Standing there at the edge of oblivion, he forced himself to remember the warmth of her gentle touch upon his face.

He recalled that it had not always been so fond a sensation. Indeed, it had come at first as a slap against his very deserving face. His lewd lyrics and leering gaze were nearly never less welcome than more chaste fare so long as they came in the dulcet tones of his voice. He’d been free to blaspheme the great gods themselves so long as he plucked the lyre in his course. But she would stand for none of it.

Eurydice had challenged Orpheus as none other before her--inspired him to consider his song beyond the immediate pleasure it brought--and for that, he loved her with an intensity to match the light of skyborne Helios. Thus had he pursued her. Thus had he courted her. Thus had he hastened to devote himself to her alone.

By the grace of Aphrodite and her arrow-slinging son, the lovely lady Eurydice had seen fit to offer her hand. Her touch was sweeter then: a gentle caress. He recalled with elation the taste of her lips, the sweet rapture of her embrace. It was his dream to sing her to the stars, to write their love eternal upon the night sky.

It was a bitter, broken dream. The bereft bard clenched his fists.

By the cruelty of the callous Fates, her hand was quickly snatched away. And on their wedding day, no less, so cursed by Fate was he. How they had longed to know one another, to lie together that wondrous night as husband and wife at last. The promise of their union was sealed with a kiss. Fate’s rejection of their promise was sealed with a bite.

In an instant, a stray serpent claimed precious Eurydice’s life. Its venom burned through her veins like fire over oil. It did its best to fill her throat with bile and stop her proclaiming her love. In the end, she could only breathe his name, and that breath was her last.

He could not allow it to stand. His soul fought relentlessly against the confines of his flesh, desperate to be together with Eurydice once more. What choice did he have but to answer its call? What greater joy could he seek than her hand in his?

Even the dread hound of Hades was not too great a foe to face if a reunion with his beloved awaited on the other side.

“Go, and do not waver,” came Apollo’s voice amidst the echoes of his memories. He closed his eyes to recall the encouragement of his patron as he stood at the edge of Oblivion.

“Pass through cold Death’s iron gates to reach the onyx throne. Find the gods that govern death and let thy heart be known.”

Orpheus steeled himself with a final deep breath. He savored his last taste of living air before crossing the threshold into Death’s domain. His heart quickened in his chest. His spirit wrenched and shrieked. Determined, he ignored the fear that crept into his heart to walk the path that would take him to Eurydice.