Formless Labyrinth

Frustration boiled up within the formless entity, who for the thousandth time found themselves unable to escape the mind-twisting maze it found itself bound within. In the first place, it didn't even have a form, so how could it be restrained to begin with? How could there exist a maze to confuse something without a body to get lost in? The "space" it was trapped in didn't even take up "space" at all!

Another of the entity's annoyances was the gaping hole in its memory. It didn't know who or what it was, how it had become trapped "here," or the reason it felt so angry at being confined. Logically speaking, why would an entity with no memory of an experience other than the "here and now" be dissatisfied with its existence? What force could compel a being that didn't even know for certain that "elsewhere" existed to be upset with the "here" it knew? What was worse about these questions was that, though the entity felt certain it had never experienced having a physical form, it still, for some inexplicable reason, occasionally had urges to act out in ways only a being with a body could. It felt like screaming, pulling its hair, or kicking something hard.

Heck, why did it even know what a body was to begin with?! Where had it even learned that beings with bodies would act in such a way to express their frustration?!

The entity cursed whatever force had given it intelligence enough to question its identity and knowledge enough to experience dissatisfaction with its confinement. 

Just as the entity was doing so for the 3,017th time (it had been keeping track), it felt a vaguely familiar sensation, one akin to touching a string that was plucked from far away. Of course, the entity had no body, so as such this description is only a vague approximation of the faint mental tug it experienced. It was enough, however. Enough to light the fire of curiosity that pulled it in a certain direction through the maze.

Several similar tugs of equal strength followed at irregular intervals. The gap between the first and the second stretched out the longest, which at first, had made the entity think the tug was a one-time occurrence. This made the second tug an especially welcome sensation. The mind-bending, colorless space, featuring non-physical architecture that folded in on itself and constantly restructured when the entity's focus was elsewhere, had been feeling monotonous for quite a while. Like how the cacophony of white noise is simultaneously new each moment yet always the same, the entity's prison was both ever-shifting and never-changing. Thus, like a clear note plucked on the keys of a piano, the gentle tug on the entity's mind stood out distinctly.

There was one, especially strong, tug that was easy to follow. In that tug, the entity could barely hear fragments of a phrase: "... ev.. …p." What did it mean? Unfortunately, that one did not occur again for quite a while, and by the time it did, the entity's focus had lapsed -- which meant they could derive no new information from the same, barely-heard consonants, despite being "closer" to the source of the sound. 

Time passed without any reliable way to measure it. The entity vaguely considered trying to measure time by the tugs, but taking into account the vastly irregular pace at which they came, doing so was probably a futile endeavor. That didn't stop it from keeping count, though. 

100 tugs, 101, 102…

205, 209, 210…

The entity was amused by the incredibly erratic flow of the tugs. Being an entity with superior intelligence came with one perk for sure, and that was the fact that it could somehow tell that there was no repetition whatsoever to the beat. There did seem to be a minimum spacing, but the entity did not know upon what factors this might hinge, or if it had even experienced the absolute minimum time between tugs yet. For all it knew, any patterns it had observed thus far could have been flukes. 

250, 251, 253…

It continued following in the direction the tugs were coming from. Surely this would lead somewhere, right? The entity knew it could be a trap, a false hope laid to trick it into thinking it was going somewhere. After all, it had no way to distinguish directions; not by landmarks or tools of any kind. Yet the entity instinctively trusted the sensation. Its instincts could be wrong, but it still chose to believe. 

After all, the entity wouldn't be able to tell if it was being deceived or not if it never gave it a chance. And in this otherwise empty non-space, it was worth a shot.