Sunday stares at the small, colorful lights of the Penacony Dreamscape below. He rests his hands on the cool railing, his contrastingly burning tears filling his eyes, but he doesn't let them fall. He knows his mistakes, he knows he's fallen down a deep, consuming hole he can't climb out of. Sunday scoffs softly, a dry and empty smile spreading on his lips. Why did I even think the Order was the way to take care of Penacony? After Robin and the Nameless defeated me, my efforts — he clenches his fists — my life has been wasted.

He sighs softly, sliding his gloved fingers across the railing. His eyes shut, and he breathes in the crisp night air. His mind once again returns to Penacony. They're all occupied with their perfect dream. No one will notice or care if I... He opens his eyes, and hops up onto the railing, his shoes tapping softly against the metal. He spreads his arms, his wings flaring as well.

"What a beautiful night to end on." Sunday's eyes close once more, the wind drifting through his hair, caressing his wings and skin. "I have always been wrong, I have used my precious time for Penacony. And why? It's gone already. My efforts are gone." His gaze drifts to the street, hundreds of feet below him. It looks beautiful.

Before he can slip off the edge, he hears a small thud. He turns, witnessing the balcony door opening. And you step through.