Like the movie, this chapter feels a bit unnecessary and indulgent. My original plot was planned only until the end of the anime. I'm including it, though, because it helps remove that lingering bitterness and because I think it fits so damn snugly into the canon.
o o o
Violet stared out the window into the imitation Mitakihara sky, unable to sleep.
"No. You're. Wrong," she sang under her breath and a silencing enchantment. "I'm the grapes. The round cake is fizzy. Is Sayaka the cake?"
She hummed Sayaka's response until the last verses. "The round cake is hidden. Is Violet the cake?"
She clasped her soul gem and sang her part. "No. You're. Wrong. I'm the filling. The round cake is spicy. Is Kyoko the cake?"
She hummed Kyoko's part. "The round cake is alone. Is Violet the cake?"
She stopped at that, feeling equal parts silliness and yearning. And yet, she didn't break down or cry. The goddess had resurrected her with the memories of two lifetimes: one from the old world of witches and the other from the new world of wraiths. She had more than enough experience with despair to be able to face it reasonably. Dying twice had armored her with a twisted wisdom that could keep her functional in the face of extreme desperation.
But "functional", she reflected, was independent of sanity. At some point in both past lives, she crossed some line and started talking to those who couldn't hear her. And now, she hit a new milestone of singing to those who weren't even present. Maybe she was getting worse.
To comfort herself, she dug into her bag and touched the treasure entrusted by the goddess. The feel of it under her fingers silenced her doubts. The goddess had seen it fit to restore her with all her flaws. If the goddess believed in her, then she could believe in herself.
Her thoughts wandered to the start of her third life.
"Your mission is to watch, wait and remember," said the goddess on that day. "Nobody can know of your presence. Not even my other angels. Not even me." She gave Violet a warm smile before asking, "That won't be a problem for you, will it?"
"Of course not!" said Violet.
"The waiting will be the hardest," said the goddess. "You'll witness things that will make you want to help. Yet you must still allow them to happen. Wait until you're sure the two of us can meet alone and unwatched, outside of any witch's maze. Only then should you come out of hiding to return this treasure to me."
Violet shut the bag and double-checked the straps. She looked outside, into the fake stars, and once again saw the beauty in the fever dream of a witch. This maze was made out of love for another. And its creator, someone Violet had idolized, was worth saving as much as the goddess was.
Okay, she said to herself. Just one more before going to bed. There was stalking to be done tomorrow.
"The round cake is tough," she sang. "Is Violet the cake?"
o o o
From a rooftop a safe distance away, Violet watched the great witch Homulilly lead her army to where the Puella Magi made their stand. She'd never seen a more powerful witch and doubted that the goddess' other angels could handle such a foe. It worried her. Had the goddess forbidden intervention so that she could witness and survive a massacre?
But the two angels had a goddess-given trick up their sleeve. Sayaka stabbed herself. Nagisa's eyes turned crazed and chromatic. Reality shifted around them and from the collage of distortions emerged Oktavia and Charlotte, along with their own army of minions. At the sight of it, Violet took out her sketchbook, her worries smothered by wonder.
But even before she could draw the first stroke, her vision blacked out. It returned a second later and she was in the middle of the angels' army, marching alongside a black cat minion. She stopped in her tracks, shook her head and blinked. Suddenly, she was back on the rooftop.
What. What?! She managed to take a deep breath before it got worse.
She clung to a brick wall and watched the battle from above. She stabbed one of Homulilly's soldiers in a chaotic melee. She jumped from rooftop to rooftop. She hid in an alley, waiting in ambush. She died slowly, crushed underfoot by advancing minions on both sides.
Then, she was back on the rooftop, in her own body. She kept her eyes open, as wide as they would go, and willed herself to stay rooted on the spot. Somehow, it worked. But she could still feel the pull of distant places. And she could hear-
"Mistress!" said voices in her head. "Let us share our sight with you! Please, mistress Lyudmila!"
The name brought back a past she didn't want to recall, memories of paranoid delirium. No, that thing wasn't her. It wasn't! She needed to distract herself, so she staggered to the edge of the roof to watch the battle. But it seemed like the world wouldn't allow her to forget. The two unreal armies filled the landscape with the patterns of a witch's consciousness. The colors tugged on memories of despair.
But in the midst of the clashing armies, a bright flash of pink caught her eye. It drew the focus of her gaze and as she looked closer, she saw other luminous glimmers in the haze. Red and blue. Yellow and silver. The Puella Magi fought alongside their shadow selves. Where there were curses, there were also wishes to oppose them.
Violet thought back to her wish to disappear. It was a wish for personal privacy, a wish for space and introspection, a wish to know others. The same wish lead to her retreat and exile, to Lyudmila's distrust and alienation. Her wish wasn't counter to a curse. The two were one and the same.
She was helpless to deny the revelation. In surrender, she closed her eyes and let herself visualize the world as Lyudmila saw it. Everything was a depressing tangle of lies. She wanted nothing more than the power to slice through it all and find the truth that must be revealed and shared.
But a witch's spite didn't well up in her heart. To seek the truth was a noble goal! Lyudmila despaired because she forgot that one depressing truth did not overshadow hopeful ones, that there could be undiscovered hopeful truths. Violet, with her goddess-given hindsight, would not let herself forget this.
With newfound confidence, she opened herself up to the voices in her head, now knowing them for what they were. They were Lyudmila's minions, embedded within the summoned angelic army. They sensed their mistress' presence and volunteered their services.
Violet spoke to them through the same mental space where she heard the voices. "Your mistress hears you. Let us seek the truth together."
This time, there was no sensory overload when she received their sight. The images combined into a grand multiscopic view. She could see in all directions and around corners. She could pick out the slightest distortions in the air and see a warm breeze dance through the city streets. And even at this distance, she could differentiate the subtlest hues of color and see where the maze ended and the incubator's barrier began.
The heightened perception granted her an incredibly accurate sense of place. She knew exactly where she was in relation to every enemy, every ally, every bullet and arrow in flight. She knew she was safe where she was and that there was no need to contribute to the battle they were winning. Besides, the goddess' orders were clear.
With her eyes still closed, she drew the cityscape in her sketchbook.
At last, the battle came to a close. The goddess did the impossible and brought Homura back from being a witch. The incubator's barrier broke and a ray of light from solid reality shone into the maze. Around her, the maze began to dissolve. Her cloak, naturally tuned to blend into the real world, did most of the work in maintaining her stealth. Her minions faded away and, little by little, her perception shrank until she could see nothing through closed eyes.
Violet opened her eyes and watched the goddess float down, followed by Sayaka and Nagisa riding in a magical carriage (the show-offs). Homura lay down at the edge of death, but also close to unity with her beloved. Surely it was time to come out of hiding and join the celebration.
Violet watched and waited.
The goddess was over Homura. She stretched her hand down to Homura's darkened soul gem. Then, to everyone's surprise, Homura grabbed the goddess by the wrists. Her dark soul gem glowed with a diseased, eldritch shade and Homura pulled the goddess close to whisper something.
The world began to come apart.
Violet's reflexes were quick. A dagger was already in her hand. She had already calculated the arc to Homura's soul gem. But she couldn't bear to attack the girl who had inspired her in a parallel lifetime. Instead, she watched and waited until everything faded away and became weightless and dark.
"No!" shouted Violet from behind the strongest sound-suppressing magic. Had the goddess expected her to save the day? Had her hesitation lead to ruin? She let go of her dagger and let it vanish as her body floated in empty space.
Drowsiness crept in from the edge of her consciousness. There was nothing to see but, nevertheless, she had to watch. It was her mission, perhaps the only thing she had left. She yawned and wondered what would happen if she gave in and slept. Would sleep make her forget?
With all the caution in the world, she felt inside her bag for the goddess' treasure. Simply touching it renewed her determination. She had to wait! To remember! She adjusted her bag so that it lay on her stomach and tightened the straps so that it couldn't possibly drift away. Then, she curled up into a ball and hugged it.
An eternity passed and Violet caught a glimpse of color. She blinked, made sure her eyes were really open and, still, only saw darkness. Had she imagined it? She read somewhere that the brain answered emptiness with hallucination. She hugged her bag tighter.
Then, explosions of color filled the black space. Violet blinked and cried in joy. In the weightlessness, tears formed lenses over her eyes and blurred the colors of a world reborn.
o o o
Violet took another sip of the tea she had nursed for almost an hour and tried not to think of the waitress who was annoyed at her lingering. She shook her head. No, the waitress was probably bored with the slow business day. Violet made a furtive glance to the side and caught the waitress engrossed in a book. Then, she sighed at her own anxieties and looked back outside the cafe window.
It was difficult, even painful, to stalk someone in a world without magic. Violet had to learn how to work her trade the traditional way: with lies, alibis, stakeouts, gadgets and the internet. It had taken more than a year for her to develop the confidence in her skills to put her plan into action. Now, her parents were out of the country on their yearly trip back home. They had no idea that their daughter stayed in Mitakihara and stalked a stranger named Madoka Kaname.
Right on time, her pink-haired subject walked by the cafe window. Violet checked her watch and verified that Madoka kept to her routine. The timing was consistent, with only a few minutes difference. True to the pattern, the bug facing Homura's door confirmed that Homura had arrived home ten minutes earlier. This was her chance. All Violet needed to do was find the courage to do the impossible.
Violet gulped down as much tea as she could swallow and walked out of the cafe. She quickened her pace to catch up to her subject, stopped to cough up the tea she choked on, then ran up behind the girl.
She coughed again before she managed to speak, the faint taste of Ceylon lingering on her tongue. "Madoka Kaname?"
Madoka turned to the stranger. "Um, yes?" she answered.
"I have something for you," said Violet. "Something you gave me for safekeeping."
"I'm sorry, you've mistaken me for someone else."
"Please, just take a look. I'm sure you'll remember." Violet fished the item from her bag.
Madoka's eyes widened at the sight of the pink notebook. "This-" was all she managed to say before Violet shoved the notebook into her hands, forcing her to hold it.
Campus Note. Such benign words. But the brand made the silhouette of a dream flash in Madoka's memories. She leafed through the pages and every scribble slowly filled in the forgotten past. With each rediscovery, her expression shifted from wonder, to joy, to anger, to sadness.
The goddess shut the notebook and said, "Thank you, Violet."
o o o
Creative Commons CC-BY