An Unbreakable Bond — The Devoted Heart of Radiant’s Mélie
“It means you’re gonna have to struggle, just like everyone else does. We all have things we have to push through.”
Near the middle of Radiant’s second season, where Seth is at the precipice of being consumed by the monster within, he knows he can’t contain the dark monitor without reawakening the beast. Rather than put everyone at risk again, he’s about to give up entirely, until he hears a familiar voice outside his protective barrier within the Sidh. Trapped between life and death by a force that neither of them understands, the trick that eventually gets Seth to turn things around isn’t his own determination, resolve or willpower.
It’s the fear that he might seriously hurt someone if he doesn’t contain the dark monitor. It’s the acknowledgement of his own weakness that he’s powerless to change his fate on his own. And it’s the fact that despite their past differences and unresolved conflicts, his most trusted companion came all this way — broke orders with the knights, ventured into the forbidden forest and crossed planes of reality — all for his sake.
So, he opens up about his fears and weaknesses, his frustrations about the situation they find themselves in and the thought of disappointing her further after she believed in him. She acknowledges their circumstances are different and can’t control her Infection any more than he can with the dark monitor hovering between them. And with this knowledge, she reciprocates his feelings of doubt, the thought of losing control again and their shared memories that helped her push through. In other words, a reason to struggle.
Though I’ve covered this episode in greater detail once before, this is the definitive moment that lives rent free in my head when I revisit Radiant. As Seth struggles to find meaning and purpose in a world that will not acknowledge their existence, becoming increasingly complex and hostile as the series progresses, his companions do more than accompany him to his end goal or pull their weight when the going gets tough. Mélie is no exception to this, because along with being a friend, colleague, and mentor, their relationship crystallizes the very essence of Radiant into one overarching theme. After all, they’re partners.
Radiant Memories is a collection of stories looking back at the Radiant universe and its 10 year anniversary. For more details, see below.
Drops of Friendship
At first glance, the characters in Radiant tend to be simple by design, weaving layers into their narratives through the story’s central theme of becoming human. Seth wanted to become a Nemesis Hunter to make a name for himself only to be humbled by the plight of the powerless and fight for everyone’s sake. Ocoho wanted the title of knight believing it to be the optimal route to serve her community before becoming a true champion of the people by sticking to her principles and expanding her horizons. Doc didn’t have a reason to stick around beyond potential financial gain, but ultimately starts to see himself as part of the team after realizing how much he’s come to depend on them. Lupa wants to honor her friend’s final request only to learn that she needn’t carry the burden all on her own. And Grimm is… well, Grimm.
Mélie’s path is more straightforward. Her story begins upon meeting Seth aboard an Inquisitor airship as the two are arrested on magic-related counts. While incarcerated below, she introduces herself to her new cellmate, amused by his strange horns as he recounts the purpose of his quest when Doc arrives to join them. When they manage to break free from their cells and are stopped by Dragunov, she tries to appeal to his sympathy by bringing up her new friend’s crazy aspiration. It works as well as you’d expect!
Despite being a somewhat known fable, the Radiant itself is not highly regarded, even among Sorcerers. As Dragunov advises his horned prisoner about not casually dropping the name, especially among non-Sorcerers, it doesn’t discourage Seth from bringing it up when prompted. While none of his future companions necessarily travel along with the shared goal of actually finding it or understanding what that entails, it does segue neatly into the story’s themes of self-discovery, humanity and purpose in a world unaccommodating to the perceived outsiders.
For Mélie, that straightforwardness and unabashed optimism in Seth’s words gels with her youthful innocence to the point that she’s willing to back him up without regard to her own safety. And when the truth about her curse comes into the picture — more on that later — she isn’t immediately rejected by Seth. In fact, he actively seeks her out by the time they arrive at the Artemis Institute, beginning a very close working relationship that eventually leads to their first real job and beyond.
Before we continue with the main narrative, let’s talk about the f-word. I mean fillers of course! For the uninitiated, a filler can be roughly described as any piece of content or episode that takes place outside the continuity of the main plot or does not contribute meaningfully to the forward momentum of the narrative or relationships of the cast. Now, I don’t think I need to tell you that the general consensus towards fillers tends to skew negative, especially among anime fans. I think everyone here has seen the Gintama explanation video or clips from it at some point in their life, so I won’t bother linking it!
While it is funny out of context, in retrospect, it has two fundamental flaws that I don’t think hold up that well upon closer inspection. 1.) Most anime produced today don’t really do fillers, at least not in the traditional sense that it is describing. With some exceptions, we’ve largely moved away from long continuous series with original content to fill airtime as seasonal runs have become standard. 2̶.)̶ I̶t̶ p̶e̶r̶p̶e̶t̶u̶a̶t̶e̶s̶ t̶h̶e̶ m̶y̶t̶h̶ t̶h̶a̶t̶ G̶i̶n̶t̶a̶m̶a̶ i̶s̶ f̶u̶n̶n̶y̶.
2.) It perpetuates a lot of anime fans’ perceptions and expectations of fillers. An irony not lost on Gintama as it parodies itself, but when applied liberally elsewhere, it oversimplifies the problem as a catch all term where the word loses all meaning without taking the time to analyze the content itself. Case in point, original content isn’t necessarily filler by default. Some can have substance, move the smaller gears in the larger storytelling picture and even be crucial when it comes to world building and immersion. Meanwhile, titles that strictly stay within the boundaries of its source are not always fillerless.
In the wake of the recent live action adaptation of Avatar: The Last Airbender, 2024 has been an interesting case study in reigniting the conversation around fillers, but the important question to ask is whether there’s an interesting story to tell. As filmmaker and comic book writer J. Michael Straczynski (Babylon 5, The Amazing Spider-Man) pointed out in a very detailed thread on his personal Twitter which I recommend reading through, but will highlight the relevant parts:
Part of what is problematic to so many writers about the term “filler episodes” is that for some viewers, stories only count when they’re sprinting breathless through the events of the story arc, if things aren’t directly moving ahead or blowing up, which ignores the reality that those events have to have meaning to the characters, have to change them and react to them, and we can’t see those changes, or understand those reactions, unless we understand the characters.
To dismiss something as “filler” is to hand-wave away the effort that went into it, and ignore the point of character-based episodes: to make the story *matter* to the characters and the audience. Otherwise, why the hell even tell it?
One of the fun things about cross-analyzing different forms of media is seeing a reinterpretation of a story through a different lens. Rereading the original comic and seeing the origin of this story puts certain details of the anime into perspective and vice versa, and when you combine these interpretations, a more cohesive, complete understanding of said story emerges.
In the original, Mélie’s ongoing character flaw for a time was her lack of friends. It was a point that was reiterated a lot in the first two volumes, and while the two get along swimmingly, more often than not it was a running gag first and a character study second, in that order. Early on within the Artemis Institute, when Seth offers to reimburse her the money he borrowed, she initially declines until he insists. Completely misinterpreting his words (“short reckonings make long friends!”), she reverses course and holds him to it, believing they’d become besties once the debt was paid!
While both versions spend some time at the Artemis, the anime fills in some of the gaps in between Seth’s training with Yaga, prioritizing some of the other characters by taking the time to introduce the concepts and setting along with the usual setup. In Mélie’s case, the focus is shifted from comic relief to setting the foundation for their eventual partnership. Like in the manga, Seth immediately seeks her guidance as he gets to speed in this new environment, only this time he needs a place to stay until his training is finished.
This small change isn’t necessary to understand Radiant, but in the show’s canon, it shifts their dynamics by diving into their character motivations and recentering it on their relationship. When Yaga refuses to take Seth on as an apprentice due to his lack of magic fundamentals, he turns to the more experienced Mélie for guidance, thrilled at the opportunity to be of assistance despite her lack of polish in certain magics.
Both versions lead to her pointing Seth in the direction of Doc, albeit for slightly different reasons, but since Seth’s training is prioritized, Doc reluctantly gets involved only to get blasted off to space for his troubles! Feeling down about not being able to help Seth make progress, a distraught Mélie loses consciousness, awakening her double and turning training into survival. Though the demonstration turns destructive, it’s in this act where Seth is able to take his first step as a Sorcerer and channel his focus to save Mélie from herself.
In Radiant lore, the exact reason for Seth’s inability to wield magic through traditional means (i.e. magic tools) is because he can manipulate Fantasia with his skin. Therefore, the gloves that he received from Alma actually inhibited his full potential, likely a countermeasure to protect Seth from himself. In the comic, they discover this when Seth accidentally destroys his gloves with the Fantasia he had accumulated during Yaga’s instruction. In the anime, the answer starts to unravel when a part of Seth’s gloves is cut during Mélie’s chase. The destination is the same, but the focus is different. The former is primarily through Seth’s perspective by adding another layer to Fantasia, while the latter is about a shared experience between two friends.
To put it another way, whereas one story is about a student and teacher discovering a new aspect to Fantasia and thereby adding a new question to keep in the back reader’s brainhole, another saves the answer momentarily to tell a more interpersonal story between characters. After Mélie reverts to normal, Seth is so overjoyed about his progress that he can’t help but share his excitement. He never gets mad or upset about the incident, even as she panics over the collateral damage caused by her curse. As they report the results to Yaga who finally agrees to take Seth under his tutelage, they continue to support one another before reaching the next narrative chapter.
Regardless of version, the two converge at the same point. Two people so enthusiastic about working together, hanging out or sharing in their victories and shortcomings that they are willing to go out of their way to help each other on a regular basis, even at personal cost. But as time passes, the fun adventures fade and it’s time to get down to business, for the true test of courage begins where they discover some very uncomfortable truths about themselves…
***Note: the rest of this article contains SPOILERS between seasons 1 and 2 (Volumes 1–11). Aside from some minor references for volumes 13 and 18 which come after season 2 for those curious, this will primarily focus on the first two major arcs or all the way to the end of season 2. Per usual, reader discretion is advised.***
Tempori Servire (“To Adapt Oneself to Circumstances”)
Originally hailing from a matriarchal tribe known as the Vicqueens, a warrior clan heavily inspired by Vikings, the shy and timid Mélie was born at a disadvantage from the start. Born into a society that idolizes strength and collectivist values (i.e. the good of the tribe), both the clan and her strict mother would come to heavily disapprove of her as she failed to keep up with her peers. Things became worse after she encountered a Nemesis and became an Infected, making her something of a shunned outcast within the clan who had little knowledge of curses and sorcery.
This lack of understanding extended to Mélie’s random “fits” or personality switches because of her newfound curse, alienating her further from her mother and older sister Vénélope who was beginning to feel the stress of mitigating her younger sibling’s affliction. What happens next is beyond the scope of this article, but all you need to know at this point is a freak accident would place Vénélope in a near comatose state and the unstable Mélie in a position of guilt and trauma as the involuntary cause of the incident. Now permanently branded by the unforgivable act carried out by her hands, she leaves her home unable to face the clan, if not exiled outright.
The period between her exile and joining the Artemis Institute isn’t clear, but what we do know is presumably she met her bird familiar Mr. Boobrie and she specialized as a Tracker while working with various Sorcerers. According to Doc, these partnerships were short lived due to the nature of her Infection. Eventually, she would find her way into the Artemis Institute — and the introductory debt package! — before teaming up with Doc himself.
Broadly speaking, Mélie is a character whose sense of identity is highly informed through the perceptions of others. As a result, her relationships become a window into her own mental image, or in psychological terms, her self-concept. As Carl Rogers explained in his Self-Concept Theory of Personality, our personalities, behaviors and perceptions/feedback from the world around us plays a key role in forming our personal identity, which can be broken down further into three major components:
- Self-esteem: your own self-worth or personal value based on external factors (past).
- Self-image: your current view of yourself (present).
- Ideal self: the person you strive to become (future).
Mélie’s bond with Vénélope is what initially tethered her to cope with the strict lifestyle of the Vicqueens, as well as the deteriorating relationship with her mother and clan. When that bond comes to a tragic end, she’s left with the burden of having irreplaceably damaged all that she knew. Even if it was outside of her control, it’s enough to bleed into her self-esteem as she moves into the present day and repeatedly fails to maintain any semblance of normalcy, yet paradoxically, it’s also her primary motivation to continue to seek out companionship and live her best life under the circumstances.
The crux of Mélie’s arc is because her self-image is so heavily tied to her self-esteem, her ideal self is directly informed through the people in her orbit rather than simply adapting to survive. Simply put, her self-worth is measured through actions or acts of service. It’s one reason she connects with Seth almost immediately, going so far as to support his farfetched dream amid being arrested by the Inquisition early on. Seeing his acts of courage and unwavering commitment to reach his goals as well as his complete acceptance of her as a person encourages her to not only accompany him on his quest, but to start processing her past and multiple personalities as just another part of herself.
It’s also why her fear of rejection is equally high. The thought of losing her friends and family, whether it be losing control of her curse or the freedom to decide for herself as dictated by others, is what prevents her from aligning her perceived and ideal selves. This incongruency first comes into view during the Rumble Town arc where despite her contributions investigating the Nemeses and improvements in offensive spells, it isn’t enough to help her friends when they run into trouble with the Inquisition. She takes Doc’s untimely “death” on her shoulders, and when she’s caught in the crossfire during Hameline’s attack, the sight of untold destruction is enough to trigger her personality switch as the memory of Vénélope’s lifeless form comes flooding back.
Unsurprisingly, Rogers believed there is correlation between congruency/incongruency and childhood memories, notably the presence or absence of unconditional love. When all these factors are in perfect alignment, the individual is said to be able to achieve self-actualization or the highest state of self-fulfillment (i.e. become human). But in the absence of unconditional love, where love is instead given out conditionally under a set of expectations and behaviors (Conditional Positive Regard), the path to self-actualization is closed off, leading individuals to seek outside approval more frequently due to this misalignment.
The story itself makes this comparison rather overtly, starting with the Rumble Town arc (specifically, Seth and Hameline) and as recently as the Domitors arc. Within the Vicqueens, affection is rarely expressed directly where the clan’s expectations are rolled into their parental contributions by ensuring their continued existence through the skills needed to adapt.
There’s an argument to be made that Mélie’s sense of self, including her self-sacrificing nature were largely influenced during this period, not quite developing the emotional maturity to cope with her fear of being abandoned by measuring herself through her peer’s strength and acts of service. And when she couldn’t measure up to Vénélope who was well underway to the next stage of the matriarchy, with both sisters knowing full well their paths would split given the circumstances despite Vénélope’s growing denial, her self-fulling prophecy of being left behind ends up coming true following the deed that can never be undone.
Perhaps that’s partially the reason why she feels the need to live up to her own expectations by proving herself time and time again, but that’s only half the story — no pun intended. As Rogers also argues, every individual is unique and the need to grow and change can manifest itself in many forms. For Mélie, that takes the form of an unspoken, unconditional trust by someone who can look past her burdens and doubts, if not embrace them wholeheartedly.
Now, I’m sure you can probably guess I’m going to say Seth, which you’d be correct — just not yet. While they continue to support one another to the very end of Rumble Town, their brief respite is quickly torn away when the reality of Seth’s actions, or what he is becoming when his origins unravel, comes crashing down. To that end, the story throws a pretty interesting wrench in Mélie’s arc entering season 2, forcing her to redefine herself as an individual rather than a team and move closer towards that self-actualization, leading to arguably the rawest moment in the series…
You and I Aren’t the Same…
I’ve talked a lot about self-fulling prophecies throughout these retrospective pieces and how character’s past experiences are used not only as foreshadowing, but affective forecasting in trying to predict, if not “control” future emotions, often to their detriment. In the transition from season 1 to 2, however, a shift in dynamics leads to a bit of a role reversal with our leads on opposite ends from where they started.
In the first season’s closing moments, there’s a poignant scene just before Mélie discovers Seth’s farewell letter. As she stands in front of Seth’s door, she hesitates to knock before working up the courage to enter. Not because she witnessed his transformation firsthand as he obliterated the winged Nemesis, but out of concern that she may not be able to reach her friend — or that it is already too late. Unfortunately, he does end up leaving, and while she is inevitably crushed by his sudden departure, once again doubting if she’s made any real progress, the story commits to its decision and explores the repercussions of this turn of events by developing Mélie’s agency.
Character agency, as described by author Louise Dean (Becoming Strangers, The Old Romantic) “is used to describe the ability a character has to take action to affect the events of the story.” The main reason I opted for this definition is that while agency is a very fluid term in terms of subject, medium and context, Dean’s subsequent elaboration revolves around a set of two principles that often gets overlooked in media criticism:
A story is articulated by two things: what the main character wants (first half) and what the main character needs (second half).
I’ve covered this extensively with regards to Ocoho, Hameline and Lupa before and how the story accomplishes this in each while validating their agency, but in Mélie’s case, when her desire of having a friend who recognizes and accepts her for herself is taken away, she’s left to her own devices to figure out what to do next. Although she also departs for Cyfandir, her goal is more self-discovery as she makes the decision to head to train with the knights.
Obviously, the story needs these two to patch things up, but during their brief run in with each other in Caislean Merlin, she makes it clear where they stand as she barely acknowledges Seth before moving on. Things only sour when he pays her a visit in the middle of the night, hoping to clear the air between them as he stands in front of her door with hesitation — mirroring Mélie’s position at the end of season 1, no less. What begins as an attempt to remedy the tension between the two only escalates, delivering some rather harsh words before culminating into a heartbreaking delivery.
I think what a lot of people miss regarding this scene is the conflict was never about the fact that Seth left without telling them, it was that he didn’t trust them enough to be honest about his ongoing problems, that he would rather let them believe he was a jerk than admit he needs help. As Doc later points out, his intentions might have been different, if not reasonable given his unstable power, it ultimately led to the same outcome as before — the dehumanization of themselves as Infected, as things that need to be self-isolated.
Mélie as a character is one of such sheer principle that she’s willing to endure hardship for others at the cost of her own potential happiness. In spite of the setback, her faith in other people, to continue to reach out even though it may cause further pain is not deterred. So, it’s no surprise that as soon as Seth is put in mortal danger after coming face to face with the castle basement’s secret and moved into the Callite Forest, she’s the first to go after him despite the warnings about how dangerous it is. It’s why she still calls him a friend when she asks for Myr and Yggdrajill’s help. And when she sees the heavy toll he’s been carrying all this time, she listens, aware that she can’t mend his curse any more than hers.
Regardless, she reaches out again, reminding him that he’s not alone in this. That it’s okay to be weak or ask for help. No matter what trouble they get into, she’ll continue to reach out when the burden becomes too much to bear. And if he ever does find himself trapped within that dark place once more, she’ll know he’ll pull through because she trusts her friend will extend his hand and find hers waiting on the other end.
A common sentiment with a lot of modern shonen characters these days is they often have the benefit of hindsight from their predecessors. They’re given larger than life personalities, wherein their feats of strength against equal if not greater forces are personified, and their aspirational qualities come from surpassing human limitations through a higher power, whether it be inherited strength from the beginning, status from their peers or whatever abstract concept of power exists in their universe. Therefore, their nuance is correlated with their presentation and personality, the external factors surrounding them over intrinsic motivators.
The characters of Radiant are straightforward by design, but their complexity is realized through the environment around them. They live in a highly segregated world heavily restricted to them, where their own powers more often than not are a detriment to themselves in the best of days or a liability to others in the worst. It’s why common themes like friendship, trust and openness take on a metaphysical power of their own, whether it be words or quite literally memories as seen in the examples above.
Its characters are allowed to fail more regularly, where disagreements and interpersonal relationships are given priority and treated with the maturity of its subject matter, while maintaining that particular spice of shonen levity in between. These two scenes highlight the series at its most impactful, where the story doesn’t attempt to course-correct or make it more palatable for the audience. Instead, it lets them hash this dilemma out for themselves, arriving at their intended destination. On its own, this would be a pretty nice ending, but the story has one more ace up its sleeve we need to cover, which brings us back to Mélie’s origins — and how she obtained her infamous moniker.
We Are Survivors
For those following along from previous articles, curses in Radiant tend to range from benign to abstract, operating under seemingly random rules and logic (if any). Given the setting and how they are introduced, it’d be easy to write these off as magical or supernatural byproducts of an alien force (the Nemeses), but as the story progresses, we soon come to learn that we know frighting little about the origins of this world.
New information provides insight by questioning the supposed boundaries of what is commonly accepted knowledge, such as Seth’s horns being implied to be hereditary despite being told curses are not passed down. Other times, certain characters simply don’t know what their curse actually does until it manifests as was the case when Doc “died,” only to return as an infant. But what if the curse had a will of its own, one that could reshape a person entirely under the right circumstances?
This is more or less the implication suggested in Mélie’s origin story (volume 13 for further reference), where her fits are not as random as initially described. Without giving too much away, her encounter with the Watcher — revealed to be a Nemesis — and her sister’s inevitable downfall was in fact the origin point for her alternate persona when she needed it most. While her curse played a role in that tragedy, if we were to apply a bit of real-world psychology, her alter shares a lot in common with dissociative identity disorder.
Dissociative identity disorder (DID) is a rare condition in which two or more distinct identities, or personality states, are present in — and alternately take control of — an individual.
DID reflects a failure to integrate various aspects of identity, memory, and consciousness into a single multidimensional self. Usually, a primary identity carries the individual’s given name and is passive, dependent, guilty, and depressed. When in control, each personality state, or alter, may be experienced as if it has a distinct history, self-image, and identity. The alters’ characteristics — including name, reported age and gender, vocabulary, general knowledge, and predominant mood — contrast with those of the primary identity. Certain circumstances or stressors can cause a particular alter to emerge. The various identities may deny knowledge of one another, be critical of one another, or appear to be in open conflict. — Psychology Today
Naturally, this topic is far beyond my paygrade and admittedly requires some suspension of disbelief without the full context (i.e. additional spoilers). Still, I’d be remiss if I didn’t address it, so in the interest of time and presenting a high-level overview, DID is commonly associated as a defense mechanism, a response to a traumatic event where the mind is so overwhelmed that the only way for the individual to survive, to cope with the memory, is to completely dissociate themselves by creating an alter or a second personality.
Mélie’s alter, which I will be referring to as “Angry Mélie” for the remainder of this piece, was the direct response to her unprocessed trauma, simultaneously the byproduct of the involuntary role she played in Vénélope’s misfortune, and a survival tool for the challenges that lay ahead. While it served its purpose in suppressing the memory and some less desirable characteristics, it also alienated her further, causing further issues due to the lapse in memories and unpredictability as the latter’s will took over, not always under the best circumstances. Henceforth, the reputation of “the walking disaster” became known to all, branding her more of an outcast outside the reach of the Vicqueens.
To lean back into psychology, treating DID is a therapeutic process, with the goal of unraveling the individual’s trauma, to “facilitate the fusion of identities” or breaking down the mental barriers of separation. While the two Mélies on some level share certain memories and experiences (or “bleeding” to continue the psychology thread), it isn’t until the Sorcerer Knights arc where the two’s incompatibility is highlighted. It begins with acknowledgment of her alter, a process that Seth had already begun to help Mélie see more transparently, but only came to realize after their own reconciliation. Hearing and seeing the trust he had instilled in her in spite of her curse is the first step towards that fusion, which culminates directly into the two personalities’ critical moment as the War of Cyfandir reaches its climax.
When Mélie is taken into custody by Dragunov and handed off to Liselotte — the latter unaware the former had given her a means of escape as their main priority was Seth — the Sorcerer and Inquisitor exchange words followed by blades when the supposed prisoner refuses to cooperate. With her opponent specializing in long distance combat, it isn’t long before Angry Mélie takes over, but during their battle, the confused Liselotte looks in disgust, mocking her new opponent as an animal to be tamed.
Until this point, Angry Mélie hadn’t featured much in the Sorcerer Knight arc, likely to focus on the first half of the narrative as well as the Seth/Mélie subplot. While she isn’t a mainstay compared to her previous iteration, in this one moment, her characterization is fully utilized, denying Liselotte the opportunity to dehumanize them further by demonstrating that they are now fighting as one:
“Who are you? I know you’re not the girl I fought before.”
“I’m proof that she won’t be controlled!”
Those familiar with this arc will tell you big climax its building towards comes during the fight between Seth and Santori, where the story delivers its big “We Are Human” speech as our heroes overcome their respective adversaries. In the manga, this speech is delivered entirely by Seth, with the big money shot of his final counter, defeating the Peak once and for all. Regardless of version, the scene afterwards is the same with Seth and all of his companions winning their individual fights.
The anime, however, does something quite interesting in its buildup. With multiple characters facing off against their respective opponents, each buckling under the weight of a fate worse than death — nonexistence — each hero is given one last stand of defiance. The message remains the same, the outcome following what’s on script, but as Seth rises up from under the weight of Santori’s boot to deliver his final proclamation, his allies are also doing the same. Even across distances, unaware of each other’s predicaments, they rise, delivering their portion as well as their last attacks to lead them to victory.
I’ve referenced this clip more times than I can count, so I’ll spare you the play by play, but by altering the delivery of the messenger(s), the perspective changes, selling the scale as not a series of battles playing out or spectacle for spectacles sake, but an entire war on the precipice of altering the course of history as the remaining Sorcerers fight for what little remaining hope they have left, their raison d’etre, if you will — a reason to exist.
Because if the world won’t acknowledge their existence, if it chooses to take away their freedom or refuses to give them the status of “human,” then they’ll defy the odds again, and again, and again. For as the hot-blooded Sorcerer who is about to finish off Liselotte decrees:
Apart from one small cameo in the final episode, this is the last we see of Angry Mélie, at least until the following Domitors arc. The fighting does eventually end, but not without resistance as the living forest manifests its fury in its own tools of destruction. With Seth once more under the influence of the dark monitor, it takes all his allies to pull him back from its enclosure, including his partner who once more reaches out, reminding him that he’s no longer alone.
At the very end of the Sorcerer Knights arc, with the war finally over and the reconstruction efforts underway, Seth and Mélie’s bond is closer than ever and her personalities are one small step closer to a happy medium. Their story ends back where it started, only this time with the knowledge and self-awareness to understand each other’s hearts. Whereas one started the journey hoping to find purpose in their unjust world by validating their existence and the other wanting a sense of comradery, they now find themselves on equal footing.
As the final episode cuts to their departure, they reminisce over their experiences, promising once more that they’ll continue to support one another in the days to come. For Mélie, that meant never giving up on people through her capacity for warmth, kindness and empathy, becoming a true partner in her own right. While Seth’s story is far from finished, he comes to appreciate the bonds he’s made with the people who care about him, knowing he has people he can count on, even in the encroaching darkness ahead.
Promise (Final Thoughts)
Over the course of two seasons and ten volumes, Radiant’s Mélie can be roughly summarized into three distinct arcs — the gradual evolution of her self-identity via her connections, the build up towards self-actualization by recognizing her own strength as a friend and partner, and the transitional period of the fusion of her identities which is where the current story picks up (volume 18 as of this writing). Speaking of which, I suppose some of you who are fully caught up are wondering if I have any opinions on the current progression of her character. I began this piece with the intention of processing my feelings by examining what came before, but in doing so, I came to realize that maybe I don’t need an answer right this second.
Though we know for a fact that Mélie will continue to struggle, whether it be her curse or further actions with permanent consequences, as long as she continues to surround herself with good company and reach out whenever she loses her way (or her mind) she’ll find a way to rebuild her sense of community. Because that’s what it means to be Infected — the capacity to survive almost anything, provided they keep looking out for one another and remember they are loved and supported, regardless of what form they take.
For that is also the promise of what Mélie represents and why we know she’ll find what she needs. The ideals, courage and imagination to grow and overcome life’s obstacles — to find her radiant heart.
A Place to Belong (Epilogue)
All screenshots and media captured from my computer and phone using the original source, unless otherwise noted.
Dark Aether is a writer/contributor for TAY and AniTAY. You can check his main writings on Medium, archives at TAY2, or follow him on Twitter @TheGrimAether. Not Dead Yet.
Best Girl (The Strong Women of Radiant)
