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The day Peter climbed to that window, so too was his second daughter born. He staggered into the old nursery, falling to his wife’s side and beheld the smallest, fairest babe he had seen in many years. His spirit shattered then, for little Angelica was condemned to a half-mortal father; unfaithful and undeserving. He had failed in his quest, though the enemy had given him many chances, in the end he could only think of himself and that was unlikely to change. This he lamented mournfully to those of the Darling household, all still fretting over the lives of his estranged children.
“I am wretched to have thought this adventure could end in anything but death.” Peter looked back though the balcony window, a witness of the sky as it further dulled into an ominous gray.
“Your adventure has not ended. As long as they live, as long as she lives, there is still hope. Go back to them, try for all our sakes.”
In his guilt, Peter could hardly bear to look at Wendy as she spoke, but knew in his heart that she was right.