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[center]T h e D e s o l a t e L a b y r i n t h [/center]
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Empty. Empty was the only way to describe the infinite maze of the labyrinth. The walls towered higher than a dream of vertigo, and the stars would have all but been obscured by their majesty; if stars were at all present in this desolate, lonely realm. High above, hanging in the pale auburn clouds was an inexplicable source of light, unmoving and locked in place, casting eternally static shadows that seemed to be painted across the surfaces of the place.
To any normal mortal, it would have seemed as though the labyrinth was more akin to a prison than a construct that was escapable, as the walls would shift and turn in ways that defied logic and reason. In fact, it would not take much searching for one to find a plethora of souls that were literally lost in the maze, and had been for generations. Withered shades from all Planes who had arrived in search of mythical power at the centre of the maze would forever be locked within the embrace of the Desolate Plane. 
There were beings of power that resided within, however. Creatures who could see through the veil presented by the maze: there was Emyra, the Demon Lord who seemed to preside over the warren of lost souls, and a much more… curious creature — small and shuffling through the empty hallways. He was apparently Human; with two legs and two arms, two eyes and one mouth. There was nothing outwardly alarming about him, his gait and his sorrowful gaze soothing those who looked upon him as some kind of figure of authority or knowledge, as if he had the answers of escape and freedom. He did not. 

Instead of endlessly scraping against the walls, hoping that logic would assume control and guide him from the maze, this man instead seemed to be intent on wandering deeper into the uncertainty, further into the shadowy depths of the labyrinth. The only apparent respite from his inexplicable sorrow was his occasional bouts of poetry; verses and stanzas that were both haunting and beautiful simultaneously, often causing the dulled, lost shades around him to stop and look in wonder. Sometimes they would cry when subjected to the beauty of his words, but others would simply fall to the featureless ground and lay there for days at a time. 
He seemed untouchable by the fear and corrupting power of the labyrinth. He thrived from the fear it invoked, becoming empowered by the loneliness within. 

It was often he could be heard calling to the Lord of the Plane, the Demon Lord Emyra, asking for her audience. His words were filled with affection and love, longing and desire. Only sometimes did she answer, and only sometimes did he attempt to enact his influence upon her. But now… his intent and resolve seemed to be strengthened by some unknown factor. So he called to her with more evocative promise than he had ever done so before. 

“To the beauty of the Plane, my Lady, pale in white,” he spoke to the empty, echoing halls. “Come to me, show me your infinite light,” he continued. 

He stopped his shuffling, instead preferring to stand still so that she may find him between the shifting passageways. 

“Together, we can be something. We can fight back the night,” 

Maybe she had heard him. None could say. 

“To my Lady of the Pale Dawn, there is much you must know, I love you so deeply, let me help you do what is right.”