Orpheus was forced to wait for the shades to disembark before he could leave Charon’s company himself. The Ferryman then let him go without hassle, and he set foot on the far shore of Hades at last.

“You are safe from the Styx, at least,” spoke the daemon. “Return here alive, and I will carry your song once more.

“I will return without fail,” asserted the bard, “and I will return with my bride at my side.”

Charon scoffed. “Surely. If I must carry another, then I’ll have that coin.”

“I will hand it over gladly.”

After an affirmative grunt, Charon hovered from the shore to return to his unholy vessel. “Remember my warning, mortal,” he said as he went. “The living seldom get what they desire of the dead.”

The ferry floated away on the waves as soon as Charon touched down upon it. Orpheus watched him with a pensive gaze, contemplating the warning for the first time. It took him but a few moments to shrug it off. “Eurydice awaits,” he said, and he turned to continue his quest.

Wall-mounted torches lit the halls that led away from the shore, and the bard felt blessed to receive a reprieve from the ever-present darkness. But the light soon proved every bit as cruel the shadows, summoning a bright memory to stall and tease the intruder.

It began with a moan that Orpheus first mistook for another outcry from the restless dead, but when the same sound came to him again, he recognized the pleasure in its tone. His heart seized in his chest, and he swallowed hard. “It is not her,” he told himself, but that did not stop the sound.

He quickened his pace, doing his damnedest to shake off the memory of the sweet aroma of her hair. He heard her lilting moan again, felt the warmth of her body pressed against his own. The memory of her kiss came to him as clear as day, and he pressed his fingers against quivering lips that longed to touch hers once more.

He shook his head. “It is not her,” he insisted. Denial served him not.

“Orpheus,” he heard her moan, and the mists of memory claimed him. He felt himself slip backward to that tender moment they’d shared not so long ago, when he’d held her close and kissed her deeply. He recalled her light giggling at the feel of his lips upon her neck. Even as he kissed her, he could not help but smile.

She massaged his arm and lifted her face to better receive his affections. Encouraged by her passion, he lowered his hand onto the lady’s lap. He smirked as his fingers wormed their way beneath her frock.

He frowned when they were swiftly slapped away.

“You are too hasty,” Eurydice cooed.

“I am only too eager to love you,” countered Orpheus.

Eurydice chuckled. “Must you claim my virtue to show your love?”

“Only should it please you.”

“Just hold me close and treat me sweetly. Our union is but a short few moons away. Let me first surrender my heart before I surrender to your passions.”

“I swear I shall never desire anything more than to be one with you.”

Back then, Eurydice’s call for patience had reached Orpheus’ heart. But as it came to him from the past he longed for, it only fueled his desperation.

He snapped out of the reverie to find himself sprinting yet again through the dank halls of Death’s domain. “It is not her,” he repeated once more through his labored breaths. “But she is near. I must make haste! I cannot wait.”

His haste would cost him, for to stumble in Hades was to submit one’s self to the dark realm’s hunger. Surely enough, when the bard’s feet failed him and left him to fall onto his face, he tumbled forward over and through the dirt.

Hungrily, the unliving soil held fast to him and pulled him down. He struggled desperately but could not free himself. He sucked in harried breaths.

“A thousand curses! A thousand curses upon this vile realm!” cried the bard as he sunk. He sucked in once more before he was swallowed whole and dragged into the depths.