Balance

Warning: This story is not something I would feel comfortable for a person recently bereaved to read; it does too much talking about death.

Introduction: This story is set after Season Five of Hercules, Iolaus has been returned from the Light; he is again where he belongs, by the side of Hercules. Nothing of what had occurred in Xena is real for my Herc and Iolaus, I can't incorporate it into my stories as I don't watch Xena. So the Gods survive, Herc didn't kill his Dad. My writers bible only comes from what I've seen on Hercules TLJ.

If you've read my stuff before, you'll know I like it dark, but you should also know that things aren't always as dark as they seem. And that old adage comes to mind, 'it's darkest before the dawn'.

A big thank you to Rhiannon and Heidi for all your help and guidance with this story.

Counting the beats,
Counting the slow heart beats,
The bleeding to death of time in slow heart beats,
Wakeful they lie.

Cloudless day,
Night, and a cloudless day;
Yet the huge storm will burst upon their heads one day
From a bitter sky.

(Robert Graves - from Counting the Beats)

Chapter 1

He was dead, really dead, and this time there was nothing that Hercules could do to bring him back. This time Hercules was helpless before his loss. When it was time to eat the demigod ate, when he was given water he drank. But he didn't taste the food; he didn't feel the thirst. Iolaus was dead.

He sat brooding beside the fire, not feeling its heat, not seeing its flames. Over the last few days he had sometimes been dimly aware of Jason trying to engage him in conversation, but mostly Hercules thought of his friend and remembered the blue eyes and the laughter. A puzzled frown often creased the demigod's forehead, he didn't understand how this terrible thing could have happened to someone like Iolaus; he didn't understand how that joyous bundle of energy could be gone. If only he knew where his friend had gone, if only he could find him. But it was hopeless, Hercules had failed Iolaus; in the end, when it had mattered the most, he had failed him.

In the darkness of the early morning Hercules still sat before the fire, he didn't want to be claimed by sleep, he feared what it would bring him. His eyes blurred the firelight as he fought against Morpheus. It was another battle that he could not win, another hopeless cause ...

In the dream the sky is so blue it hurts Hercules' eyes to look at it, the air smells full of green life, the colours of his dream world are bright and vibrant. Was the day that beautiful? He can't remember. Iolaus is by his side though, somehow managing to keep up with the bigger man's determined stride, somehow managing to laugh as he jokes as he bounces along. Hercules thinks the same thing in his dream as he did on the day, 'How does he do it? How does he find the energy to keep up with me? I never wait for him, I never think to slow down for him - but I've never needed to. He's always there, always willing.' In his dream the thought carries more meaning and its weight lies heavy in the demigod's heart.

The dream Iolaus turns to look up at his companion, the worn green stone of his talisman bouncing on his chest and catching the light. He opens his mouth and Hercules feels the pain brought on by hearing a loved one's voice, by knowing he can never hear it in the waking world again.

"What's up Herc? You're looking very long in the face. Don't you like the thought that I'm dead?"

Hercules almost wakes up, the shock of the words nearly bringing him away from the dream. In his dream he stops walking and stares open mouthed at his friend, "Wha...wh.." is all that he can manage to say.

"Herc! You're dreaming, this is a dream. And I am dead, finally, totally, and completely dead. Toast! Guess Michael was wrong though, there isn't any light where I am now." Iolaus pauses for a moment looking up with fondness at Hercules, "Here, come on, let's sit down for a bit."

Iolaus guides the stupefied demigod to a fallen tree where they both sit. Hercules stares at his friend, drinking in the sight of him. Trying to commit every hair, every line to his memory, not realising that they are already etched there indelibly.

"Look Herc. I don't blame you ... well not entirely. I'm dead, I'm gone, history, finished." Iolaus' voice takes on a wistful air, "I wish I was still with you, but I'm not. The team's been broken up Herc. It's over."

"No, Iolaus. No. There has to be a way, you can't leave me! What about Michael?"

Iolaus shakes his head sadly, "Herc. Can't you understand that there isn't anything of me left to bring back? I'm not in the Light, I'm not in Tartarus, I'm not anywhere. I'm gone Herc, completely gone. You just needed to say goodbye to me - and so you dreamed this up." The smile isn't like the usual Iolaus grin; it is sad and full of love. It's a smile borne of his compassion for Hercules.

Hercules feels his control begin to fail, he has held on to it so rigidly these last few days, not wanting his friends to see his pain, not wanting to share his need with anyone who couldn't feel it too. Knowing that the only person who could have given him comfort was the person he had lost. But here was that person reaching out his arms, wrapping them around the sobbing Hercules, giving him the release he needed.

But it was only a dream, and eventually you have to wake up from your dreams.

Hercules sat with his arms curled tightly around his knees, he was shaking still with the shock of the dream, "Did I really dream him?" he spoke aloud, though there was no one to hear. "Iolaus? Iolaus! Where are you?"

Hercules found no comfort, no respite from his pain. Deep inside he refused to believe that Iolaus was dead, he couldn't go through that anguish, not again.

But Iolaus was dead, and there was nothing that the Gods or the Light could do to change that. This time dead was dead and nothing could be done to return Iolaus to his rightful place in the scheme of things.

The world needed Iolaus; its precarious balance depended on his bright presence. Hercules didn't know that, he couldn't. Even the Gods hadn't known just how important this small mortal man was. Michael knew, but Michael was helpless in this. Iolaus was dead and the havoc it wreaked in the hearts of his friends and family was nothing to what would follow.

Even Michael had under-estimated the speed with which the darkness overtook the land. A darkness not of the Light's doing, and not by the hands of a God, a darkness that had its seed in the turbulent heart of a demigod. Hercules planted that seed when his grief retired him from the hero business, he watered it and nurtured it with every tear he shed and with every uncaring word he spoke. He forgot to care about mankind, he stopped guiding them. But even the loss of Hercules was not enough alone to bring the darkness down.

Iolaus had always shone very brightly, how else could he survive in the shadow of such a great hero. He had touched more lives than he could ever have guessed; many of them did not know it either - until they learned of his death, until they learned of the manner of his death.

No man should die like that, no man should but Iolaus especially deserved better. It brought anger into hearts that had only held love before, bitterness to otherwise sunny dispositions - and there was someone there to ensure that the people never saw the light. Someone to encourage the anger and bitterness until they had spread across the land. Darkness fell and Hercules didn't notice, darkness fell and Hercules could not hear the pleas of his friends. All he could hear was Iolaus' voice as he died, all he could see was death arriving on his friend's face, all he could feel was his own helplessness.

This land was dark now, full of hatred and dread. There was no one to lead the people away from the chasm that had opened in front of them, so they stood shivering beside it, turning their claws on each other. A few stray voices in the black that had descended sounded reason but they were ignored. Such a death had been allowed - a death that caused everything to turn to fear.

That death was Iolaus'. Could he have ever believed that the way in which he died - finally, for the last time - would be a turning point for his land, for his people? Would he have ever been able to comprehend how his life and his death could upset the balance of light and dark? He was of the Light but he died by the dark. He died by the darkness and nobody stopped his death, nobody stopped the manner of his death. Perhaps Hercules could have given him what he had begged for, could have shown him a release, but he didn't. Because it hurt too much? Because the darkness had paralysed him? Iolaus had not known, but in his dying moments his love for Hercules had wavered and the darkness had truly triumphed. 'Dahak?' he had whispered as his dying word, not 'Hercules' with love in his voice, but 'Dahak' with resignation.

That word had been whispered all over Greece and beyond in the days following Iolaus' death. Was he back? Had Iolaus and Hercules not killed him after all? What did he plan to do to them? And most important of all, where was Hercules now when they needed him most?

Hercules found refuge within his dreams, Iolaus was there, even the Iolaus of those last few days was better than no Iolaus. The dreams brought pain but not as much pain as his waking life. In his dreams he could allow himself to cry, the trust he felt for Iolaus was big enough. But awake and alone, or visited by well meaning friends, he could not allow himself to lose control. He could remember what that had been like, he remembered the Druids too, but their teachings were so many autumn leaves on the wind to him now. He regretted that, he regretted a lot of things. He needed Iolaus.

In his dream the sky is a vibrant blue, the sun warm on his skin. They have reached their destination now, a small, harmless seeming village. These people had asked for help and who was Hercules to refuse them? Iolaus jokes and laughs and bounces his way to the centre of the village, around which the houses all stand. There is nobody to greet them. Planting his hands on his hips and cocking his head to one side Iolaus says to his friend, "Well?"

Hercules smiles and shrugs his shoulders. This is only a dream, he knows that, and so the sight of his brother in such a familiar and happy pose sends a slicing pain into his heart. The dream Iolaus smiles apologetically, as if he knows that he is no substitute for the real thing but he can't help being there.

"Maybe you should go look up that other Iolaus, the one with webbed feet?"

Hercules doesn't know how to respond to that cruelty, he stares at the dream of Iolaus, the pain and shock clear on his face. "What do you mean by that Iolaus?"

"Isn't it obvious? You miss me; you need a companion to look after you. The two of you were good together. I'm only thinking of your best interests."

Hercules turns away in the dream and in doing so turns away from the dream. His eyes opening on the brilliance of the stars. He lay staring at them for a long time trying to lose the pain of betrayal he felt. Iolaus was being practical or Iolaus was being heartless. Either way the dream Iolaus was not 'his' Iolaus, this dream had finally shown him that much.

He had never dreamed of the death itself, none of it, he wondered why. He wondered if he would see his own failure. He dreaded the thought that he was somehow responsible for this death, could Hercules have saved Iolaus?

Iolaus knew that he should have seen it coming. The day had been too perfect, the air too sweet, days that good only happen in dreams. He found himself wishing that this were a dream, a nightmare he could wake from sweating and frightened but safe. Instead he was here lying trapped within an invisible cage, its bars searing his skin with their cold. A crowd was beginning to gather and he wondered at how many people suddenly seemed to be there, after finding an empty village with only a mad woman to talk to. The crowd was growing; he could hear it better than he could see it though. The cage, although invisible, was only slightly bigger than he was and he could only turn his head a little.

It was dark in his head. He wondered where Hercules was, he wondered why the bright blue of the sky seemed only a shade away from black, and he wondered what was going to happen to him. It was getting darker in his head.

The crowd was large now, and all the people were standing watching him. There was a quiet buzz of expectation, with an unvoiced fear filling every heart. They knew no more than Iolaus did, they couldn't see the bars either, they didn't know what to do. How do you save the hero? How does the rescuee become the rescuer? They didn't know, so they waited for another hero to come along. Hercules?

Iolaus twisted his head as far as he could and strained to see through the veil of darkness. He looked for Hercules. Hercules would know what to do, and if he didn't he would think of something. Please come Hercules, fear grows in darkness.

Then there he was, semi divine and running to help, but Hercules' attempts to free his friend were all in vain. He could not see the bars of the cage either. The demigod looked up at his friend, fear in his own eyes, and then the darkness fell. Iolaus was looking into the eyes of his beloved Hercules, and as he looked through the veil it closed in on him. His eyes no longer saw, his ears no longer heard. He was cut off from his world, cut off from his friend. Everything was darkness.

Chapter 2

And as everything went dark for Iolaus Hercules cried out in fear. Those blue circles of sky that had twinkled at him so many times over the years were black. A shiver of memory ran down Hercules' spine and he groaned in recognition. Dahak? But this was different; Iolaus wasn't possessed this time he was somewhere else. No cruel glint lay in those black reaches, no smile of derision played over those lips. Dahak had not taken over. But what had happened?

It was then that it had begun. Hercules could never explain how that first scream had torn at his soul, he could never voice the depths of agony it had taken him to. He watched helplessly as his friend's body arched in its bid to free itself from the pain, the scream ripping from a throat better served by laughter and song. Hercules threw himself at the invisible bars holding Iolaus captive and was flung away by some unseen force. He ran back and threw himself at his friend again and again, unable to bear the sound of Iolaus' agony.

In the end he curled up below the cage and, burying his head in his arms in a futile attempt to block out Iolaus' screams, began to shout his own denial. The crowd stayed. Some of them began to scream in their own voice, anything to drown out the other, some of them stood with tears on their cheeks unable to tear themselves away, some of them put their hands to their ears and closed their eyes and prayed.

The prayers were heard. Zeus heard, they all heard. Even on Olympus they could hear Iolaus' screams, and so it was Aphrodite that first went to the small village. Her Curly was being hurt, that couldn't be allowed.

Aphrodite's sudden appearance in the crowd made hardly a ripple. All eyes that were uncovered were on Iolaus. Seeing her brother the Goddess of Love went to his side and, kneeling by him, put her arms around his shaking body.

"I can't stop it! I can't get him out of there! Please 'Dite, help him."

This Goddess had little in common with the usual image of Aphrodite, her stern face and hard eyes were not to be toyed with. Nobody did this to her Iolaus and got away with it. But even a Goddess as brightly shining as Aphrodite, even a Goddess so full of anger, could not rescue her Curly. He remained in his private agony in his invisible cage, within the blackness that had descended upon him.

Aphrodite, shaken by her failure, left vowing to return with bigger guns. But even Ares had no strength here; even Zeus was helpless before this power. Hercules slowly recognised that it was fear he could see in his father's eyes as he looked at him.

"Son. I'm sorry. This is about more than just your friend; this is a darkness that is bigger than all of us. Iolaus is the balance and this darkness is trying to shift the balance. I'm sorry my son, we can't help him. I don't even know if we can help ourselves."

Iolaus' whole being was consumed by the darkness, by the pain of its presence. His screams filled his mind and he could not stop them. He called for mercy from Dahak or whatever had returned from that black death in his stead. He cried out his hatred of this black thing that filled his being with its eating away of his body and soul. Iolaus found himself begging for the Dark to release him and hated himself for it. He tried to fill his mind with thoughts of his brother, but Hercules could not protect him from this screaming agony. Nothing could.

There was no respite in the darkness; no light bathed the exhausted hunter with its soothing balm. He screamed his way through the dark passing of time with no hope of freedom. This agony sent from the deepest darkest pits of existence never stopped filling the hunter's body with its evil poison. Every part of him cried out for mercy, begged for an ending - any ending. An ending to this pain. Hercules? Help me!

Hercules heard the plea. Through the darkness, through the void that had been created between them, he heard Iolaus as he begged for release. He knew the meaning but he couldn't act. Frozen in the fear of what he might be doing, frozen in the fear of what escape he might be shutting off, he did nothing. He watched instead, helpless to act. Fearful that whatever he did would be the wrong thing to do, scared that he would just cause Iolaus more pain. Scared that he would cause death when there could still be life.

Iolaus' body lay still, exhausted it lay in its invisible cage, suspended above the still growing crowd. His clothes torn, his face stretched into a parody of the famous Iolaus grin. There was a darkness, not only in his eyes but also around him. Hovering in a cloud over his body, reaching down to touch him, envelop him in its misty darkness. Each time that it did this he stirred, his scream only an echo now of the powerful sound that he had begun with.

Hercules could hear Jason's voice without recognising it. Its sound meant nothing; nothing mattered except Iolaus, except his pain. But Jason could be patient, and he stayed until Hercules did recognise him. Jason reminded his son through marriage that he loved Iolaus too. This struggle belonged to all of them; it wasn't Hercules' alone. He asked practical questions, he gave practical responses. Through all the pain and screaming Hercules was grateful for the steady strength that Jason represented. How long had it been?

The reply surprised him; it was days since he and Iolaus had come upon the deserted village, days since Iolaus had been caught in this trap. Days since Iolaus began his screaming path to death. Hercules was sure of that - the death - he knew his friend, he understood the inflection of the sound. He knew that Iolaus was dying, but he couldn't help him with the death. He couldn't betray his belief that Iolaus must survive. Jason shook his head sadly, knowing that sometimes it is best to let go, "Before the pain drives him to madness Hercules," he said. "Before you lose him anyway." But Hercules was dogged in his determination - there was another way. There had always been another way.

But this time he was wrong. Iolaus knew it. He knew that there was no other way out for him. He had to die for this to end; he must have that release. And he also knew that he would far rather have it from Hercules, his loving friend, than from the darkness that was killing him. Dahak? Or another? It didn't matter; it was killing him with its biting agony anyway.

There had been nowhere to turn, nowhere to hide from the pain. It had consumed his mind and his body for the eternity that was now. His body had been stripped of its comforts, given over only to the pain it could feel. No weapons, no instruments of torture, just the searing agony of darkness within him. Taking his light, taking his life. Deep inside he recognised that the pain came from his denial, from his fighting stance. He would not submit to the dark so it punished him and he screamed.

And finally, as Iolaus recognised that Hercules could not give him release, could not love him enough, was too full of need, he felt another. He knew its touch, altered though it was. "Dahak?" He whispered as he took his last breath. Stillness followed, stillness and a final release from the pain. But it was not over for Iolaus, not by a long way.

Hercules, Jason, everyone in the crowd, heard that one whispered word. They were all witnesses to the last rising of Iolaus' chest with his last breath. They all believed that they had heard the last beat of his heart. And even as Hercules cried out in useless denial, they were all witnesses to the darkness that enveloped his body. It swirled around Iolaus in ever more complex patterns, wrapping itself closely around him, until it became a black shroud, until only the outline of the once joking, laughing, bouncing hero could be seen. And then finally, as everyone stood in silence watching, the shrouded figure was lowered to the ground.

And he was held there, suspended in time. In that moment that lies between life and death. In that last heartbeat, that last breath.

The passing of time, the change from night to day and back to night, the turning of the universe, all of these lie at the mercy of their balance. Night balances day, cold balances heat, Darkness balances Light. What happens when the balance is gone? What happens when there is only night, or only day? A butterfly on one side of the turning world balances a blue sky on the other. Iolaus is the balance for Dark and Light; he is used by one, part of the other. They both know him, they both need him. His is the strength and the love that holds the balance, with him gone ... what is night without day?

"You can't stay here forever Hercules. It's time to move on now, he wouldn't have wanted this." Jason sat opposite the demigod, cross-legged on the ground. He was secretly worried that he would never be able to stand again, but it little mattered. Hercules and Iolaus, his friends for more years than he cared to remember, they were what mattered now. The life of one and the death of the other.

Hercules stared into the fire, how long had it been anyway. Grudgingly he looked across at Jason, "There's nowhere to go. I'm not going to be parted from him again - never again."

Jason felt his heart breaking, he was helpless before the depths of grief and pain in Hercules' heart. He sent a prayer up to his friend's father, and turned his head from Hercules to look down at their silent companion. Shrouded in black from the moment of his death, Iolaus still lay in the middle of what was once more a strangely deserted village.

Hercules had tried to tear the sticky cloud away from his beloved partner, but it had been to no avail. Gentle suggestions had been made by many people in the crowd before they had left, none had worked. The shroud would not come free; they could not see Iolaus' face for a final time. And Hercules would not bury him with his murderer; he would not allow Iolaus a burial with the shroud still in place.

"Hercules. You have to accept that it's over. This stuff will never come off him, you have to give up."

"I will never give up! I can't leave him surrounded by darkness, he might be dead Jason but I will not abandon him." Hercules rubbed at the stubble on his chin and then reached out with those same fingers to touch the slowly shifting blackness, "He's still in there. How can I leave him like this?"

Jason changed tack. "Did you speak to Hades?"

Hercules nodded, his eyes, blurry from lack of sleep, focused with difficulty on the former King, "He couldn't help. He doesn't know what happened, only that Iolaus isn't in his realm. He didn't ... Hades took a look at the shroud, all he'd say was that it gave him the creeps and he couldn't do anything."

"What about Michael?"

"Nothing! I thought he'd come - Iolaus was one of his Guardians after all! But there's been nothing."

"Do you think Iolaus is in the Light?" Hercules closed his eyes in pain, "I want to, but ... I don't think so. If it were the darkness that killed him, it would hardly let him go to the Light. If this darkness or Dahak or whatever it is, is the 'balance' to the Light, it would have kept him for itself, or finished him so that there is no more Iolaus anywhere." The demigod fought to keep control, he didn't dare let the tears come, they may never stop.

Jason didn't really understand any of what had happened; he'd heard the news of Iolaus' agonised captivity and had come as quickly as he could. He had been no help to Iolaus, he'd had to stand by and watch his friend die just as everyone else had. He doubted that he'd been much help to Hercules - but he had done what he could. Every now and then he left Hercules to gather provisions and to see what the news was. It was never good, minor skirmishes, invasions, outright wars, were breaking out everywhere. But even Ares wasn't happy, these battles were ugly short-lived affairs, taken into the home rather than onto the battlefield. There was a lot of work for the healers but little for the gravediggers.

'Dahak' the small man had said as he died and that was just perfect. Just what we needed. He doesn't understand yet. He has too small a mind to understand, none of those creatures calling themselves humans could understand uss. Dahak was just a name, Dahak was not us, Dahak was a testing. Our General sent to find the lie of the land, see where the balance lay. We now know who the pivot is, the one that holds balance in place. We have him. We have what we need now, balance is ended, the Light will be ended.

See him; watch the little pivot lie in his dark cocoon. Held there, suspended in time, in that moment between life and death. In that last heartbeat, that last breath. We are poetss and we know itss - we are amused.

What goes through the mind of a man in the moment of his death, in that final breath taken, that last beat of the heart?

Toast? Again? Herc - where are you? Where am I? It's dark here, so dark, so cold. Why didn't Hercules help me? Why was he so weak? Dahak? Was it him I felt when I... but I'm not dead. At least ... there's no Michael, no Light, no Hades, no nothing. I can't be dead. So where am I? What am I?

The pain is gone; at least the pain is gone. The shape of it remains though, it still fills me.

Take stock. Mind? Well actually I do! Body? I don't know, I feel it but ... I can't touch it. Oh wait a minute, yes I can, skin, that's my skin. No wonder I'm cold! Surroundings? Hah, none. Just the darkness moving over me. Moving? If I concentrate I can feel it against my skin, cold and silky in a really disgusting kind of way. I shouldn't have concentrated. Can I move? No, not enough, maybe I'm still in that cage. Gods! The cage, no ... please don't think of that Iolaus, please don't ...

Chapter 3

In the dream the sky is azure blue, so bright it almost hurts Hercules' eyes. He looks around him, curious to see where he is now. He still stands in the middle of the village. Iolaus isn't with him; he is alone here except for the strange old woman by the well. She talks to herself, muttering under her breath, just as she did when Iolaus had ... Hercules doesn't want to think of that, there is too much pain involved in that memory.

Where is Iolaus? He should be with Hercules; it is his place in the dream. Hercules turns away from the old woman and sees Iolaus lying suspended in the air, a darkness already gathering around his body. Iolaus turns his head towards Hercules and looks at him unsmiling. His eyes are black and unforgiving. His mouth opens to speak but Hercules cannot hear the words. A shifting black cloud begins to flow from Iolaus' mouth taking the words with it. Iolaus screams as he spews out more and more of the shifting dark cloud, shattering the air with the sound, sending Hercules to his knees. The old woman stands and watches, her lips still moving as she talks to herself.

The dream has gone too far for Hercules; he wakes, wet and shivering in the weak dawn light.

Michael watches the struggle. He wants to intercede, he feels a kinship with the small warrior, the guardian he appointed. But he is helpless, even he cannot interfere, even Michael is helpless. He feels the pain Hercules feels, he knows the fear Iolaus is experiencing, but he is helpless and in that helplessness his own fear grows. Michael, the only calm warrior of the Light, the one who is all-powerful, is helpless here before his bitter enemy, before The Dark.

There is a way to beat back the blackness to its rightful place in the balance. There has to be. That is what the balance is about. But Michael cannot see it, he is but an insect in the hurricane that is the darkness. He understands how Iolaus and Hercules felt now; he can smile at the irony through the pain. Iolaus does not deserve to be used like this.

"Take me!" he screams, "Take me instead!" but he knows that it's too late. He knows that The Dark only wants the pivot, the small insignificant man that creates a balance for them all. If his soul is lost then the existence of the Light itself is lost. How can he tell Iolaus this? How can he show him the need? Michael feels the fear in him, he can't tell Iolaus, he can't place a burden greater than he already shoulders on him. Michael will have to wait and watch, he will have to hope that shouting from the sidelines will be enough. "The fight is yours Iolaus, the Light be with you."

For the darkness consuming him it is a game. It feeds off of his fear and his pain; it benefits from the denial in his heart. He knows it, but he can't stop fighting. How can he stop? Iolaus remembers the pain; the shadow of it still fills his body. The darkness lies on his skin, all of his skin; it takes what it wants from him without his giving it. It likes to take, even from a dead man. It likes to take what it does not own.

Iolaus feels the soft silky touch that is the blackness that threatens him. It touches his skin, his dead skin, it caresses his naked body and he wants to scream his denial. He feels what a dead man should not be able to feel, he understands too much. This death is too painful; it is too much of the darkness. Iolaus begins to hate Hercules for letting this happen to him.

He feels the black cloud cling to his body, claim it for its own. He feels the touch of cold silk against his skin and he feels a depth of despair he did not know could exist. The Darkness is inside him, it is surrounding him, he is breathing it in, he is death wrapped in a blanket of darkness. The Light can not reach him here; Hercules can't hear him here. He is dead but un-dead, suspended somewhere in the beat between life and death. Timeless, pain filled, eternity.

Hercules became aware of the other presence slowly. Realising that there was somebody with him he turned to look across the glowing embers of the fire in the pre-dawn light. He wasn't surprised to see Michael sitting cross-legged opposite him, nothing surprised him now.

"What do you want?"

Michael smiled a gentle smile and looked down, almost, Hercules thought, as if he were ashamed.

"I don't want anything Hercules, I came to tell you what I know of what is happening here. I came to tell you that you can still make a difference, to show you where to take the fight."

"Fight! What fight? All I want to do is be able to give Iolaus a proper burial, all I want is to be able to say goodbye."

"Don't you want to save him this time Hercules? Don't you want him back?"

Hercules stared at the figure opposite incredulously, "What? Back? But..."

"It is possible Hercules, he isn't lost yet. There's still time." Michael settled into position and gave Hercules a chance to do the same before he continued,

"Iolaus is suspended between life and death. He does not belong to either realm as yet. But if the darkness chooses to send him to death he will be gone forever. His soul will be pulled into the dark realm. It will own him, and he will suffer in a way that even I can only imagine. He deserves better, we owe him better."

Hercules felt anger growing inside him, "We? We? This is your doing isn't it! He's being used as a pawn in the battle between the Light and the Dark. Iolaus is just an expendable game-plan to you!"

"No Hercules, he's not. He's far more than that to me; he's far more than that to everyone. Iolaus is a very special man, he's special to you and that means a lot in itself. But it's more than that; he keeps the balance intact. His love of life, his exuberance and strength keep the balance between Light and Dark steady. Without Iolaus chaos will reign."

Michael watched Hercules as he took in this information, and waited for him to make his answer.

"So what can I do?"

"Balance is lost at the moment. Without Iolaus' spirit it fails, the Dark weighs too heavy. Unchecked it will overwhelm us. You must bring balance back; you must bring Iolaus back. Whether in life or in death, he must be returned to you ... or to me. He belongs to the Light."

Hercules stared into Michael's eyes, searching for an answer there, "How?"

Michael dropped his gaze again, then silently turned to look at the black cloud that was surrounding the Guardian, in a voice so soft that Hercules could barely hear he spoke, "I don't know. I do not understand the ways of Darkness well enough; I do not know its strengths. I do know though that this place is..." Michael's voice trailed off as he looked at the deserted village. He shivered slightly and spoke again, this time with an urgency in his voice. "It's of the Darkness Hercules. There is a power here, what we see is not all."

In one flowing movement Michael stood, and before Hercules could object he stepped backwards and disappeared from sight. There was no flash of light just a sudden emptiness in the air. Hercules lay himself back down and stared at the clouds touched with gold above him. He had a lot to think about.

She stood watching as her youngest child played with her doll in the warm sunshine. It was amazing how resilient a child could be, only yesterday the little blonde haired girl had been watching as a man had screamed his way to an unenviable death and now she was playing in the sun.

Iolaus.

Poor Iolaus. She remembered the day, so long ago now, Briony had only been a hoped for possibility then. The two warriors standing at her door, exhaustion etched on both their faces, the smaller one cradling a bandaged arm. She had looked into their eyes and seen a message there, a message that emptied her heart and tore it from her as she stood clenching the doorframe in her hand. A widow woman now. Alone with three children, and probably a fourth on the way.

The warriors had stayed with her until her sister could come; the tall one with the kindly face was Hercules. He sat and talked to her of the bravery and courage of her husband while the other, Iolaus, had kept the children enthralled with his stories. They understood grief; they did what they could. And when they left, the children hugging Iolaus with frightening ferocity, both had promised to return.

In the end Hercules only visited rarely, and when he did he never stayed for long. She knew why. Her children, he saw his own in them, he saw what should have been. She understood.

But Iolaus came often, sometimes he just said hello and stayed for a meal and sometimes he stayed in the town for a few days and came to see the children every day of his stay. He told them stories, he played with them, and as the boys had grown he showed them his hunter's tricks, he showed them the things their father had never been given the chance to.

So when she had been told that Iolaus was in trouble in a nearby village she had not questioned the strange old woman, she had not questioned the strong need she had felt to go to him. Not understanding how or why, she found that all her scattered children were with her, the boys returned from the fields, Chria from visiting her grandmother. But they walked together in silence; they walked to a village that they knew did not exist. There was no village on this road, but the old woman had pointed and they had followed. The village was filling with a crowd of people, all kinds of people. But all of them quiet, watching. Her youngest child's cry of recognition had shown her where Iolaus was. Suspended above the ground in an invisible cage.

They had watched as Hercules had arrived, they had seen his failures, they had heard the first scream break free of Iolaus. Briony had screamed then too and covered her ears. What could a mother do but give the little comfort she had to give. Tears stood in her eyes as she looked up at Iolaus. The man who had given her children a gift beyond measure, the gift of his joy. She could not leave this place, not until it was done. Not until this horrible little story had played out. Even knowing that it meant her children would see the death of their beloved Iolaus, even knowing it would mark them for life, she could not go. She knew that the children would not let her.

Perhaps their presence alone could help ease his pain? Every face in the crowd showed that same thought, 'I need to help him, I need to show him I care.' It wasn't enough of course. It probably wasn't anything at all, but it was all they had. And as he died, slow heartbeat by slow heartbeat, they all felt a fear grow in their own hearts. What kind of world is it that a man such as Iolaus can be allowed to die like this? What kind of Gods? What blackness has been allowed to seep into mankind?

And she found herself looking at the man next to her and wondering what kind of man he was, what evil he was capable of. Her sons spoke harsh words to each other even as Iolaus was whispering that dread name as he died. Their first harsh words in many a year.

Briony stopped her play with the doll. "Mother? When will Iolaus come visit again? I miss him."

"We all miss him baby. We all miss him, but he has another journey to take now, in a place we cannot follow. Pray for him Briony, pray for Iolaus."

"We are amused. Yes we are." The old woman watched as Hercules rekindled the fire in the early morning light. Slowly, with painful shuffling steps, she moved in the shadows. He didn't see her; he did not sense her presence, too caught up by his own inner turmoil Hercules bent to his task oblivious of the eyes on his back.

Her long grey hair was wispy and tangled; it framed her wrinkled face and blew gently in the breeze. She cackled quietly to herself, enjoying the joke. "Hercules, son of Zeus, helpless as a little new born lamb. That's what love gives you, a soft centre. Silly boy, silly, silly boy." She transferred her gaze to the black form that lay near to the demigod's camp. The darkness continually shifting and rolling around the form it hugged, she could feel it calling to her. The old woman's black eyes glinted as she watched the shroud covering Iolaus and she licked her lips. "Keeps him sweet for us, keeps him sweet. Feel the pain, taste the tears. Death keeps him ripe for us. Feeds our hunger. Yes."

Slowly the old woman smiled, her black teeth showing between thin dry lips. "Yes, sweet Iolaus. Sweet for us." Turning slowly she disappeared completely into the shadows that lay between the empty buildings.

Iolaus was alone. More completely alone than he could ever remember being, even as a child he'd had his imaginary friends as well as his real ones. Even when he was by himself he hadn't been alone. And after he knew Hercules he had never been alone, not completely, because his friend had always been there in his heart. But not now. Now there was only Iolaus. Now he was alone.

Iolaus did not like to be so isolated. He had always had company, men, women, even when he was hunting, the forest had become his companion. It's gentle rhythms settling his soul. There were no gentle rhythms here, only the cold shifting of darkness. He was without Hercules and it felt strange, as if a part of his mind had been scooped out of his head. There was an emptiness in the centre of him that had always held Hercules before, even when Dahak had possessed him, even in death. But no more, now he was more truly alone than any man could ever imagine himself to be.

He could not hold his memories to him for warmth; the darkness kept pulling them away, twisting them into cold flat nothings. He had his humour, but that was little enough without somebody to laugh with. He had his heart, but it felt constricted, crushed under the weight of the black cloud that laid on it. He had once been a warrior, a hunter, a lover, now he was dead. Now he was nothing. And now he did not have his brother.

Hercules hadn't loved him enough in the end, he remembered seeing the world through Dahak's eyes, remembered trying to goad Hercules into killing him, he remembered the fear in Hercules' eyes, the doubt. Could Hercules do what was necessary? He hadn't found out, Hercules had saved Iolaus' everlasting soul and he hadn't had to kill the body. Iolaus hadn't dwelt on it, he was used to Hercules saving him, he had never really considered that saving sometimes meant killing. But now Hercules had failed him, he had seen the pain on Iolaus' face, he had heard his agony, and he had not done - not even tried to do - the one thing that could have ended it. Hercules would have done as much for a dog, why couldn't he do it for his friend. Can love be that selfish?

Jason watched Hercules as he ate. The demigod's actions were automatic; he took no pleasure in the food. He ate because the food was put in front of him; he ate because it was expected. Jason wondered, and not for the first time, what would have happened to Hercules if he weren't there. He decided he preferred not to know.

"Hercules?"

Hercules finished chewing and swallowed, "Yes Jason." He waited but he knew what the question was, he just didn't know how to answer it. Not this time, this time Hercules was as lost as everyone else was. "Michael says we can still save him. I don't know if that's true. I don't know how to begin."

Jason saw the fear in his companion's eyes and sighed, how was he supposed to help in this? What could he do? This primal battle between good and evil was something too big for him. But his friends were relying on him, Iolaus wouldn't give up so easily, Iolaus would never give up. "Then we have to think about it Hercules. What did we do to defeat Dahak?"

"I couldn't kill Iolaus. Dahak wanted me to, but I couldn't. If I had he would have been consigned to an eternity in the darkness, an eternity of pain, and we would have all perished. Can you understand? Can you see why I couldn't take that risk this time? What if killing Iolaus had the same result here, now? What if that was what it wanted of me?"

Hercules lowered his head into his hands, he felt that he had betrayed the trust of his best friend and he felt the guilt. It was huge in his mind, huge in his heart. Iolaus screamed in his head and he felt responsible. Jason watched his friend, his heart breaking a little more each time Hercules spoke, what could he do? What could this mere mortal man do?

"You did the right thing Hercules. All you can do is what you believe is right. Iolaus understands."

Hercules gave a small laugh, he couldn't bring himself to believe that, but he smiled his gratitude at Jason all the same. "What can I do Jason? What did we do? We held an exorcism ... but ..."

"The Stone of Creation!" They exclaimed in unison. Grinning at each other the two men both suddenly felt a blossom of hope.

"It's still in the temple Jason. It might work; it might help free him. If Michael and my father are right, then Iolaus is the key to setting things right. If we can free him of this dark shroud then maybe balance will be restored. Maybe the stone can do it!"

Jason didn't want to put a damper on Hercules' enthusiasm, "Wait a minute Hercules. Using the stone might not bring Iolaus back to us, it might free him of the black cloud surrounding him but ... he's dead Hercules. Don't forget that he's dead."

"I know Jason, I know. But Michael said that it wasn't too late. He told me that Iolaus could come back dead or alive. I can't give up on him, I can't deny him the chance!"

It lay in darkness as it always had. Aware, watchful, seeing the Light as it grew from nothing, seeing its enemy as it turned into day. It watched and waited, the blackness in everything its only gift to the burgeoning life on the newly formed world. It watched and created a Guardian, a General, someone to do its bidding on this world, someone to spread its word. Dahak. Dahak did his work well, he fought with the Titans, he placed a serpent in the very heart of humankind, he created chaos where he could, and doubt where he was denied. Dahak, its living embodiment, its General, its child.

Dahak had failed in the end, emboldened by too many years of small success, too confident, he had been defeated with such ridiculous ease by the upstart son of a God and the little pivot. It was good, very good that the cause of Dahak's demise was the pivot. It made things less messy; it was simpler this way. Revenge was a small part of its plan, but it was there. It lay sweet in its being, the pain that had torn through Iolaus' body had been a soothing balm to the raw shock of failure it had felt.

It surrounded the body with its cloying black cloud, sucking the sweetness from it, taking all and giving nothing. The little pivot could feel the light being drained from him; he could understand enough to know what was happening to him, enough to learn to hate his brother, the son of Zeus. That was a bonus for the darkness, that was a delicious bonus. It felt the pleasure, it enjoyed the sensations of emotion, it had always enjoyed people's fear, and pain, and anger, and confusion. It wallowed in all that it could cause.

But its greatest pride was stealing Iolaus away from the protection of Michael. Right from under his eyes and he had not seen. Michael and Hercules together had not been able to stop the darkness from claiming Iolaus. And it had not asked for an invitation this time, it had not needed one. The little man had known the presence of its son in his body; he could not deny it entry.

Chapter 4

Yesss, my sweet, writhe in your black agony. Cry out in your anguish and pain, you are alone pivot. Alone now. We are content. You will entertain us.

Catch you as you breathe your last, catch and hold on. Tight. Tighter; you breathe not, your heart is silent, sweet. Trapped in your dead body, caught. Yes pivot, suffer now. Suffer now as you lie in our house, suffer your way in the darkness.

Iolaus felt the blackness pulling into and out of his body, as if he were breathing it in. But he was not breathing; he had taken his last breath. Instead it was forcing its way inside him, in and then back out again but only to lie in a slowly twisting fog around his body.

The dead man who had once been so much; hunter, warrior, lover, hero, friend to Hercules, felt his dead body shiver in response to the blackness that had taken it over. His soul trapped inside, a bird in a cage fluttering helplessly against the bars. His mind all too lucid, able to understand, able to know what was happening to him, but unable to do anything. Helpless in a way he had not been since his mother had nursed him as a babe so long ago. His dead body was still capable of producing tears, he could cry but he was still Iolaus, and Iolaus could not cry for himself.

He could cry for Hercules though, he could hate the demigod for abandoning him at the same time as he felt the pain of separation. Hercules, his brother, the meaning of his life, his best friend. Hercules, who could not take the hard road when given the difficult choice, could not even try. Iolaus wondered if it could have worked, he doubted it. But his mind was still free and it roamed where it would in this black house that had become his new home. It showed him things he did not want to believe, it told him things he denied with his heart. It tore at his only warmth, taking it from him, turning it into a dark coldness. Turning love into hate, friendship into mistrust. Light into Dark.

And even Iolaus with all that he had learnt, with all his wisdom and strength. Iolaus with all his love and joy, could not resist the slow battering of his soul, even he did not have that strength. He felt fear, he felt pain, he trembled at the merest thought of the blackness re-entering his body and taking its fill. The silky damp fog caressing his skin, forcing an entry into his body by any means it could, made him scream. But the body was dead and the scream was not heard by the living.

He hated Hercules, a small part of him hated Hercules for not saving him this time, but deep inside he knew that the son of Zeus would not give up on him. He knew that one day he would find an escape, Iolaus could hold on until then, after that ... he would worry about that when the time came.

He stood with his hands on the bellows, staring into the middle distance. Iolaus. The little blond guy that he'd underestimated. The man that he'd made fun of, baited when he'd realised that the blond was so touchy about his height. It had cost him a lot, it had cost him his pride when Iolaus had beaten him in the fight that had ensued, and it had cost him his standing in the town. That had meant a great deal to Caussus, but he hadn't been able to blame Iolaus, the blacksmith had brought it all on himself.

And now, now that Iolaus was dead, he didn't feel like working at his forge. He didn't feel like there was any point to anything he might do. Iolaus had been irritating, he'd been hot headed, but he hadn't deserved to die like that. Caussus winced as he remembered the sound of Iolaus screaming, he closed his eyes in pain as he remembered the sight of the little chap breathing his last in unendurable pain.

Caussus had found himself in the crowd, in the strange village, hardly knowing how he'd got there. He could have been in a dream, but Iolaus was real, his screams were real, his death far too real. The Blacksmith didn't care how he'd seen what he'd seen, he didn't understand the ways of the Gods or of the likes of Dahak. He did know that Iolaus' death had been wrong and he felt the pain of the wrongness even as he stood over the heat of his forge.

He would never have called Iolaus friend, many did he knew they did but Iolaus was something he could not understand, quicksilver and sunlight, not someone Caussus could ever befriend. But he could respect, he could feel something akin to love. He mourned the death of a great hero, but in his heart he knew that more had been lost when Iolaus had died.

Grunting Caussus started moving the bellows in their familiar rhythm, he smiled as he thought of Iolaus and the caustic comments he had fired at the blacksmith about his methods. "Try and do better work yourself!" the angry blacksmith had challenged and a grinning Iolaus had. His work had been exemplary, as if Hephaestaus himself was watching over him, perhaps he had been. There had been talk that Iolaus had helped the God of the Forge in his quest to win the heart of Aphrodite. Even the Gods loved Iolaus, even the Gods. Caussus felt himself close to tears and wondered at the power of this one death over all their lives.

The town wasn't the same anymore. Tempers were frayed, arguments and fights were breaking out everywhere. And there wasn't a husband who didn't suspect his wife of having inappropriate feelings towards the little blond warrior. There wasn't a wife who didn't grieve, and wonder at the strength of her feelings. Iolaus, small, strong, gleeful, and honourable, he'd made an impression on more that this one town. His light had brightened many hearts without their realising it, without his realising it probably; Caussus recognised sadly as he moved automatically over the forge. His eyes still fixed on the middle distance.

Hercules entered the temple slowly; he hadn't been back to this place since the exorcism he had performed on Iolaus. He saw the stone slab that Iolaus' body had lain on and stopped moving, the breath caught in his throat. Jason moved closer to the demigod; he was facing his own demons by entering this place. His guilt at not being able to stay with Hercules was still big, and being in this place made his hands itch again. Silently he rubbed the palms of his hands against his legs, giving up a wordless prayer to the Gods.

Part of Hercules had wanted to do this alone, but another part of him had been grateful for the offer of company from Jason, and he had heard Iolaus' voice telling him to not be stupid, make use of the back up, be grateful for Jason.

Jason stayed behind as Hercules moved slowly forwards, closer to the plinth, closer to the stone of creation that still lay where they had left it. He noticed that the marks they had made on the pillars were still there, and remembered Jason telling him that this temple was not used any more. The citizens were building a new one; this one was still tainted by the demon Dahak and always would be. Hercules felt that, he felt the cold of the place, and the fear it brought to every heart. He turned and looked at Jason, his friend was standing back nervously, his body shaking. Hercules smiled his encouragement and turned back to his task. His own fear enough of a battle for him here.

Under his breath Hercules whispered quietly enough so that Jason couldn't hear him, 'Iolaus! I need you now. Do you know how much I need you? You'd have been in and out of here in a heartbeat, laughing as you went. Sending the fears back into the shadows where they belong. Oh, Iolaus, if only I could believe that I can still save you.'

Hercules stood over the flat stone surface and softly touched it, remembering Iolaus' body arching with the battle that raged within him. He remembered the hope that he'd felt and the confusion and fear on that familiar face as Iolaus had fought his possessor. Tears beginning to threaten, Hercules carefully reached up and removed the blue stone from its resting place. With a heartfelt prayer he carefully placed it inside his vest and turned to leave.

A whisper. Nothing more than a whisper. But it was enough to make Hercules turn back. Jason watched him cautiously, he hadn't heard or seen anything but it was obvious that Hercules had. The former king felt his heart quicken with fear.

Faint as the wind moving distant trees he heard it, the whisper of familiar sound. A voice, distantly giggling. Iolaus. But Hercules did not believe in the trick, Iolaus was not in giggling mood right now, he knew that in the same way he knew that his heart beat deep in his chest.

"You won't keep him! Whoever you are, I'll get him back from you."

Laughter, shockingly sibilant laughter from a thousand voices. Hercules felt himself shiver and closed his eyes. This was what had killed Iolaus; this was what he was up against.

The laughter tapered off and Hercules heard words, he looked frantically round him trying to see what spoke, but all he could see was Jason with a puzzled frown on his face.

"Very amusing, yes very amusing. Sweet little pivot is ours now; he belongs to us, inside and out. Dead now, dead but still sweet for us." The laughter sounded as if it were coming from every direction. Hercules put his hands to his head, if he had to listen to any more he would go mad. But the thought that Iolaus had to endure much more than this gave the demigod strength.

"He's not yours! Iolaus doesn't belong to anyone or anything. He will never be yours." Hercules was shouting now but in his fear and anger he didn't seem to be able to control his voice. Jason jumped in surprise and looked around the temple, but he could neither see nor hear anything. He returned his gaze to Hercules, he wasn't going to abandon the demigod, he wasn't going to run.

"Doesn't belong to us? Sweetness doesn't belong? Very funny son of Zeus, very amusing. He is ours now, every part of him. We never said that he liked it!"

Hercules heard the laughter fade and as it faded it turned into Iolaus' voice again.

"Why won't you face me? Face me dammit!" Hercules was roaring now, enough to tumble the temple on their heads Jason decided as he tried to get Hercules to move. Finally the demigod allowed himself be led from the building, vowing to Iolaus that he would never give up. This dark swarm would not be allowed to keep his brother's soul.

On Olympus Zeus felt fear, it was not an emotion he was used to experiencing, and it did not rest easy in his heart. He feared for his semi-mortal son and the battle he was taking upon himself, he feared for his family and for himself. The Darkness was like nothing any of them had ever had to face before. It had no guise; it did not bother to pretend a human form. It was older than the titans were, older than this world itself, and now it had taken an active interest in them. It was no longer happy with balance. Zeus had reason to feel fear; the might of the Olympian Gods was as nothing to a force such as the Darkness, they had quailed before its son Dahak, now they would be swept aside. If balance failed, if the teetering precarious hold that was theirs was lost.

Of all mortals, of all Gods, the key to this balance was Hercules' little friend Iolaus. Zeus liked Iolaus, he always had. The man was honest and forthright, he was quick and funny, and he had a zest for life that rivalled Zeus himself. Zeus could understand Iolaus more easily than he could his son, and he was pleased that the mortal had chosen to accompany Hercules throughout his adventures. 'No chance of you being too boring with Iolaus there, son.' But now Iolaus was in the thrall of this darkness, and Hercules was in the midst of the biggest and most important battle of his life, and Zeus was standing by watching.

He thumped his fist angrily on the dais beside him. Frustrated by this lack of action the God jumped to his feet and began pacing. The world felt the ominous rumble of thunder.

Iolaus stood in the centre of a maze. To each side of him he could see the walls bearing down, before him stood an opening but he was wary. He was very wary, he knew from experience that the way out was not so simple. He stood keeping his body relaxed, arms hanging loose at his sides, breath coming slow and easy. He knew it wasn't real, but it was all he had. Steadying his mind he took the first step into the labyrinth. His goal was to find a way out, even though he knew it was impossible.

The Darkness whispered in his head, dry agonies in its words, whispering in its many voices. Trying to undermine his determination, trying to remove his resolve. But he was strong here; he knew his enemy better than it realised. Iolaus would not give it the satisfaction of showing his fear, not here, not now. He stepped into the first of the corridors of the maze and felt the fear as it swept upon his heart. This place was too much for a mortal man, too much for this warrior. Even Hercules would quake in this place.

The shifting walls glinted in the darkness. Their ebony glow prickling the hunter's skin. He felt his feet slip into the black floor as he moved forward and he felt a depth of fear he had not known before. The Dark was his only companion here and it was playing a teasing game. It gave him a shivering hope and then took it from him, ripping his heart open again and over again. He was but a mortal and this was more than he could bear.

He could hear the laughter, in his own voice, in the voice of his friends, and the voice of Hercules - that hurt so deeply. He felt the pain sway him as he stood. Too much, this was far too much. Nobody should have to suffer like this, where was Hercules? Iolaus touched a wall with his hand, needing to lean, needing support. The wall shattered into a million pieces and he fell. Into oblivion - but no, there was no such respite. Iolaus had to know all of his pain; the Darkness wished it to be so. He heard it cackle and he felt his body scream its agony, felt the pain rip through his soul. There had to be an end to this, please let it end.

In the dream the sky is blue. Iolaus is standing by his side. But all is not right; all is far from right. It is not 'his' Iolaus, this dream Iolaus has a darkness in its soul, it has blackness for a heart, and he can feel the evil radiate from it like heat.

Iolaus smiles a secret smile and looks up at Hercules, "Enjoying yourself Herc? Is this fun enough for you?"

Hercules feels his body shiver at the cold sound in the familiar voice, "No, Iolaus. This isn't fun. I just want you back."

"Oooh selfish. Is a demigod like you allowed to be so selfish?" The laughter coming from the dream Iolaus sends shivers down Hercules' spine.

"I'm not being selfish Iolaus. You know that, you know you're worth more than that! Don't sell yourself short my friend, don't let the darkness that holds you ever do that to you!"

Hercules feels rather than hears the cackling laughter that follows - it comes from everywhere. Above, below, inside, everywhere. 'Oh Gods! Iolaus! How can I get you back!' Hercules thinks that he has screamed aloud, but even in the dream he is still silent. The pain that Iolaus feels a burden he does not know how to shoulder.

The blue of the sky is reflecting from a stone, the stone of creation. A hope, a slim hope even in his dream. Hercules picks the stone up from the dirt it lies in and holds it up into Iolaus' face. The dream Iolaus, the evil fake Iolaus screams as it feels the power of the stone, and Hercules feels himself screaming his way to wakefulness as he witnesses the undoing of his companion. Shattering into a thousand tiny slivers, Iolaus screams and screams and screams, even as his corporeal body dissipates in front of the demigod.

"Iolaus!"

Before, after, now. No difference to us. We hold his body in our hands, we caress, we sense, we feel. Now, then, before, since - always. Our little pivot suffers. It is good that he suffers. Dahak is our son; Dahak should not have died. Dahak needs vengeance.

His body feels our caress, he knows our touch. Intimate and tender. He shivers against our blackness. Sweet. Tastes sweet. Suspended between the last heartbeat and the last breath, holding on to his soul so strong. So enticingly strong. We feel his soul fight us, we feel his denial. We rejoice in the strength it gives, now, yesterday, tomorrow, always.

Chapter 5

The Stone of Creation lay in the palm of Hercules' hand. Blue and lifeless it showed no sign of its power, no sign of its light. Pulling his hand closed tight around its sharp edges Hercules whispered softly in the dawn light. "Michael? Are you there? Give us the strength, help us through this."

Jason watched, feeling like an interloper again, but knowing that just being there was enough of a part for him to play. If only the stone were enough, but in their hearts neither man dared to hope.

As the sun rose above the tree line Hercules let his fingers loosen. Slowly the sun inched closer to the blue stone; slowly Hercules felt its power grow. Then there was a blinding light emanating from the demigod's hand; it bathed all around it in its warm glow. And Iolaus screamed.

Horrified the two men watched as the black shroud covering their friend writhed and twisted. Under it they could see the outline of Iolaus' body writhe in unison with the darkness. His scream could not be heard on the air but in their heads, vibrating through their bones until they wanted to scream themselves. There was no denying the pain in that sound, there was no denying that the blackness surrounding their friend was beginning to dissipate, but so was the form inside the dark shroud, so was Iolaus.

Giving a strangled sob Hercules pulled the stone to his body, blocking it from the sun's light. It was no good, he couldn't bear this, he couldn't stand another moment of seeing Iolaus in such pain when there was no sign of hope. No light at the end of the tunnel. What was he going to do now?

Iolaus curled up into a tight ball, wrapping his arms around his legs and letting his head drop. This was too much for him to take; he couldn't cope any more. He was back somewhere in the unending black corridors of the maze, lost. And now there was a blue pain searing its way through his mind, he felt his body scream. Within this new pain Iolaus saw Hercules holding a brilliant blue star in the palm of his hand. The source of the pain.

Iolaus felt the cloying black close in on him, tightening its grip, constricting. It was a death grip, and Iolaus knew that if it lasted much longer this maze would entrap him and Iolaus' hold on life would be lost forever. Tightening his grip around his legs, unconsciously copying the Darkness in his need to hold on, the dead hero let the tears fall. This place was not real, this body was not real, these tears only existed somewhere in his mind. But he had lost hope; Hercules' attempt to save him had failed. What was left now?

Michael watched the struggle, he watched with a pain in his centre that he could not explain. Hercules was doing the wrong thing, Iolaus was suffering for it, but Michael could not intervene. He had never intervened before; this time could be no different. No matter his compassion, Michael was an ambassador of the Light. It was not his place to intervene here, no matter what he felt, no matter what he wanted.

Michael saw the labyrinth Iolaus found himself in; he saw the pain that the hunter felt. He saw the pain Hercules felt at his failure and felt a pain of his own at his own failure. He wanted to help, it was his place to help, the Light's soldier should have some support. But there was the rub; there was the problem. The Light knew that its soldier had to fight this battle alone, even against the might of the Darkness itself. Even with the terror of everlasting agony as his enemy. Iolaus, mortal, only a man, partner to Hercules... Michael feared for him. Michael wished he could do more.

The Darkness that fell across the land was heavy. It laid itself in every bed; it found every nook and cranny. Hearts were turned to argument; good people found themselves wishing death to their neighbours not caring why. Iolaus was the balance, he had become the symbol of all that was bright, his presence was all that was needed to represent the strength of the Light. If he should fail then what was the Light? Just another pretender? The darkness had claimed them all, it had decided it was time for the balance to end. But there was plenty of time; all eternity was its own. It took pleasure in the wait.

The old woman stood watching as Hercules poked at the dying fire. He seemed to be trying to take out all of his frustrations with his angry jabs. She smiled, the darkness that filled her heart was happy so she was happy. Hercules had no idea what he should be doing. There was nothing that he could do - he just didn't know that yet. His companion, the ex-king, had left to gather more provisions and get word of what was happening in the rest of Greece. They didn't even know what this village was; these mortal creatures were so slow on the uptake. Sometimes the old woman wondered at the dark's patience, but then she thought of the sweet fun it was having with the pivot and she knew. Mortals may be stupid but they made wonderful toys.

Hercules noticed that the same old woman was watching him. Sick of waiting, sick of inactivity he rose and stretched. Trying to make it look as if he were taking a stroll to get the kinks out Hercules began to circle behind her. He was careful in his approach, not even Iolaus could have been quieter in the hunt, but she sensed him all the same. The demigod was still a couple of meters away from her when he saw her head cock on one side as if she were listening, but not with her ears, he didn't think she was listening with her ears.

She turned to face Hercules and smiled up at him, her black eyes shining, "You wanted to talk to me?" she said.

"Yes."

Moving slowly, as only a very old woman can move, she led Hercules into one of the abandoned houses. It was dark inside, only a little daylight managing to find its way through the shutters. In the one downstairs room there was a table and two chairs, no fireplace, no other furniture, no comforts. The woman sat, sighing and gestured for Hercules to do the same.

Battling the sense of unreality Hercules was the first to speak, "Who are you?"

"I'm just an old old woman, the last one left in the village because I was too stubborn to leave it. But that was a long time ago and none of your concern."

"Are you Dahak?"

The cackling laughter filled the room, the old woman rocking back and forth holding her stomach as she laughed, "Oh, oh, that's a good one! Dahak! No Hercules, no. You killed Dahak, you and your precious little pivot. Dead is Dahak, dead and gone. Toast." Another fit of laughter took the old woman and Hercules waited perplexed until she had recovered.

"The Darkness is within you though, isn't it? Why is it doing this to Iolaus? Why are you doing this?"

She smiled again, but she didn't speak, she just wiped the tears from her eyes and stared back at the demigod.

"We beat you once, we can do it again. You won't keep him! I won't let you keep him!" Hercules said.

"You don't have a choice Hercules. This game isn't yours to play. No matter the outcome you aren't in it. Get used to watching from the sidelines son of Zeus, get used to feeling helpless. And don't believe that you've ever beaten us, you only beat our son - our weak and foolish son. Iolaus, sweet little Iolaus, he knows that. I thought you were supposed to be the clever one."

Her voice had changed, it was now the voice, or voices Hercules had heard in the temple. He was hearing the Dark itself speak. "Do you want to see the endgame Hercules? Do you want to see your little friend as he fights for the balance? The ultimate game, Good versus Evil, Day versus Night, Light versus Dark. And hasn't it always been the same, always the good side of balance has to get some poor fool to do its danger work for it? The Light never gets its hands dirty godling. Want to see? Of course you do."

Hercules didn't want to see, he knew that he didn't want to see this. Watch his best friend battle with darkness itself, a fight he could never win - watch and be able to do nothing. He didn't want that, but he couldn't help himself when he saw Iolaus take shape in front of him. The dark room was gone, now he was in a black place that somehow gave off its own strange illumination - there but not there as if he were in a dream. But this wasn't a dream.

The walls, floor and ceiling of the corridor Iolaus was in were all jet black, but the demigod could still see his friend curled up in a tight ball on the floor, the hunter was naked and Hercules could see that he was crying. The demigod felt his heart breaking and quelled the anger that rose in his chest; there was nowhere to channel it, nobody to strike out at. The old woman had served her purpose; she had vanished along with the village.

Iolaus took a deep breath and rubbed his hands over his face, there were no more tears. Looking around him at the black sparkling walls he realised that he was back in the labyrinth and he was still alone. This time there was no Hercules to save him, no Light to hide behind, Michael wasn't going to ride up and fight for him. This time it was just Iolaus. He'd fought without Hercules before, but alone? He'd always managed to recruit allies before; it wasn't difficult when you were on the side of the right. There were a lot of good people out there.

As if in response to his thought Iolaus slowly became aware of the scene that was playing out in front of him. Like the pool in the vortex he thought as he watched, fascinated despite himself.

He recognised the little girl playing in the dirt outside her house, it was Briony. He had always liked visiting that family, they were good kids and he felt responsible somehow. He and Hercules had made a promise to a dying man on a battlefield; they would keep an eye on his family. The dying warrior had never known Briony though, never even known that he was going to have another daughter.

Briony had a small wooden doll, Iolaus remembered carving it for her, and she was hitting its head repeatedly against the stump of a long felled tree. The doll's head was splintering until finally the little girl threw it into the weeds at the side of the house, her face full of fury. It was not an expression Iolaus had ever seen on her face before and it shocked him.

But then he remembered Dahak, and how he had trapped Iolaus into a no-win situation. What was the darkness doing to him now? Was what he saw real? He couldn't assume anything, he couldn't believe it just because he saw it, nothing was real here. Even his own body wasn't real, he was dead but here he could breathe and cry and scream. He watched as Briony's mother came out of the house and began shouting at her daughter, he watched as the little girl was slapped again and again. This wasn't the family he knew, this wasn't right. But somewhere deep inside he believed that it was real, somewhere he began to understand exactly what the Dark had done.

Yess, good. Now we show you more. Your friends, hating, hurting, yess, very good. How do you like seeing big man Caussus at his forge swearing his hatred of the Gods, being struck down by your friend Hephaestaus in anger. Like that? Oh now sweet one, little pivot, don't be upset, you understand now don't you? Yesss, it's all about you, Iolaus. You are the balance. How do you feel now? So small and yet so large?

This amuses us, very amusing. Iolausss, what will you do now?

Hercules watched with his friend, but he couldn't act, he saw what Iolaus saw but he had no way of joining his partner in his struggle. Helpless and afraid Hercules watched. It was not something he was used to, it was not something he liked, but he had no choice here. Iolaus was the only one who could act.

He felt his skin prickle like gooseflesh, but he was dead. Dead. How could a dead man fight? How could he fight? Iolaus knew, deep inside, that it wasn't about his death exactly, it was about the balance. It was about the butterfly and the sunny day. It was about a concept far beyond mortal reckoning. But it was something that Iolaus had to be able to fight - alone.

He sat in the black corridor, curled into a naked ball, watching the darkness as it played out a movie for him. A movie of what life was without him, without one man's inconsequential life-force, and it was a dark place. A place without hope or joy, a place without any kind of happiness. Iolaus could not believe that his life could mean so much, his life could be so significant. Iolaus had to believe, but he couldn't.

He could feel the darkness whispering through the bones of his being, he knew its sounds in his deepest secret places. He could not escape his captor, however deeply he delved into his own psyche. Iolaus was in a web, the Dark's own spider web and there was no escape.

He hugged himself even tighter, wishing for Hercules, wishing for an escape from this responsibility. But none came. He was alone here, alone with the blackness, alone. And in that lonely state Iolaus slowly came to recognise the face of darkness. Slowly against the backdrop of pain and despair that it had painted for him, he saw the truth. He had been chosen by the Dark, not because he was important in the scheme of things, but because he was a plaything. He was amusing to the Darkness, and it was going to take its fill of him. It wasn't about the balance, not directly; it was about toys, and their ability to please. He was just a pleasing toy, nothing more. 'Don't fool yourself Iolaus, you're nothing more than a plaything to it.' But the game was too much; the game was far too much for a mere mortal to sustain. And Iolaus felt himself giving way, he felt himself fading in the shadow of the Dark's superior strength.

The pain was beyond bearing, the pain took him back to his death, he screamed. Again and again, with his voice and with his soul, he screamed - but he had no hope of being heard. No hoope of release. Iolaus was alone in this dark place, alone with his fear and his pain, fighting himself as much as his enemy.

Hercules felt the screams; he felt them with his heart and soul. He saw Iolaus in pain and was helpless before his partner's misery. Hercules' own pain wrenched him open, deep inside. Deep into his very soul he felt the tearing apart of his being.

He could not bear to see or feel Iolaus in such agonies, but he was helpless here. The Light itself was helpless here, only Iolaus could fight this fight, only Iolaus could save himself. Hercules watched the battle, willing his friend, his partner, his closest family, all the strength of the demigod. He prayed for Iolaus, he despaired for his friend, he gave everything he knew how to give to help his mortal brother in his fight. But he did not believe that it was enough.

Yess little one, yess my Iolauss. You feel pain; you feel the strength of the battle. You are naked against me, without protection, but you fight my little one, you still fight. Pivot, you are all of that and more. As you lie in suspense, between life and death. Between the last heartbeat and eternity. Yesss, oh yesss. Body, soul, mind, every inch of you, belongs to us. You belong to us for now and forever ours.

Iolaus could feel his skin creeping; every inch of his body felt the soft caress of the darkness. He shivered his horror at the intrusion but there was nothing he could do to fight it. He felt the dark mystery inside him, breathing him in and out, but again there was no way to fight it, no way to remove it from him. He felt the helplessness; he felt the naked helplessness and wanted to weep. But he didn't. He had to fight; there was no one to do it for him. He had to fight, no matter what may come, he had to fight whether the clammy blackness sought his body and soul or not. He could not just give in. He could not just allow the darkness to win without attempting to stop it.

But the dark owned the game; the dark made the rules. And the pain and the fear and the mortal agonies were things it did not feel. It could dish out pain like a generous man dished out candy to a child, but it did not know what it was giving. It had never felt the pain; it had never been naked and alone. It was everywhere, it was everything. It was the darkness and it would prevail.

Iolaus felt every kind of pain as he tried to fight his enemy, he knew it was useless but he had to fight. What else could he do? The physical pain would have been enough to kill a mortal, but he was dead already - how could it kill a dead man? The exquisite agonies of the mind would be enough to send any mortal to madness, but he was dead already, what was that but a kind of madness? Iolaus smiled in the dark. He had found his edge. He had found his weapon, and now the warrior would fight, naked, alone, but he would still fight. The odds were against him, but what worry that? Iolaus liked to have the odds stacked against him; it gave things a dangerous edge. This was dangerous, but he had nothing more to lose, he was already toast after all.

Chapter 6

Hercules watched and he felt Iolaus smile, he understood the smile and he feared it. Iolaus was about to embark on an outrageous battle, a battle only a fool would take on. But in his heart Hercules knew that it was Iolaus' only chance. A slim chance, a tiny nothing of hope, but he'd take it anyway, because this was Iolaus, and Iolaus found hope in the smallest of things.

Hercules watched as the small form stood. He watched as the warrior took deep steadying breaths before he entered into the final battle. He watched - and felt more helpless than he ever had in his life before. He wanted to intervene, with his whole being he wanted to stop what was about to happen - but he couldn't, and for that Hercules was eternally sorry. Iolaus needed his help and he could not provide it, Iolaus did not even know that his friend was cheering him on from the sidelines. Perhaps it was best that way, perhaps not. Hercules hoped that he would get the chance to discuss it with his partner. He knew he could not afford to lose him again, not like this, not now. If he was without Iolaus, he was without his strength, without his heart. If he was without Iolaus, Hercules wanted to die.

What does he do? Little pivot is up to something, what is it? He stands against us; he stands in our dark halls and defies us. What does he do? We are not amused; we do not understand this. Iolausss, you are small, we could destroy you with one thought if we wished. Why do you defy? Why do you try? Your pain will grow little human, beyond all of your imaginings, mortal. Do you not understand? Do you not realise that we will cause you unending agonies of body and soul if you continue to defy us?

So-be-it. You will defy, we will punish. Your soul will be committed to the in-between. Neither here nor there, nowhere. You will never be at peace Iolaus; you will always be in torment, beyond the understanding of Hades, beyond the understanding of Michael. Beyond your understanding Iolaus, sending you to madness and beyond. Yesss.

You cannot win this game little person; we are the only winners. We were always going to be the only winners. The Dark prevails, balance topples and we are in control at last. Yesss, blackness in all hearts, blackness in all homes. Black world, black night, black day. You fail Iolaus! You lose!

Iolaus stood, hands hanging loosely at his sides. He could hear the whispering voices of the Dark, but he ignored its threats. What could be worse than where he already was? He was ready now; he was ready for this battle. He had no weapons, no sword or dagger. He had no armour, but there was no armour to be had against the Darkness. It was as much inside him as it was outside. It touched his skin, it entered his body, it was in his mind and his heart; his soul could feel the dark cloud pushing at its boundaries. He wanted to scream. All he was doing was standing up, all he was doing was making one move - but his whole dead body was screaming at him. The pain filled him with a bright writhing agony. He held onto the colour, he held on to the bright light. It was a colour, it was not of the darkness, it had to be of the Light, of his own inner light.

Iolaus remembered something Michael had said to him during his time in the Light,

"The Light saw itself in you Iolaus, it saw a reflection of its own being in your eyes, and so it marked you."

Iolaus had asked when he had been marked by the Light and Michael's answer had made him shiver,

"The first time you smiled, Iolaus," Michael had said smiling his little enigmatic smile, "The very first time you smiled it knew."

Iolaus smiled now, and in his eyes there was a trace still of the humour and joy that his friends loved him for. Even here, even dead he still held on to that, and that was something the Darkness could not understand and had not bargained for. His smile widened and he felt a small tremor in the black air around him. He laughed and the tremor doubled.

The air around him thickened, closing in on him, making it hard to stand against it. The pain intensified, but he knew that it was because he had worried the Darkness and he did not lose his smile.

"Herc? I know you must be there somewhere," he said, "Help me. Help me remember the good stuff."

Hercules watched in awe as his friend stood surrounded by the darkening mist. Through all the darkness Iolaus' smile shone, and Hercules had to smile too. He'd never been able to resist that grin. Hearing Iolaus' plea the demigod thought back to all the times he'd seen Iolaus smile before, all the times he'd heard that infectious giggle. And his memories made him smile, his memories brought forth laughter from the demigod. The laughter shone through the darkness.

The Dark screamed in his ears "No. No. What are you doing? What is this? You find laughter here? How ... NO! Stop this, stop this now!"

Suddenly Hercules could not see his friend anymore; he could not see anything. All was black, all was silent. His smile faded, a worried frown replacing it. Where was Iolaus?

Iolaus was everywhere. He could still feel and see and touch but he had no body. He felt a moment of pure terror. But it was only a moment; the sensation of floating free of his body was strangely exhilarating. If he still had a body he would have grinned, if this were a trick to stop his good humour it had failed. This was an adventure and Iolaus loved a good adventure.

In the darkness that surrounded him Iolaus could see swirls of colour, dark colour, the purple of a bruise, the red of heart's blood, the blue of a night sky. It was beautiful in its awfulness. He wondered how he was seeing these patterns dance slowly around and through him when he had no eyes. But it didn't matter; Iolaus was never going to understand everything here so he didn't try. It was a waste of energy, and he had a strong feeling that he would need every ounce of his energy before this was done.

He turned his thoughts outward, he was in enemy territory here, he needed to know as much of the place as he could. He felt a little like he was suspended in a thick warm mud bath, but when he tried to raise his hands they were not there. Strange, a very strange feeling. To feel things that could not possibly be, to see with eyes that he did not have. He was inside a mind, his or the darkness itself? He didn't know. It felt good for now but that wasn't going to last, the fear would creep back in on him. The loneliness would start eating away at him. His very being was held together by strands of nothing, how long would it be before he simply dissipated like a cloud on a hot day.

Iolaus turned away from the thought, it wouldn't do him any good. But what would? His laughter had bothered the Dark, he didn't know exactly why. Perhaps it was of the Light; perhaps it was the part of him that held the Light inside. If he'd had a head to shake he would have; to free himself of the confusion, to clear the clouds that filled his mind. He remembered the bright colours of the pain, the blue of a lightning strike, the white of the Light. How could his pain be made of Light? Did it matter? Iolaus thought it did, but he couldn't say why. He hated this, a battle fought by thought instead of deed. He was no good at this kind of fight; it was something he relied on Hercules for. Hercules was clever; he always knew what he should do. If there was a riddle Hercules could always crack it.

Thinking of Hercules made Iolaus feel sad and angry and hurt all at the same time, he couldn't remember why. Hercules was his friend; Hercules loved him and would go to any lengths to keep him alive. That thought triggered a buried memory and Iolaus felt the pain of his death and a remembered last breath, he felt the pain of betrayal. Hercules hadn't loved him enough; Hercules' love was a selfish love. He hadn't been able to let his friend go. Instead Iolaus had been left to suffer this, maybe for all eternity. He felt the pain, and he felt himself separating, his mind blowing away from the centre, lazily rolling across the darkened void. What would happen then? What would he feel if he were so many drops of water in the air?

Iolaus felt the sharp relief of fear; its colour was the steel of his sword. It brought his concentration back and helped him to focus. He was able to collect his thoughts; he wryly laughed, that was an apt description. He shouldn't think of Hercules, but hadn't he felt comfort when he'd called on the demigod earlier for help, hadn't he felt his presence?

A butterfly entered his mind, big and beautiful it beat its wings through him. Jewelled dust cascading around him as it fluttered. It was so beautiful that Iolaus simply watched it as it traced patterns in the blackness, the dust it scattered leaving a sparkling trail. A thing of such beauty could not be borne of darkness so where had it come from? The brilliant creature began to move away from Iolaus and not wanting to be left behind he followed it. How he did that with no body he didn't know, he just willed it and it was so. He thought of Michael without knowing why.

Greece slept; there were no stars and no moon to light their way on that night. It was a darkness more complete than living memory had seen. But men did not see the depth of the night for they were all sleeping. And as they slept they dreamed of a huge butterfly with vivid colours on its wings, which beat the air and created a falling dust, sparkling and pretty. It settled on the ground and in the dreamers' hair, it settled on their skin and they marvelled at its iridescent beauty.

A little girl called Briony saw the butterfly in her dream and called out to it. "Stop pretty butterfly, come to me!" but it fluttered away. She watched it go and held her little hand out to catch the dust that fell from its wings. 'Iolaus will know what to do', she thought, 'Iolaus will understand.'

A woman slept and dreamed of the butterfly, she saw it sprinkle its dust over the sleeping heads of her four children. She had shouted at Briony today, but now she couldn't remember why. As she watched the colourful butterfly she thought of Iolaus and his blue twinkling eyes, he would know.

The blacksmith slept through his pain. The arm that worked the bellows charred into disfigurement now. He saw the butterfly and understood that Hephaestaus had been right to punish him, his words had been wrong, he had been disrespectful to the only God he understood. He watched the colourful dust settle on his scarred limb and felt content. He could learn to use his other arm, he could devote the rest of his life to the God of his trade. He thought of Iolaus as he watched the brilliant blue butterfly, the way it flitted here and there, never settling always active, reminded him of the warrior. He thought of Iolaus with fondness and regret. If the blond should ever walk into his forge again he would make him welcome; he would treat him with the respect and acceptance he deserved.

Michael did not need to sleep, but he too saw the butterfly. It filled his mind and he understood that it belonged to the Light, but was not from the Light. He knew that Iolaus had gained more from his time as a Guardian than he could understand while he lived. And he did still live, Michael could see that now. Iolaus was fighting a battle that he did not understand but that was the joy of Iolaus, his instincts were so good. He didn't need to understand what he did; he just needed to do it.

Hercules saw the butterfly in the darkness. He was asleep but he did not know it. The butterfly was huge as it fluttered over his head, dropping dust from its wings onto him. The tiny particles touched his skin and tingled, it felt good but he couldn't say why. The blue restlessness of the insect reminded Hercules of Iolaus and he felt pride well up in his heart. He knew that this creature came from his friend, he knew that Iolaus would break free, fragile and small as he was against the might of darkness, Iolaus would come through. His friend would be returned to his side.

But that feeling of confident hope died quickly, the butterfly's bright colours were fading, its flutterings were becoming erratic. Hercules strained his eyes to follow the deepening colours, he filled his mind with thoughts of bright light, he gave all the strength he could to his friend, to the butterfly. 'Don't fail, not now. You're nearly there.'

The butterfly was a short-lived creature, and Iolaus had watched its birth and was now watching its death. He knew that it didn't matter but he still felt a great sorrow as he watched the beauty fade from sight. All that remained was the glittering dust that covered the air. Iolaus felt weak, he felt more exhausted than he could ever remember feeling before, and the pain was returning. He had no body but the pain pierced his thoughts with its cold. It made it difficult to think, it made it difficult to see. The swirling patterns began to blur into one mass of slow movement. The pain was his payment, Iolaus understood that, but it was getting so hard to form thoughts, so hard to concentrate. If he could just float away then the pain would go, if he could be that cloud in the blue sky swirling away into nothing, then his struggle would finally be over.

He didn't believe that. He saw the alien thought for what it was, a plant. The Dark was trying its tricks again. It had no intention of letting the pain end; it would continue no matter how many disparate particles Iolaus became. It would be like a shattered mirror refracting the light back on itself, intensifying instead of ending. He pushed the intruder away; it took more strength than he could spare. He felt himself fading, failing in his battle. He was tired, so very tired, and the butterfly had been his only ally, and it was gone.

But its memory wasn't. Every sleeping man, woman and child in Greece had seen the butterfly, and now they dreamed on. They remembered the good things in their life, the things touched by light. Iolaus' many friends dreamed of him, they laughed with him. Women flirted with him in their sleep, their smiles remaining long after they woke the next morning, men drank and joked with him, never fearing for their wives because they knew Iolaus to be honourable. People remembered what it was like to trust their friends, to take joy from the simple things in life. They remembered and gave Iolaus the strength he needed.

The time isss not now, balance is strong again. No pivot, you are not the one. We wait, we can wait. Iolausss you have entertained us, be free now. Be alive now. Perhaps you will entertain uss again little pivot, if we should get bored.

Hercules looked about him stupefied. A moment ago he had been in total darkness, sending his strength to Iolaus, now he was sitting in a forest clearing in the cold light of dawn. He could see no sign of the old woman or the village, no sign of the campfire he had tended for the last few weeks. And Iolaus? He looked instinctively towards his right, where the shroud would have been had he still been in the mysterious village. He expected to see nothing so when he saw Iolaus lying on the ground, no longer cloaked by the black shroud, he couldn't quite take it in. The demigod stared at his friend for a long time before he could bring himself to move.

Iolaus was lying so still; he looked so pale in the silvery dawn light that Hercules was scared to go near him. He was scared that he would find his partner had no heartbeat, he was scared that he would be alone again. Part of him knew that Iolaus was dead and this time it was forever, part of him hoped that he lived. Finally he shuffled closer to his friend's naked body; fearfully he reached out a hand and laid it gently over the hunter's heart, where his talisman usually lay. At first he felt nothing but then, just as despair was threatening to overcome him, he felt a thud, and then another. Slow and steady, a heartbeat. Iolaus' chest rose and fell only slightly under the demigod's hand. His breathing was shallow, his colour pale, but he was alive. He really was alive.

Jason had hurried back to the village after waking from his strange dream, he knew that it meant something was happening. But when he arrived at the place he knew must be the village, it was just a fork in the road. There was no village. Slowly he looked around him, and in the direction of the village's centre he spied a small clearing in the trees, just off of the road.

The sight that met him in the clearing made his heart constrict with fear. Iolaus was there, and the deadly black shroud was gone, but he was still and deathly pale. Hercules was sitting beside his friend, one large hand gently lay on the hunter's chest, head bowed. Jason thought the worst, but when Hercules looked up at him the demigod was smiling, and his eyes were full of joy.

"Jason! He's alive! He's really alive!"

Jason took a deep breath to get rid of all the tension that had built up in him and grinned at his friend, "Well that's good Hercules, but isn't he a bit cold? I'm freezing and I'm wearing a bit more than him!"

Hercules laughed, relief in the sound, "I don't know what happened to his clothes, he's going to throw a fit when he finds out he's lost that ratty old vest."

Jason laughed with Hercules and rummaging around in his pack found a blanket to put over the still form beside them. He didn't say anything to Hercules about the worry he felt. Iolaus looked far from well, he looked close to death, and Jason was scared that this wasn't over yet.

"Even his talisman's gone," Jason said, "I wonder what happened."

"He fought the Dark and he won, that's what happened." Hercules' voice was full of pride.

"Well, we'd better get him to a healer Hercules. He doesn't look too good."

"No, no. He just needs to sleep, let him sleep Jason. He's just tired. We'll see how he is when he wakes up."

Jason reluctantly agreed and after Jason had built a fire to keep Iolaus warm the two men spent the next few hours talking in murmurs as they watched over their sleeping friend.

Everything had gone dark, the butterfly's dust was gone, the swirling patterns were gone. There was nothing and Iolaus was afraid, had he failed? Was he even now only so many floating slivers of soul? His body was still gone, his thoughts blurred and confused. His fear began to grow in the silent darkness, he felt panic beating with hungry wings inside, around, everywhere. He had thought he was alone before, but he hadn't been, you are never alone when your enemy is nearby. Now though - now the hunter, warrior, hero, friend was alone with nothing and no one for company, not even himself. He tried to see the humour, he tried to remember laughter, but he failed.

There was nothing more that he could do, and that was what scared him the most. He could not act; he had no body to fight with, no enemy to defeat. There was no one to look for and nowhere to find them, he was finally and completely helpless. Iolaus knew that he would not be able to control his fear for long, he knew that in this emptiness he would go mad.

He remembered the Eastern disciplines he had once learnt as if they were an old dream, he remembered them but he could not grasp them. Iolaus realised that his memory was becoming thinner, like the butterfly it was fading away. Maybe he would just fade away too, into nothingness. That wouldn't be so bad would it? He would know no more, his friends would grieve and move on, in the same way all people must. That wouldn't be so bad. Apart from not being a Guardian anymore, he'd liked that, apart from missing Hercules and their adventures, apart from the fact he wasn't ready to die, and he most certainly wasn't ready to cease to exist in any form. Iolaus discovered something else about himself, even after there is nobody left to fight he could still fight himself.

Jason awoke with a start, he had nodded off while sitting close to the campfire and as he stretched his aching back he listened to the steady breathing of his sleeping companions. Hercules was curled up next to Iolaus, keeping close to him as if to make sure he wouldn't disappear in the night. Jason knew how the demigod felt. Iolaus had been snatched away only to be returned so many times now. The Gods might laugh but Jason couldn't see the joke.

He could barely make out Iolaus' form under his blanket in the darkness. It was too dark, Jason wouldn't mind if he never saw a dark night again. He set about kindling the fire, coaxing the remaining embers into life. Once the fire was burning brightly again Jason knelt beside Iolaus, being careful not to disturb Hercules. The hunter was so still, so drawn and pale, his chest was rising and falling almost imperceptibly and, Jason placed a hand on Iolaus' chest, his heartbeat was still weak and slow. But it was steady, there was that much to hold on to.

The butterfly filled Jason's mind with its breathtaking beauty, and he looked down at his friend in awe, had Iolaus really done that? Had Iolaus really beaten the darkness back? Jason had once led men on a heroic adventure, one for which he would be remembered through all history, he had been a King but he still felt humbled by what Iolaus had done. Humbled and frightened. Hercules thought he had his friend back, he seemed to think everything was going to be all right. But would it? Could things go back to normal, could Iolaus become the happy-go-lucky man they loved again? Jason had his doubts. The man sat watching over his two best friends as they slept, he would keep his fears to himself. He let the heat of the fire and the flickering flames be a comfort to him, as he was slowly lulled to sleep.

He heard the voices as in a dream, familiar voices. Voices that filled him with a calm that had been sorely missing. The voices of two men that he had known since they had all been at the Academy. Jason, once a King and his friend, and Hercules. Oh Hercules, the one man that held the hunter's soul in his hand, Hercules the son of Zeus but to Iolaus much more than that, to Iolaus Hercules was friend, brother, family. The demigod's voice more than any other could get his attention and now it spoke.

"Who was she Jason? The old woman in the village? Who was she really? I keep wondering that, I keep going back to her and her black teeth and bent back. I keep wondering what her role really was."

"She was enticed by the lies the darkness spun her a long time ago."

Iolaus hadn't known he was going to speak, he hadn't known that he could. The reaction he got from his friends was worth it though. The shocked expressions, the intake of breath, the joy on Hercules' face. It was worth the effort.

Hercules looked at his friend and gave a silent thanks to Michael,

"Iolaus?"

Iolaus smiled tiredly, this was so much effort for him, "Yes Herc?"

"Gods Iolaus! I thought I'd lost you."

"Who me? Nah! It takes more than a bit of darkness to keep me down." Iolaus spoke the words knowing they were expected of him, but he didn't feel them, he didn't feel like laughing at all. He felt empty, filled only with vacuum, he remembered his love for his friend but he didn't feel it, he remembered their shared adventures but he couldn't feel the emotions that they had always evoked before. Iolaus felt the cold hand of fear embrace him.

"She was the elder of a village once. Respected by all the villagers, then Dahak came. He turned her into what you saw; he enticed her to him with promises and lies. The village died, its heart was turned from the Light and it killed itself. Neighbour turned on neighbour, friend on friend, brother on brother. Until all that remained was the old woman and her blackened heart. She was willing to wait for more sweetness, she was willing to wait through eternity if that's what it took, until she got her fill of somebody else's pain. It was my pain she got: in the end it was me that filled her. She's gone now. The Dark has no more use for her."

Iolaus fell silent, lying on the hard ground staring up at the fading stars, he felt so weak, so very weak. All he wanted to do was sleep, but that wasn't what Hercules expected of him. Hercules wanted him up and joking, Hercules wanted … and Iolaus had always given Hercules what he wanted, hadn't he?

Hercules looked at his friend with joy in his heart. Iolaus had beaten the odds again, Iolaus was back. He noticed that the hunter was showing signs of tiredness and smiled, "It's OK Iolaus, go to sleep now, I'll watch over you."

Iolaus smiled back at his friend, but he felt no peace. Hercules had meant everything to him once, now - now he felt nothing. Only an absence, only an emptiness that frightened him. He closed his eyes and turned onto his side, feigning a peaceful sleep, wondering how long he could fool the demigod.

Briony held the doll in her hand. Its cracked and splintered head stared accusingly at her. She patted it reassuringly, feeling no comfort. Iolaus would never forgive her; Iolaus would be so upset with her. She tried to mend the broken face with her chubby fingers but it was no good, the doll was beyond repair, and as the little girl looked at her beloved doll she began to cry. Heartbreaking sobs pulled themselves free of her tiny form and her mother came to hold her. But she would not be comforted, she had let her friend Iolaus down, she had betrayed him, and nothing could comfort her.

Caussus worked at the bellows half-heartedly, his mind was not on his work, it was with Iolaus. The irritating little man that had changed the course of his life. Iolaus, who had brought the butterfly to his dreams and had changed him again, when he'd needed it most.

Hephaestaus watched over the blacksmith, sadness in his gaze. He regretted his foolish outburst of pride, he regretted damaging this man. But he couldn't take that back, it was done now. All he could do was watch favourably over a mortal that honoured his name. He could do that, and hope that it in some way helped to repay the debt he still owed Iolaus.

Jason was still worried. Iolaus was so weak, he spent most of the time asleep, and when he wasn't asleep he didn't seem very interested in anything. He responded to conversational gambits from Hercules and Jason but it was as if he thought it was what was expected of him. He knew he had a role to play and he 'would' play it, no matter what.

He had found a spare tunic, some trousers and boots in his pack that Iolaus could wear, they weren't exactly a perfect fit, but they'd do. Iolaus hadn't found a joke in them, he'd put the clothes on without a word, without a smile, and that had sent an icy shiver down Jason's spine. This Iolaus was very different from the one he knew, was he really 'their' Iolaus?

Ahh, it is sweet, so sweet. Balance is still … in the balance. Iolaus hasn't decided on Light over Dark yet. Yessss, little Iolaus and his heart. So much promise, so much pleasure. His struggle will be entertaining to watch over. Michael will be interesting to observe now. A butterfly unleashed and where will it lead to? Oooh sweet Iolaus, sweet, sweet Iolaus, you are worth more than we ever imagined. The struggle goes on, and after all what is existence without struggle? Boring, we say it's boring. Sweet Iolaus isn't boring … let usss watch him now.

Chapter 7 Iolaus pulled at his blue tunic for the umpteenth time. It wasn't comfortable; it wasn't 'his'. He missed his old worn patched vest; he missed his talisman, broken though it was. He even missed his black leather trousers, never mind the discomfort he'd suffered wearing them. These clothes belonged to Jason, they weren't Iolaus'. He didn't complain though, he said very little as the three men walked along the road.

Once upon a time, Iolaus would have been filled with jokes; he would have run ahead and complained at how slow his companions were. He would have been the life and soul of the journey. But not this time. This time he was quiet, he walked behind Hercules most of the time. He never fell back, he never said he was tired, but he never made a joke either. Hercules frowned a lot on this trip, and Jason knew that even though the demigod said nothing he was worried about his friend. There was something very wrong with Iolaus.

They made camp one night, and as on other nights Iolaus did what was asked of him without complaining, without grumbling. Hercules' frown deepened, he didn't know what to do, where they should go. He didn't know if it was over yet.

The three men slept, separated by their own dreams. Jason dreamt of a butterfly, swooping down on him, covering him with a film of iridescent dust, challenging him to stand against the blackness that bowed him. Hercules dreamt of Iolaus, lost and naked and alone against the night. He dreamt that he was helpless to intercede, only able to watch the painful battle, only able to watch as his friend screamed his agony. He woke from the dream sweating and shaking, staring into the night as if it had all the answers.

Iolaus dreamt of the maze. He was standing outside the black walls again, his talisman was gone, his identity was gone. He stood shifting slightly from foot to foot, arms hanging loose by his sides, uncomfortable in the itching blue tunic belonging to Jason; he stared into the black future and he was afraid. More afraid than he could ever explain to Hercules, more afraid than he could live with. He was too afraid to take the one small step that would bring him inside the maze. He felt the coldness of the black mist touch his face and he cried out silently in his sleep.

Zeus stopped his pacing to see what his favourite son was doing now. Walking. Walking where for the Gods sakes? What good would it do? Zeus was angered and relieved and confused, it seemed that Iolaus had managed to somehow avert disaster. The mortal had fought the darkness back into its own realm, and now he was with Hercules. All was as it should be; or was it? Zeus had his doubts. It wasn't just Iolaus' appearance that had changed; his whole demeanour was different now. He feigned the usual good humour, he pretended at the jokes, he wasn't Iolaus anymore.

The King of the Gods recognised it, he wondered how long it would be before Hercules, his son, would take the rose coloured glasses from his eyes and see the truth too. Iolaus may have won the battle but the Dark had won the war. It still held his soul. And Zeus could do nothing but watch, he knew how Hercules would react to his interference, hadn't he done just the same thing on so many previous occasions. Hercules would reject him because he was Zeus, the lying, irresponsible God that had fathered him. He would not admit that Zeus loved his son, he would not accept that Zeus cared about Iolaus. Helplessness did not come easy to Zeus.

All the God could do was hope, hope that Hercules was strong enough, hope that Iolaus could find even more reserves from some unknown depths, hope that the darkness would be put back in its place and that balance would be restored.

Iolaus hadn't been himself ever since he had returned from the Dark, Hercules had to admit it, if only to himself. But he didn't know how to deal with it; he didn't know what he should do. For a long time he did nothing, Jason went back to the Academy. There were misgivings in his heart but he'd done everything he could, perhaps if Hercules and Iolaus spent some time alone they would be able to sort things out.

They travelled with no destination in mind, wandering aimlessly across the countryside. Stopping only when it became dark, moving on the next day. No one called on them for help; nobody bothered them at all. If the two heroes passed people on the road they would be acknowledged with a nod and perhaps a 'good morning' but that was all. Nobody stopped for conversation, it was as if the two men were too frightening now, people didn't want to come too close.

Iolaus didn't notice, he walked as if it were his only purpose in life. He kept a steady pace day after day. The rhythm of his stride had a hypnotic effect on him; it was almost enough to stop himself from thinking at all. He didn't try and remember while he walked, he just put one foot in front of the other and followed Hercules. He didn't want to remember his life and see it as some flat, colourless line drawing. He didn't want to remember the darkness at all.

Finally Hercules stopped walking; he chose a quiet spot beside a stream to sit and gestured for Iolaus to do the same. In response to Iolaus' questioning looks the demigod just shrugged,

"It's time to talk Iolaus. We can't walk to nowhere forever."

"No?" Iolaus said sitting carefully on the grassy bank.

"No." Hercules sighed and looked at the clear water of the stream sparkling in the sunlight. "Iolaus, what's wrong? Why don't you talk? Why do you walk through each day as if you were one of Hephaestaus' metal soldiers, marching to order? Let me help you?"

Iolaus didn't say anything, he just sat in the dappled shade of the tree and watched a silver fish dart from behind a rock on the streambed.

Hercules waited, he could wait all day if he had to. He had always been a patient man.

Eventually Iolaus looked up at his companion and smiled, "You always were stubborn weren't you. All right, we'll talk if that's what you want. But I don't know what to say."

"How about telling me why when you make a joke now your eyes never laugh. How about telling me why I feel like everything we do and say is a lie, a pretence on your part, an effort." Hercules began to sound angry and his voice rose a little as he finally got to say all the things that he'd been storing up ever since Iolaus had returned to him.

"Why don't you explain to me what in Tartarus is going on in that head of yours! We've been wandering aimlessly for weeks, every day I've expected you to ask why. Every day I've waited for Iolaus to show up." Hercules' voice stilled as he said this and he looked with confusion and more than a little fear into those familiar shards of the sky that were his friend's eyes. "Tell me what happened to my friend, tell me where he is."

"I don't know Hercules. I think he's spread so thin that he can't … I don't know." Iolaus stood up and began to pace in frustration, how could he ever find the words to explain. " It's just that … in the dark … I … it felt as if my mind were spreading out - like that cloud up there - dissipating. All my memories faded into nothing more than faint pictures without words or emotions. I forgot how it felt to love, I forgot what it felt like to be your friend, I forgot the rush of battle. And when I came back it still felt that way. It still does; and Herc, it scares me."

Iolaus sat down again, close by Hercules' side and the two men were silent for a long time. They listened to the birds chattering in the trees, and the tinkling rush of water, they watched as the sun moved the shadows across the grass but they didn't speak. Not until the sky was turning golden and the day began its turn to night. It was Iolaus who broke the silence.

"Have you ever been afraid of the dark? When you were a kid did you ever insist your mother leave on a light?" He watched as Hercules shook his head and smiled sadly, "I did."

Hercules grunted in surprise, he'd never known Iolaus had been scared of the dark, in all the years they'd known each other he'd never known that. He waited for Iolaus to tell his story.

"I was very small, I don't know how old. It's one of the only memories I have now that has life in it. I can still feel the fear. I can taste it. Every night I convinced myself that there was something watching me from the darkness surrounding me. I strained me eyes to see, I listened for a sound, but there was nothing. Then one night, I was lying on my stomach just about to drift into sleep and I felt something tap me on my back. A little tap-tap in the middle of my back, like someone's fingers. Of course when I sat up there was nothing there, but I spent the rest of the night watching. I didn't dare lie back down, I didn't dare do anything."

"Why didn't you call your mother?"

"Skouros was home. I didn't want him to think I was a crybaby. I knew he'd just make fun of my fear. So I was silent, I never told anyone about that night. But my mother knew anyway. My fear of the dark grew so that when Skouros was away she'd let me sleep with her in front of the fire. I was only very young, I expect she thought I would grow out of it. I did - until … well, until now."

Hercules saw that as a good cue for him to gather some firewood and build a campfire, while he was doing that Iolaus went about catching some of the fish they had been watching. Hercules stole a few glances at the fisherman and sighed, Iolaus was taking no joy out of his task and he wasn't giving the demigod instructions on the best way to build a fire or to gather wood. He just sat there and fished. As he went about trying to light the fire Hercules realised that was what bothered him the most. Iolaus was the most energetic, bouncy person he had ever met, but here he was still, calm, and apparently content to be so. It just wasn't his buddy.

Michael thought for a long time about what he should do next. Zeus was still pacing somewhere on Olympus, Hercules was finally trying to get Iolaus to talk, and people were beginning to forget the dark time. The Light felt that balance was not restored yet though, it knew that the Dark was still in control and it had left Michael to decide what should be done. The Dark could afford to wait, he wasn't sure he could.

But what could he do? The power for a resolution, the restoration of balance still lay deep within Iolaus. Perhaps it was time for him to know this.

Iolaus couldn't sleep; he tossed and turned under his blanket as he tried to flee the dark dreams that chased him. He feared the nothingness; he feared the feeling of losing himself to the air. In the end the hunter sat up and pulling the blanket around his shoulders stared into the still burning fire. Its bright flames sending all thoughts of the maze and the dark scuttling for cover.

He didn't know what he could do though. Hercules was expecting something of him, he was expecting him to find a way to 'be' Iolaus again, but he didn't think he could. The irony wasn't lost on Iolaus, after death he had been able to return to his old self, full of fun and vitality, but after this non-death he had nothing left. He didn't even feel anything for Hercules anymore; the only emotion he really felt now was fear. He was constantly in fear.

The hunter watched as dawn spread its rosy fingers over the landscape and sighed. What would today bring? The answer stood in front of him; all in white Michael was silent as he waited for Iolaus to notice him. He was worried and scared himself but he would never let a mortal know that, or a God for that matter. Not even Iolaus could be allowed that close to him.

"Hello Michael." Iolaus was not surprised at his visitor, nothing surprised him now.

"Shall we walk Iolaus? I'd hate to wake Hercules."

The two men walked alongside the stream until they were far enough away from the camp not to be heard.

"What do you want?" Iolaus said.

Michael had known that this wouldn't be easy, but the hardness in Iolaus' voice worried him. "I want to help you Iolaus."

The bitter laugh that came from his companion made Michael give an involuntary shudder. He could still be surprised, and he could still be scared.

"Help? Isn't it a bit late for that? Where were you when I needed you?"

"You know the answer to that Iolaus. You know in your heart that it isn't always as simple as you want it to be. Don't ask what might have been, ask what is. Let me help you now Iolaus. Don't you want your old life back?" Michael waited for the answer to his question nervously. If Iolaus didn't want his life back then the Darkness had truly won and there was nothing Michael or anyone else could do.

Iolaus stared at the strengthening dawn on the horizon for several long seconds before answering, "I want … I want to feel again. I want to know what it is that I'm missing. I want the emptiness to be filled. Can you do that? Can you bring that back for me?"

Michael shook his head sadly. "I can't do it for you Iolaus."

"I might have known!"

"But I can show you how to do it for yourself." The Archangel watched Iolaus' face as a doubtful expression of hope slowly dawned on it, "I'm sorry Iolaus, it won't be easy."

Bitter, again the sound of his laugh was so full of bitterness that even Michael recoiled before it.

"It's never easy Michael. Not for me. What do I have to do? And what else is this about? You wouldn't come to me just to save my soul, it has to be about more than me … doesn't it?"

Michael nodded slowly, this mortal had learned so much, he was so much more intelligent than he ever gave himself credit for. "No, it isn't just about you Iolaus. It's about balance. It's about night and day; it's about your butterfly. When the Dark told you that you were its 'little pivot' it wasn't lying. The balance between the Light and the Dark is held inside you Iolaus."

Iolaus watched Michael carefully but he didn't say anything,

"I don't know why. Not even the Light knows why, perhaps it's because light and dark are so perfectly balanced within you. Perhaps it's because both strengths have touched you. You were a part of the Light; Dahak was a part of you for a time. I really don't know why. But I do know that you hold the key to mankind's future."

Iolaus sat down under a tree and leaned back against the smooth bark on its trunk. He shook his head; this was all too much for him to take. Too much to be expected to bear.

"I'm sorry Iolaus. You have to return to the maze, you have to find a path into its very centre." Michael fell silent.

"Then what?"

"I don't know. That battle is yours and yours alone. It's where you get the chance to reclaim your soul, and it's where balance can be restored."

"Balance? Why balance? Why not destroy the Dark and be done with it? Why should I go through all this only to give the bad guy a slap on the wrist and tell him he mustn't attack me again? What is there to stop it from coming back?"

Michael wanted so much to be able to give Iolaus the answer he sought, he wanted so much to be able to tell him he could destroy the darkness once and for all, free them all from its dangers. But he couldn't do that, "I think you know the answer Iolaus. You just don't want to accept it. Remember the colours of the pain you felt Iolaus, when you're in the maze, remember the colours and believe."

There were tears standing in the hunter's eyes when he next spoke, he didn't feel strong enough to do this, but it looked like it was all down to him anyway. He wanted nothing more than to be able to pass on the responsibility to somebody strong, like Hercules. But he was Iolaus, and even an Iolaus who was a mere shadow of his former self could never do that. "How do I get to the maze?"

"It's inside you Iolaus, the Dark planted it there, deep inside you. You can find it again, it's never that far away from your consciousness is it?"

Iolaus shook his head, and without saying goodbye stood and walked back to the camp. Michael watched him until he was out of sight. "Good luck Iolaus. May the Light be in everything you do."

Chapter 8

Michael had made it sound so easy. "It's inside you." he'd said. "You have to find the centre of the maze and restore balance." How do you do that t