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“How many times had it been made clear to Fin that he was alone in this world? That no one else could help him, care for him, be there for him? Every night on the edge of sleep, he closed his yes and thought about finding his mother or learning where he came from or coming downstairs and having the Parsnickles pick him up and spin him around and treat him like a normal kid in a normal family. This despair was nothing new. Every single day, he faced the fear that he would be this way forever and nothing would change, and every single day he beat that fear. He'd bitten down sadness before. He would do it again. Every single day, until he did find his mother, and then he would be a normal kid. He had to be.”

“There is a child - a baby - who long since kicked off her blankets. Her skin is ashen and her mouth open in a perpetual yet silent scream. She isn't old enough to roll over, to sit up, to climb. So she lies there kicking her fat legs against the footboard of the crib, eternally calling for her mother. For food. For flesh.”

“What are you doing here?” he mumbled. “Um, you asked me to follow you?” Marrill said. The wizard chuckled. “Not you,” he said, continuing downward. “I meant the Promenade Deck.” He waved his hand over his shoulder at the floor they’d just passed. “You’ll have to watch out for that one—it likes to walk off. Best to stay away from it. Never know where it’ll end up; sometimes it up and heads to another ship.” “Um…” Her words faltered. “How do I know which one’s the Promenade Deck?” He glanced up at her, forehead furrowed. “It’s the one that moves.”

“It all seems so worthless. Such a waste of lives. We've spent hundreds of years since the Return buffering the Dark City and trying to maintain it - scraping out a life that will soon be wiped out. And what of the rest of the world that's already fallen? Stars blinking away, their light slowly fading? Somewhere out there a star's just dying and we'll never know about it. Somewhere another's being born whose light we'll never see. The Earth will spin, the stars will rearrange themselves around one another and the world will crawl with the dead who one day will drop into nothing ness: no humans left for them to scent, no flesh for them to crave. Everything-all of us-will simply cease to be.”