Chapter 53
Chapter 53
2,725 Years Ago
A hush settles over the room as I stay down on one knee, my head bowed in deference to the god before me.
“It cannot be done,” Hades answers, his voice cool. “You ask for the impossible, Orpheus. Leave, or face the consequences of coming into my domain with such a request.”
“I know it is an arrogant request,” I reply, cringing when the ground underneath me rumbles with what I can only assume is his power. “I beg your pardon for that.”
Hades scoffs. “Rise, Orpheus.”
I do as he instructs, gritting my teeth as I face him. After seeing him in countless pieces of art, I find the reality of him…absolutely terrifying. No mortal artist could capture the ethereal violence that surrounds the King of the Underworld. Cloth swathes across his hips, belted with a band of gleaming gold. Matching bands of gold are cuffed around his muscled upper arms, and a collar of gold lays across his chest.
“You arrive here, asking for one of my souls with nary a thing to bargain in return. Is that right?” he sneers.
Charon’s words flit through my head, about music being a rarity here in this part of the realm. “Please, let me play for you,” I say, holding up my lyre. “I believe that if you can hear my music, you will know the depths of my love for my wife; that I may do anything to have her back, for she was taken from me too soon.”
A woman steps forward, resting a dainty hand on the arm of Hades’ throne. Her long curling locks are stark against the darkness in here, shimmering with more gold than one might find in a temple. A simple dress of black is wrapped around her in a way that covers her body, including the immense swell of her breasts, yet leaves more skin visible than an average mortal woman, at her waist and down the length of one leg.
However, what I marvel at is not the skin on display. It is the kindness I see in her pale face as her attention lands on me.
“Perhaps we should hear his song, my love,” she murmurs, the power of her voice carrying to the corners of the room even when whispered. “A mere mortal man traveling all this way, knowing the risk—I am curious about what he may offer us in entertainment.”
I watch in utter fascination as Hades’ face loses that surly look, softening as he looks upon the woman, who must be none other than the Queen of the Underworld, herself: Persephone, goddess of spring.
His hand comes up, caressing her cheek with such reverence that it is as if he were the lesser god. “If you wish it,” he answers her, his attention snapping back to me with a threat in his eyes. I know now that if I do not manage to entertain the deities here—at the very least Persephone—I might as well have fallen on a sword to end things days ago. “Play.”
I waste no time. Bringing my lyre up and strumming a chord as I search for the words to come to me. As always, it takes only but a moment, and then my voice lifts, carrying the sorrow of my story of love lost within it.
I surrender myself to the music, knowing it may very well be the last thing I ever sing at all. My short time with my wife flashes behind closed eyes, causing tears to build in them. My desperation to hold her in my arms again is what I cling to, allowing that hope to trump the fear I feel about my mortality.
My last note echoes, bouncing off the stone, and I blink my eyes open, resigned to whatever my fate might be. The first thing that strikes me is not that the back of Persephone’s hand is pressed to her mouth, soundless sobs wracking her body. Nor is it that the room has been cleared of every other being—immortal or not—and only Hades, Persephone, and I remain.
No, the thing I notice first is the white knuckled grip that Hades has on the arms of his throne, his eyes glistening with unshed tears.
I made a god nearly weep and I do not know whether I should be proud or petrified.
There is no plan when I open my mouth, prepared to ask for forgiveness for the raw emotion that affected them both. But Persephone unintentionally cuts me off before I can, sweeping around Hades’ throne and kneeling at his feet. Her palms land on his thighs as she presses herself closer to him, her chin lifted.
“Please, my love. This once. Grant his request.”
There is regret in his expression as Hades cups her face. “This is not the way, Seph.”
“Please, Hades,” she implores, clutching at his material draped over his legs. “Please. If not for Orpheus, grant this as a favor to me.”
My lips part with a silent gasp at her words, my attention jumping from the back of her head to Hades’ face. His eyes search hers, the hesitation in his expression obvious. His shoulders pull back in a jerk as his gaze flicks to me, a stern scowl on his face.
Against my better judgement, I hold his stare with an unspoken plea, keeping my chin lifted. My muscles twitch as he stands, causing Persephone to shift out of his way, hope lining her features. He crosses to me, the very ground rumbling with power in his every step—even more so than when the giant Cerberus stomped out of the darkness.
When he stops in front of me, the sheer power radiating from Hades is enough to make my knees buckle and slam into the ground; an instinctual bow to someone who could erase my existence in the blink of an eye. My chin touches my chest and my bones quake under the full weight of his attention.
“You are either the stupidest mortal I have ever had the displeasure of knowing,” Hades announces with a hint of disdain, “or the most daring.”
The latter quality does not sound like a compliment coming from him.
“Respectfully,” I murmur, “I am neither, for I am nothing without her.”
The silence that follows has me yearning to look up to see what is happening. Before the urge can win out, Hades breathes out a soft chuckle.
“All right, Orpheus, son of Calliope and Oeagrus, wearer of too small sandals. I will grant your request.”
I leap to my feet, gaping at the God of the Dead in disbelief. “You will?” I choke out.
It worked. I journeyed to the Underworld and my love will soon be mine again.
His hand frames his chin, his fingers scratching at his beard as he considers me. “Yes. But,” he adds, pinning me with a look, “I cannot just let you leave without a trial of sorts. I cannot have mortals wandering into my realm looking to take back their loved ones on a whim.”
I nod. “Whatever it is, I will do,” I agree quickly.
After a quick glance at Persephone, Hades gives me a sly grin. “I will return Eurydice’s soul to you. Once you arrive back in the mortal realm, her soul will be given mortal form once more. It will be as if she never died. However, as you lead your wife from the Underworld,” he says, voice hardening, “you must not set your gaze upon her. Do not turn back at any time before she steps foot back in your world, or she will not finish the journey out, and you will both face dire consequences for your disobedience.”
Persephone makes a little noise of distress. “Hades—”
“Hush,” he grunts, throwing her a silencing look. “It is done, Seph.”
“Agreed,” I say in confirmation. “I will do as you ask. I am grateful for your kindness.”
Hades laughs loudly. “I do not believe there are many who would accuse me of kindness.” He looks past me, toward the way I came into the throne room. “Charon!” he calls.
There is no chance that his voice is loud enough to carry all the way out to the ferryman, even if he was still on the bank where he left me. Yet within seconds, the man made of skin and bones steps in, bowing deeply to Hades.
“Orpheus is to be taken back across the river,” the god declares. “I am allowing Eurydice to accompany him back to the mortal realm. See that her soul is summoned to the boat.” His eyes find me again. “He knows the rest of our bargain.”
“Yes, Lord Hades,” Charon answers, righting himself from the bow he held during Hades’ instructions. He turns, stepping back onto the path that led me here, without waiting.
I bow to Hades, as deeply as Charon had. “Thank you,” I say, emotion clogging my voice. “Thank you, Hades.”
“Do not thank me yet, Orpheus,” Hades answers. The ground vibrates as he walks away from me, but it cuts off abruptly.
When I glance up, Hades is gone. Persephone has risen to her feet, her hands clasped together in front of her. She gives me a slight nod, a warning in her eye, and then she is gone in the span of time it takes me to blink.
I hurry to catch up with Charon, stumbling onto the bank just as he shoves the boat into the river. I glance around, but Eurydice is not here—not yet. Part of the conditions, I suppose. If I cannot look back at her, I must not see her beforehand either.
I do not wait for instruction this time, climbing into the boat and making a point to sit away from the restless souls clawing at the sides. Charon does not enter the boat right away, seeming to waiting for something as he stands lost in thought.
I flinch when the boat dips to the side, evidence that someone has stepped into it. Charon nods as the boat levels out again and then steps into it himself, taking up his pole to steer us.
My heart pounds in my ears, a prickling of awareness traveling along my spine. She—Eurydice—is here. My fingers ache with the need to reach for her, but I dare not turn even a slight bit.
“Almost, my love,” I breathe. “Just a little longer.”
Charon snorts as I furrow my brows at her silence. “Boy, souls cannot speak without permission from the gods. And thank the gods for that. Can you imagine the incessant bellyaching if they could talk?”
As he speaks, it strikes me he’s right. Not even when he knocks loose the grip a soul has on the boat, do they scream or speak. Aside from our voices, the only noise as the boat is pulled along the current is the water itself.
Having fallen asleep on the journey across the River Styx the first time, it seems like ages before I see the bank the boat lands on, my fingers tapping out a simple tune on the lyre to pass the time—and in thanks to Charon for the passage.
When I disembark the boat, Charon’s bony hand shoots forward, gripping my arm in a full clasp. “Luck be with you, boy,” he says, staring deep into my eyes. I jolt with the realization that what I thought were pitch black eyes, are actually empty holes in his head. “You’ll need it, bargaining with the gods.”
He climbs back into his boat without waiting for a response and casts off, leaving me behind.
Without turning around, I sidle to the side, heading toward the path that has appeared once more. I hear nothing behind me, not even the grind of a footstep on the rocky floor as we enter the dark, guided by the light of the torch I have taken from the wall.
I pause when we come across Cerberus, unsure if I will need to play for him again. However, the beast does not stop snoring from all three snouts as I edge around the massive paws and step over the sleeping serpent that makes up his tail.
The walk up the slight incline to the surface, and this time it seems to take twice as long as it did to descend. That little hum of familiarity lingers, letting me know that my wife’s soul is still with me. Legs aching as I trudge up the path, I fight the urge to check over my shoulder as doubt starts to take root within me.
The gods are infamous for toying with us mortals. As the thought crosses my mind, I have to grit my teeth to stop myself from whipping around to find her, to see if this is only a game. Between Hades’ amused grin as he delivered his verdict and Persephone’s terse look of warning, I know I must not look back.
And yet…
The desire to peek is overwhelming.
I grit my teeth, stomping up the path, hands clenched at my sides. Anticipation races through me the longer we go, hurrying along my footsteps until I’m jogging. Somehow, I know that Eurydice’s soul is keeping with me.
My breath leaves in frenzied pants as my jog turns to a sprint when I see the pinpoint of light at the end of the tunnel.
Almost there.
The idea of holding Eurydice in my arms again, kissing her, loving her, makes a wide grin stretch across my face. I can feel her fingertips on my skin as the visions of how I am going to spend the rest of my lifetime with her dance in my head. I am never letting her out of my sight again.
The pinpoint grows larger the longer I run, drawing closer to deliverance. My body should be exhausted, but with every step I take, I find new energy to propel me forward. The prospect of bringing Eurydice back is more important than the limitations of my body. My legs could fall off and my arms would take over, dragging me toward the light.
I burst through the cave opening with a whoop and whirl around, prepared to swing Eurydice into my arms.
Too early.
I turned around too early.
She is still inside the cave.
Eurydice’s soul is shaped like her earthly body, but lacking the vivid colors of life—like the green of her eyes and the rose undertones of her skin. And those eyes—those eyes I have longed to look into again with every fiber of my being—they widen as I spin, her hand shooting forward like she can stop me.
No, she mouths, panicked.
I scramble toward the mouth of the cave, like touching her might anchor her here. “No!” I scream as I watch her form become misty and shapeless, starting with her feet and working up her body. “Eurydice, stay!” I grab for her, but my hands only swipe right through the frigid air that makes up her body.
Sobs wrack her body as she wraps her arms around herself, lost in her misery that I have caused with my overzealousness. As she disappears in front of my eyes, my heart breaks all over again, shattering into thousands of pieces like a clay pot dropped from the roof of a temple.
With one last look at me, full of longing and love, my future slips away from me again, leaving nothing but air and failure behind.