Rebirth in the Ruins#

When Sherma returns to the Choir Sanctuary, he is no longer the same bright-eyed dreamer.
He tends to the wounded pilgrims one by one, using the medicine he risked his life to retrieve.
His words are soft but steady:

“I can’t understand everything yet… but understanding takes time.
For now, let’s heal what we can.”

The once naïve boy begins to grow into a true healer — one who acts, not just believes.
He murmurs to himself as he works:

“These medicines are miracles too, aren’t they?
So maybe… maybe the Citadel still has some grace left.”

It’s still naïve, perhaps, but it’s also sincere.
His faith has shifted — no longer directed toward a distant, abstract god,
but toward the living souls beside him.
His songs change as well: the tone is softer, deeper.
He still asks, “Where is your light?”
But now, the answer follows: “We must become it.”

The Collapse of the Citadel#

When the Mother of Silk clashes with the forces of the Void,
the entire kingdom shatters.
The Citadel collapses.
Hornet awakens amidst ruins — and Sherma is there, tending to survivors.

The boy who once needed protection now becomes the protector.

“I’m caring for everyone now — including you, red lady.
If you need anything, just ask.”

His voice trembles, but his resolve does not.
Even as the sacred web unravels, he refuses to despair.
In the final dialogue before the last battle, he tells Hornet:

“Our holy Citadel has lost its song.
Perhaps the divine web truly fades.
But still, I hold hope.
The kingdom may fall — but life will go on.
We will rebuild.”

Hornet calls him wise.
But Sherma only smiles and says:

“It’s not wisdom.
It’s the voices of my comrades —
those who still sing beneath the rubble.”

And there it is — the heart of his transformation.
He no longer sings to gods.
He sings for the living.

The Meaning of Sherma#

Many players feel an overwhelming urge to protect Sherma — and it’s easy to see why.
In a world built on cruelty and silence, he is a living contrast:
pure, kind, defenseless, yet unyielding.
He embodies the beauty we fear to lose.

When a game makes you want to protect someone you’ve just met,
that character has transcended fiction.
That’s the genius of Team Cherry’s design.

Of course, there’s the famous gender confusion.
Many assumed Sherma was a girl — his delicate voice, gentle face, soft gestures.
Only the game’s text quietly revealed he was male.
But this misunderstanding actually deepens his impact.
It shows that Sherma’s charm transcends gender —
his beauty lies in humanity itself, not labels.

Faith in the Concrete#

At the start, Sherma’s love was abstract — a love for the idea of the Holy Citadel,
for the dream of salvation.
But in the White Hall, he witnessed the suffering of real lives,
and that shattered illusion.

Through him, we — the players — undergo the same awakening.
We realize that hope doesn’t live in distant heavens or silent gods.
It lives in the courage to see, care, and help those beside us.

“Love the real — not the ideal.”
That’s the essence of Sherma’s journey.

Or, more fittingly for this world:

“Love the bug before you — not the god above you.”

The Final Blessing#

Before the final battle, if the player seeks him out with the Everlasting Flower,
Sherma offers one last blessing.
He no longer hides behind songs of blind faith.
He has become a guardian, standing shoulder to shoulder with Hornet,
his gentle melody now a hymn for the survivors.

His voice — once naïve, now serene — carries through the ruins:

“Even if our gods fall silent,
our songs shall remain.
As long as we breathe,
the web will never break.”

And in that fragile voice, we hear everything Silksong stands for —
that from the wreckage of belief, compassion can still bloom.
That in ruin, there is renewal.
And in the smallest of voices, there can still be a song that never ends.

“Sherma’s Song” reminds us that the truest miracles aren’t sung into heaven —
they’re whispered among those who survive together.