The maze lay before him, his only guide the inner beacon that shone through his heart. Through the maze he would go, through any trial, facing whatever the maze chose to test him with, his greatest prize lay on the otherside. The ones for whom he had labored so long and shed so much. A burning flame was said to reside at the heart of the maze and he must set eyes on it before leaving. The threshold was unremarkable, a plain wooden door made of oak, with an old fashioned handle better suited to a castle then any modern edifice. The lock had no keyhole, for it would only open for the chosen one. For three days he sat before the door, the silence was absolute, deeper than the blackest abyss. The images came and went, his body wracked by sobs, his face burned by tears, his hands stained in blo