Orpheus had loved Euridyce more than anything else in the world. She was his muse, his inspiration, the very melody that danced through his soul. Every chord he strummed, every note he sang, echoed her name. On the day of their marriage, he felt as if the entire universe had orchestrated a symphony of joy just for them. The sun shone brighter, the flowers bloomed more vibrantly, and the birds sang with a newfound fervor. Her breath was like a gentle breeze on a warm summer's day, her laughter a sweeter melody than he could ever compose. 

 

Shortly after their marriage, Euridyce took a walk through a forest. Her steps were light against the ground, her peplos swaying with the rhythm of her movements. Watching her leave, Orpheus could not help but smile lightly. She wandered deep into the forest, green leaves rustling softly in the breeze above her. The earthy scent of damp soil mingled with the sweet fragrance of wildflowers. The grass was lush and big, and the trees stood tall, their branches reaching towards the sky like eager hands grasping for the heavens.

 

She heard a slithering sound before feeling a sharp pain in her ankle. She gasped as she stumbled, her hand instinctively reaching for the source of the pain. Looking down, she saw a venomous serpent coiled around her leg, its fangs dripping with poison. Letting out a scream, she tried to shake off the serpent, but its grip tightened around her leg, injecting more venom with each passing moment. It wasn't long before the gentle breeze of her breath stopped. 

 

Orpheus had run to find her the moment he heard her screams. When he did, however, it was too late. She lay sprawled on the ground, her skin pale and blood dripping from the bite mark on her leg. His eyes widened, his heart sinking as he kneeled down to her corpse, pulling her into his arms and holding her tightly. "Eur-Euridyce?" He trembled, putting his hand to her cheek. Her eyes were dull, her skin cold and lifeless. ".... Wake up... please." 

The musician shook her lightly, tears streaming down his face, burying his head in her chest. The sight of his dead wife was laced not just with melancholia, but it also made him feel strangely determined. He would do anything to see her breathe again, even go to the depths of the underworld. So that night, he grabbed his lyre, and started to compose a song unlike any heard before. It was a threnody so despondent that even the gods wept as they listened. 

 

After he had finished composing it, he journeyed to the underworld, where he beseeched the ferryman Charon to carry him across the river Styx. The ferryman agreed, bringing him across the underworld's dark waters in a boat made of molding wood. He kept his head down the entire time, clutching his lyre tightly. As they arrived at the House of Hades, he promptly disembarked, his sandals thudding on the ground.

 

He approached the House of Hades, its towering walls rising ominously over him. The air was thick with the scent of decay, the faint whispers of lost souls being the only sound. 

Quietly, the musician went into the throne room of Hades and Persephone. The goddess of spring was sitting on her throne, a crown of thorns resting atop her long flowy hair. She wore a garment of dark green and black. Next to her was her husband, Hades. He had dark hair like shadows, a scroll in his lap as he worked, the faint glow of the underworld's flames contrasting with the dark and focused look on his face. Next to him was the Helm of Darkness, an artifact capable of shrouding its wearer in shadows and rendering them invisible.

 

The musician approached them, clearing his throat. "Goddess Persephone, Lord Hades," Orpheus began, "I have composed a song that I hope will touch your hearts as deeply as my own. It is a lament for my beloved Eurydice, whose untimely death has left my soul in eternal sorrow. Please, grant me an audience and hear my plea." Hades looked towards Persephone, who returned the gaze and nodded. "Very well," Hades said, turning to Orpheus, "you may perform your song." The musician took a deep breath positioning his lyre, strumming the strings, causing a haunting melody to fill the air. 

All of those from the realm listened in silence as he began to sing, his voice full of so much lament that even the walls seemed to weep. Persephone and Hades both listened intently. Even the erinyes, known for their cold hearts, were moved, their harsh features softening with each note. 

 

When the last note faded, the room grew silent for a moment, before Hades spoke, "Impressive. Your song has touched the hearts of all who dwell here, even mine. I will offer you a chance, Orpheus. You may lead Euridyce back to the land of the living." 

"On one condition, however," Persephone added, "you must not look back at her until you both have reached the light of the surface." 

 

For the first time that day, Orpheus felt relieved. He bowed down gratefully. 

"Thank you both for your generosity, I shall heed your conditions carefully." 

 

He turned to leave the throne room, retracing his steps. He didn't dare to look back, his heart pounding in his chest as he took each step with caution. When he was about to reach the surface, his resolve started to falter. The temptation to look at his wife, to make sure she was really there, overwhelmed him. 

Against his better judgment, he turned around. 

In that instant, he saw her—Eurydice, reaching out to him with a look of despair in her eyes. The moment their gazes met, she began to fade, her spirit being dragged back down into the depths of the underworld. "No!" he cried, falling onto his knees. Orpheus had loved Euridyce more than anything else in the world.