The boy's right. Isn't he? Roland frowns, his humanity not quite run out, not yet, caught and held by a thread of what feels like truth in those statements. Statements which should be right, which sound like words in which he himself at one point believed. But they aren't. The words should be right but they're catching on a memory, his knees against soft, moving ground, a faceless horror tall and dark in front of him, promising- Promising. What expression can be pieced together from looking at Roland - briefly listening, briefly confused - doesn't quite disappear. Not completely. It fades.

"What good has remembering ever been? I do what needs to be done. That's all. That's all there needs to be. I see that now. That's the only part of me which has ever really moved forward. The rest I drag behind me, tie it around my neck and pull. If all that rest of me is somehow left behind - well, what price is that to pay, in exchange for becoming something which can put an end to all this? Something which can save our universes once and for all? Imagine it. Imagine winning through at last at last and setting all those worlds, all those homes, back into the light, healthy and alive for a little while, and for such a small price. My own universe might as well crumble now, I suppose, but yours, a billion others - that's the problem with you Legionnaires. You've walked so long in the light that you're the ones who've forgotten. Losing what you hold most dear - it won't kill you. Not so long as there's work to be done."

"You don't see that, truly? It may not be a good decision, boy - Kubo isn't it? Yes. Kubo. But it is the best one. It's a heavy decision to make so young, but- well, perhaps that's why you were brought here. So I can spare you. Can't spare you the life of one such as us, but I can spare you the terrible choice which comes with it. Wouldn't that be something?"