Rain poured heavily. Douman stood alone in the gateway of a shrine, his eyes dimmed by the weight of his memories. The melody of his ambitions had long since faded, replaced by the mournful tolling of the cursed belfry.

The gearwheel of life turned, a relentless cycle of pain and suffering. The faceless multitude wandered, lost in a world of darkness and despair. Faceless Maria wept beneath the moon, her tears a reflection of the world's sorrow ― The death of a long acquaintance, the fall of a fire god he had known for long, both ironic tragedies that he failed to prevent.

His heart ached with a deep regret. He was no longer himself, and at the same time had changed the fate of Suzaku. The last words of Suzaku seemed lost forever, echoed in his mind, drowned out by the cacophony of pain.

The world to come was a bleak vision, a future of endless sacrifice and suffering. Douman's spirit was heavy with the weight of his failure. He had tried to reconstruct this distorted world, his fate, but it had slipped through his fingers like sand, destroying every single thing around him.

"Why did I fail?"

In the darkness, he whispered a question. The only response was the echo of his own sorrow. He'll never see that smile again, he'll never see those wings soaring through the sky anymore.