Hercules flew to Lydia as if pursued by Typhon, Echidna, and the Furies. He leaned forward over Pegasus's neck and dug his heels into his friend's flanks, clutching handfuls of his mane. He crossed the sea in a state of frantic desperation, conflicted as to whether he ought to turn back so he could be with Megara in her final moments.

Was this flight hopeless? What if he didn't know where to find this antidote? What if Hippocrates was wrong about the kind of antidote Megara needed?

If he let himself think those things much longer, he'd find himself helpless and alone, aside from Pegasus who couldn't speak. At times like this, he ordinarily sought the help of Phil, but he'd left him in a whole other city-state, and Phil probably wouldn't take too kindly to the situation.

As he flew harder and harder toward Asia Minor, Hercules realized that he wasn't without allies. He lifted his head to the sky and cried, "Hermes!"

The god of travel and messengers dove out of the sky as a blue streak of light. When he was distinguishable as a familiar shape, Hermes's winged sandals kept pace with Pegasus. "Herc, man, ya look like you're goin' through it! We were all celebrating your wedding a moment ago, what's wrong?"

"Meg!" Hercules gasped out, then shook himself. He had to say more than singular words, Hermes might think he was fleeing his new wife. He fixed his elder brother with a pleading look. "Someone gave her a poisoned… bracelet… it's magical. Hippocrates is keeping her stable, but we don't know whether we can find the antidote in time! I was told there was some here in Lydia, but–"

"But you're not a pharmacist?" Hermes guessed.

A flicker of humor slipped past the frantic cringe on Hercules's face. "Could you help me find it? Meg needs help as soon as possible! I don't know if I'm too late!"

"I'm gone, man!" Hermes dove through the air ahead of Hercules.

Only as he watched his divine brother fly away did the thought strike Hercules that if he simply summoned his brother from Megara's sickbed, he may never have needed to leave. This was why he needed her keen insights and strategies. He was a man of action, and stopping to think when he could be doing something about the problem was never his greatest talent.

A sinking feeling in his guts informed him he'd soon suffer for never properly developing that skill.

Hoping that the god had better plans in his head than his own, Hercules approached a pseudo-Greek hilltop palace as it came into view.

Hercules prayed to his father, to Tyche, goddess of luck, to his mother and Aphrodite. So far away from his bride, he felt a sense of shame over the fact that he'd left her behind on day one.

If she survived, she'd have a chance to forgive him.

She hadn't even heard him bid her goodbye, or responded to his kiss on her brow.

Right about now, they ought to be tumbling into bed together to consummate their marriage. He should hear her giggling in his ear while he spoiled her, and feel her fingers in his hair.

Pegasus landed outside the palace, and Hercules hopped off his back without hesitation.

If there was any way to save her, he'd have to knuckle down and get to the business of heroism instead of whining in his own mind.

Lydian guards approached Hercules with trepidation, Though they angled their spears toward him, they hid behind their shields more out of fear than tactical intuition.

"I'm going through," Hercules told them in his most authoritative voice. He saw their eyes widen, and one of them angled his shaking spear closer but Hercules batted it out of the way like a fly. The spear went careening through the air so the guard had to run after it. Hercules had no time to concern himself with the others.

The palace doors hung open, and he strode through as if he were an honored guest. There was a grand reception hall, with a throne atop a staircase with windows overlooking the city behind it. A woman lounged on the throne, wearing translucent silks and linens and many ornaments of gold. Hercules quickly assessed that the Queen of Lydia wielded power as much through her beauty as her bloodline.

"Queen Omphale," he said, maintaining the same tone he'd addressed the guards with, "I hear you have a cure for poisons in your kingdom unattainable anywhere else. Please grant me some of this to heal my poisoned wife!"

"Your wife is poisoned?" Omphale's concern was so fake Hercules waited for a punchline. "How tragic... You must be the Mighty Hercules. It's such a shame you threw your lot in with a Princess of Thebes, you know how those people are." She drew a finger across her throat and mimicked death. "The good news is I'm here to offer you consolation." She rose from her throne, revealing more of her body than Hercules wanted to see in the process. "Come, hero, sit and eat. Your poor bride will have expired by now."

Hercules felt himself freeze up. From across the room, Omphale presented as much of a threat to his boundaries as a dozen teenage fanatics mobbing him onstage. Was Megara really dead? Would this be the only woman he'd see in such a state on his wedding night?

The horror froze his veins and petrified his flesh.

Resolve swiftly melted the ice and revived him from his stupor. He would not believe Megara was gone. It was not a reality he would ever accept.

"You will tell me where the antidote is. I won't stay here. I intend to fulfill my duties as a husband tonight." The words were clipped with impatience.

She might be a queen, but Omphale would not get in his way.

"Such a shame you'd refuse my hospitality," Omphale sighed. "Heroes can be so entitled."

"I'm not here for you. My wife needs me. Where is the antidote?"

Omphale tapped her chin theatrically, but it was a time-wasting gesture. Either she knew what he wanted and would share the information with him, or she was trying to delay until Megara died.

Should it be the latter, Hercules would rip her head off.

"You know, I think I know what you want," Omphale said. "There is a cave outside the city. A particular sort of mushroom with tall blue spiky caps grow there. You must collect at least seven of these, and grind them into a powder, then pour them into boiling water and serve it to your beloved corpse-- oh, pardon me-- to your bride."

Hercules fixed her with a glare for an instant before he turned on his heel and stalked back out of the palace.

"Oh, and darling?" Omphale called after him. "I'll wait for your return when you find yourself a widower! It would be a shame to waste a groom like you!"

As he continued out the door, Hercules threw a rude gesture at her over his shoulder without breaking pace.

Her laughter followed him out the door and onto Pegasus.

"We're looking for a cave," he told his friend. "We're saving Meg tonight."

The duo swept a circle around the city, until they caught sight of a cave near the top of a mountain. It looked like the den of some monstrous beast, but Hercules didn't care if it was home.

He flew down to the mouth of the cave and peered inside. There was no sign of mushrooms anywhere. They must be deeper inside.

Pegasus whinnied supportively from the mouth of the cave, his voice echoing to him in all directions. Hercules groped at the walls of the cave, his hands finding stone but no mushrooms. Was this the right cave? In his haste, he hadn't searched for more than one.

He reached the back of the cave, where a thick stench filled the air and made him cough. This was definitely not the cure for anything!

A confused chattering and squealing cacophony hit him in echoes down the cave. He covered his ears, then recognized the cries must be coming from where he'd left Pegasus.

"Not again!" He screamed.

Hercules charged with all his heroic speed through the cave to its mouth. Rain pattered onto the bridge of his nose, then his eyelashes. He blinked it away, and realized there was no sign of Pegasus anywhere.

How could everything, and everyone slip away so quickly?

A blue streak zipped through the air toward him, and when it stopped before him, he saw the grim-faced countenance of Hermes.

"What?" he asked, breathing hard not from the exertion of running but from the horror of his situation.

"I found Hippocrates in Athens," Hermes said. "He offers his blessings to you on your wedding day but he regrets that he wasn't there. He also said it's impossible to identify a poison and its antidote at first sight." He lifted his rosy lenses from his eyes. "Whoever you saw back there at your wedding, it wasn't him."