Light forgets, Darkness remembers. Mithrax stood at the bow of the H.E.L.M., watching as Zavala's ship vanished from view into the portal. That awful gateway pulsed and wavered, and though the H.E.L.M. was pointed straight at it, he was resolved in his decision. The notion of venturing inside the Great Machine was innately revolting. It reeked like a taboo as certain as cannibalism, as unthinkable as besmirching a house of worship; to enter the body of a deity would unquestionably be to defile it. He could find a way to support from afar. Surely that was plausible. "Father, the Queen is asking for you." Eido sidles up next to him, and the two look out over the Great Machine. It takes up the entirety of the window—the center of all Light punctured by the oscillating violet of the portal, and Mithrax realizes how small he feels alongside his daughter. "I'm not going down there without you," she says. Mithrax holds back his shiver and confesses, "To step inside feels like a transgression." "And who made that rule?" she says. Ever acute, ever wise. When Mithrax cannot answer, she continues, "The Traveler is in peril. So long as we can care, we are bound to enter and defend it. I have seen you still have fight in you, Father." "Would that not be worse? To wage war at the very center of Light?" "Only you can decide that. But I believe the Traveler would want you to enter the portal." "Why?" His daughter puts a loving hand on his own. "Because it knows you aren't there to hurt it."