I was not born into the darkness, but neither was I born into the light. I was born into nothing, the Nether, the chasm between realms which only exists to distinguish that which exists from that which does not. Nothing thrives here, but nothing dies here either. Those who stay too long in this place simply wither away and become one with the void. Most leave long before this happens, but the few too foolish or scared to leave on their own eventually learn why it is unsafe to stay. The fading starts slowly, with the dulling of color in hair and complexion. Appetite slowly disappears, as does all fear and passion. They become wraiths, no longer physical beings, wandering aimlessly throughout the void until they finally disappear completely.

It happens to all who choose to remain in this hidden place beyond time and space. All except for me. Perhaps it will one day happen to me as well, but I do not believe that to be my purpose or my fate. I was born into the nether for a reason. The void chose me. I belong to the chasm, but so also does it belong to me. I am it's protector and it's ward. I alone am permitted to stay here, and thus I cannot leave. It grant's me use of its power so that I may make of it whatever I wish, but that power condemns me to loneliness. If the void is similar to darkness, then I am it's only light. My hair and skin seem to glow with life against the dullness of the nothing, and it caresses me as if to say it is sorry for my solitude. And yet, it does not let me go.

My only companions are the wayward travelers, and weary runaways who stumble upon this place by accident. For them, I create a place of refuge, where they may rest and recover from whatever dangers pursue them. I bring up trees, and wave in the sea so that they may find comfort in that which is familiar to them. I even create dwellings from the void so they may rest their heads upon feather pillows and curl up next to a fire that they believe to bring warmth.

I do not speak to them. Most do not even see me as I weave in and out of the trees I called into being. They fall into deep slumbers, content in the safety I have granted. I cover them up with it like a fluffy blanket to soothe their troubled minds. Once their souls have found the calm they so desperately sought, I send them on their way, leading them deftly through the Nether to pass once more into the realms from whence they came.

There is only one with whom I deign to converse. He is the only man to have ever returned to this place on purpose. He also lives outside of the ordinary realms of existence, and outside of the ordinary pull of time. He does not possess the same power over the void that I do, but he can coax it into form. He returns to gather it for purposes I do not completely understand, and when he comes he dines with me and stays until the Nether pushes him to return to his realm. He is the only man I've ever known, and the only man I've ever loved. I call him Ellion and he has only ever been kind and tender towards me, but the other realms fear him. They simply know him as The Collector.