"Orpheus and Eurydice" is a myth in which Orpheus, a musician, descends into the underworld in an attempt to retrieve his wife, Eurydice.
There are many tales in the complex web that make up Roman and Greek mythology. Look in any direction and you’ll find a plethora of tragic and victorious stories of heroes and gods alike. Maybe you’ve heard of Icarus, the son of the ingenious architect Daedalus. The very epitome of the warning to know your limits, Icarus soared past his breaking point and plummeted to his death. Or, maybe you’ve heard of Echo-- a nymph cursed by the goddess Hera to be confined to only speak the last said words of others. These are somber, somber tales. Often these woeful tales are of no fault to the victims, but only a result of a series of dismal choices resulting in unfortunate consequences. Today’s myth, however, is not one of those tales. Today’s myth is tragic because of only one choice-- a choice that will haunt its victims till the end of their days.
The dark was suffocating. It pressed down on Orpheus’s skin like a weighted quilt smothering those trapped beneath it. The only source of light came from a tiny speck of sunlight taunting him from the end of the tunnel-- the end of his journey.
Orpheus had never been one to indulge in his fears. He would brave through the unknown with his arms wide open in song and embrace the obstacles he knew would cause him no harm. There were some that may consider Orpheus’s talent a simple parlor trick to show off-- nothing more.
However, his skill surpassed even the very idea of musical talent: a grand display of the blessings granted to him through his parentage. It would entrance even the most hostile of beasts into nuzzling against his leg with a purr.
Orpheus was a journeyer with the infamed Argonauts, lulling the seas and drowning out the call of the sirens in their quest for the Golden Fleece. He could tame the mighty Cerberus with only a single note. However, no amount of glory from any quest from any god would equate to the love that he found in Eurydice.
And no amount of words could capture the pain that Orpheus felt when his love was snatched away from him.
Orpheus continued to trudge through the tunnel, walking blindly towards the light in the distance. He heard the whispering of his love behind him, encouraging him forward. Her soothing words were like a gentle shove forward even as the darkness seemed to compress around him.
His back straightened with resolve, determined to emerge from the tunnel with Eurydice by his side. The endless obsidian walls almost expanded as he plowed onward, his soft footsteps sounding like stomps, forcing the tiny seeds of suspicion to the back of his mind as he marched.
The hope of reuniting with Eurydice was too great of a blessing to spite by turning back now.
Orpheus stood before the king of the Underworld, his mouth stretched wide in song. His fingers briefly stretched towards the sky no one could see, only returning to his instrument in the lull as he took a breath and poured his heart into the music in a roaring river of sound collapsing around the hall. His tortured song was brimming with his agony for his loss-- a tormented melody for his love.
The wife of Hades’s knuckles were white on her throne with her eyes fixated on the musician, tears openly flowing into puddles at her delicate feet. Her natural beauty was marred by the contortions her face created as the sound of her weeping echoed.
Besides his queen sat the king himself, leaning forward in his throne with his fingers tap, tapping against the arm of his throne. His face was a mask as the vibrations of the music pulsated in the very structure of his palace. Though weakness was not a characteristic the king of the Underworld wore very often, some swear that for a moment-- just a moment-- his hard shell of an exterior cracked.
Some say he cried.
An unanswered question hung in the air, propelled by Orpheus’s song. Hades slowly rose to his feet, and the room fell silent as Orpheus gazed upwards, the tension thick in the air.
The presence of Hades was all-encompassing, seeming to suck the air out of the room with only a mere inhale. His words reverberated in the hall-- no, in the kingdom-- when he spoke, as its inhabitants stared towards the palace, alert.
"You may take her through a tunnel, but she will walk behind you. If you turn around even once, you return to the mortal world without her.”
Orpheus fell to his knees, finally allowing his own building up emotions to consume him for just a moment. His shoulders shook with his sobs as his hands flew to his face in a futile attempt to swipe away the ocean of tears.
Could this blessing be real? The question began to linger in the back of the mind of Orpheus, whose pace had slowed as if he was walking through a snowstorm. The trickery of the god of the Underworld may not be as masterful as that of Hermes, but this gift was… doubtful.
He quietly extended his arm behind him, hoping to grasp anything at all that would give a sign of life. His fingers clutched at only air.
Orpheus once again heard the reassuring voice of his beloved telling him that she is there, she is right behind him. His eyebrows furrowed with concern, knowing of the boundless power that gods possess. Was her voice a trick-- a ploy to deceive him out of the Underworld without complaint? Could he live with himself if that was true?
Eurydice-- his love-- he could never forgive himself if he left her to suffer far away from the sunshine and the limitless sky. When he closed his eyes, he could still see her face twisted in pain as she dropped to the ground, her breathless gasps shortening by the moment. He could hear her cries of anguish mixed with his name-- the syllables barely escaping her paling lips. The images haunted him in the darkness, where he couldn’t escape his own thoughts.
Orpheus’s eyes rose slowly to the steadily nearing light, doubt beginning to creep to the forefront of his mind. He stumbled through the uneven ground, hearing his tread once again echoing throughout the tunnel.
Orpheus stopped short. Where were the footsteps of his love?
Still, the voice of Eurydice urged him to continue to the light-- Orpheus could see outside of the tunnel now-- he could see the blades of grass waving in the wind and the flowers bending in a hypnotizing dance. Wisps of clouds hugged the cerulean blue sky, not concealing the rays of sunlight almost reaching Orpheus’s feet.
He was so close. He was only three strides from his world, from their world. They could be together again-- they could be happy. Orpheus and Eurydice… able to rest from the misery that they were forced to endure.
He reached behind himself once again, and he heard her whispers go silent. Only the wind greeted his fluttering sleeve, the emptiness behind him only a stern reminder of the void that Eurydice’s death left him with.
The hall of Hades was bitter cold, snapping the petals from many of Persephone’s flowers and stiffening the fragile strings of Orpheus’s lyre. Orpheus could still feel the stares of the demons of the hall etched into his soul, miles away from that cursed palace. He could hear the murmuring of shades who couldn’t speak-- a meaningless babble of fear and devastation.
He couldn’t let his Eurydice dissolve into another faceless entity, alone and afraid in the Underworld. He couldn’t let her slip through his fingers-- not again. Not this time.
And so, Orpheus turned back.
And Eurydice was there in the flesh, swaying slightly at the abrupt pause-- but strands of hair barely covering the horror in her eyes. Her ashen lips moved frantically and her hands waved wildly in the air, but no sound came out. Orpheus stared paralyzed in fear, shaking as he realized what he had done. He stared at his love, trembling as she mouthed a last admission of her love to him with a desperate, fearful look plain on her face.
And then she was gone.
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