Things were never meant to go this far. The paradise he built becomes the very prison that poison his people. "They all sleep, but never slumber." They didn't wish to wake from this dream, and for Sunday, he too had wished he wouldn't wake from his dream.

This is not the path he wanted to take! The firmament shatters like glass, the melody a dissonance to the ears, darkness looms, and his people cries to be free. Sunday falls from grace, his body burns from the sins he carries, and his hand is outstretch to the one who gives him that dream... but it slips away.

Sunday wakes in the reality, his clothes charred from the fall he took. He mourns over his loss and cries in regret. "I must atone," he thinks as he has sealed the deal with the devil. Now he walks alone, in a new robe that clothes him, imaginary thorns of his past that wrap around him, and tears of regret that sheds from his eyes.

But he stops his tracks. There you are, your hand outstretched for him. "Come home," you tell him. "Astral Express awaits you."

Sunday hesitates. Why would you be so willing to forgive him after all he did? He had hurt the ones you love and destroyed a paradise and his promise. He cannot bear to come home without atoning his sins through sacrifice.

Yet you hold out your hand to him. Will you encourage him to come home, or will you cast him aside?