But that was where Gretchen cut it off as well. She seemed to feel that she'd made her point.
"I heard those words, of course. And I remembered them. They formed the core of my being. My purpose," she said. "You are right. I can do this on my own. I can destroy the current, flawed universes, and replace them with paradise. With nothing but my own two hands."
Suddenly, the Witch's hands were on her face again. But her touch was different this time. Tougher, more purposeful. She pulled Homura close to her, until their lips were mere centimeters apart.
"But I do not want to. I have been alone…since the instant of my birth. And for an eternity afterward, living in the shadow of existence," her speech was growing louder, harsher, the pauses between words reduced to almost nothing. "So here is the deal I offer, Homura Akemi."
Homura tried to struggle out of the Witch's grip, but found that she couldn't. That deep blood-red glow of her eyes, of the Isolation Field, was almost all she could see now.
"I will give you the life you have always desired. With the girl who your heart yearns for above all others," crooned the voice of Kriemhild Gretchen, and for just a moment, it was so tender that it was completely indistinguishable from the real thing. "And in exchange…you will give me the one I love."
But that veneer of kindness lasted for only an instant. The Witch tightened her grip on Homura's hair and yanked it painfully backward, the monster within roaring back to life, screaming in her face.
"GIVE HER TO ME!"
"GIVE…"
"ME…"
"HOMULILLY!"