in the broken light colours fly

Just one wish is all it will take. Just one shining will, and perhaps...perhaps she could save them all.

No. Surely. There cannot be a doubt in her mind.

She is Melia Antiqua, Princess of the High Entia by earnest righteousness as much as by birthright, and she will not bow to the curse that foul god Zanza has laid upon her people.

If Shulk can wish upon his Monado, then so can she. Even, she must.

Not a duty of prayer, nor a duty of care; Melia centres herself, calling light ether to hands cupped over her clavicle (it spools and twines, revealing red and green undertones - royalty, all - in its folds), and dreams of the power this righteous anger, this absolute force; indeed, this absolution in the body of a teenage girl.

And it comes to her, divine irritation, posture an outward inversion of the princess's very same, ready to strike at a moment's notice.

If, truly, power such as Mythra's lurks within them all, then Melia would not be surprised if each and every being of the Bionis were to metamorphantasize into a Telethia overnight.

The next thought comes, painful awe: she would not wish it.