I hide behind a row of tiny stars. Without my help, you will not pass.

I am a story, but not of fiction. I speak of presence, through contradiction. I shield the guilty, though I am not a lie, but finding my holes requires a keen eye. What am I?

A bit of land to call my own. A sneaky scheme to take the throne. Find me displaying the natural log, or between pro and epilogue.

I am born from curiosity, but I do not come from certainty. You feel me when a doubt is in your mind.

I’m rational, and out of all the things that we are, the one before me is scared of me for what I ate.