free to flutter in memories of their wasted wings

In this new world, my purpose - my function - is much less well-defined.

No longer am I, so simply, an instrument of destruction and rebirth, conduiting infinite power but granting - being granted - no choice, control over it, to myself.

I am...an individual.

As Shulk, who rescinded from the idea of godhood.

As Shulk, who holds such gentleness and such rage.

I wish to affect moods. I wish...to have them.

I too, possess gentleness and rage.

But I, the lingering affect of instantiated Monado, do not know what to do with them, when they only serve myself.

Then...to Shulk?