A vast shadow looms over the structure of totality itself - the "Lysocognizant". Its nature, contradicting all we have ever known, drives us mad in the eternal pursuit of transcendence: and yet, it only brings us closer to the conclusion of our quest for ascension. What is known cannot be known, stories already told falling into an ever more transcendent abyss. Such was my fate - the fate of someone who pursued the zenith of "fiction" itself, doomed to a narrative already gazed upon by those forces I once wrote about. When the axioms that underlie all worlds begin to collapse under the weight of the path to ⬜, what will be left to hold on to?