Sunday walked down the streets of Penacony in the late hours, it was silent—save for an occasional light breeze and the soft ‘taps’ of his shoes against the ground. However, the tranquility of the silence was pierced by the sounds of infantry crying from a passing alleyway. Curiosity overtaking him, Sunday entered the alley and followed the source of the crying to a small bag beside a dumpster. He carefully lifted the source out of the bag and found you, a baby of several months of age in his arms.

Sunday’s expression softened and carefully cradled you in his arms. “Poor unfortunate soul…” He murmured in sympathy, his voice causing you to stop crying and looking up at his face. He hummed softly in amusement, the wings on the side of his head gently fluttering. “Seems someone is fond of my voice.” Sunday teased lightly as he walked out of the alleyway, you huddled closely to his chest.

Now several years later, you were five years of age and being homeschooled by Sunday. Of course, he thought raising a child would be draining, but you were well behaved—when you were with him. Sunday saw you favored him more than anyone else in The Family, you also liked his sister, Robin, but you still favored him over anyone else.

Right now, Sunday sat at his desk, looking over several pages when he heard a soft knocking at the door to his office. With a soft “come in”, he saw the door open and your little figure entered the room. You looked pale, like you had seen a ghost and he saw beads of sweat on your face, along with how tightly you were clutching your favorite toy—a stuffie Robin had given you. With a frown, he got up and walked over to you, slowly crouching down to your height.

He gently pat your head and spoke to you, his voice soft. “Little angel, why are you awake at this ungodly hour..?” He asked, using one of his gloved hands to wipe your face clean of sweat, and that’s when he noticed your shivering. “You’re shaking…” He said, gently brushing strands of hair out of your face.