It is often accepted as a simple, necessary obstacle between us mortals and the Supreme Master. Often it is passed through with as much haste and as little consideration as possible - leastwise by those who manage to make it to the Throne of the Beast at all.

But the Labyrinth of the Damned is more than a simple stumbling block or deterrent. The Supreme Master saw fit to put it there, and chooses to sustain it for good reason.

Of course, the Supreme Master wastes no effort or resource, so all that He undertakes is done so with good reason. Scholars of Nil such as myself can only guess as to why the Supreme Master (or indeed any of the Five) acts as He does, and the discovery of or speculation on His motives can be best thought of simply as thinking His thoughts after Him.

But I digress, dear reader. The assertion made in this volume is that the Labyrinth of the Damned is far more than a simple inconvenience or petty stalling tactic. I shall attempt in this volume to detail what I believe are the Supreme Master's reasons for having it there in the first place.

Essentially, the Labyrinth is there to remind the faithful of the teachings of the other four Lords. The supplicant who braves it is reminded of these teachings, for none may approach the Master without the support of the other Four's teachings. To use an imperfect analogy, consider the others' tenets as stepping stones, or slats on a bridge, at whose terminus the Throne of the Beast awaits.

There is also something to be said of how the Labyrinth is most commonly accessed by braving (and enduring) the transcendent agony that the Queen bestows. Indeed, the above lesson is reinforced by this act; only by conquering one's self and one's pain can one hope to dominate others. More simply put, the path to supremacy is paved with torment.

Even a Celestian would be quick to point out that the maze is well within the Prince's bailiwick. After all, are not misdirection and confusion at the very heart of the Prince's teachings?

But there is more still to be said; as always, the Five's teachings are complex and multifaceted. Despair is also central to the Prince; it is indeed what the Prince's Web is named after. And as the Labyrinth winds on and on, the wanderer's despair grows. One wonders if he will ever find escape or succor, if he will ever have the chance to throw himself at the foot of the Throne. Indeed, the bodies of those who have given in to Despair are seen at regular intervals throughout the Labyrinth - coupled with those who met worse fates, whose presence is marked only by slight discolouration along the way. Some, it is said, took their own life rather than continue threading the maze. What is suicide but the ultimate expression of despair? To the Prince go the spoils.

Pain is, as has been mentioned before, the proverbial gate of the Labyrinth of the Damned. Without the impetus and volition to sacrifice one's immediate well-being, it is a gate that will ever remain immovably shut, bolted not by iron but by the insipid concepts of comfort and contentment. Throw open the gate, however, and the Labyrinth stretches beyond.

And within the Labyrinth, of course, pain is one's constant companion. The mortal mind (and the undead one as well, more's the blessing) will no doubt be in paroxysms, reliving and replaying the torture that left its owner there in the first place. What a fine companion for the endless corridors!

But as the Labyrinth wears on, pain of a more subtle bent creeps in as well. Oh yes, the feet and legs may ache, and the weariness may wear on, but left alone in such a place, one will no doubt be haunted by thoughts of the past - embarrassments long since transpired, failures whose blemishes still show. The self-inflicted and truly ineffable suffering wrought by one's own past also stalks the Labyrinth, and ere the supplicant reaches its end they will have no doubt mentally and emotionally bludgeoned themselves insensate several times over.

Unless, of course, they're so deep in denial about their own failings that they consider themselves perfect. Such individuals, I should think, can still be found in the Labyrinth, though perhaps a bit more skeletal than they were when they entered.

Now, those who manage to tip the scales of despair and self-suffering too far are unlikely to understand the contribution that the Duke and the Devourer both make to the Maze's innate teachings. As has been implied before, I believe that these poor and wretched souls are those who never make it through the Labyrinth.

But what of those who are able to cast off the lead weights of pain and despair, the weariness of endless trudgery and the manacles of hopeless struggle with no end in sight? These are those who have taken the Duke's lessons to heart.

Rage against the endless farce you find yourself in! Who dares to try to pen you in as if you were livestock? These searing brands of Hatred and Rage that snake their way through the receptive mind are truly a gift from the Duke himself, for it is their flames that are as torches, lighting the way to the Throne. Indeed, it is perhaps the Duke's own guidance, or a result of His ambience, permeating the entirety of the Plane, that goads those with the ears to hear through the Labyrinth.

We come at last to the Devourer's contribution. Some may wonder about the relationship between the fetid Pit of 1000 Hungers and the cold, dark surfaces of the Labyrinth of the Damned, but the discerning scholar should be able to make the connection easily.

Consider what might motivate one to continue through the maze that, for all appearances, has neither beginning nor end. It is the bottomless, eternal Hunger deep within us all that drives us ever onward through Luciphage's Labyrinth. Just as the Lord Devourer is never content with his lot, neither should we, His scions, feel satisfied to remain where we are. This is the teaching of the Devourer, reflected within the Labyrinth.

Some may say that there is little distinction between the Duke and the Devourer, that the two are one and the same. And it may seem so; the distinction is a fine one. Consider the analogy of a horse and cart, and imagine the Duke's fury as the horse - the impetus, the push, the drive. But left on its own, the fury is without direction, surging forward recklessly and likely yielding no useful result. The Labyrinth reflects this, also; one who wanders aimlessly about the Labyrinth will be there for far longer than one whose way is clear and who moves ever forward with directness and purpose. Pursuing a course in a single direction is a much faster route than what some others try, which is dodging back and forth from section to section, or sprinting about aimlessly.