"Go home and relax," the Professor had said. "I'll make sure your home is watched discreetly, just in case Nathan, Kershaw, or any of their mutual friends try to drop by. You'll be fine, don't worry."

Julian had then been led to a new-looking estate car in the grounds of what turned out to be Greenwood University, no more than ten miles from where he lived. The car was black with tinted windows, and Julian wondered if they could make it look any more suspicious, especially with Steve, who was apparently one of the Professor's personal security entourage, at the wheel, wearing his permanently serious expression like it was part of his suit. Julian also wondered how Professor Arkwright justified having his own security personnel at the University without calling too much attention to himself.

Steve was silent as the car moved quickly through the suburban streets. The sun had begun to set over the houses to the west, casting them into shadow beneath the darkening orange-red sky, and the working population had begun to travel home for the evening, filling the roads with increasing amounts of traffic and slowing their progress somewhat. Julian spent a few moments considering whether Steve was one of the Awakened too, and almost asked him, but didn't quite as comfortable with him as with the Professor, and decided to leave the question to speculation for the time being.

By the time the car came to a halt, a few streets from Julian's house, it was already dark. Streetlights, slowly turning yellow as they heated up from their original red hues, lit the pavement in both directions. There was a mechanical click as Steve activated the central locking system in the car and unlocked the doors.

"Best to walk from here," Steve said in business-like fashion without turning his head. "They could be watching. But don't worry, we will be as well."

"Thanks," Julian said quietly as he reached for the handle and opened the door, feeling the chill in the air outside immediately cut through his jacket. He turned his head slightly back into the car. "What should I do now?"

"Professor Arkwright will contact you," Steve said, still not turning his head. "For now, just stay at home and rest. Now, you'd best be on your way, it would be unwise for the wrong people to see us having this conversation."

Julian nodded silently and pushed himself out of the car, closing the door behind him with a throw of his wrist. The car immediately pulled away, driving down the street into the yellow-tinted night and leaving Julian alone in the middle of the street. He crossed his arms and rubbed just below his shoulders with opposite hands in a futile attempt to stave off the cold, then started to walk in the opposite direction to where the car had driven, towards his house.

His gaze flicked from shadow to shadow, eyes peering for any sign of danger, just as he had done the previous night after he had nearly been shot. Steve had dropped Julian off along the route he usually walked to get home from his local underground rail station, so he knew the route well, and the five minute walk seemed to take so much longer as he felt the threat of attack pressing in on him from all sides.

Finally turning into the cul-de-sac on which his house was located, Julian breathed a sigh of relief that the house was still standing, and apparently not broken into or harmed in any way. He fumbled in his pockets for his key ring and shivered in the cold, panic slowly rising as he failed to find it on the first attempt. He tried again, fishing around in his inside jacket pocket, and quickly found it in the first place he had looked. He allowed himself a slight ironic smile.

His key rattled in the lock as Julian unlocked his front door and pushed it tiredly open to enter his house. The warm air beyond beckoned him in, and he wasted no time in getting inside, closing the door firmly behind him, and taking off his cold jacket, hanging it over the banister at the bottom of the stairs to the right of his front door.

Kicking off his shoes, Julian turned back to the main door and made sure that each lock and bolt had been closed from the inside. He wanted to feel as secure as he could this evening, despite any promises he had been given that the house would be kept under surveillance. He didn't trust anyone right now.

Passing through the archway into his lounge, something made Julian stop suddenly. Something didn't feel right. He peered into the darkness, seeing the greenish glow from the digital clock in his video recorder, but his eyes were not yet adjusted to the light to see very much else with thick curtains drawn across the windows, blocking the light from outside.

Standing there, in the archway, Julian felt a tingling sensation begins to creep over his skin. It felt warm, inviting somehow, and Julian's memory immediately launched itself at the one time he had felt that before.

"Nathan?" Julian spoke softly into the darkness.

"The very same," came the reply, Nathan's voice containing the playfulness that Julian recognised from their previous conversations. "Now that you're back, you should probably turn the light on. It'll look less suspicious."

"I'm not sure I know what you mean," Julian replied as he raised his hand to flick the light switch next to the archway. The room was suddenly filled with a warm bright glow as the light bulbs overhead came to life. Julian looked around the lounge and saw Nathan sitting back on the sofa, his jacket draped over the back. He still wore the same shirt and tie from that morning, though one arm of the shirt had been torn away, his arm wrapped in a bandage through which Julian could clearly see some a dull red stain, streaked along the outer edge of his arm. "Kershaw shot you?" He exclaimed with more concern than he had expected.

Nathan looked down at his injury and raised his other hand to the bandage, grimacing slightly as he touched it. "Yeah, he got me. Just a graze though." He sighed and looked back up to Julian, who was still standing in the archway, a hesitant expression painted across his face. "There are some demons watching the house out there. Have been all afternoon. I managed to get in without being noticed, I think. Getting out again may be a more difficult task."

"Just how did you get in here," Julian asked, a little suspicion colouring his question. "I didn't notice the door was unlocked when I came in."

"Well," Nathan chuckled quietly to himself. "When you've had to exist like I have, fighting for your survival, as well as trying to protect others, you learn a few things. Don't panic, I didn't damage anything."

Julian still stayed where he was, standing in the archway into the lounge. His mind was split between the trust he had started to feel for Nathan, and the warnings that Professor Arkwright had given him.

Nathan seemed to sense the battle going on within Julian, and after a few seconds of silence between them, spoke again. "What's wrong, Julian? Just where have you been all day? I couldn't find you after I finished with Kershaw. Who, incidentally, won't be bothering you for a while."

"What, you mean you talked things through after your fight and he decided to join our side?" Julian tried to make the question sound like as much of a joke as possible, though the meaning behind it was very serious indeed as he remembered the Professor's words about expecting Kershaw to claim to have switched sides.

There was a moment of silence as Nathan's smile melted into a frown of confusion. "What?" He blinked. "No, not at all. Demons don't switch sides, Julian."

Julian breathed a silent sigh of relief and leaned against the side of the archway, feeling a little more relaxed, but still refusing to enter the lounge. "So what happened?"

"I was trying to keep Kershaw busy while you got out," Nathan explained. "We exchanged a few shots as we used the tables for cover. But when you made your break for it, Kershaw aimed at you, and he probably would have hit as well, if I hadn't managed to hit him while he aimed. Right through the shoulder, too.

"Once I saw that you had escaped through the front door, I made my own way out through the window at the back of the Angel. Kershaw managed to get a glancing shot across my arm as I jumped through, but otherwise I was fine. He didn't follow. I think I got him pretty bad, actually.

"After I picked myself up from the broken glass on the floor, I dashed around the front to see if I could still find you, which I couldn't, so I went to see a friend of mine about my arm, got it fixed up, and then came here and waited. Which brings me back to the previous question; where have you been all day?" Nathan paused as Julian considered his words, then continued with, "And add to that, why don't you come in and sit down?"

Hesitating a moment, Julian stepped slowly into the room and sat down carefully in the chair opposite his sofa, watching Nathan with one eye as he did. "The reason you couldn't find me once you had escaped is that I was tranquillised just outside the Angel and given a mandatory invitation to visit someone who wanted to talk to me."

Nathan sat up straight, brows furrowing as a distinctly worried look crossed his face. Julian twitched involuntarily with surprise as he did. "Who?" There was a very brief pause and then, in even more worried tones, he added, "Julian, what's wrong?"

Sighing with indecision and frustration, Julian decided to be honest. He rubbed his forehead with a hand and looked at the floor. "It was Professor Arkwright of Greenwood University." Julian tried not to smile as Nathan's expression exploded into one of concern bordering on panic, and kept speaking before he could say anything to interject. "Ah! I see you know that name!" His voice sounded like he was making an accusation.

"Of course I have!" Nathan snapped. "I doubt any one of us spent more than a week Awakened before we heard that damned name!" His voice melted into deep concern. "You're okay, aren't you? What did he do to you? I'm sorry, Julian, I had no idea-"

"He just wanted to talk," Julian interrupted loudly.

"Talk?" Nathan shook his head. "That's very unusual. His policy is usually 'kill', not 'talk'. He must think you know something."

"Actually," Julian half smiled, "that's what he said about you."

"What?" Nathan looked shocked, his eyes wide with surprise. "Surely you can't believe I'm as murderous as that evil creature?!"

Julian settled back into the chair, forcing his voice to become calm, hiding the fear he felt. "He certainly didn't look murderous, Nathan. And you're the one with the gun."

"But," Nathan stumbled. "You must have felt the shriek with him. One of their most powerful... no, of course, he would have masked it. Damn it!"

"Convenient that, don't you think?" Julian said, trying to keep his voice free of emotion.

"What are you saying?" Nathan asked, his voice almost pleading as he sank back into the sofa and rested his forehead against one of his palms.

"Just this, Nathan. You've both put a convincing story to me, and they both sound very similar. But you both claim to work for the 'good guys', you both claim the other is a murderer, you both say that the other side has certain mysterious powers, and you both claim that Kershaw works for the enemy." Julian paused, letting the statements sink into Nathan before continuing, still forcing his voice to remain calm. "I knew neither of you just twenty four hours ago, so who am I meant to believe? You claim to have saved me from Kershaw, and Arkwright says he saved me from you and Kershaw."

"But I armed you! I gave you a gun to defend yourself, you could have shot Kershaw with that, and nearly did on your way out of the Angel, as I recall. Heck, you could have shot me!" Nathan spread his arms a little into a questioning pose. "I bet Arkwright didn't do that for you."

"No, he didn't," Julian admitted. "But he did show me that the gun you gave me was full of blanks!"

"What?" Nathan exclaimed, then paused and tried to force his voice into a calmer tone, with little success. "No, Julian, that gun was properly loaded. If I could take you back there, I'd show you the hole in the wall you made with that shot. Probably not a good idea for either of us to be back there any time soon, though."

"Even if you could, Nathan, can you prove it was my pistol that made the hole?"

Nathan sighed and shook his head. "I guess not. But you were tranquillised, right? When they took you from out side the Angel? Surely they could have changed the ammunition in the gun then?"

"Yes, that's also a possibility," Julian nodded slightly. "This is the whole problem I'm having here. You both have stories that are, at the same time, both crazy sounding and just on the edge of believable. Given what I've experienced over the past day, I'm more convinced that the general gist of the stories is true. But which is true? Who is siding with darkness? You both say that things are clear cut, a side of dark, and a side of light; demons and heroes, as you said. But you both seem pleasant enough. My life is on the line, and I have to entrust it to one of you, but who?"

"Julian," Nathan looked up at him, his face serious, but tinged with sadness. "I admit to you, I have killed before. I have killed demons before they killed me, that's what we have to do to survive, that is what we have been burdened with. But believe me, I have always done it after the Awakening, after we knew there could be no doubt. I haven't ordered the cold blooded killing of innocents on the suspicion that they might be un-Awakened souls on the other side."

"I know, Nathan." Julian sighed and sat a little forward. "You don't seem like the sort to do that, but then neither does Arkwright. And Arkwright claimed that you were the one responsible for the slaughter of two innocents on Sycamore Street recently."

"I would like to have seen him give you proof of that," Nathan said, holding back his anger, his control slipping as he continued. "How dare they use that murder like that! Let me tell you, Julian. I was there that night, and I did see those two get murdered. They were un-Awakened, just like you, and we had been watching them for a little while, protecting them from what they had no idea even existed.

"But it wasn't us, Julian. We were there to protect, not kill. No, it was that damned Arkwright and his cronies that slaughtered those two poor souls!" Nathan slammed his fist down on the arm of the sofa, and Julian saw tears forming in his eyes. "They were barely more than kids, really, can't have been more than twenty years old, and they were just snuffed out like some candle that they didn't like the look of. I couldn't do a thing, they drove past in a car and gunned them down from the windows like the cowards they are. And they dare to suggest that it was me?!"

Julian got up slowly, watching a tear roll down Nathan's cheek as he struggled with the memory. He looked up at him and forced and ironic smile. "They didn't even bother to cover it up." He wiped his cheek and shook his head slightly. "Or they couldn't for some reason. But, no, Julian, I can't prove that they did it any more than they can prove I did."

"Do you want a drink?" Julian asked calmly, ignoring the further questions queuing up in his mind. "I've got some tea, ran out of coffee, I'm afraid."

Nathan nodded, looking down and wiping his eyes. Without looking back up he said dryly, "Not afraid that I'm going to creep up behind you and murder you while you brew it?"

Julian chuckled wryly. "Perhaps, but if you had just wanted to kill me, you could and would have done yesterday evening. You wouldn't have even needed to let me see you, never mind save my life, whether that really was a stunt or for real. I'm tired of living in fear that my next move, my next decision, will be my last. So, just for now, we're going to have a drink, perhaps watch the television, talk about the weather, and generally pretend that there is no such thing as this great war, that our lives aren't under threat, and that we're just two normal people having a quiet evening in. Then you can have the sofa for the night if you want. How does that sound?"

"I think I can live with that for now," Nathan nodded, looking back up. "Thank you, just for trusting me this far."

"It's not trust yet, Nathan." Julian shrugged slightly and walked through the archway that connected the lounge to the kitchen. "I'm just resting my life in the hands of that logic right now, and if I wake up dead in the morning I'll know I'm wrong. But today I've been shot at, drugged, kidnapped and had my life threatened on various levels. I need to relax and not look at every shadow like my fate is about to leap out at me from it."

Nathan heard the click of the kettle being switched on and sighed, sitting back and relaxing against the sofa. "So what do you intend to do next?"

"Arkwright's security people said he'd be in touch," Julian called back from the kitchen, "so I'm going to wait until he makes good on that promise and then see if he can provide me with any more proof that he's telling the truth."

"And there's nothing I can do to persuade you not to? He's dangerous, Julian, much more than he has so far demonstrated to you."

There was a pause as Julian started to pour the contents of the kettle into a couple of mugs, using the moment to swallow the fear he was feeling. He knew very well that letting Nathan stay the night could get him killed if Arkwright was telling the truth and his own logic was wrong, which was possible given that there was so much he just didn't understand. But then, on the other hand, if Nathan was telling the truth, going back to see Arkwright could cost him his life as well.

"I'll have to take that chance, Nathan," Julian said as he carried the mugs into the lounge and gave Nathan one. "I need answers."

"I don't agree with you," Nathan admitted, "but I won't stop you. I can't promise that I can be of any help once you're in the University; that's strictly demon territory. But," he handed Julian a scrap of paper, who took it and examined the writing, "that is my mobile phone number. Call me if you need help and I'll do what I can. I meant to give it you this morning before we were interrupted."

"Thanks," Julian folded the paper into one of his own pockets.

"I really hope you don't need to call it, for your sake." Nathan took a sip from his mug and smiled. "Good tea, thanks."

"Well, you have good taste, that stands in your favour," Julian smiled. "Now, the television remote is next to you, put something on you like, and we'll see what kind of a person you really are."

Nathan nodded, smiled, and obliged.

**********

Julian let the energy from the chaos driver pour forth into the world, striking the marshmallow demons and felling them one by one, almost effortlessly with his power. The sky swirled angrily overhead, and the broken remnants of his world lay around him, but his face remained emotionless. One more round of death made no difference now but yet, inside himself, he felt both powerful in his actions, and ashamed of using that power in a way it should not have been used. It was a corruption and a tainting of all that he had stood for, as an Architect, a wielder of creation itself. He was supposed to create, not destroy, and every time he misused that power, he felt like a little part of him died.

The shield around the demon Architect began to collapse, just as Julian knew it would. The demon's defence was so weak, it made Julian think he must have been a beginner, poorly trained, or perhaps just not with the natural ability to wield the chaos driver.

Another part of Julian's soul folded in on itself as the power he commanded struck down his enemy, and he felt every agonising moment of sadness and self-loathing for having again committed the power of creation to such an act of destruction. He didn't even try to evade the fatal shot that blasted into his chest, the parting farewell of the demon Architect.

Julian slumped to his knees, his eyes tearing up at the emotional pain he felt. He had killed so many, and seen so many killed in return. His natural power as an Architect, coupled with the power of the chaos driver he held, had given him the ability to survive, to be one of the last remaining, but he hated himself for it, and he hated the power that had carried him this far. He wished he had fallen along with those killed in the first attacks, so he could have ended his life with a conscience free of the pain of having killed another, no matter how provoked it was, or how much in self defence.

Feeling a presence behind him, Julian turned slowly, shuffling on his knees, gaze fixed to the floor, knowing what it was that awaited him. Without even looking up, Julian knew that the strange golden lemon was staring down at him with its indifferent expression.

"Why?" He muttered, trying and failing to stop his voice cracking with the emotion. "Why do I have to remember this?"

"Because it is who you are," the lemon replied in its typical unemotional voice. Julian's head sank a little lower to the floor.

"Perhaps I don't want to remember who I was anymore," Julian said quietly, tears rolling down his cheeks now. "Perhaps I was happy with what I was becoming. Perhaps I was finally healing from the pain."

"You must remember," the lemon stated blankly.

"Why?" Julian sobbed, still not looking up.

"You must remember," the answer was said in exactly the same tone of voice, almost like a recording.

There was a moment of silence, only broken by Julian's sniffles as he tried to pull himself together. "Who do I trust now? Who is telling the truth?"

"Trust yourself," the lemon replied cryptically.

"I can't do this on my own," Julian pleaded. "Who else can I trust?"

"You will know," the voice was still exactly the same, the lemon's unemotional, lifeless voice giving away no clue to its mood or intentions. Julian wondered, if it really was a figment of himself, what part it could be. It was none he recognised.

"How will I know?" Julian restated his question, voice still pleading quietly with the golden lemon for an answer free of riddles.

"You will know," was the identical reply.

Julian felt the dream begin to fade, and everything darkened as reality beckoned. Desperately needing an answer, Julian looked up just before everything faded completely, and in the brief second before all was black he thought he saw… No, it couldn't have been.

**********

When Julian dragged himself out of bed, he was glad of the realisation that it was a Saturday, and didn't have to go to work. He pulled a dressing gown on, wandered into the bathroom, and stared into the mirror, just stared, for a good ten minutes or more. The memories of the dream lingered within him, and he felt the sadness flow through him again, a powerful, yet strangely indefinable feeling.

He had killed people. But it wasn't him, it wasn't Julian, the person who worked in Marketing, he had barely ever harmed a fly, let alone killed someone. It was something he had done, in a life long before, it wasn't the same Julian. It didn't matter, the memories were returning to him now, and he couldn't escape them. The pain, the sorrow, the shame, they were all his to bear. And knowing that he had killed in order to protect the light and goodness of the world didn't help one bit. He had killed, that was all there was to it. There were no excuses.

"It wasn't your fault, Julian." Nathan's voice echoed softly through the open door.

Julian turned quickly, the unexpected voice catching him unawares. "What? What wasn't?"

"Don't try to hide it, Julian." Nathan shook his head. "I've seen that face too many times before. You're remembering, aren't you?"

Nodding, Julian turned back to the mirror, examining himself as if, if he looked close enough, perhaps the answers to all his problems might suddenly reveal themselves. After a few moments of silent thought, his head sagged a little. "Yes," he replied plainly.

"I know how much it hurts, I felt it myself when I Awakened." Nathan looked away, staring distantly into the mirrored panels that formed the sliding doors of Julian's wardrobe built into the hall wall, as if remembering something. "Death and destruction, the wonders of the world misused for dark ends. It was all so wrong, and yet, we could not give up." He smiled faintly and looked at Julian again, who he saw was looking back. "Sound familiar?"

"All too familiar," Julian nodded. He looked back to the mirror and muttered, "I will know."

"What?" Nathan asked, his voice puzzled. "What will you know?"

Julian just smiled at his reflection. "I think maybe I'm figuring some things out. I don't know yet."

"Well, if you figure them out, let me know," Nathan said in a light-hearted tone, allowing himself a wry grin.

"I will," Julian smiled, turning back towards the door. He was about to continue his explanation, when suddenly the phone began to ring. He stepped out of the bathroom and back into the bedroom, picking up the cordless phone he had in there and switching it on. He looked back towards Nathan and shrugged slightly.

"Julian?" The voice was that of Professor Arkwright.

"Yes, Professor, sorry, Charles. What's up?" Julian looked at Nathan, trying to gauge his reaction to the name, but he seemed to be keeping tight control of his emotions and just watched silently.

"Juilan, I have something that I wanted you to see, something that might help you with your current dilemma."

"All right," Julian kept watching Nathan as he spoke, who simply kept watching back. "What sort of thing do you mean?"

"I'd rather not say over the phone. There may be people listening in." Julian tried to gauge the Professor's tone of voice. He seemed genuine, but Julian still wasn't in a mood to trust anyone. Still, there were too many questions that remained unanswered, and he wasn't yet convinced completely who exactly he should be siding with.

"Well, okay then," Julian agreed after a moment. "When would you like me to visit?"

"I'll send Steve around to pick you up in, say, half an hour?"

"Fine, I'll be waiting." Julian gave Professor Arkwright his farewell and pressed the button to end the call, placing the phone back on its recharging stand on the chest of drawers in the corner of the room. He turned back to face Nathan.

"You're still going then," he asked, a worried look on his face now.

Julian nodded and tried to look confident. "I'm still not sure, Nathan, I need answers, and Arkwright may be able to give them to me. And besides, even if I knew for sure already, which I don't," he emphasised, "I would look very suspicious turning down his invitation suddenly."

"As I said last night, Julian, I won't try to stop you." Nathan sighed, his expression heavy with concern. "But please, be careful. Whether you believe me or not, that man is dangerous." He paused and considered a thought. "You still have that pistol, right?"

"No," Julian shook his head. "I left it with Arkwright. Blanks, remember?"

"Oh," Nathan said apologetically. "Yes, I remember."

"Not that I really knew how to use it anyway," Julian smiled ironically. "I'd most likely end up like swiss cheese before I finished aiming the thing."

"I don't know," Nathan grinned, the recognisable playful glimmer in his eyes. "You came pretty close to nailing Kershaw with that one shot in the Angel."

"Now I know you're lying," Julian laughed. He walked back out of the bedroom, past Nathan, and into the bathroom to start preparing himself for his trip to see the Professor again.

**********

Steve had pulled up exactly on time, half an hour after Julian had finished his conversation with Professor Arkwright on the phone. Nathan had stayed hidden upstairs as he left, not wanting to be close enough for any demon to sense him, and hadn't tried again to persuade Julian not to go, although he had repeated his caution that the Professor was dangerous.

The black car, with dark tinted windows, was possibly the same vehicle as the previous night, though Julian couldn't be sure. As it passed through the wrought iron gates and through the tunnel beneath one of the tall university buildings to enter the large courtyard in the middle, Julian felt a certain sense of foreboding come over him. He tried to shake it off, knowing that the same logic that had allowed him to let Nathan stay in his house without fear the previous night also allowed him to visit this place again. No matter who was on which side, both had had ample opportunity to end his life, and neither had taken it. No, there were bigger things at stake here, at least for now, and Julian wanted to know what they were.

Stepping out of the car, Julian was a little stunned by the brightness of the sunlight, as the tinted windows in the car blocked most of its glare. He squinted and looked up, scanning the windows of the buildings for the Professors study. Counting across windows, he located what he thought was the right area and, indeed, Professor Arkwright was standing just beyond one of the windows there, dressed in the same cream suit, or one very like it, as he watched them in the courtyard. Unable to think of a better idea of what to do, Julian waved up to him. The Professor raised a hand in greeting and disappeared from the window.

"This way," Steve beckoned Julian with his usual dry, serious voice. Julian nodded and followed the black suited security man, staying a few steps behind.

The courtyard was empty except for the pair of them, a stark contrast to the busy atmosphere of the previous day. But it was the weekend, after all, so Julian imagined most of the students were somewhere he would much rather be; tucked up safely in bed.

Entering the university building and following Steve up the old staircases within, Julian's footsteps echoed emptily through the stairwell and along the adjoining corridors. It was a distinctly eerie feeling.

The Professor's study was on the second floor, and the pair walked quickly down the corridor to the door that led into it. Steve knocked, and without waiting for a response, signalled that Julian should enter. Julian nodded his thanks and pushed the door open with a slight creak. As he stepped through, Steve reached over and pulled the door shut with a clunk, making Julian jump slightly. He fought to maintain his composure.

Professor Arkwright was sitting in his ornate chair behind his large desk, as he had done the previous day. Julian could now appreciate the full intricacy of the carvings on both pieces of furniture, with his eyesight now functioning properly and the sun not glaring through the window as it had done the previous afternoon. He wondered briefly how much they were worth; they looked as if they could be very precious indeed.

The Professor rose as Julian approached, signalling for him to take the same seat he had occupied the day before. "Please, Julian, welcome." He smiled genially, and Julian sat, noting as he did that the books on the desk had not changed, but had been joined by a few others.

"Thank you for inviting me, Charles," Julian smiled in return as he sat. "I hadn't expected to hear from you again quite so soon."

"Well," Arkwright started as he sat back down, "there's no time like the present, and I want to get you up to speed quickly on what you are part of, and what lays ahead. This world is more dangerous than you realise, Julian, and you need to know what is happening to have any chance of surviving."

"Just what does lay ahead?" Julian asked, trying not to look too concerned.

"Fate," the Professor answered, grinning slightly. The response wasn't in any way threatening, but Julian wasn't at all sure he liked the tone the reply was delivered in, nor the grin that accompanied it.

"Fate," Julian considered the term. "That's a little vague, if you don't mind me saying so."

Charles smiled and nodded. "True, Julian, but it is both the reason we are here, and the reason things are as they are."

"Both of which I know very little about," Julian sighed, a little frustration slipping into his voice.

"Well, perhaps I can help with that," the Professor smiled at Julian, genuinely, showing no sign of deception. "Come, I have something to show you."

Arkwright stood from his chair and stretched slightly, then walked around the desk and gestured to the door, smiling genially. Julian rose slowly and looked towards the door, which was still closed, before nodding a little and turning towards it. The Professor led the way, opening the large wooden door and nodding at Steve on the way past, who was standing to one side.

Turning down the corridor, Julian fell into step beside and slightly behind Arkwright, and heard the echoing footsteps from behind as Steve followed. Somehow, he felt uneasy being surrounded by the pair of them, feeling some of the initial fear that he had when he had originally found himself waking up in Arkwright's study the previous day, before he let his logic take hold and convince him that they were not out to simply kill him, perhaps even help him, as they had assured him they would.

The Professor led them down the corridor, to the steps that Julian had ascended to reach the study. "We have all been searching for the truth for a long time, Julian. It is not just something that we find ourselves a part of now, in fact it has being going on for a very long time. But as more of us have arrived here, on this world, and unravelled the truths of our existence and our purpose, we have more recognised the things at stake, and the cost of losing this battle."

"But just what is that purpose, and what is at stake?" Julian asked, almost rhetorically, not looking up at the Professor as he spoke.

"Put simply" Arkwright mused, "our survival. Perhaps, more accurately, our right to survive. Further than that, as I said yesterday, it is unclear. Two sides, one of light, one of dark, demons and heroes, as you called them, were called upon by Fate, summoned, to fight a war. A great war, perhaps the greatest there ever was and ever will be."

"That much I already know," Julian said plainly as they reached the bottom of the staircase and walked along the ground floor corridor. "But why was the battle called, and what was the outcome, why are we here?"

The Professor chuckled and nodded once as he led Julian and Steve to an unmarked door, halfway down the dimly lit corridor. He checked that no-one else was within sight, and fished in his pocket for a key. "Questions we have all asked for a very long time, Julian. Questions that I am trying to answer, for all of us."

Arkwright pulled out a sturdy looking metal key, metal dulled from surface corrosion, and inserted it into the lock. He turned it once and gently swung the door inwards. Leading down was another staircase, dim and lit more by the faint light seeping in from the corridor than by the lighting on the ceiling of the stairway itself. He gestured Julian inside and turned, giving the key to Steve. "We won't be long," he smiled to the security guard. Steve didn't return the expression, but that didn't surprise Julian.

Julian started down the stairway, slowly edging his way down the very dimly lit passage, one hand raised against a wall, which was made of bare brick and felt grimy and slightly damp. The surface of the mortar between the bricks crumbled a little under his fingers as they passed over it. He could tell this place had not been well cared for, and most likely was not used frequently.

The Professor swung the door shut behind him as he followed Julian downwards, the light becoming even dimmer as Steve took hold of the door and secured it, the sound of the lock clunking shut following the pair of them down the stairs. "Mind your step," Arkwright cautioned, almost as an afterthought.

The stairway turned left sharply part way down, and Julian carefully stepped around, straining his eyes a little to see what lay at the bottom of the staircase. He picked out two figures, standing either side of a door which seemed to glimmer dully in what light there was, indicating that it was probably made of metal. The two figures seemed to move slightly, and Julian felt the fear rise again as he saw the pair hold something out towards him, things that reflected the dim light in a metallic way, like the door, things that looked like guns.

Julian stopped in his tracks, unsure of what to do, or say, but was saved the decision as the Professor's hand rested gently, reassuringly, on his shoulder. "It's all right, both of you. It's Professor Arkwright, I have brought our new friend Julian to see our collection." He lowered his mouth to Julian's ear and explained, whispering, "I'm sure you can appreciate that we don't like having too many unannounced guests down here."

Julian swallowed his fear, a mental action he was getting used to doing now, and nodded slightly, sparing half a moment to wonder if the Professor could actually see him doing that.

"Go ahead, Julian," Arkwright patted his shoulder and released Julian to make the rest of his way down the stairs to the guards and the door.

Walking down carefully, and resting a hand against the wall again, Julian saw the guards more clearly as he approached. They were dressed in black, camouflaged in the darkness, and appeared to wear some form of body armour, almost like he would have expected a police officer to be wearing. By their side he saw not pistols, but what looked like automatic weapons, light, portable machine guns, though Julian's knowledge of firearms was far from comprehensive on the subject.

He realised more than ever at that moment just how serious this battle of light and dark was, and how much Arkwright and his people, whoever's side they were on, were willing to risk to keep their part in it a secret. He also realised, again, just how much at risk his own life was, courting both sides in order to find which one he truly belonged to.

One of the guards turned and pressed some keys on a pad located next the door at chest height. There was a soft bleep, accompanied by a short blink of green light, and the door clunked heavily as the locks within disengaged. The door swung inwards slightly, and a red light poured through the opening that was created, illuminating the stairway more clearly.

"Go ahead, Julian," the Professor encouraged. "Perhaps your answer lies in here."

Julian took the last four steps carefully, his pace unchanged by the Professor's words. Looking hesitantly at one of the guards, he raised his hand and pushed the door open, which for once, was a door that didn't creak or make any sort of noise, which was almost just as unnerving. It glided open, stopping about halfway ajar, and Julian was bathed in a warm redness from within. He stepped through, and heard Charles follow him.

Julian stood just inside the door as the Professor closed it behind them and looked around in awe. Red light shone from the ceiling fixtures and filled the room, which was almost as large as Arkwright's study itself. Along the walls were shelves filled with papers and books, some tidily arranged, others not so well looked after, and some looking very old, from their bindings and the crinkled, yellowed look of their pages, which was difficult to see under the red light. Where there were no shelves, there were tables, and some glass display cases, within which were objects and artefacts that, for the most part, looked unfamiliar to Julian.

"What is all this?" Julian said, his voice lost in awe.

"Our history," Arkwright said, his voice full of the smile that covered his face. He took a few steps into the room and swept an arm outwards, gesturing across the shelves and desks. "This is not just my legacy, but that of all those that have come before me. It has been passed down from one caretaker to the next; this collection has been growing for, well, a very long time." Walking across to one of the shelves, the Professor pulled a pair of light-coloured gloves from his jacket pocket, put them on, and picked his way through the papers and books.

After a moment, he pulled out a book, heavily bound in leather and looking as if it had come from an age centuries past. Flicking delicately through the thick pages, Charles picked out a specific page and turned to Julian, looking up at him.

"This is an account, from the late seventeenth century, of one Frenchman, Pierre Noir. Translated, of course, from the original text and recorded here, over two hundred years ago, by one of the earliest scholars to recognise and remember the truth of who we are. He seems to have been little more than a mill worker, but educated by his family, and a great reminder the level of our station in life does not determine whether we are really one of the Awakened. In fact, Julian, we rarely find any of our kind Awakening in high positions of power or wealth. Most of what we have has been built from nothing."

Arkwright placed a gloved finger on the page in the heavy book and began to read slowly. "The dreams have come back to haunt me again, living dreams in which I know I am alive, and can feel and sense as well as in my waking hours. The things I see are the same, or similar, each time, and grow ever more intense. I see battles, terrible battles, waged by those who are unfamiliar to me, yet I instinctively know their names and who they are, and I know that I am one of them."

The Professor paused. "Sound familiar?" He grinned and continued reading as Julian nodded slightly, his mouth slightly agape.

"I see demons warring with angels, great powers of darkness and light, warring as if summoned and driven by God's heavenly command, and it is my belief that it is indeed because of that which they fight. A power, more vast and great than we can imagine, created this war and set loose these powers upon the world, though what prize they struggle to claim is beyond me.

"That this truly happened is my belief, though I know not where, when or why. It is also my belief that I was somehow a part of it, fighting for those I sided with. I remember little of that specifically, save for that I died during those battles, speared by an arrow of light cast forth by some manner I cannot explain. This is my truth, and as such, this is my secret, for these mere thoughts are blasphemy and would bring about my death, something I have no desire to bring about more quickly, having already suffered the ending of my soul once. My only wish is that I could understand what these memories truly meant, for I somehow know that this is not insanity that haunts me."

"I know how he felt," Julian muttered as Charles closed the book and replaced it on the shelf. "Are there many like that?"

"Take a look," the Professor motioned his arm across the shelves packed with papers and books. "All these, all of them, filled with accounts of those who have gone before, notes and records of culture and history that may be linked to our existence, anything we can find that may give us an insight into exactly what happened in the war we were fighting, and what we may have been fighting for."

Julian pursed his lips and blew air in them in wonder as he turned his head and looked around the shelves. "All this? But, then, how many? Just how many have gone before?" He paused, turning to look back at the Professor. "How many are there now?"

"Obviously, it's impossible to know for sure." Arkwright explained, his voice slow and contemplative. "But it is definitely in the thousands. Numbers appear to grow as you get closer to the present day, but whether that is an actual indication of how we have been distributed through time or merely a product of how beliefs through time have become freer, and the penalties for non-conformist thinking less severe, we cannot say.

"As you heard, though, Pierre was afraid for his life if anyone found out his secret. It is surprising, and perhaps a testament to him, that he found the courage to write it down and record for future generations to find, whether or not it was his intention that we did find it. It makes you wonder how many people simply carried their secret to their grave, both back then and even today."

"But just how many do we know about today?" Julian asked, finding himself being overawed by yet another realisation of how big this all was. The battle, the gathering of forces in this world, the secret war that had been building not just for years, but now it seemed for centuries.

The Professor considered the question for a moment. "Precisely, I couldn't tell you. But certainly in the thousands, on top of the thousands who have gone before in these records."

"What about these artefacts?" Julian pointed across at the various display cases, holding items from the smallest metal carvings to the large stone carvings. "I'm guessing that they were found on this world? Surely we haven't been bringing things with us from the world that the battle was played out on?"

Arkwright smiled and chuckled as he turned his head to consider some of the display cases himself. "You are, of course, assuming that the world it played out on was not this one?"

"I thought that there was no evidence to support that theory?" Julian responded, sounding almost as informed as the Professor, and feeling proud of it.

"Quite right," Charles agreed. "No evidence either for or against it, although there is no sign on Earth of the great cities of crystal or silver metal that we see in our dreams. Who knows if they were all destroyed, though?" He paused and smiled at a thought that drifted into his mind. "Of course, there are always the theories surrounding Atlantis."

Julian raised an eyebrow at the suggestion. "Atlantis? Are you serious?"

"In truth, probably not," Arkwright admitted, a sceptical smile on his face. "But how likely would you have thought our current predicament, had someone explained it to you a mere week ago? I think you understand, it is not wise to discount anything that might be even remotely possible. There have been several surprises in the various things we have uncovered."

"Such as?" Julian pressed the Professor further.

"Take a look at this," Charles motioned to a carving in one of the cases and walked over to it.

Julian approached as well and looked at the artefact. It was a slab of what he thought was sandstone, something he recognised from having taken a class in geology when he was much younger. Into the stone had been cut some ornate, yet fairly crude markings. They looked remarkably like... "Hieroglyphics?"

"Exactly right," Arkwright nodded. "This was found in the tomb of a pharoh who lived some four or five thousand years ago. It had become detached from the rest of the wall carvings it was attached to through the natural effects of age and weathering, but the figures in the carving are quite clear. It was never translated, but the pictures speak for themselves."

As he looked, Julian saw rows of figures lined up against each other in the carving. Some wore pointed tails and carried something akin to tridents and spears, others had wings and bore other weapons, crude swords and such, and some held things that Julian could not identify. "Demons and angels," he mumbled.

"Indeed," the Professor agreed. "We don't know for sure if this is a reference to us, or something inane, but you cannot deny that there could be some connection. If you think about it, you don't have to go very far into the mythology of any culture to see something that could be a reference to us, and to the war that we were involved in. Whether these things really do relate to us or not, though, is impossible to say. Perhaps some are, perhaps some aren't. It makes for interesting research, though."

"I imagine so," Julian agreed, his face almost touching the glass of the display case as he examined the carving closely. "What you have here, it's just... incredible."

"It becomes more so," the Professor grinned. "Because this isn't the main thing I brought you here to see."

"Really? Then what was it?" Julian stood up straight, drawing his eyes away from the carving and looking around the room for signs of any other prominent items, of which there were plenty.

Charles turned away and walked to the wall furthest away from the door, into which was set a large safe, with a electronic security panel next to it. He tapped in a few numbers, and pulled at the large metal handle on the door, which swung open slowly. Reaching into the dark recess that was revealed, Arkwright pulled out a small artefact, fitting just in the palm of his hand.

Turning to Julian, he held the object out, displaying it. Seeing it was almost like a hammer blow to Julian's memory, as he recognised it instantly from the faint memories revealed by his recent dreams, and he struggled to fight his reaction to gasp in shock and recoil. It was crude, certainly, far from perfect, but there was no doubt of what the black disc with red veins was. The Professor had, somehow, managed to acquire a chaos driver.

"Do you recognise what this is, Julian?" Arkwright asked as he turned the artefact slightly in his hand, showing off its sides, black with red veins, just as the front of it was.

"N-no, I don't," Julian silently cursed himself as he realised how hollow and truthless his response had sounded.

"Now, Julian, that doesn't sound like the response of someone who really has never seen anything like this before." The Professor retracted his arm and considered the chaos driver carefully. Not looking up, he continued. "I've done my best to help you discover the truth about yourself, to find out just who and what you've been, and to learn what sort of a world you have really been thrown into. I would be most disappointed to discover that, after all I have offered you, you were holding out on me."

Julian felt a shudder run through his body as he kept his gaze fixed to the chaos driver. He forced himself to close his eyes and gave a couple of short, quick nods. "Yes, I know what it is."

"Well?" Arkwright prompted him further, the expectation clear in his voice.

"I'm not sure, nothing really seems that clear yet," Julian explained rapidly, feeling his flesh crawl while he remained in the same room as that terrible device. The explanation was a half-truth at best, as he was even at that moment reliving the memories brought forward by the dream he had experienced the previous day. Behind his eyelids, Julian saw the awesome and terrible power of creation turned against its purpose and used to destroy and kill. Tears came to his eyes, and he forced them back.

"But what do you think it is?" The Professor pushed further, probing with such simple questions that tugged at Julian's soul, dividing him on whether to admit what he knew, not knowing to what end the information may be used, or whether to bluff and try to remain silent. He was fairly certain that his body language at that moment showed just how deeply he felt fear and revulsion at being in the same room as a chaos driver, what terrible memories it stirred in him, and knew that he couldn't get out of this without admitting something.

Suddenly, a new thought came to the forefront of his mind. It was black and red, the same as the chaos driver that the demon Architect had wielded in his dream. Somehow, in that moment, he knew that the colouration was distinctive. It wasn't there by chance, it was there by design. The chaos driver that the Professor now held was demon in origin.

"It's," Julian stuttered, still trying to decide exactly what to say. "It's a chaos driver."

"So we discovered," Arkwright nodded, still considering the artefact in his hand, running his thumb over the smoothly veined surface. "But we aren't clear on the specifics. What is it for?"

"P-please," Julian stammered, feeling a little nauseous, and becoming more and more sure that the sensations running through his body were not just a result of the fear and hatred he felt for the chaos driver. "Please, put it away."

"Are you unwell?" Arkwright asked, looking up at Julian for the first time since he had brought the chaos driver out of its hiding place.

"The chaos driver," Julian forced himself to say through increasing waves of dizziness. "It was crafted by demons." He thrust a hand out to his side and gripped the nearest desk, using it for balance as he closed his eyes and tried to force himself to centre, leaning heavily to one side. "I think it is affecting me."

"So it would seem," the Professor confirmed. "Tell me, Julian," he continued, his voice almost sounding intrigued, yet not concerned for Julian's apparently deteriorating condition. "Why do you think it does not affect me in the same way?"

Suddenly the pieces fell into place for Julian. Through the mist of dizziness and nausea, he began to look back and saw the pieces of his puzzle fitting together for the first time, things slowly making sense. "You," he panted, his breathing laboured and heavy. "You're a demon."

"Just so," the Professor grinned widely. "As was the creator of this marvellous artefact, a chaos driver, as you call it." He regarded the black and red object proudly, stepping a little closer to Julian as he did, causing him to feel even more nauseous. Arkwright grinned even more at the obvious effect. "He was a very gifted Awakened, our Alexander Petrov. Russian, originally, but was smuggled out of his country to western Europe by some of our kin. He remembered some of the old ways, how to create and shape devices that we had never even dreamed of. He made many things, the pinnacle of which was this beautiful artefact. He died soon afterwards of a strange illness, probably brought about by the chaos he had to forge into the making of it. That was thirty years ago."

"And you're telling me this why?" Julian continued to struggle, his vision blurring now.

"Because, in all those thirty years, beyond some minor effects and discovering that your kind cannot bear to be close to it, we have not been able to discover exactly how to use this chaos driver to its full potential." The Professor placed the chaos driver on the desk next to Julian, knowing full well he didn't have the energy to reach it, even if he did have the ability to wield it. "You are going to tell us how."

"I don't know," Julian looked up at Arkwright, his eyes pleading for release from the sickness wracking his body.

Charles laughed out loud. "Oh, don't fool me with that lie, Julian. We've known you were powerful ever since the day one of us first spotted you were one of the dormant Awakened. It virtually flows from you, whether you ever noticed it or not."

"Even if I did know, why should I betray my own kind and tell you?" Julian did his best to spit the words out with the anger and vehemence he felt towards the Professor at that moment, but found himself lacking the ability to sound too intimidating.

"Because I have now shown you just how deep and how dangerous this war is, how many centuries it has spanned, and how many have been killed, even the ones who were unaware that they were even a part of it." Arkwright grinned again at Julian. "If I had wanted, I could have ordered you killed two nights ago on Livingstone Street, or at any number of moments before. But I only wanted you to know just how much danger you are in, how thin the thread that your life hangs by really is. Because I want to give you a choice."

Julian shook his head heavily and looked at the floor, which seemed to be spinning less than the walls for the moment. "Why would I accept any choice from you?"

"Hear me out before you deny me," Charles said, the same grin he bore on his face echoing in his voice. "We could still both walk away from this. Consider," he paused for a moment, though whether it was to think, or just for dramatic effect, Julian couldn't tell. He decided he didn't' care and kept staring at the floor as the Professor continued. "I could kill you here and now, and no-one beyond myself and my people would be any the wiser as to the means of your demise. Or," he left another pause, "you could explain to me exactly how to wield this device.

"In return, we would remove you from this war. Not by death but, rather, by giving you your life back. We would move you to a more comfortable location, give you a new life, a new name, protect you from any of your so-called kind from showing up and troubling you. You could have a job and a life in any major city in the world, all provided by us. You wouldn't have to fight a futile part in this war. After all, who asked you if you wanted to be a part of it? What gave them the right to drag you into it?"

Julian remained silent as he forced his confused thoughts to focus on the problem at hand. As much as it sickened him to think it, the Professor was right. No one had asked him if he wanted to be a part of this hidden war. There had been no choice, no free will. He was merely called on to fight, a pawn of Fate, or whatever force it was that had ordained this battle.

"You fought once already, Julian, and died." Arkwright spoke gently, placing his hand on Julian's shoulder lightly. "You fought your war, fought for the things you believed in, and you should be very proud of that. But there is no reason that you have to fight anymore. Leave that pain behind you and live the life of peace that you truly wish you could have, the life that I am offering you."

Temptation filled Julian's mind like a spreading plague. All he had to do was tell Arkwright what he knew about the chaos driver, which admittedly wasn't all that much, and he would be released from the burden of having to fight further, and more immediately, from the burning pain and nausea tormenting him to the depths of his soul by being so close to the demon artefact.

"I," Julian started, his voice wavering, as was his vision. His body shivered again and he slumped more to the side.

"Yes, Julian?" The Professor beckoned his response, his voice once again light and friendly.

"I don't want to fight anymore," Julian forced the words out of his mouth as barely more than a whisper before he finally succumbed to the chaos flowing through his mind and fell unconscious against the desk.

Arkwright smiled as Julian whispered his answer and slumped to the side. He picked up the chaos driver and walked across the room, placing it in the safe and closing the door, locking it away once more. He looked across at his fallen foe and smiled. "Wise choice, Julian." Then left the room, leaving Julian to his unconsciousness.