At first when Iolaus entered the temple it didn't seem like anything special. A rough rectangular building with narrow windows. He turned in a circle and stopped short when he saw the door was just gone, a rustling noise filled the empty temple and he felt his stomach drop to his sandles. Slowly the room filled with color, with people and with music. As the scenery solidified he forgot why he was there, why he was alone in a crowd then he was standing on a stage with hundreds of people filling every space and they were all enthralled by him. Elation filled him, the more he spoke, the more stories he told the more they applauded, the greater the praise. He was the greatest story teller in history and the people loved him.

Until he began to run out of stories. He felt his heart hammer in his chest as he struggled to think up new stories, and it wasn't until he realized that he was repeating himself when he realized his mistake. He looked around at the restless crowd and felt his skin grow cold, the expected him to regale them, to entertain them and thrill them and he was failing. He closed his eyes desperately trying to think of another story when an image of his friends, of Hercules, Autolycus, Atalanta, Amphiaraus and even Thaddeus filled his mind's eye, the late nights around campfires when he entertained them with stories he'd made up during long days traveling. Of the nights when they all supplied bits of a story and told it together. He remembered his earliest fumbling stories when he was a small boy and how his Uncle Hercules had encouraged his tales, he had been inordinately pleased by his heroic uncles praise and had spent every waking moment for months after coming up with stories.

He opened his eyes and looked around at the irate faces demanding he entertain them and longed for the company of his friends, even for the company of the new women who were so unlike anyone he'd ever met. His mind spun wondering how he'd even come to be in this unfriendly crowd and it took him a conscious effort to recall how he'd gotten there and suddenly the crowd surged their faces turning demonic and the hands that grasped at him had vicious claws. He tried to get away from them but at every turn there were more and more of them and he retreated to the only place free of demons was the stage. He clambered back up and stared at the sea of monstrous faces.

He was at a loss for how to escape when he recalled the riddle Artemis had spoken when they reached the Temple. "How do I turn this around?" He wondered frantically.

The demons pressed in closer howling and he desperately ran through his options before thinking about his weakness, he pressed his hands to his ears and closed his eyes. "Seven challenges to test the mind, weaknesses in every heart to find." He mouthed the words before an insane idea occurred to him and he opened his eyes lowering his hands.

He started spinning a story, a story of a daring escape and as he spoke it began to happen, he cast himself as the hero of the story and as the story progressed the demons began to fade, he made his way through them still speaking until he reached the grand finale of the story and the door appeared. He threw himself desperately through the door and out into the morning sunlight. He turned to yank the door closed and stared at the expanse of open ground and his friends about 20 yards away.