Last Of Us -

He didn't hunt for food anymore—the FEDRA rations, moldy as they were, kept him upright. He hunted for "echoes." In the hushed, vine-choked ruins of a suburban music store, Elias found what he was looking for: a pristine, plastic-wrapped pack of guitar strings. He tucked them into his vest like they were made of gold.

"Why’d you stop?" she asked, her eyes snapping open, frightened by the sudden return of the silence. last of us

Elias didn't feel pity. He felt envy. They were finished with the hard part. He didn't hunt for food anymore—the FEDRA rations,

He returned to a small, fortified cellar in the basement of an old brownstone. Inside, sitting on a crate, was Sarah. She wasn't his daughter—his daughter had died in the first wave in Austin—but she had the same stubborn set to her jaw. She was twelve, born into a world where "sky" was something you only saw through reinforced glass or from the bottom of a trench. "Why’d you stop

He knew one day he wouldn’t come back from a scavenge. He knew one day the mask would crack or a Hunter’s bullet would find its home. But as Sarah took the guitar and fumbled for a C-major chord, the weight of the world felt just a little bit lighter.

He looked at Sarah, who was closing her eyes, drifting away to a place where the air didn't taste like copper and rot. Elias stopped playing mid-verse.

He handed her the guitar, but his grip stayed firm on the neck. "But as long as I’m breathing, I will keep telling you this lie. That’s the deal. I keep the world out, and you keep the music in."