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Orpheus walked towards the end tunnel feeling as if his body weighed a thousand pounds. His eyelids drooped but he staggered forward, determined as ever.
Hours ago, the walls echoed his song, lives from the past cheering him on. Now, as the anticipation of starting the journey had worn over, the anxiety of making it out with Eurydice had overwhelmed him.
You’re almost there, he repeated the mantra a million times over.
The journey to Hadestown felt a lot shorter, that’s for sure.
His shoes had worn down and every other step he’d double over. Just breathing in the air of the underworld had altered his lungs.
Push on, just a few more hours… or minutes… or days…
He heard footsteps behind, so Eurydice must be there. Sometimes, Orpheus could hear nothing but the footsteps of his own. Other times, he could hear Eurydice as she lurched unsteadily, supplying clarity to his mind.
Once, he’d almost turned to check if she was there. Was Hades playing his mind?
Eurydice stomped on the ground and Orpheus snapped into place.
The only thing Orpheus could see was the darkness before him, clouds of red dust. He couldn’t open his eyes for too long. It was like he was stuck in a perpetual dust storm.
Orpheus itched to do one of the only thing he was told not to, to turn around. He longed to see Eurydice, to hold her hand and wrap his hands around her and make sure she was actually real.
He felt so frustrated— frustrated at hades, frustrated at the seasons, frustrated at himself.
Did Eurydice deserve a husband who left her to die? Does she deserve someone who let their one true love grow cold without shelter? Does she deserve someone who couldn’t pay attention to her when it mattered most?
Orpheus didn’t know how privileged he was before, when he could turned around to check if his love was following.
Orpheus closed his eyes. Maybe it’d be easier if he imagined he was someplace else.
The flower fields were beautiful. He rubbed his eyes, hoping it would clear a blurry spot in his vision, but it remained. The flowers farther away turned into colorful specks as the blur grew.
Spring. It’s spring again.
He heard a small laugh behind him, his wife. His Eurydice. He bent down to pick a flower, a red one. He turned around, and he-
Orpheus handed her the flower and she carefully plucked a petal before placing it on her hand, a frown forming on her face.
“Shelter us, Orpheus,” she spoke. Orpheus’ smile fell. Her attire was tattered, like when she died. But Orpheus wouldn’t let Eurydice die, not this time.
He opened his eyes, letting out a choked sob. He suppressed the urge to turn around (a million past lives urged him not to)
Now, nothing mattered but Eurydice. Now, Orpheus had to put getting out of this godforsaken tunnel over his own feelings, over his own doubts. He shoved every negative thought into the farthest depth of his mind, dug his fingernails into his palm till he stopped thinking at all.
Light! his face shot up and his legs ran to the light, ran to the outside.
Oh gods, Eurydice and him actually made it.
“Are you there, love?”
No response.
He walked into the forest, through the path and finally to the house before turning around, to make sure he had succeeded.
His eyes met Eurydice’s, glassy and full of tears.
“Eurydice.”
No response.
His whole body was sore, but he sprinted.
He wrapped his hands around Eurydice, and—
Oh.
Eurydice was gone. The wind picked up and carried leaves through the air, like they were the remnants of her.
Eurydice was still caught in the wind. Eurydice was still working tirelessly without shelter. Somewhere below Orpheus, she hacked at stone with her rusty pickaxe, humming a tune in solitude.
His stomach twisted with rage as he let out a chuckle of disbelief. His vision grew blurry as he teared up.
How could Orpheus be so foolish?