Apoptosis

"It's funny," the scholar remarked, not an ounce of humor to her voice at all.
"What is?" her colleague asked, leaning over.
"I finished reconstructing their phonetic dialect, I think. You see this 'word' right here?"
The colleague squinted, staring at the sharply angular lines, freshly inked on the paper. It was, in shape, thickness, and relative angles, quite proper for the ancient language they were rebuilding. "Aye? 'Ah-pop-toh-siii' ... sis?" she mumbled, then sat upright, looking at the scholar in alarm.
"You understand, now."
"That's ridiculous! We've marked this is being at least predating the Imperium itself!"
"And judging by the dig site, it wasn't our kith who wrote this language." The scholar sighed, and then rubbed her eyes wearily. "How do four ancient civilizations all refer to the same place, by the same phonetic name?"
"They shouldn't, it's impossible."
"And yet, they are. How could people who never even met each other on different continents have the same word for this? Our kith have at least seven for gold and silver, and all others stole those from us. Where did this come from?"

Geography

Apoptosis is an entirely separate dimension that sits as a close neighbor to the one Veltrona inhabits. While the rules of reality are, for the most part, the same, Apoptosis is hallmarked by its most notable feature: dirt.
Dirt, as far as the eye and sense can see, stretching in every direction for infinity. Although there is a flat plane, and thus a sky above it, the dirt below extends forever, as far as anyone can tell. Eternal sunshine illuminates the surface, the ever dim, twinkling light of Veltrona and its home dimension shining down. There is enough of an atmosphere for a blue sky, but no clouds float by, and the air tastes heinously stagnant, for no wind ever blows.
Across the vast emptiness of this stagnant place, one can find--either quite commonly, exceptionally rarely, or not at all--the ruins of past civilizations. Whether dumped here by some unseen power or the desperate attempts of those same people to survive, they are empty, hollow monuments to broken lives. Virtually frozen in time, there are little forces actively causing decay; indeed, the inhabitants own microbiology does well to rot them, but their homes remain behind easily enough.
All of them bear the hallmarks of survival: cultivating a soil that cannot be cultivated, straining food supplies down to the very last bite, and even consuming others just to eek out one more 'day' of life. Mass graves are a common sight, in one form or another, the final monuments of those sent to this place.

Habitability

Apoptosis is hostile to the extent there is no equitable way to sustain life within it, typically. No rainfall comes, there are no winds despite the breathable air, and the soil has zero nutrients to grow anything. Perpetual daylight wreaks havoc on one's sleep, with nocturnal species suffering the worst. Water that evaporates never returns unless it is captured. In many ways, while you can breathe and walk about, your life is on a real, finite timer measured in days and weeks. The ruins of many nations who have been outcast to it can be found every so often, silent skeletons of bygone times.

Fauna & Flora

Yet where there can be life, there are those who struggle.
An enormous, ancient city dwells somewhere in the endless dimension, still functional despite the eons that have passed since its first brick laid down. Smoothly designed and laid out in understandable but intricate layers, the city's architecture is one of mathematical excellency. Massive silver spires jut up from the earth at set locations, their cores wrapped with gleaming metal in the shape of plant leaves. In reality, these solar arrays siphon power from the ever dim sunlight, converting and fueling the city with vital mana it would otherwise never have.
Legion of steel-forged, skeleton-like beings patrol non-stop, vaguely human in shape and mold. Never a word spoken, nor a blink of their soulless eyes taken, they're the city's silent caretakers and guardians. All of this, built to serve the whims of a being simply called the 'Padisah'.
Enshrined in a concealing suit of silver armor, she is as ever part of the city as the city is her own mistressful work. Overtime, as forsakened beings have accumulated around it, the city has been opened up, welcoming them into its soulless halls. In turn for safe harbor, security, and a place to make their wretched livelihoods, these damned denizens swear unbreakable fealty to the Padisah. Her laws are strict, and her punishments exacting, enforced by her armies of unquestioning servants.
Those who abide eek out the best they'll ever get in this empty world for the rest of their lives, even as slaves.
Those who break them find themselves punished only once. If they break them again, they are sent deep underground, where they never ever return from again.
In spite of the goodwill one might imagine this place would engender, its occupant’s nature must always be remembered. The forsaken who dwell here, even under the oppressive rule of their Padisah, are still aberrant and terrible beings, always clawing and overcoming each other. Indeed, the hope of civilization only encourages greater acts of barbarity and evil, each one desperate to be as powerful as possible.
Those who succeed are in, the simplest sense, warladies. Between these warladies, the loosest concept of a political system has emerged. The Padisah herself, by her own admittance and long standing history, cares not. She neither supports nor detracts them, and the power vacuum left behind by power struggles is quickly filled by eager applicants. Instead, as far as anyone can tell, her sole concern is simply with expanding her city as much as possible.
Who or what the Padisah truly is, and what her ultimate goals are, is a source of constant speculation stretching back as far as anyone could remember. Her technical and magical genius is unrivaled, and the greatest scholars who've wound up in her court are constantly humbled by it. With a similarly powerful magical constitution, and her unthinking servants, she is indisputably the strongest entity in Apoptosis.
Some have argued she's some kind of banished goddess. Others suspect a kind of necromancer, maybe even the very first one. The more analytical sorts scoff at this, and many forsaken dragons have noted her devices are constructed in ways that shouldn't be possible. Regardless, nothing definitive has ever emerged, and those who have gone looking too deeply invariably disappear.
Much of these details have proven temptingly intriguing to the mortal denizens. The baarham who returned have provided the single most concrete information about Apoptosis. Though no right thinking mortal would dare think to investigate such a place, scholars are irresistibly curious about all the buried history waiting there. More pressing, the ruling powers of the world are concerned themselves about the Padisah, and whatever it is she is really doing.

Natural Resources

The only economy to speak of is either salvaging the ruins of previous outcasts, or harvesting dim solar energy from the perpetual daylight. There is, in a very literal sense, nothing else to do.

Alternative Name(s)

The Land of the Empty

Type

Dimensional plane