That question is easy, because she had answered it for herself long ago. The Maker had turned away from the world before Cassandra was ever born, and yet His absence had never shaken her faith. To lay down arms, to give up the fight - she cannot imagine herself doing so for anything less than the Maker himself commanding it.

What else does she have, but this?

She takes a deep, steadying breath. "You are right," she says, with more conviction than she had felt a moment ago. "It is as it has always been. If we are yet unworthy, then we will strive and fight until we are not. We must make ourselves better. We must prove ourselves deserving of the Maker's grace." She gifts him a rare smile. "Thank you for your comforting words, Malcolm. I - apologize for my lack of faith."