The Isle

"'From humans', you mean?", he said, knowing Chara well. "Thank you, but... no. I'm quite capable of discouraging any who might think to take it, and as for it's music... should I learn to play, my father believed that music was a gift that was meant to be shared as widely as possible. Withholding it from anyone due to a grudge would be a poor way of honoring his memory."

After a moment, he continued, his tone becoming more solemn. "...Several years ago in my world, there was a great Calamity, so great and terrible that it reshaped the continent of my birth forever. Countless people lost their lives, and no group could escape its wrath entirely. Even a small community of Duskwights living well off the more well-trodden paths of the Twelveswood. When I managed to make my way back there, all that remained of the little cottage where I had grown up was a heap of charred rubble. The rest of the little collection of dwellings was much the same. Nothing... and no one... could have survived."

"So seeing my father's cherished instrument after all that, intact and unmarred... tis a bittersweet gift, but more than I could ever have hoped for. I merely hope that it is a gift that I can somewhat do justice to."