There is no knowledge of the Unknown, only ever-expanding knowledge.

Meknáni, Mé, and Sla had taken a slight lead. Menior followed nearby. The rest were more or less maintaining the same level.

"Don't worry," Gre told Umbe, who nodded.

"I'm doing better now."

The darkness was colossal and undecipherable to all sides. The way clear signal was still beaming.

"Remember," Gre raised his voice so that all could hear, "whatever our current state of emotion is dictates the welcome we get down the line."

"If we ever reach it," responded Meknáni, reducing his speed so that all could catch up. "Readings indicate we've descended five miles already. No sign of change whatsoever."

"Patience." Gre had arrived at his side. "We'll get there eventually."

Shooting a quick glance at Umbe, Meknáni added in a lighter tone, "There's a saying among my people, Ú'mak-sa nariva. A fool's grace is more grace than planned." It was meant as an encouragement.

Ripples of laughter spread out into the soundlessness.

After they'd died out – and still looking fixedly at the wall – Umbe asked, "Can anyone guess what we'll find there?"

"More absence of light," said Meknáni. "That's what I know for sure."

"Certainty, at times, stops being an ally," observed Menior.

"All we need to do is observe," retorted Sakna-Sa. "Understanding comes later."

Menior assented silently.

"It's a presence," Mé could no longer keep to herself what she'd been sensing.

Mái-Ruans were known to be sensitive, and so her team turned to listen.

"You mean, beside us?" inquired Sakna-Sa. "What do you sense?"

Mé had nodded, the filaments of light in their ropes and uniforms casting a soft sheen across her hair and skin. "It is," she commenced, "outstanding in proportion. I cannot locate its core, but the sensation has been growing stronger. It is... mild."

For several moments, there was deep silence. Gre spoke first.

"Mildness implies awareness."