"Sian, sing for me, please… please…"
"You idiot! Is this the time to enjoy music? We barely survived today! Go clean your damn wounds, or you'll die from infection before the monsters even get a chance!"
"Yes, yes, Sian, he's right—to treat your wounds. But look, I'm fine, so... could you sing your new song for me?"
"You old scammer…"
"Go on, go on! We want to hear it too. Take your arguing somewhere else."
"Brother Sian, I brought the guitar with me…"
---
"Only silence as it's ending…"
"Like we never had a chance…"
"Do you have to make me feel like" music "There's nothing left of me?"
Sian used to sing to escape his miserable life—to forget his troubles and pain. When he sang, his mind emptied, becoming serene and peaceful. It was a feeling he hadn't remembered in ages, buried beneath struggle and bloodshed. That's why he sang every day—not just for himself, but for his friends too, so they could forget the pain with him. Music brought him comfort.
But…
