There are things we're not meant to understand. It's the bread and butter of daily life that we turn a blind eye to incongruent truths because they push out against our frame of reference, bending it out of shape and threatening to twist it into knots. We comfort ourselves with the faint hope that it's just a dream, just a story, just speckles of dust in the sun. We sometimes believe in God. We believe in nature, in the rotation of the Earth, and the constant pulse of the tides. In biology, anatomy, and prayer. But there are cracks in the wood grain, and a gap beneath reality's front door. Mash'rg, the Maw, whispers just outside the window, promising knowledge, passion, and above all else, an end. Jeremy thought the book was just a book. Beautiful, lonely, finding him even as it was found. Lizzie was confident in three things: death, gravity, and her younger brother. These three things couldn't...wouldn't fail. Andrew only knew that the sun would rise in the morning, every morning, no matter how bleak and black the night had been. They were wrong. We are all wrong.