Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

For the most part, Orpheus did not mind no longer being able to speak.

There’s nothing to say down here. Not in this sorry, windowless, dusty dark brimstone cell.

I reserved some special chambers just for you, Hades has said an eternity ago. Special chambers his useless tongue.

Though there were always guards watching him from the other side, Orpheus has never felt so alone – for the most part with only the unassuming shabby toilet at the corner for company. He gave the toilet a name, Hmmff. He couldn’t – was unable to – give it any fancier name he’d like to, like Megaron, Pigfield, Tartarus or Scatology. But Hmmff – a snort – was not only a sound Orpheus could utter constantly out of annoyance, it also sounded close enough to Hades.

Humfer the Toilet was good company. He spent enough time with it, having learned how to crawl and use it while bound – he had enough time do to so –, confiding in it his shittiest, crappiest, most intimate parts. And he took some ironic comfort in the way he could at least sit on his own throne. Lord Hades may be the King of Hell, but Orpheus was the mute King of the Sing-Sing Cell.

He has grown used to the constant feeling of the cold metal ropes binding him, strapping his legs against each other and wrapping his arms behind him. He has grown used to the thick tape gluing his lips so tight, the feeling of cotton filling his mouth, wrapping his teeth and holding his tongue down, and the way he had to swallow saliva so slowly now – at least he does not even have much saliva to swallow now, so little he ate and drank. If not for that nagging saliva, he would have forgotten he had a mouth.

The ropes were not so bad. They were comfortable if he didn’t strain his limbs so much. The cotton, too, felt always so fluffy and soft in his mouth. He could hum himself to sleep with the thought of fluffy clouds. He could live the rest of his sorry life like this.

Even the sticky pressure of the tape didn’t feel bad. He even liked it, in a way. It felt pleasant on his permanently pursed lips, like a sip of honey. He took reassurance in the constant, warm pressure every day – the closest feeling he had to a thick blanket wrapping him. His lower half face muscles were always relaxed, still as a mask – he would never strain them by frowning, or gritting his teeth, or clenching his jaw, or forcing a smile when there’s nothing to smile about. His chin would never fall down his face, there’s nothing to be surprised about in this cold and dark brimstone cell.

He couldn’t sigh, though he sometimes still wished he could. He could take a deep, sorrowful breath through his nose, at least – the only way he could breathe. At least it kept him calm.

He could not do much beyond lay around like a sorry worm every day, but he just had enough energy to do so. He missed being able to talk and walk beneath the stars, feeling the soft green grass beneath his running feet. He missed the rivers, the trees and the birds. He missed mindlessly playing his lyre with his hands, or the feeling of pencil and paper between his fingers. But he felt so weak his hands and legs would perhaps still fall flaccid even if they weren’t bound by metal wires, holding his limbs together like bracers.

He could not utter any sound beyond the m sound. But he’d perhaps still have the energy to only do so even if his lips weren’t permanently sealed shut. At least he wasn’t forced to think of any intelligible words to say, to keep his speech clear.

One sound was enough. He could still pitch this sound high and low, from the bottom of his throat. He could still hum.

Sometimes he thought of his younger self, always frustrated with flutes because he could not sing while playing them. It did not make sense to him then, why would he have music without words, without being able to praise the sea and the stars, the world around him as he sang.

He has grown a newfound respect for flutes now.

On the other hand – bound behind him, the two hands are basically one now –, there’s nothing to praise in this brimstone cell.

There one’s thing he really, really wished he could have his hands freed for, though. To teach Mister Hades how to property tune that damned accordion.

But when he saw her alone against the dusty wall, there was nothing in the world he wanted more than being able to speak again.

Ragged, bound and gagged just as he was, she came tucked inside a dirty dark bag, like the one that had wrapped him in dusty darkness an eternity ago. Her eyes – so deep, so dark, reflecting the dim light in this sorry cell like a starry night sky – darted around, confused. She was so dazed she did not even register Hades’ abominable accordion playing, or Orpheus’ muffled screams.

She did not recognize Orpheus in front of her.

And this is how Lord Hades left them, thrown together in this cell so they finally might talk about everything that happened before, except Eurydice has forgotten everything, and they’re both unable to talk.

Orpheus tried crawling close to her.

“Hmmmmmm” he tried, frustrated with the way he couldn’t utter anything close to her melodious name in the quiet, irrational language of grunts and snorts. “Hmm! Hmm hmmphmmm!” Eurydice, it’s me! I am Orpheus!

“Hmmmm!” She moved away from him, retreating in a corner. For her, he was just a creepy stranger. “Hmmmmm! Hmmmm!”

“Hmmmm! Hmm-hmm! Hmmmmm!” How to explain to her to not be afraid of him, that they could go through this together, like this?

“Hmmmm! Hmmmm!” She curled in fetal position at the corner, turning her face away from him. Curled as much as she could, with her hands bound behind her.

Orpheus let out a sorrowful breath through his nose. The closest thing he could do to sighing.

“Hmm… hmm.” He muttered softly, wishing he could just explain the situation. Though perhaps she’d still just retreat away if they could speak.

He figured it would be best to just leave her alone. It’s not like she would – could – ever run away. She’s bound and gagged just like him, trapped in this brimstone cell here with him.

She didn’t look while Orpheus crawled away to overlook each fleck of dust flittering on the walls of this cell on his porcelain throne. Taking an eternity to do so, every day, since he had to sit on that toilet and crawl down again with hands and legs bound. At least Humfer the Toilet was patient. And his journeys there were getting less frequent each day.

She did try to sneak a peek, though, when he started to mindlessly hum a melody – keeping him calm – while doing his business. For a semiquaver, he caught a glimpse of awe in her starry eyes. But she soon turned her glance away, for very understandable reasons.

The foremen still watched them both on the other side of the razor wire bars, but it’s as if there were no one there either way. Trying to interact with any of them was like talking – well, grunting – to a wall. Even then, Orpheus was still glad his beloved Humfer stood unassuming in a corner with a bit more privacy.

He crawled down once again, dragging himself close to her, but still with enough distance between them. He rolled to sit up on the ground, leaning with his back on the wall, the best he could with his hands bound behind his back.

For moments they stayed like this, without muttering anything.

“Hmmm”, Orpheus muttered then, when he felt she may feel a bit more comfortable to have a conversation. The way they could converse with the irrational language of wordless mutterings and breaths through their noses. “Hmmm?”

Eurydice turned her glance at him hesitantly, tension in her eyes. “Hmmm.”

He only observed her, with patience.

She darted her eyes around. “Hmmm. Hmmm-hmm.”

Then she looked down as she brought her bound knees close to her chest.

Confused, dazed, Orpheus understood. She couldn’t figure out where she is, what has happened and what had happened before, because she could not remember anything.

He wished so much he could have his arms free at that moment. He wished he could untie her and hug her, comfort her with words, with a song.

Oh, how he wished he could speak again. So he could tell her everything.

“Hmmm.” He tried crawling close to her again. A bit slower now, trying to be careful, trying to ask her permission. “Hmmm. Hmmm?”

She studied him, wary, guarded. Teary-eyed.

“Hmm.” He tried touching her softly, turning around to rub his hands lightly against her feet. He hoped he didn’t come off as too creepy.

For a moment, they only observed each other. Then Orpheus turned around again, not wanting to take up her space.

Eurydice rubbed his hands with her feet.

“Hmm.”

He turned to look back at her, slowly, carefully. Slowly, carefully, they reached closer, their faces close.

Orpheus must admit, the strip of silver tape sealing her mouth – a perfect rectangle, with harmonious proportions – was… beautiful, in a way. It glistened softly in the dim light of this brimstone cell, like a river shimmering under moonlight. It emphasized her starry dark eyes, and her soft features, while completely concealing any hint of a mouth beneath its silver shine – fitting perfectly on her face as if it were part of her skin, her chin and cheeks and jaw as still as a mask, as if she never had a mouth to begin with. Eurydice looked so beautiful with that tape.

They got matching metal bounds, gleaming like the rays of the Sun. Hades said they also got matching tapes. Orpheus would have smiled so much with that thought, if he could still smile. Though hers, of course, had no holes or cracks breaking its smooth, tight surface like he knows his does. She no longer needs to eat and drink like he does. Or to use the bathroom, which Orpheus was glad about, because he didn’t want anyone else using Humfer.

Now their noses lingered close to each other, as they breathed the same breath. Her breath was cold. Her body, too, cold like the winter snow.

She leaned close to him, lowering her head on his chest as he uttered a surprised “hmm?”

She laid her ear on his chest. Her eyes widened as she heard Orpheus’ beating heart. Still beating strong, despite his sorrow. He uttered a soft hum as she leaned her body close to his.

She stayed there listening, for a long time. Orpheus couldn’t do much other than keep himself still right there either way, but he pictured himself running his hands on her silky dark hair if he could, rubbing them on her back.

He then laid his own ear on her cold chest. He heard nothing. Her heart was as still as a stone, heavy and hardened.

He let out another sorrowful breath through his nose as he lifted his head, studying her with concern. Her eyes found his, her brows burrowing in a frown.

“Hmmm…”, Orpheus uttered, forlorn. Eurydice, I’m so sorry.

Her eyes glanced down from his face to his chest, then to his face again.

“Hmm. Hm-hm-hmm.”

“Hmm?”

“Hm-hm-hmm.” Eurydice leaned her nose close to his tape, to his throat. Then she leaned back again. “Hmm.”

Orpheus could only blink at her in confusion, his eyes widened. He’d be agape if his jaw wasn’t frozen in place, held firm by the thick cotton and the tight tape.

Did she want him to sing for her? To hum a melody?

Orpheus dipped his chin against his neck.

“Hmmm?”

Eurydice nodded.

“Hmmm.”

“Hmm. Hmmhmm.” He nodded, sheepish.

He leaned more comfortably beside her – as comfortable as he can be while in bounds in this cold and hard brimstone cell – as he took a deep breath and started to hum.

“ Hmmm-mm-mm-mmm-mmm-mmm-mmmmmmm… ”

Her starry eyes widened again as she listened, with attention.

“ Hmmm-mm-mm-mmm-mm-mmm-mmmmmmm… ”

“Hmm!” Eurydice exclaimed. “Hmm… Hmmphmmm.”

Hmmphmmm. Grunt, snort, hum. He had uttered this same sequence earlier, when he tried to remind her of his name.

She remembered him.

“Hmmmmmmm” he uttered softly, never being able to say Eurydice’s name, but muttering its melody. “Hmm.”

“Hmmphmmm!” She leaned against him, teary eyed. “Hmmmm!”

“Hmmmm” he echoed, for once glad he was unable to say anything, as there were no words for the way that he felt as she cuddled with him – her cold body against his warmth. He sighed through his nose again, now with newfound – or unearthed – hope.

There’s at least one source of warmth in this cold, windowless, dusty dark brimstone cell.

As Eurydice slept Hades came later that night, bringing Orpheus his nightly cup of warm kykeon from the surface world, a reminder of the world he left behind when he came here down below. This was the time of day Orpheus looked the most for, keeping himself awake each night, waiting for the soft taste of his favorite herbs and the sweet taste of honey and creamy milk, and the way it would linger absorbed by his cotton each morning. And for a long time, Lord Hades was the only real company he had.

It’s not like Hades needed to keep him silenced and restrained, Orpheus bitterly thought sometimes. It’s not like I could have raised my voice against you when you clearly just need a hug while you vent about your dead-end job, dead-beat employees and dead-set marriage to my living ears. I would have perhaps just nodded along either way because I have no words to say to any of that, except maybe hmm Mister Hades my Highly Esteemed Lord, could you please just treat your wife and employees a bit better at least?

But he knew Hades came just to hear his muffled utterances each night. He was also very pedantic about how expensive are these wires, the strong tape and the cotton filling his mouth, of such high quality it’d be a pain to replace it each time he was fed.

Though Orpheus wouldn’t deny the cotton did feel really, really nice. The tape too. At first there was nothing worse in this cold, dark world than feeling his lips fastened to each other so tightly, and the way he couldn’t, couldn’t split them up no matter how much he tried. But now, it has grown on him. He even enjoyed it, in a way.

“Is the girl adjusting well enough to her new chambers, son?” Hades asked him as they played dominoes again – well, Hades played dominoes, since Orpheus was a little tied up at that moment. Orpheus didn’t know much about dominoes, but he at least knew the game was not about using the pieces to build miniatures of wide sprawling cities.

He glanced at his Eurydice behind him, sleeping like the dead – literally. She did not even breathe while she slept, something that really scared him at first.

“Hmmm. Hmmhmm” he muttered softly. She’s slowly remembering, I think.

“Good.” Hades’ glance was directed to his domino city-building skills. “We may meet each other less frequently from now on.”

“Hmm?” Orpheus was confused. “Hmm-hmm! Hmmm?” Less frequently? I thought you came here so many times just to vent about how you’re dying of loneliness each Summer? And now you have even more time to spend venting to my living years, now that Spring came again.

Sometimes he was glad he was no longer able to speak, lest he accidentally say something too bitter and harsh to a God who despite everything still had the power to smite him off the Great Beyond.

“I would have liked to spend more time with you too, my beloved prisoner.” Hades lifted his hand to caress Orpheus’ face again, sliding his thumb over his tape as if it were a part of his own skin. His touch felt as cold as winter snow, as hard as ice.

“Hmm hmm?” Then why won’t you?

The God sighed. Orpheus felt his thumb lingering over the small hole in his tape, the one that kept him alive.

Hades drew his hand back.

“Don’t forget times are hard, son” he explained. “It’s been a long, long time the realms of the Underworld last saw Spring. The King must guide this realm through this new age, all these new challenges. His hands are tied to the desk, his mouth stuffed to the brim with paperwork, sealed with damned red tape.” He sighed.

Tied up a little, uh? Orpheus snorted, wishing he could get out of his head the image of Mister Hades trying to sing with red tape over his mouth, while tied with his business tie to that damned accordion.

Hades snickered, with no doubt proud of his damned puns.

“But also” he clarified, “quality food is getting harder and harder to get these days. Your patron is having difficulty collecting milk… from wherever he goes to harvest it.”

Orpheus’ eyes widened with the mention of his patron. Mister Hermes never explained to him in full where his beloved milk came from, but Orpheus knew it came from “sacred red cows, as bright as the Sun”, and that Hermes had to travel somewhere remote and distant to harvest it. Red cow milk was the most important and essential part in Orpheus’ diet, keeping him alive even when he used to live aboveground.

Orpheus sighed through his nose. It’s been an eternity he last saw Hermes, who he knew was forbidden from visiting him here. He missed him.

“But” Hades said, “Your patron said Spring is making honey and herbs easier to find. But honey and herbs are not enough to sustain a living, breathing human, he said.” Hades threw his hands out on the air. “But who am I to argue with that? I know nothing about living and breathing humans and I am not so acquainted with the surface world. Honey may as well be dripping from waterfalls and herbs may be growing literally everywhere.”

Orpheus sniggered with the image. Now he wished honey waterfalls were real.

“Hmmm!” he muttered. “Hmmm?” But Mister Hermes still getting enough is a good thing, right? Even if he cannot get enough milk anymore?

Hades sighed.

“Your patron will bring you your milkshake less and less from now on. He’s worried he won’t be able to bring anything more at some point. Trouble, he said. Bad trouble. He did not explain much, only that Spring also brought back past troubles.”

“Hmmm” Orpheus muttered with concern. He hoped Mister Hermes was alright, wherever he was.

“So he’ll bring you food less and less from now on” Hades said. “And so the King, too, will visit you less and less. Eventually, you’ll starve. And your stomach will eat you from the inside out, your soul fading into the Great Beyond, and one day your girl will wake up alone in this cell.”

Orpheus only stared at him, not knowing how to respond to that.

“Hmm.” Yeah, right.

“You’ll die one way or another, either way” the God said. “Whether from hunger, illness, or simple old age. You know you, either way, won’t live forever. And one day, you’ll grow too old for your girl, who shall remain young in eternal death.”

“Hmmm? Hmmmm?” So you want me to starve so I can at least die young by her side? Is that it?

“Unless” Hades offered, “you taste the favas.”

Orpheus let out a strong puff from his nose. He should have expected that.

The favas. Hades always gave him this very offer, this very suggestion, every damned time he visited him. And every time Orpheus refused, shaking his head with an empathic hmm-hmm.

Damned fava beans. His stomach curled just from the thought of these abominable things, shaped like the gates of Hell, burning his mouth and tongue and closing his throat with its abominable taste, breaking his body into hives and trumpeting the breath of his lower body with filth.

And even though hunger, thirst and needing to use the toilet could feel really inconvenient, Orpheus did feel a bit proud of being alive in this lifeless world. He took pride in his beating heart, in his rumbling stomach comforted with heavenly milk, in the way he was the only being in this boomyard with a porcelain throne. He would not forgo these for anything in this hell he lives in.

“Hmm-hmm!” Orpheus protested on the spot, frantically shaking his head. “Hmm-hmm!”

“I knew this would be your answer.” Hades sighed. “Well, I thought spending some time with your girl would make you consider it.”

“Hmmm.” Oh, of course you didn’t give me my wife back out of a generous, bounteous heart. Of course the Devil always has a plan.

The God started to collect his domino pieces with the intention of leaving.

“You should start thinking about it, son” Hades said as he left the brimstone cell. “I must go now, as my job demands. The Road to Hell is a cotton field paved with black top tar and red tape.”

Orpheus was pretty sure this is not how the saying went, but he was unable to argue about it.

“Hmmm?” Eurydice muttered behind him, eyes wide awake.

Orpheus crawled beside her again.

“Hmmpf.” He uttered. “Hmmm. Hmm.” He shook his head. Just Mister Hades making his nightly visit. Nothing to worry.

She laid her head on his chest as they cuddled together.

“Hmmm.” She uttered, staring at the dusty ceiling above them. “Hmmmm. Hmmm.”

Her starry eyes wide, observing the way the dust flittered above them, illuminated in the dim light. Like stars.

Orpheus sighed through his nose. Stars. There was nothing in the world he wanted more at that moment, than being able to tell her about them. He wondered if she remembered them, the way they would both lay on the soft green grass in the world aboveground – a world so distant now, it seemed like another life, another world, when they could both speak and talk and walk while holding each other’s hands, running together over fields of grass while dragging each other along, hugging and kissing each other under moonlight –, watching the starry night sky soaring above as he sang her the constellations.

“Hmmmm”, he hummed softly, tears in his eyes as he longed for a world long past. “Hmmm.”

He could not sing her the stars, but he could still hum their melodies. And this is how they spent the remainder of night together, the remainder of days and nights they could spend together in this cold, windowless, dusty dark brimstone cell, her cold body feeling his warmth as he hummed to her melodies from a world long past.

He’s a dreamer, he’s a man. And he dreamed as much as he can, as long as his heart pumped blood for his longing mind, setting the beat for the song of his life here in this sorry cell he lives in.

With time, Orpheus and Eurydice had developed a code of grunts, groans, snorts and hums to communicate with each other. They were still unable to talk about abstract concepts they had no points of reference to, and anything they couldn’t see, things that did not exist in this dusty, dark, windowless brimstone cell – including everything they had once known aboveground. But they could chat about things they could see, like the foremen watching them. The tall one was hmmgh, the short one was hmmfmmf, and so on.

The toilet was hmmff, of course. Hades was also Hmmff, but with a sharper sound.

The dust was a sound of coughing through their noses, which they did a lot. The razor wire bars were a sharp breath expelled from their noses. The heavenly milk Hades brought Orpheus each night was a satisfied hum – though they didn’t chat much about it, Eurydice staring at him with confused eyes anytime he tried.

He tried telling her, indicating himself with his chin, then pointing to Eurydice’s stomach with his nose, then her cold, frozen heart. She just shook her head, with a burrowed brow and an empathic hmm-hmm. She thought he was offering her a share of his own sparse food, because she then pointed to his beating heart with her nose, with a concerned hmmm.

She had forgotten how eating and drinking felt like, but she knew it was important, and she understood Orpheus needed it to keep his heart beating and his body warm. She knew it used to be important to her a long time ago, but she couldn’t remember how. And Orpheus understood since he did remember, but was unable to tell her anything.

In part, Orpheus was glad she forgot it. A part of him even wished she would never remember it, as they cuddled together and exchanged soft hums to each other, as he hummed melodies to her while she felt his warmth and listened to his beating heart, as he slept by her side. He could live the rest of his life like this.

If anything, he at least wished he could at least talk, their mouths free, if – when – she remembers.

She’s slowly remembering her past life, though. One day, when Orpheus woke up, he saw Eurydice drawing with her nose on the dusty wall. The drawings were amazingly skillful for something drawn with a nose – silhouettes on the wall, of two stick figure forms holding hands, a sun with rays shining above them, the hazy shapes of different kinds of flowers on what looked like a field.

Orpheus snorted lightheartedly, a bit jealous of her skill. He tried drawing on the dust like this before, trying to tell her everything, but drawing – especially with his nose – was definitely not his strongest point. Rivers, trees, birds, stars all ended up looking like messy squiggly lines – he could not even write their own names without making them look like a messy blob of wordless macaroni. He also had this inconvenient hindrance of needing to breathe, so with all that dust drawn into his nose he ended up with muffled coughs every time while she sniggered at him.

“Hmmmm.” Eurydice rubbed on his face.

He crawled close to her, observing her drawing.

“Hmmm?”

“Hmmm.” She ran her eyes through her drawing. “Hmmmm. Hmmm.”

She shook her head.

Orpheus indicated her forehead with his nose. “Hmmm.”

You’re remembering.

“Hmm. Hmmhmm.” Eurydice nodded, lightly. “Hmmm.” She looked down.

He studied her with concern, her ragged petite frame, the way her chin seemed to be trembling a bit – only a little bit, the full extent of movement it could do – in her gagged face.

“Hmmmm” he uttered, worried, wishing more than anything in this world just being able to give her a hug.

“Hmm-hmm.” She shook her head, dismissing with her eyes. “Hmmm. Hmm.”

He sighed through his nose.

He studied the drawing. He could recognize this field, these flowers, though they were colourless in the dust he knew they were lily white, poppy red. But there was something lacking in this drawing, he thought, as he was reminded of something.

He reached his nose to the wall, trying to draw as best as he could. He, of course, ended up drawing in a lot of dust, since he had no other opening available to breathe in and out. He sneezed and coughed while Eurydice sniggered.

He rolled his eyes while trying to stifle a muffled cough. She snorted as she sniggered.

He crawled back, observing what he drew. Well, he tried. This was supposed to be a railroad track drawn across the field of flowers, but he of course just drew a bunch of squiggly lines. Like snakes crawling through the field, reaching close to the two stick figures holding hands.

“Hmmm” he grunted, frustrated.

She observed their drawing, trying to decipher what he had just attempted to draw. “Hmmm?”

“Hmmm. Hmmm-hmmmm!!” He tried to mimic a train sound.

She just stared at his squiggly lines, burrowing her brow in confusion. Then she shook her head.

“Hmm-hmm.”

He snorted.

“Hmmm.”

Lord Hades was, indeed, visiting this cell less and less at night.

He also made a point of only coming in while Eurydice was asleep. If she still wasn’t, she’d roll her eyes back and fall dead on the floor, no longer breathing, the moment Hades stepped close to the razor wire bars, opening in his presence.

Orpheus didn’t know if Hades had the power to put the Dead to sleep as he pleased, or if that was something Eurydice could do on her own accord – just turn off and sleep like the dead as she pleased. Neither of them would tell him anything, for very different reasons. But he definitely could feel Hades could be perhaps… jealous the flesh and blood heart of his beloved little prisoner still belonged to someone else. And Eurydice was definitely uncomfortable about breathing in the same space as the man who turned her into what she is, now.

The cup Hades brought in each of his visits also contained the sweet, nourishing milk Orpheus needed to live and breathe each day less and less. Less milk mixed with honey and herbs, more honey and herbs mixed with milk. The taste was getting stronger and stronger in Orpheus’ cottoned mouth as the sips through the straw became fewer and fewer.

At least the strong taste would linger longer on the cotton, a comfort for Orpheus’ tongue. Still, he couldn’t ignore the way his stomach rumbled louder and louder each day, as the intervals between each cup of milk became bigger and bigger.

Eurydice would hear his growling stomach, eyes full of concern, but also… tension. Orpheus could feel the way her mind was trying to unearth memories that should be there, but could not be found. He’d utter a hum of concern, while she’d dismiss, shaking her head.

Each night Lord Hades would come, he’d remind Orpheus of his offer. Each time Orpheus refused vehemently, his stomach curling with the thought.

One night, Hades came into his brimstone cell with a closed, concerned expression. He brought no domino pieces tonight.

The God sighed, rueful.

“This is the last cup.”

There was so little milk in that cup, Orpheus drew it all with three sips through the straw. The taste of the herbs was so strong, he would have perhaps spat the whole thing off if his lips weren’t sealed, and if he didn’t feel so, so hungry.

“Hmmmmgghh” he groaned with the taste, bending his quivering back.

“You should consider the favas now, son” Hades reminded him. “If you do not become deathless right now, you won’t last long.”

“Hmm-hmm” Orpheus refused once again, trying to ignore the pain and thundering in his stomach. “Hmm-hmm.”

Hades sighed.

“You have little time to think about it, young man.” The King stood up, preparing to leave. “Let’s see if you made your mind next time I visit.”

“Hmmm” Orpheus groaned.

As Hades left the cell, Orpheus heard another voice on the other side. His eyes widened.

“Mister Hades, at least let me talk to him.”

Mister Hermes. Sometimes he followed Hades here, and Orpheus could see his smirking face on the other side of the razor wire bars. Now, there was no smirking, no humor in these wrinkled eyes full of worry.

“We have already discussed this, Hermes” Hades shot him off. “I have already got you out of trouble. Now, this boy’s matter is mine to handle.”

“But––” Hermes protested.

“Step into my office. We have matters to discuss.”

Hermes took a worried glance at Orpheus – bound and gagged, ragged and starved, feeble and wilted, while what from an onlooker’s perspective would seem like the ragged corpse of a young woman, bound and gagged as well, laid lifeless on the ground. Then the messenger god turned away, to follow his King into his chambers.

Orpheus crawled back beside his Eurydice, laying on his side to sleep. He could ignore his hunger while he slept. He already spent the bigger, better part of his days asleep, in this cold, windowless, dusty dark brimstone cell.

He’s a dreamer, he’s a man. And he kept dreaming how he can, as long as his heart pumped blood for his hungry, hungry mind, setting the beat for the song of his life here in this Hell he’s stuck in.

Orpheus would have already swallowed the cotton in his mouth if he could. If it weren’t lodged there, wrapping his teeth, growing from his palate and firm cheeks, as if it were part of his own flesh.

“Hmmmm” he lamented, his stomach crashing and pounding as if many tiny Workers were swinging the hammer and ringing the pickaxe inside.

Eurydice crawled close to him.

“Hmmm” she muttered, concerned.

He shook his head.

“Hmmm. Hmm-hmm.” I am used to the feeling of constant hunger now, my love. Please do not worry about me.

Eurydice pointed to his rumbling stomach with her nose, then to his beating heart.

“Hmmm!” She uttered, fearful. “Hmmmm!”

“Hmmmmm. Hmmm.” He hummed, trying to reassure her it’ll be fine. It’ll all be fine. Though he had no idea how. Perhaps he hoped Hades would feel some pang of guilt and ungag him.

“Hmmmm.” She rapidly leaned her ear on Orpheus’ chest, listening to his beating heart. She shook her head, pressing her eyes shut. “Hmmm. Hmm-hmm.”

Orpheus understood. She really, really did not want him to die.

He let out a rueful breath through his nose, wishing he could at least be able to say anything, though still not having any words to say if he could.

She stayed there, listening to his heart, for a moment.

Then Orpheus’ stomach growled again. Rumbling, thundering. And Eurydice heard it as well, loud on her ears.

Her eyes widened as her brows raised.

“Hmmm.” She pondered. “Hmmm.”

She sat up.

“Hmmphmmm. Hmmm.” She indicated Orpheus with her chin. A sharp gesture, her eyes turning dour. “Hmmm.” She lowered her chin to indicate herself, while nudging her metal bound arms.

No.

Oh no.

No no no no no no.

She remembered.

“Hmmm?” Orpheus tried, hoping at least she was trying to say something else.

“Hmmm. Hm-hm-hmm. Hmffffff.” She breathed off through her nose, mimicking the sound of the wind. Then she gave him a death glare. “Hmmmm.”

No. She wasn’t.

She remembered how he was so focused on his song, he forgot her in the cold, dark wind.

“Hmmphmmm!” She screamed, her chin trembling against her tape, and Orpheus could feel she, too, wished more than anything else in that moment she were able to speak. “Hmmmm! Hmmmmm! Hmmmm?”

But he could hear it, so clearly in his mind, what would she be saying if she could speak. Orpheus! Why did you abandon me?

“Hmmmmmm!” He crawled away, wishing he could at least have his hands free to raise them in defense. “Hmmmm! Hm-hm-hmm hmm-hmm! Hmmff! Hmffffff!” I was trying to save us both! Only my song could bring back Spring! But it was powerless against the wind!

“Hmm gh hmm.” She uttered a muffled sob, tears in her eyes. “Hmm mm.”

She clung her bounds against his.

“Hmmm.”

It’s your fault we’re both in this situation.

“Hmmmmmm…” He muttered, softly. “Hmmmm…”

“Hmmmm.” She crawled away from him, to the corner of their brimstone cell. “Hmmm.”

She curled in fetal position, pressing her eyes shut.

“Hmmm…” He uttered, forlorn.

And there she stayed, avoiding him, immobile. Until she stopped breathing, as if she had just fallen asleep.

He sighed through his noise, rueful. He could do nothing else than gaze at her – still, stiff, dead –, as his heart sank heavy and hard into his chest.

“Young man.”

Orpheus turned around. Lord Hades stood by the razor wire bars, looking a bit sheepish.

“Did I come at a bad time?” he asked.

Orpheus took a last glance at his sleeping dead wife. Then he shook his head.

“Hmm-hmm.”

“Good. So, I assume you have the night free for a tour around my town.”

“Hmm?”

Hades gestured for his foremen to enter the cell. They stepped in, carrying a dirty dark bag, big enough to wrap Orpheus.

Orpheus snorted, nervous. No, not that bag again!

“Guards. Take him to the car” ordered Lord Hades.

“Hmmm?” The car?

But Orpheus was unable to protest, feeble and frail, only managing to mutter some muffled screams as the foremen wrapped him in dusty, grimy darkness again.

“Hmmmmmmm! Hmmmmmmm! Hmmmmmmmm!”

Ouch! Ouch! Ouchhhh!

He hated this bag. He hated being stuck inside a car’s truck in a bag. He hated the way he got shoved left and right, as Hades travelled through dirt roads in what was certainly a fancy car.

He would have gritted his teeth if he could. He knew Hades found a lot of pleasure from these muffled screams.

He would have vomited, if there were anything to vomit.

Eventually, after an eternity of torture, the car stopped in its destination. He heard the truck opening, and he felt hands grabbing his bag and dragging him out.

“HMMMMMM!” He screamed. Hey! That was a sensitive spot!

He felt the foremen dropping the bag on the hard ground, with him inside, with a thump. He groaned in pain – though he barely registered it, so hungry he was.

“Open it”, Hades’ voice ordered outside. “But do not let him get out.”

His bag was opened, and Orpheus saw the dusty dark… ceiling dome of the Underworld above him, tall and wide like a sky.

“Let him peek his head off”, Hades ordered. “Let him see.”

“Hmmm?”

Hands lowered the bag’s opening down his head, so Orpheus was met with the sight of the mines around him.

Deep, dark trenches, like a war zone. Misty and dusty, like the depths of the Ocean, though he could see beasts of metal in the horizon siphoning oil and salt from underground. Everywhere he saw Workers, digging, dredging, dragging the Depths of the Earth to turn its insides out, in a futile search for treasure as they sunk themselves down in mud.

“See my Children playing in the dirt” Hades said beside him, overlooking his mines around. “Here in the mines of Woe, in the Asphodel fields. Silver and gold, precious stones they find for me. With gleaming siphons of metal, the fossils of the Dead they harvest for me. Miners of mines, diggers of graves, they bow down to Hades as I give them work, to look for and dig up a sunk Captain’s lost treasure, and return it all to me.”

“Hmmmm” Orpheus muttered. “Hmmm?” And you’re just going to leave them here, in a war zone as they fetch riches for your idle hands?

“I give work for idle hands” Hades said. “I give shelter and harbor with the forces of their own labor. A man must be able to build his own nest. So here in their own beds they carved they’ll rest, lying down in the mud they turned over.”

Hades turned around to walk back to his car, as his foremen tucked Orpheus back into his bag while he uttered a futile muffled scream. And there he was again, tucked in the truck of a fancy car, thrown around like a potato sack.

They arrived at their next stop, and the foremen once again could care less about Orpheus’ sensitive spots. He heard the loud sound of mills and machinery, to his sensitive ears grating like nails on a chalkboard, as he was dragged along for many steps.

They opened the bag again, and Orpheus saw inside Hades’ factories from above, brought behind the precarious railing of a balcony.

Wires, power lines, assembly lines, as monstrous machines and a million hands moved in time with the awfully loud, wind-like sound. At the borders of the wide room he could see conduits of liquid fire, keeping the monsters of metal fed as the Workers placed together even more beasts.

“See my Children playing with my toys” Hades said beside him, overlooking his factories below. “Here in my warehouses and factories, fed by streams of fire. Things of steel, automobiles, they fashion for me. With the fossils of the Dead, the foundries and furnaces they keep fed for me. And they bow down to the King as I put trains on the tracks, grease on the skids, smoke in the stacks in my factories to keep the boilers boiling, spinning wheels, grinding gears.”

Orpheus winced, wishing he could use his own hands to rip his ears off. At the back he could see – and hear – loud drums, looming cylinders milling and refining the harvested dark oil into bright liquid fire, keeping the tune and the beat of the factories like hearts, so loud on his ears.

“The oil drums are the heart of Hadestown” the God continued. “As your frail heart of flesh and blood pumps blood for your feeble mortal body, these mills of steel pump fuel for my whole town.”

“Hmmmmmmmmm.” For a moment – for a very small moment – Orpheus wondered if his ears would fare better if he were instead forced to hear Mister Hades’ abominable accordion playing.

He mindlessly trailed his eyes through the lines of Shades, dazed with his hunger and the awfully loud sound. Mindless, indeed, each of them seemed to be, no light in their eyes as they kept their obscured glances down to the assembly line, putting together parts of a whole Orpheus didn’t know but could only guess, like neon silver screens and fancy cars.

“The work of many hands puts together the town as it is today”, Hades said. “Every man should do his own part on the greater order of all things. But no single mind shall know the whole, lest they sabotage their own part or disband to create their own, dismantling the whole order of things down.”

And with this the foremen tucked Orpheus back into his bag, and for once he was glad he was wrapped in thick dusk darkness again – though it took a while to get rid of the loud ringing in his ears.

The next stop was thankfully quieter and calmer, the only sound the tintling of precious gems and golden coins. As Orpheus’ bag was opened once again, he saw what was certainly Hades’ Treasury around him.

Precious stones, diamonds, pure gold bars could be found there, on piles of silver and gold coins thrown everywhere. Sterling silver bracelets, chains of many-karat gold, binding Workers to this place as they sorted gems and polished and organized trophies, statuettes and other fancy shiny things Orpheus couldn’t identify in shelfs, all spick and span and gleaming silver and gold, only for Lord Hades to see. At the back he could see cars shining like glistening bugs, the fanciest, showiest, most lavish and opulent of cars could be found there.

“See my Children playing with my shiny marbles” Hades said beside him, overlooking his own riches inside his own safe vault. “The fruits of all our labor can be found here, precious treasures for the King to see. Silver, gold, precious gems, everything glittering under the ground, safe here in my Treasury for my beloved wife to see, all gifts given for the King and the Queen of the Underworld.”

Orpheus observed the Shades in the Treasury, without muttering anything. Some were children, their tiny hands picking and polishing shiny gemstones as they placed them on fancy jewel stands. Some were elders, polishing shelves of gold and sweeping the room with arched backs. Some were legless, some were armless.

“The law and order of all things dictates every man shall have work in his hands” Hades said. “The young and old, the invalid and disabled should be enabled for a part in the daily labor that makes the Underworld go round. One pair of idle hands is enough for one man to have more than he worked for, so every man shall work his whole existence for a small share of the whole, kept safe here in a secure vault underground.”

“Hmmm! Hmmm! Hmmm!” Now why would a man of his own free will go to work all day in the mine and the mill? Why would he trade the sunshine for a couple of nickels and dimes?

Hades snickered, no doubt pleased with his muffled protests.

“He saw enough. Now let’s take him to the next stop, boys.”

And once again Orpheus was tucked in a bag in the truck of Hades’ fancy car, as he tried to take deep breaths through his nose to calm himself despite all the jerking and jumping.

For the next stop, they dragged his bag along many ramps and stairs. Wherever they were going now, they were climbing high.

When they lowered the bag around Orpheus’ head once again, he saw himself in a… backstage room.

The room he was in was small and dark, somewhere high, while the room he could see below on the other side of the tempered glass window – the hall – was wide and bright, so white it reminded him of a waiting hospital room. It was fully seated, each Shade in the audience bound to their seats with metal wires around their waists. Their obscured glances were stiff like masks as they emotionlessly watched what happened on stage, only laughing, crying, coughing and such when the moment called for, almost as if they were gagged like Orpheus was – although they weren’t, their unsealed lips seemed so lifeless still.

On stage, he saw… his brain took a while to process what the hell was even happening there. A ridiculously dressed, gaudy man, wearing awful pointy dark glasses and a white suit full of glitter and futuristic sharp seams over an optical illusion of a rainbow shirt, his sand blond hair slicked back, hosted what could only be described as the unholy fruit of a union between a variety show and a reality show. Cameras and spotlights shone from every spot on the white walls. Dancing ladies with short provocative dresses and expressions frozen in a perpetual smile were stationed in various spots around him, fettered with shackles of metal, moving lifelessly to the occasional music without uttering anything.

On the silver screen at the back moving images flickered in bright colors, showing what could only be the punishments of the Damned exhibited for everyone to watch and gawk. In one of the sectioned images Orpheus saw some poor Shades stripped down of any and all clothing while trying to survive in a desolate place, somewhere cold and harsh, sharp razor wires abound. In another he saw the Punished submitted to harsh challenges, competing with each other in things like how long can they stand inside a cauldron as they burn in liquid fire, and how much water carried in a sieve can they bring to a faraway basin.

“See my Children in their off-time.” Hades sighed beside Orpheus, as if he were anxious he could soon get out of this place. “Here in the King’s Hall they watch the fall of their fellow men, as Oneiros entertains them with futile dreams.”

As Orpheus watched, the gaudy host picked up something from inside his pocket – a golden coin – to throw it to the audience, like a coin thrown into a wishing well. The Shades all tried to catch it where it fell, but none managed it as it fell on the ground, and none could get it, strapped to their own seats they were.

“Only the cheapest of shows to save resources for what really matters” Hades said, perhaps reminding himself as much as Orpheus. “Entertainment is their daily maintenance. Hard-working citizens tend to forget why they must keep working, keeping the steering wheel going round and round to keep this sinking ship afloat. They must be reminded why, from time to time.”

And with this, the lights in the bright hall seemed to flicker and wane as banners and flags fell down the white walls – red, black and white though the colors changed with each banner and flag, showing wheels and gears around the looming shape of a tall building surrounded by a winding wall of stone like a snake.

Foremen walked down the aisles to the stage, standing beside Oneiros the host as the dancers also stood with a now serious expression, the audience also stirring on their seats – as much as they could, still bound they were. A new image filled the entire screen, black and white this time except for the occasional red lettering and detail. Lord Hades stood on the balcony of his sumptuous mansion, Lady Persephone by his side with her hair bound in a stripped snood, the way her black Winter dress glittered like a starry night sky the only speckle of liveliness in this sorry steely, stern black and white image. Hades’ Children rallied below, in the image and in the hall, as everyone – the standing foremen, dancers, gaudy host, seated bound audience, the featureless black and white Shades onscreen – saluted with their bent arms raised sideways, index fingers pointing up, to the looming ceiling above them.

And the King’s rallying speech they echoed on both sides of the black and white silver screen, as Hades stood in the dark backstage room beside Orpheus, overlooking everything unfold before him.

Why do we build the wall, my children, my children? Why do we build the wall?

Why do we build the wall? We build the wall to keep us free! That’s why we build the wall, we build the wall to keep us free!

For the next stop, the journey inside that damned car’s truck was long. Wherever they were going now, they were going far.

Orpheus could only utter muffled whimpers now as Hades’ fancy car travelled through harsher and harsher dirt roads, throwing him around as if he were inside a centrifuge. He wondered if the old man was trying to kill him with brute force damage before he died from starvation.

When they finally reached their destination, he didn’t know if he should feel relieved the torture is over, or apprehensive about what he’s going to see, because he could hear screams outside the car’s truck. Muffled, but somehow still loud shrieking screams. Bellows from beneath sealed lips, gagged mouths like his.

He shriveled up in fear, from starvation as well shriveling him down. Oh no. Oh no. He’s not going to––

The foremen took his bag out of the truck again, the screams now louder in his ears. This time Orpheus was lucky enough nobody even touched any of his sensitive spots.

When they opened the bag once again, he was met with the sight of the wheel up on the sky – or rather the ceiling dome, now aslope enough as they were closer to the border now. And though Orpheus already saw that same wheel before, shining like an artificial Sun in the Underworld as he treaded wastelands, labyrinthine slums, striped brick chimneys and junkyards in desperate search for his wife a long eternity ago, now he was close enough to that thing to see what it really was.

A man was tied up there, bound and gagged with silver tape like Orpheus – though his limbs were extended and strapped to the wheel with strong metal tires at each extremity, frozen on the shape of a star as his wheel kept turning and turning and turning bright. He screamed and screamed under his torture, but so easy it was to ignore him, so easily his muffled screams could pass as the sound of the wind in this windless world.

As the bag was lowered around his head, Orpheus saw himself inside what seemed like a dreary, desolate prison camp’s courtyard, surrounded by high fences of sharp razor wires, charged with high voltage. He saw many sorry Shades with horrifying punishments, bound, fettered, shackled to their eternal torments, many of them gagged as well – the ones that weren’t seemed too catatonic to mutter anything. One man was fastened with metal wires to a brazen pillar, gibbering wordlessly beneath the silver tape sealing his mouth. Another was hung on a post with sharp wires writhing him like snakes, uttering muffled screams. Many others had punishments so gruesome and appalling Orpheus couldn’t even bear looking. He could smell leather freshly prepared with chromium somewhere nearby, the thought about where that leather may have come from made his stomach turn.

“See my misbehaved Children being put back in line” Hades said beside him, overlooking the punishments of the Damned. “All the worst souls can be found here, dealt with and duly contained. Liars, betrayers, poets, artists, vagrants, vagabonds, serial killers, men who do not remain faithful to their wives. Any man who threatens the order of all things shall be punished here in the Fields of Pain, his silver tongue contained with silver tape so no noxious words ever escape his dangerous mouth.”

Two among the Punished stood out, like the man in the wheel up on the sky. So dangerous they were, apparently, silver tape and metal wires were not enough for them – they needed to be shackled with so many chains and silenced with muzzles of metal made specially for them. One pushed a boulder of cinder through a ramp, his shackles allowing him enough movement to do his task, but stopping him from doing anything else, like reaching his hands up to his muzzle. But the ramp got increasingly oblique the more he pushed the cinder up, there was always a point the boulderstone rolled back down, right over the poor man – and he had to do his task again and again.

The other, meanwhile, was fettered to what would otherwise be the nicest place in that desolate courtyard – a small garden with a lake in the corner, a sorb-apple tree grew there somehow. The man was stuck inside the lake sunk down his waist, his hands shackled behind the tree with chains of lead. He kept looking at the apples above and the water below with an intense, tantalizing glare, but he obviously could not nibble anything, his lips buried beneath his metal muzzle. His nose was also buried beneath that metal, which would otherwise hinder his breathing – the Dead didn’t need to breathe – but it also prevented him from suckling some of that sweet, nourishing fresh water through his nostrils.

“Sisyphus thought he could stand against the order of things” Hades said, gesturing to the muzzled man pushing a boulder. “He’s a liar and betrayer, and a vagabond as well. Thought he could keep playing dirty, avoiding doing his part in the assembly line while still benefitting from the work he didn’t do. Now he’ll have to work for eternity! And Tantalus” he took a look at the man in the lake with dour eyes, “we used to be partners, colleagues, associates once upon a time. Me and my wife used to invite him for dinner a lot, so we could discuss business and chat. But one day, one day he thought giving the flesh and blood of his own son for the King and the Queen to feast upon was a good idea! So now he’ll be hungry and thirsty for eternity, with food so tantalizing right under his corked nose.” He chuckled, sourly. Orpheus knew devouring the flesh of one’s own children was a really personal issue for Hades.

Orpheus’ stomach thundered in pain, in a mix of aching and disgust. He was glad he didn’t have anything to vomit right now, but he could seriously go with one of these sorb-apples right now. And a really big gulp of some of that sweet, nourishing fresh water down his throat.

“And Ixion” Hades lifted his dour gaze to the man in the wheel up on the sky. “A kinslayer and a cheapskate, but I dared to take some pity on him, young and naïve I was. He thought he could be a better man than the King himself, for the Queen of the Underworld!” His voice dripped with umbrage. “He thought he could be the Sun my wife longed to see here below. So now he shall shine like the Sun forever in this sunless world!”

He took a deep breath, his eyes closed.

Orpheus snorted. Feeling aroused with all these muffled screams?

“A man should know his place in the greater order of things” the King said, then. “He should play his role and do his part, and never step into his neighbour’s yard. Workers are born to work, Kings are born to lead. If any soul reaches for what has not been allotted for them, trying to take another man’s place in the order of all things, he’ll only leave a rift in the place he left behind, and the Kingdom built with the strength of our weary labor is short of falling, crumbling down to dust.”

That’s stupid, Orpheus thought. The only man who can have a say on a man’s destiny in this cold, dark world is no other man but himself.

But who is Orpheus to even have a say on who he is, now? He has been unable to say anything for so long, now.

“Young man” Hades said, turning around. “There’s one particular soul among the Damned you should see. Guards, take him along. Be on my way.”

Orpheus was wrapped in dusty darkness once again as his mind filled with questions. Soul? The soul of whom? Please please please not Eurydice please she’s still in that cell right I should have said sorry––

The foremen dragged him along for a long walk in the complex. They seemed to be going somewhere inside now, as he no longer heard any muffled screams – except his own. Oh how he wished he could be able to scream to these damned guards to be careful with his sensitive spots!

But he heard music. Rough, coarse, dissonant. No words sung at all to this strange cacophony of sounds, but he heard humming. This humming voice sounded weirdly, strangely familiar…

And they opened the bag again, and he saw yet another stage – though this one was smaller and much, much grimier, as in an underground nightclub. Oversees and foremen sat at the greasy tables, playing cards. On stage, a shackled and gagged woman, danced, thrusting her hips, while an overseer watched her in the wings with a whip. No, not an overseer… a pimp.

Orpheus’ eyes widened. She still wore that same ragged long blue showgirl dress as she always did, some smudges of glitter still left on its once covered cloth – though when he last saw her, he remembered, she did not have a cleavage ripped on her dress like that. She was shackled with metal, much like the dancers in the King’s Hall, the fetters on her pulses linked with a chain behind her, a short chain connecting the fetters on her ankles – allowing her enough movement to dance and entertain the overseers in this prison complex, but unable to lift her hands to rip that strip of silver tape off her sealed mouth. Her long locks of canary-yellow hair – so similar to Orpheus’ own – still fell down her back as he remembered, though they were so messy and so greasy now.

His heart fell heavy down his chest. She was… she was…

“Hmmm! Hmmmm! Hmmmm…” he whimpered, in vain struggling against his bounds, though he felt so weak and strained with hunger now. She didn’t hear his muffled screams beneath the cacophonous music at all.

“Such a beautiful face” Hades said. “Used to be a bird of mine. A blushing bride, heart aflutter on her sleeve. A wonderful Muse, she once was. But she was a liar, a player, a pretender. A defiant little one, mischievous, misbehaved, weaving lies, then unweaving them only to weave them back again. Epic poetry and Rhetoric used to be her strengths, but now, no skillful poetics or flowery words will ever escape her sealed little mouth!” He laughed.

Orpheus stifled a muffled sob. She was his mom. His mom.

“Hmmmmmmm!” he called. “Hmmmmmmmm!”

She seemed to take a glance at him. Or she was instead just staring into space, her once bright deep sapphire blue eyes now glassy and lifeless, as she just continued dancing and humming, ignoring him completely.

“You see how the world is, son” Hades said. Orpheus had no idea if what he heard in his voice was pity feigned or not. “The youthful mother with dreams of seeing the whole world round will leave her nursling behind, gone with the travelling show. Lovers leave, brothers betray. Women are as slick as eels, always slipping from your grasp. They come and they go, getting you high and low, and the lonely King will be always left alone.” He sighed.

“Hmm gh hmm” he sobbed. He felt tears on his cheeks, running down his face.

“Our tour is soon coming to an end. One last stop awaits us.” Hades turned to leave the grimy room. “Come.”

The foremen wrapped Orpheus in darkness again, as he sobbed and let out muffled wails inside the truck of Hades’ fancy car. So what if Hades may as well be getting aroused with all of that now. Get distracted with my sorrow, old man.

Orpheus did not register when they arrived at their last stop, but when they opened his bag again, he recognized where he was, what he saw – cinder bricks and razor wires shining under the dim light, the Wall where the borders of the ceiling dome looming above meet the ground. Through here, right here, he had trespassed into Hadestown, a long eternity ago.

The crack was still there. But Workers were now bringing bricks on their backs and mortar in wheelbarrows to slowly close the gap. Though Orpheus could still see, through what remained of the crack, on the other side a beautiful night sky full of stars – twinkling, shimmering, glimmering stars, a trail of glittering white dust on the deep blue, as if heavenly milk has been spilt over a wine-dark sea.

Orpheus’ eyes widened, tears threatening to gather in his eyes. Stars…

“See my children playing with blocks” Hades said beside Orpheus, overlooking his Wall. “The river Styx is a river of stones, piled together with the work of many hands.”

“Hmm. Hmm-hmm.” I remember I wrote a whole song about that, when I used to be able to speak.

“Fear and Loathing in each of these bricks” Hades continued, “bonded and stacked with cinder and blood. This Wall protects our world from the world above, from grave robbers, vagrants, vagabonds, dealers, traffickers and criminals. It also keeps the worst among our own denizens contained, so they may not wreak havoc aboveground.”

“Hmmm.” With the way you talk about them you’d think criminals are not born, Orpheus bitterly thought, but spawn everywhere created out of the Nether like microorganisms in a hydrothermal vent.

“But the Styx is not only the barrier that separates the Underworld from the world above, keeping our town safe and our denizens sound” the God then said. “It’s also the river of oaths and promises.”

“Hmm?”

Hades nodded.

“An oath sworn by the shining walls of Styx is so serious, not even a God can break it. It binds us with cosmic threads, it sticks us in the cosmic place we carved for ourselves.”

He made a wide gesture to the Wall with his hand.

“Each brick in this Wall represents an oath sworn by the Styx. Many are oaths my Children signed behind my office’s closed doors, binding them to my realm as long as they exist. Each Worker brings his own brick, cementing himself as a part of the whole, and each Worker’s brick is a part that keeps the whole of the Wall stacked and standing.”

“Hmmm?” Orpheus indicated the crack in the wall with his head. And so what is that crack, then?

Hades cleared his throat.

“This crack. A brick used to be placed there, a promise aboveground – a wedding vow. A vow one young man had made, when he promised his girl he’d hold her forever, they’d always stay with each other, and the wind would never change on them.”

Orpheus’ chin would fall down his face if it still could.

Oh no…

“An oath by the Styx can never be broken by Gods” Hades explained. “It stops us physically and cosmically. But such chains never constrained a mortal. Such an oath is rarely broken, but when it is...” he sighed. “The Fates personally see to it that terrible tragedy shall befall on the misdoer.”

Oh no…

Hades laughed, seemingly finding the whole thing funny for some reason.

“But the crack soon will be sealed” he said, turning to Orpheus.

He caressed his face again, thumb running on his tape as he always did, lingering on the tiny feeding hole as he always did.

“I just need a new brick” he said, then. “A new promise.”

“Hmmmmm.” He was thrown back into his windowless cell with a thump. Still cold, still dark, but – he realized with horror – no longer dusty.

Gone. The flecks of dust flittering on the ceiling and wall, gone. The field of flowers Eurydice has drawn on the wall, gone.

Eurydice. Gone.

“Oh, yes” Hades said behind him. “I ordered my Children to do a cleaning in your chambers while we were on tour.”

“Hmmmmmm?” He looked around, overtaken with horror and despair. She was nowhere to be found. “Hmmmm! Hmmmmm!”

Where’s she? Where’s she now?

“The girl?” Hades glanced behind him. “The girl has been taken to a very special place for her preparations.”

“Hmmmm?” What do you mean?

“Oh, don’t worry, son. She’s safe in her bed.” The God seemed to smirk in the dark. “You’ll may see her again soon, when she’s ready.”

Orpheus whimpered. He did not like the sound of in her bed.

His stomach rumbled again, with pain. He could barely stand on his knees.

“Young man, your time is running out.” Hades’ voice was soft as he spoke. “I understand you take value in your life, in being alive, which is why you have refused the taste of the Underworld until now. And you may hope that, one day, you may get to raise your hands and open your mouth to speak up in the world above again.”

Orpheus raised his brows. Had Hades finally grown a pang of guilt? Will he finally let him be free?

“So” the God continued. “I’ll give you a choice.”

Of course, he thought, dejected. Who was Orpheus to expect so much.

“You can choose to be freed”, Hades said. “You will be taken aboveground, your bounds removed as soon as the light of the Sun shines on you, the tape removed from your mouth.”

Orpheus’ eyes widened, tears in his eyes. There was nothing in the world he wanted more at that moment, than just being able to see the Sun again.

“And your soul shall be barred from the Underworld” added the God. “You’ll never wither or grow old. You may feel hunger and thirst, but you’ll never die from starvation. Your life aboveground shall be eternal. But your girl shall remain, left behind, bound and silenced here in the world below, and you shall never, ever see her in your existence ever again.”

That last part sounded almost like a threat.

“Or” Hades continued, “you can choose to taste the favas. You shall become deathless in death. You’ll no longer need to eat, or to drink. Your heart will become stone, your breath cold, and you shall be bound to this realm as long as you exist. Your bounds will be replaced, and a brand new tape will be placed on your mouth, eternally sealed, no cracks. You shall never speak up a single word in your existence ever again. But you shall have your girl forever by your side, on a special bed prepared just for you. Forever.”

Orpheus lowered his head, a tear running down his face. There was one thing in this cold, dark world he wanted more than being able to see the Sun again.

“You have until the break of dawn to reflect”, Hades said. “Then I’ll return, and you’ll be brought into my office for your final decision.”

Orpheus lifted his head without muttering anything, trying to decipher Hades’ cold and hard glance.

“Think deep about what I have shown you tonight. Tomorrow’s choice will be final. Let’s see if you’ll choose the easy way, or the hard way.”

He did not specify which way was which.

“Choose wisely, my little prisoner.” He fondled Orpheus’ gagged face again. “The King will be disappointed if he no longer gets to hear your muffled screams every night.” Once again running his thumb through his tape, lingering on the tiny hole, perhaps the last time he’ll ever do so.

Orpheus felt so drained and drawn, he did not even register his cold, hard touch.

“Guards, be on my way” the King gave his order as he turned his back to leave. “Let him be alone in his chambers for his final night.”

Yes, my Lord, answered all the foremen, in unison. It could be just Orpheus’ impression, but they seemed to sound relieved they no longer had to stand around stiff like statues beside this cold, dark windowless cell.

And Orpheus was once again left alone in this cold, dark, windowless, dustless cell.

Well, not completely alone. He still had a company in Humfer, the unassuming shabby toilet at the corner. Though even his beloved porcelain throne seemed significantly more polished, now.

“Hmmff” he crawled close to it, forlorn. “Hmmmm.”

His stomach rumbled again.

The pain was getting worse. He was so hungry he could barely move, his metal bounds so heavy on his limbs. The cotton in his mouth was the only thing stopping him from biting his own cheeks or his own tongue.

“Hmmmm. Hmmm.” He tried to focus on the way the tape fastened his lips together, in the way the cotton wrapped his teeth, keeping his mouth safe and soft with its incredible thickness and fluffiness as he bit it strongly to ground himself, but still frustrated he could never swallow it down.

So, so glad he was bound and gagged. He could as well be chewing his own hands off if he weren’t.

He took deep breaths through his nose, trying to keep himself calm as he felt his stomach slowly eating himself from inside out. His heart boomed loudly against his ears. He was so dazed he could see his own blood cells rushing inside his eyes.

This will be over soon, he thought, trying to reassure himself. In one way or another, though he had yet to know which.

“Hmmff” he lamented to his beloved Humfer, trying to seek some counsel. “Hmmph mm.”

The toilet didn’t answer.

He scrambled to crawl up again, with so much difficulty now even though this was a thing he did every day. Perhaps if he kept himself sat up, his blood rushing down his head help upright, he could keep himself from passing out. He was afraid he’d never wake up again if he did so, his soul fading away into the Nether beyond.

And it was only right to gift Humfer the few remaining parts of him, now that he knew he’d never see it again, one way or another. Except, for his own horror, he had no gift to give.

“Hmmff. Hmmmm.” He whimpered, uttering a heart-wrenching goodbye to his beloved friend in flowery words. “Hmmmm. Hmmmmm. Hmmmm.”

He leaned up on his porcelain throne, trying to at least seem majestic during his final night as the mute King of the Sing-Sing cell, even if there was no one there watching him except himself and his own throne. Not even flittering dust for him to overlook, the walls cleaned out throughout. But he instead saw his own white blood cells dancing inside his eyes – orderly, flowing with his blood flow, moving to the time and beat of his own loud booming heart. They reminded him of the Workers he saw in the mines and mills, in the machineries, in the Wall. They also reminded him of stars soaring high above, in a sky he longed to see again.

He teared up once again. His choice seemed obvious. He’d give everything he had, his singing voice sealed with silver tape, his skilled hands bound with golden strings, his own flesh and blood beating heart, to lay down with his wife again, for eternity – and their tapes would truly match now, his brand new one, like hers, without any crack. And he’ll throw away the past behind him, his face becoming a mask, his heart becoming stone. And he’ll lie down forever by her side, as they forget the world they left behind.

But tears ran down his eyes as he thought about seeing the world above once again – the thought about once again hearing the birds in the trees and the sound of the rivers on the wind, the Sun shining down on him and everything and everyone he left behind, Springtime in the world above as he laid down on the soft green grass to watch the stars soaring above in the sky…

He sobbed, feeling his fastened lips trembling beneath his tape – as if trying, at least, to split them up one last time, so he could utter a loud and clear call for help, or a cry of sorrow. The Devil’s at my door, so help me! He felt scared and he was starting to sink, his dustless cell flipping over like a sinking ship.

He could barely stay sat upright as he drifted away into the deep, feeling his life siphoning away – slowly, slowly, through the crack in his sealed mouth. The way down is dark and long, and he only sank deeper the deeper he thought, wandering out there in the darkness of his own mind.

He’s already gone.

“Orpheus. Orpheus!”

He woke up, fallen on the cold, hard ground, passed out from hunger. His conscience kept blinking in and out, waxing and waning like the Moon.

He saw a kind, familiar face above him – these lips wrinkled from many smirks, these eyes wrinkled from many smiles.

“Hmmmm… hmmmm…” he uttered feebly. Mister Hermes.

Hermes observed him, his glance overtaken with worry. Then he turned to look at someone behind him.

“Mister Hades, at least let me carry him!”

He heard Lord Hades sigh, rueful.

“Well, then. Take the boy into my office.”

He felt these familiar kind arms lifting him up, carrying him with his head on his chest out of this cold, dark, windowless cell. Mister Hermes felt warm, in a way Hades wasn’t, though he was similarly deathless.

He barely registered all these corridors and rooms, all these windows and roads, the world travelling fast before his eyes as he was brought to a looming tall obsidian glass building overlooking the entire town, Hades’ office somewhere up its upper floors.

He heard the sound of strong metal doors opened as he was brought inside.

“Hmmphmmm!”

He lifted his head to look. Though still hazed, he saw her, Eurydice, inside a human-sized birdcage of metal, tucked in a corner – still bound and gagged, but definitely not ragged anymore, as she was cleaned and gussied up. Her hair brushed and tied with ribbons, her lifeless cheeks tinged with rouge in a way that emphasized her tape’s silver shine, her bound body wrapped in a beautiful sleeveless blue dress, with golden details matching her metal ropes.

His heart sank into his chest. She’s been dressed in her Sunday Best.

“Hmmmmmm” he uttered, wishing they could at least have a proper conversation – wishing he could at least say sorry.

Her deep, dark starry eyes – so beautiful under these thick dark fake lashes and eyeliner – were wide with worry.

Hermes brought him onto a chair in front of Hades’ desk, carefully enough so Orpheus comfortably sat despite his hands bound on his back – though Orpheus wouldn’t mind leaning uncomfortably against his arms now, any pain he barely registered, flaccid as a doll. Lord Hades treaded left and right, patiently as he waited with his hands rested on his back, on the other side of the desk.

On the desk there was a golden scale – small enough, meant to weight coins – with two metal cups in each arm, a small hole pierced on their lids, like the one Hades had brought Orpheus each night. The contents in the cup on the left was lighter than the cup on the right, weighting its side of the scale down. The scale was placed a bit to Orpheus’ left, the cup at right right on the desk’s center, evoking… evoking Orpheus’ heart.

A thin metal straw, perhaps the same one Hades brought him to drink each night, was placed beside the scale, on the right. Further right, closer to the edge of the desk, a mug full of thickened and soft clouds of cotton already prepared for Orpheus’ mouth, and a roll of silver tape with his brand new strip already marked with black ink – a small part of Orpheus’ brain sniggered over the thought of Hades wasting all of these in case he chose the world above. On the left edge, a scented candle, similar to the one – Orpheus remembered – his Eurydice used to carry with her aboveground. White lily and red poppy petals were scattered over the desk.

Eurydice’s birdcage was tucked at the right corner of the room, at the back of the room behind Hades’ desk. At the left corner… Orpheus’ eyes widened. His lyre. It has been an eternity he last saw it. Still in good state, left intact, now it shone as it had, also, been polished.

Orpheus struggled against his bounds, though feeble and frail he was. There was nothing he wanted more in that moment than just feel these gleaming strings beneath his fingering hands once again, while he sang a song – words – to the steady beat of his strumming.

“Yes. Yes, it’s a beautiful instrument.” Hades strode to Orpheus’ beloved instrument, picking it up mindlessly. “Such a shame if you decide to stay bound to your wife forever, no longer able to strum your lyre ever again.”

“Hmmmmmm.” Orpheus gave Hades a death glare. Put that down right now, old man.

There were very few things Orpheus truly hated in this cold, dark world – beans, animal cruelty, the bum cell he just left behind, Hades’ abominable accordion playing, and when people touch his godsdamned things without his consent.

Hades snickered.

“What? Are you so vexed an old man gets to have some fun?”

He put Orpheus’ lyre down – thank goodness – only to walk up to Eurydice’s birdcage.

“Well, if you wish” he put a hand inside the cage to run it through Eurydice’s hair, “I could have a little songbird instead.”

Eurydice banged her head against his hand.

“Hmm-hmm!”

Hades laughed, unfazed, not even shaking his cold, hard hand.

“Defiant little one. Well, I am sure she’ll stay behaved if you stay by her side.” He walked up to Orpheus on his chair, running his hand through his hair. “I had always preferred a certain little poet without a mouth.”

“Mister Hades”, Hermes gently reminded him. “He’s running out of time.”

Orpheus tried keeping himself sat up, bright dots dancing in his vision.

“Of course” Hades said, lowering his hand. “That’s why we’re here.”

He walked with patience to his desk, to open a drawer and pick up a small object – a match. He then lit it up, to lit the scented candle on Orpheus’ left.

He sat on the other side of the desk, his hands touching each other’s tips, the gesture the boss does when he plans.

“In the left cup” he explained, pointing to the lighter cup on the scale, one cup lighter than the one below, “there’s water collected and specially treated from the River of Oblivion. Drink it, and your soul will be lulled to sleep as you forget everything you saw in the realms here down below. When you wake up, you’ll wake up on the world above, your bounds removed, the tape ripped off your mouth. You’ll be able to speak up and play with your hands, but you won’t remember anything.”

Orpheus’ dour, dry eyes ached as the lit candle shone bright, the room soon filling with the aroma of things he had once known aboveground – leaves of grass, the smell of flowers sprawling on wide fields, the soft dew on a chill morning. All he wanted was to feel the soft green grass beneath his feet again.

“In the right cup” Hades continued, pointing to the heavier cup, one cup heavier than the one above, “well blended fava beans, mixed with pomegranate seeds. Taste the favas, and your soul will be entombed in a new, eternal body in the realms here down below. You will die, and you will be brought back to life. When you wake up, you’ll wake up with new bounds, and brand new tape over your mouth. You’ll still remember everything you saw, but you’ll never be able to speak up again.”

Orpheus glanced at his Eurydice in the corner, meeting her worried wide eyes. All he wanted was to lay by her side again. He was also worried about what would happen to her – what would Hades do to her – if he chose to leave her behind.

“One for above, two for below.” The God twirled the metal straw in his hands. “So what will you choose, young man? The easy way, or the hard way?”

Orpheus took a deep breath through his nose, biting his cotton as strongly as he could, his eyes aching as if burnt with salt. He didn’t know what his answer was.

He thought the choice was obvious, that laying down with Eurydice for eternity was what he’d obviously choose, even if he had to clench his cottoned teeth in frustration and taste the favas. But the scents of aboveground were so overwhelming, he’d be tearing up if his eyes had no tears left to cry.

Clever old man, Orpheus bitterly thought. Lighting up a scented candle, so he’d be reminded of everything he would leave behind if he chose to stay stuck in this hell, his choice getting significantly harder.

For a moment, he wondered if refusing to choose – if taking the implied third option, or perhaps zero option, by not uttering anything, and just let himself starve and disappear into the Nether – would be the best one. But Eurydice would be, either way, left alone.

“Tic tac. Tic tac. Your time is running out” Hades teased him. “Well, you can still choose option zero and let yourself starve into the Great Beyond. My beloved prisoner will be dearly missed, but a lonely King will get a songbird and a new instrument!”

Orpheus’ fist would have clenched if it could.

He knew he didn’t have enough time. He could feel it, as his heart beat desperately against his ears, clamoring for more nourishing fuel as it tried to keep the steady beat of the song of his life.

“Hmmphmmm!” he heard Eurydice scream. “Hmmmmm! Hmmmmm!”

“Please choose, brother” he heard Hermes plead. “Please choose.”

He gazed at the cups, longing for anything, anything that would satiate his stomach, his heart. He didn’t think Oblivion water would be the best thing in the world, but he’d certainly prefer it over damned fava beans, if the existence of his wife weren’t at stake. Not even the thought of favas eating him from inside out seemed so bad now.

“Hmmmmm!” Eurydice cried. “Hmmphmmm!”

Orpheus traced the patterns of the petals on the desk with his eyes, sprinkled and scattered like the colorful dots – his own blood cells – dancing in his vision. They soared and twirled about, like stars.

Stars.

There was nothing he wanted more in this cold, dark world, than be able to tell her the stars. There was nothing in his sorry existence he wanted more than being able to show her the stars again.

His choice did not matter. No matter what he chose, Eurydice will remain the same, silenced, bound forever to the realms of the Underworld. And Orpheus could see, to Lord Hades, she was just a toy, no more important than a tool, put on the same level as a lifeless string instrument. He might as well throw her into the Great Beyond – or worse, Orpheus thought as he was reminded of the sorry Shade he saw, a lifeless shell of a person who used to be his mom, a long time ago – having no use for her, if Orpheus decided to set walk on the world above. He might contrive to get them separated again, if he chose to stay bound and silenced in the world below.

Eurydice meant nothing to him. But Orpheus knew Hades took a certain liking on him.

He would have smiled if he could, though his lips were still frozen beneath his silver tape. If there was one single soul in this cold, dark world who should be able to see the Sun again, it’s Eurydice.

“Hmmm hmmm hmmmmmm” he uttered.

“Hmmphmmm?” Eurydice uttered in her birdcage.

Hades raised an eyebrow.

“Excuse me? I don’t think I said anything about three.”

“Hmmm hmmm hmmmmmm!” Orpheus tried again, trying to indicate the left cup with his nose, and then tipping his head at Eurydice’s birdcage. “Hmmm hmmm hmmmmmm!”

“Hmmphmmm! Hmmmm! Hmmm! Hmmm?” Eurydice screamed, her eyes wide in shock. She understood.

Orpheus! What are you doing?

But Hades just stared at him, trying to decipher what he was trying to say.

“Your wife will be safe in my arms if you choose the world above, son!” He snickered, a bit… nervous? “I thought we already discussed about this!”

“Mister Hades, please remove his tape” Hermes pleaded.

“Hmm-hmm! Hmm-hmm! Hmmphmmm!” Eurydice was frantically shaking her head.

Hades stared at the messenger god as if he just fell from the moon.

“Are you suggesting me to––”

“Let him express himself clearly”, Hermes said. “You will seal his mouth again soon enough either way, if he decides to stay.”

The Lord of Hell kept staring at him, with a dead expression.

“The contents in both cups will knock him off in one way or another” Hermes continued. “Sleep or death, brothers they are. Ain’t no need to bind and gag him now, ‘aight, if he won’t even move his limbs or his mouth at all because his mind is shut down?”

“Hermes” Hades interrupted, stern. “He sings while he sleeps.”

“And I think he’s now too starved to be able to–– wait, how do you know he sings when he sleeps?”

If Hades’ cold, pale face could become red, he certainly seemed to be turning red, now. Orpheus wondered if what he saw in Eurydice’s eyes at that moment was humor, or jealously.

Orpheus gazed at Hades, pleading with his eyes, trying to ignore the ringing in his ears – getting louder and louder as his life slowly ebbed out, his vision blinking in and out like a flickering screen.

“Don’t look at me with these eyes, son!” Hades protested.

Orpheus kept his eyes at him like that.

“Fine.” Hades sighed, walking around the desk to Orpheus’ chair. “I’ll remove your tape, but not your bounds. You won’t need your hands here at all. But if you dare raising your voice against me, son, the King of the Underworld shall smite you into the Great Beyond! Brace yourself, this will be painful.”

Riiip.

“HMMMMMMMMMMMM!” he screamed, blinded by the flash of pain where his tape use to be, his skin formicating around his chapped lips. He then bent down to cough all the cotton out, not even white anymore, dark like his blood – because he also spat a bit of blood, springing in his mouth where the thick cotton had lodged in.

Through the corner of his flickering vision, he saw one of Hades’ foremen frown, as if frustrated about needing to clean that office yet again.

“Hmmphmmm!” Eurydice screamed from her birdcage.

“Aaaahhhh!” Orpheus opened his mouth, trying to ignore the pain while moving his lower half face muscles. Which was not hard, barely he registered anything as he slowly died from starvation. “AAAAAHHH!!!”

Oh godsdamn, he forgot how to speak.

Hades took two pieces of cotton from the mug to put into his ears.

“Please get over with this soon.”

“Eu… Eur… Eurydice…” Orpheus tried.

“Hmmphmmm…” Eurydice uttered from her cage.

“Give… cup… Eurydice” he managed to say. “Give… above… cup… Eurydice.”

Hades raised an eyebrow. “Pardon?”

“Orpheus” Hermes asked softly, “what are you doing?”

“Take my mouth that kissed her mouth.” Orpheus managed to say, the words flowing out of his dying tongue, like a dam that has just been opened. “Take my tongue that sung her praise. Take my arms that used to reach out, aboveground where we laid. But Eurydice, my dearly beloved, should get to live, see the Sun and the stars again, in the world above.”

Eurydice stifled a muffled sob.

Hades only studied him, perhaps a little agape.

“Let her touch the green grass beneath her feet” Orpheus continued, frantic and rapt. “Let her smell the flowers sprawling over the fields. Let her feel the soft dew on a chill morning, the light of the Sun shining on her skin once again. Let her lay down on the ground above, to watch the stars soaring above her, high and bright. Take my voice. Take my hands. Take this music, and the memory of the Muse from which it came. But the Muse should get to live, she should get to hear the birds in the trees, and the sound of rivers on the wind again.”

“Hmm gh hmm.” Tears ran down Eurydice’s face, her chin trembling beneath her tape. “Hmm mm.”

Hermes sighed. “Orpheus…”

“My wife shall live above” he continued, knowing these are the last words he’ll ever, ever say. “And I shall become deathless in death below. I swear on the shining walls of wide Styx, Eurydice should get to live under the light of the Sun, as long as the shining strip of silver tape seals my mouth.”

“Hmmphmmm! Hmm-hmm!” Eurydice shook her head frantically. “Hmm-hmm!”

Orpheus felt the way his lips formicated, aching for a new strip. He felt the way his bounds wrapped his limbs with power, charged with his oath.

“I love you, Eurydice” Orpheus said, at last. “Please go see the stars for me.”

He saw Hades smirk on the other side of the desk, with satisfaction. No matter what, Hades still got the best out of this choice.

Then he pended on his chair, almost passing out, his vision fading in and out. His heart seemed to be faltering with every beat now, his song of life soon coming to a stop. His time is running out. His time is running out.

“Hmmphmmm!” He heard Eurydice scream, worried. “Hmmmmm!”

“Very well, then” Hades said. “Hermes, feed the favas to the boy.”

Hermes seemed reluctant as he took the right cup out of the scale, removing its lid before feeding its content to Orpheus.

“It’s gonna be alright, brother” he whispered, perhaps to himself as much as to Orpheus. “Drink this in a single gulp, you’ll be dead as soon as you notice it. You won’t feel a thing when you go down.”

Orpheus nodded, silently, as he pressed his eyes shut, trying to gather strength. Oh no. Oh no…

Hermes held the cup as he drew it all in. And he felt the taste of death on his tongue, horrible, abominable, and the way the thing burned in his mouth, down his throat like liquid fire. And he felt the way his skin started to erupt in hives, as if a lot of tiny volcanos were being awakened, and the way his throat closed like the gates of Hell. He saw the colorful dancing dots in his eyes thinning, bursting one by one, as if killed and eaten by the demon beans one by one.

And he tried to scream, but no sound came out. Not even a muffled scream.

He fell down on the ground, quivering, convulsing, feeling his body burning down in flames. At least he was lucky he fell right off his chair on his side rather than on his bound arms, so he could at least see his Eurydice’s beautiful face – the way her silver tape shimmered softly to the light of the lit candle’s flame like a river glittering under the light of the sun, and the way her deep, dark eyes reflected light like a night sky full of stars – one last time.

“HMMPHMMM!” Eurydice screamed as she saw him literally die before her. “HMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM!”

“Guards!” He heard Lord Hades give his order, at least. “Give the cup of Oblivion to the girl. Do not remove her tape, pierce it carefully with the straw. Do not remove her bounds until the light of the Sun shines on her aboveground.”

Even though he was dying, fading away more and more with each faltering beat from his bleeding heart – as he heard Eurydice’s muffled screams and Hermes calling his name in panic, their voices fading more and more beneath the increasingly loud ringing in his ears –, Orpheus let out a last smile.

Somewhere in the fading distance, Hades laughed. “Mine! This lyre is mine!”

The last thing he heard before his world became dark was the sound of a birdcage being opened.

When he saw the light at the end of the tunnel as his soul tried, at least, leaving his body behind, it closed on him, like an iris out.

When he woke up, he felt the pressure of the tape over his mouth, filled with cotton once again. It felt even stronger now, thick and tight upon his permanently pursed lips, now that there were no cracks this time.

He noticed he was not breathing, at first. He did not need to. But he started doing so mechanically through his nose as he woke up, out of habit, his chest rising and falling like the tide. He did not need to breathe to live anymore, but he needed doing so to think.

He was still bound, of course, but he felt comfortable now, even though he’s lying over his bound arms on his back. Perhaps not entirely because he feels so unresponsive to everything now, in death. He’s been sleeping on a comfortable bed, lying down in eiderdown, a pillow beneath his head.

He sat up on his new bed, taking in the new strange environment around him. Lavish curtains, though his new chambers also had no windows. An ornate chandelier of diamonds and gold, shining softly like the sun, under the flickering light of candles in candleholders shimmering silver and gold. Luxuriant wardrobes and end tables carved out of white poplar with golden details, and silver mirrors with golden frames encrusted with rare gemstones where the windows should have been. His bed, too – huge, queen size, covered with lavish blankets and pillows of feathers – seemed carved organically out of white poplar, in a way that at least suggested natural growth, but he knew these rootless, leafless plants were as dead as he was.

He gazed at his own face on one of the mirrors. He never gave a second glance to his own appearance, but he wouldn’t deny the silver tape did, indeed, look good on him – no ripples, no cracks, with an almost mirror-like quality though it didn’t reflect anything, hiding any hint he had of a mouth beneath. He has also been bathed and cleaned as he slept, his long locks of beige hair washed and brushed, tied with ribbons. Thick dark fake lashes and eyeliner were applied to his green eyes, touches of rouge on his pale cheeks to emphasize his tape’s silver shine. He was dressed in a beautiful long white robe similar to Eurydice’s blue dress – though instead of breasts he had an open, wide cleavage in a way that almost made him uncomfortable – with golden details matching his new, polished, ornate and intricate bounds made of silver and gold.

He’s beautiful. The man without a mouth staring at him from the other side of the mirrors was beautiful. He was no longer Orpheus, the average, unremarkable poor boy who happened to have a good enough singing voice and hands skilled enough to stand out. Now he’s part of Hades’ property, tucked inside to sleep in a windowless chamber, forever bound to him and nameless, voiceless, mouthless. Cotton flesh grows where the insides of his mouth used to be, the silver tape a part of his own skin.

He sighed through his nose. His new bed was huge enough to have a place for another, but he was alone in this room without windows, wherever he was.

“Orpheus. You’re finally awake.”

Mister Hermes stepped into his chambers through the ornate arched door, lifting the lavish curtains with his hand.

“Hmmm.” Orpheus acknowledged him with a muffled uttering. “Hmmm?” He darted his eyes around his new room. Where am I?

Hermes pursed his lips.

“We’re in Hades’ mansion now. The King reserved some special chambers just for you.”

“Hmm. Hmmhmm.” Orpheus dipped his chin down, indicating himself. “Hmmm?” What happened to me?

Hermes sighed.

“You died. And you came back to life.” He glanced at him head to toe, his cold, lifeless, eternally bound and silenced self. “If you can call this life.”

“Hmmm.” I know.

Orpheus then did a little hop on his bed, like a bird trying to learn how to fly.

“Hmmmmmmm?”

Hermes studied him, deciphering what he was trying to say.

“Eurydice?” he guessed. “She’s safe and sound aboveground. She’s been brought to my Station. Persephone will personally watch over her every Spring and Summer, and teach her the ropes as her new patron.”

Orpheus’ eyes glinted. He would have smiled widely if he could.

“Her bounds have been removed and her tape ripped off” the messenger god continued, “but she’s still unable to speak or move her limbs properly. It’s gonna take some time ‘till she gets the hang on it all again.”

Orpheus lowered his head, full of regret.

He shrugged his shoulders while he tilted his head. “Hmmm?”

She forgot everything, right?

Hermes sighed.

“Yes, she forgot everything. This is making help her relearn how to talk and walk a bit complicated.”

Orpheus let out a strong, cold puff out of his nose, rueful.

“But she’s a resilient young woman, brother” said the messenger god. “It wouldn’t be the first time she’d remember everything she has forgotten. Girl got a strong, resilient mind.”

Orpheus nodded, his eyes glinting a little. She does!

“You did a really, really brave thing, brother” Hermes said. “To give up your voice, your hands, your life… so your wife gets to be able to live again. To become a piece of nameless property so your beloved gets to be free.”

Orpheus dismissed it with a light tip of his head. It was the right thing to do.

“Well, there’s one thing I could do for you in this position” his patron deity said, then. “I can help you learn the ropes around here.”

Orpheus snorted. The ropes. Alright.

Hermes put a hand on his shoulder, forlorn.

“I am going to miss hearing you sing, Orpheus” he sighed. “And your way of seeing things.”

Orpheus snuggled on his hand with his head.

“Hmm hm-hm-hmm” he muttered softly. “Hmmff hmmmm.”

Don’t worry, Mister Hermes, I can still hum! Lord Hades even likes it when I hum.

Hermes drew his hand back, turning around. At the entrance stood Lord Hades himself, his pinstripe suit stripped off to his shirt and trousers. The Gods acknowledged each other silently with their glances, before Hermes stepped out of the room.

Hades slowly walked up to Orpheus’ bed.

“And so we finally meet each other again, young man.” He ran his hand on his ribboned hair. “My Children made an excellent job on you.”

“Hmmmmph.” Hopefully you can treat your Children nicely after this.

Hades lowered his hand.

“You chose the hard way, Orpheus.”

Once again, the voice of the Lord of the Underworld was soft as he spoke his little prisoner’s name. The rare, rare times he would acknowledge Orpheus as an equal, if only so he could hide his name beneath silver tape once again.

“To stay bound to the realms below, to stay behind and let your wife see the Sun”, the God continued. “This is a test I go through every year, every turning of Seasons. There’s nothing in this world the lonely King of the Underworld would want more than have his girl by his side, forever, at all times. But Fate has had it set for her so she should see the Sun shine on her every year, every break of dawn, and brave the world with her unbound feet and unbridled tongue, so she can fly with unclipped wings and reach heights in her life where he cannot follow.”

Tears threatened to gather at the corner of Orpheus’ eye.

He wanted to shake his head. This felt so unfair. Hades, at least, could still see his beloved Persephone for half of the year, when Fall strikes the leaves out of their trees and Winter covers the world with a blanket of snow. And Orpheus would never, ever see his wife again.

“But the lonely King now has company for the year” Hades said, caressing Orpheus’ face once again. His thumb running on his tape again, but with no crack for him to linger on this time.

This time, Orpheus did not register Hades’ cold, hard touch. Cold and dead he was, himself.

“From now on” Hades said with a smile, “we shall have a lot of fun together.”

Orpheus snorted. Yeah. Of course.

But spending the rest of eternity being the mute company of the King of this Hell He Lives In did not sound so bad. Though he had yet to know if it was a promotion, or a demotion, from being the mute King of the Sing-Sing Cell.

“And to celebrate our lovely reunion, Mister Hades will play a song of merriment with his brand new instrument!” Hades smiled wildly. “Guards! Bring me the lyre.”

Wait, no!

No no no no no no!

Oh, godsdamn.

“Hmmmmmmmmm!” Orpheus protested. The only thing he could do as he watched Lord Hades’ foremen bring him what was once – in a lifetime long ago – Orpheus’ most beloved item in the world he had left aboveground. His lyre, which he used to play with his own hands as steady as his own beating heart, but now his hands were forever bound behind him with silver and gold, and his frozen, hardened heart won’t beat anymore.

And now Lord Hades played it, in the most horrifying, abominable way, out of tune, out of time, and Orpheus wished he could at least have his hands free for a moment to rip his own ears off.

“Precious stones glitter in the cold dark pit, la la la la la la la!”

“HMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM!!”

Fall came at least gracing the world above and below, Lady Persephone coming back home with news about her new acolyte. Eurydice has just learned how to talk and walk again, she said. She loves running over green grass fields, feeling the light of the Sun shine on her skin.

“When I last saw her, she was playing with falls leaves and happily jumping on leaf mounds” she told him as she laughed softly, and for a moment Orpheus wished more than anything else in this cold, dark world to be able to smile again.

“Hmmm” he tried to ask, worried. “Hmmm?”

“I am sure she’ll survive the winter, brother” the Goddess said. “Her soul is barred from Hadestown, remember? Not even starvation will kill her now.”

“Hmm! Hmmhmm.”

“All because of you!” She ruffled his hair.

Persephone’s hand lingered a bit too long close to Orpheus’ face, as if she were seriously pondering about ripping that tape off his mouth.

Hermes gently placed his hand on her pulse.

“You know we can’t do that, sister” he said softly. “He took a vow of eternal silence. He swore by the Styx. This is really, really serious matter.”

“I know, brother.” Persephone drew back her hand, shaking her head. “Such on oath also binds me here in this realm below, for half of each year as the Seasons turn.”

“My love.” Lord Hades stood at the arched entrance to Orpheus’ chambers. “You’re early.”

Lady Persephone walked up to her husband at the door.

“Hello, Hades. I missed you.”

“I missed you too. You look so beautiful.”

Lady Persephone indeed looked so beautiful for the Fall. Her cascades of curly hair were tied in braids and decorated with drops of amber, her otherwise green dress glittering with morning dew was now tinged in the fiery colors of fall leaves.

Then she covered Hades’ mouth with the palm of her hand.

“Tie me up tonight” Orpheus heard the Goddess whisper on her husband’s ear. “Truss me like a bird on a spit.”

“Hmm. Hmmhmm.” Hearing Hades’ voice muffled like that was not something Orpheus ever expected to hear in the remainder of his existence. “Hmm.”

Orpheus and Mister Hermes exchanged awkward glances.

Hermes still had quite a few ropes to teach.

For the most part, Orpheus does not mind no longer being able to speak.

There’s nothing to say down here. Not in the comfort of these luxuriant blankets, in a lavish, candlelit windowless bedchamber.

Here lies Orpheus, cold and hard on the soft blankets beneath. His flesh now stone, his blood dried out as his veins became hollow, his heavy and hard heart no longer beating in his hollow chest. He no longer had to eat, to drink, or to use the bathroom, though he’ll always miss the company of Humfer. He was so glad he was no longer stuck in that bum cell he left behind, at least. And he’d never be forced to swallow those damned demon beans ever again.

He had the foremen for company at least, always standing on his guard – and watching him – when the King wasn’t around, and pampering him and gussying him up at all times. He could do nothing with his hands for obvious reasons, so Lord Hades reserved a lot of hands just for him. They were also his legs, carrying him around Hades’ sumptuous mansion in a lavish golden travel bed, and giving him rides around the town in Hades’ fancy car. They had the decency to not tuck him in the truck and let him ride on the passenger seat now, though Orpheus always made a point of making them buckle up his seat belt with insistent grunts and head gestures.

They would tell him stories from the world above, as well as news and stories from the world below, as they pampered him, keeping him entertained. He loved hearing their stories, though of course that was the only true entertainment he had here down below. Though he wished he could be able to comment on them more than hmm, hmmhmm or hmm-hmm. He did try drawing stuff for them with this nose, but… well, at least he could tell his handmen had a lot of fun trying to guess his messy squiggly lines.

He wished he could still be able to tell his own stories, at least. It used to be something so important to him, a long time ago. On the other hand – bound behind him, the two hands are basically one now –, he no longer had anything to tell. A good listener is all he can be.

But it was enough. A good listener was all Lord Hades needed. And Orpheus knew his muffled, muted, wordless utterances were pleasing to his King, in a way skillful poetics and flowery words could never be. He was unable to utter a single word, but he knew he had the old man wrapped around his bound fingers. A few soft hums were enough to turn the heavy and hard heart of the Lord of Hell small and soft, nudging out of him better working conditions for his underlings and all denizens, a kinder Underworld as he helped giving wordless counsel to guide Hades’ rule, as well as giving him a shoulder and an ear when he needed to cry about his marriage woes with a fellow man.

He knew he had to be careful, though, lest the Lord of Hell get too aroused and distracted at work. Though it felt always so fun to see.

For the better parts of his remaining eternity Orpheus would be placed on the base of Lord Hades’ chromium throne, just by his feet, and overlook his realm together with his King.

He has grown used to these lavish ropes with incrusted gems and so many intricate details binding him, strapping his legs against each other and wrapping his arms behind him. He has grown used to the thick tape gluing his lips so tight, the feeling of cotton filling his mouth, wrapping his teeth and holding his tongue down, and the way he did not even have any saliva to swallow now.

The ropes were not bad at all. He no longer felt pain if he strained his limbs too much. The cotton, too, felt always so fluffy and soft in his mouth. He could hum himself to sleep with the thought of fluffy snow. He could live the rest of his afterlife like this.

Even the sticky pressure of the tape didn’t feel bad. He even loved it, in a way. It felt pleasant on his permanently pursed lips, like a sip of honey. He took reassurance in the constant pressure every day – the closest feeling he had to a thick blanket wrapping him, in a way that felt more authentic than all these lavish blankets on his queen sized bed. His lower half face muscles were always relaxed, still as a mask – he would never strain them by frowning, or gritting his teeth, or clenching his jaw, or forcing a smile when he shouldn’t. His chin would never fall down his face, because he no longer felt surprise with anything here down below.

He couldn’t sigh, though he sometimes still wished he could. He could take a deep, sorrowful breath through his nose, at least – keeping himself calm. But he did not even need to breathe anymore.

He missed being able to talk and walk beneath the stars, feeling the soft green grass beneath his running feet. He missed the rivers, the trees and the birds. He missed feeling the taste of heavenly milk, of nourishing, warm food. He missed the warmth in his now cold body, and the beating of his now still heart.

But he took comfort in knowing, somewhere aboveground, his beloved Eurydice still had a warm, flesh and blood heart beating in her chest, and she could be doing any of these and even more, at any time.

Mister Hermes sometimes brought news of her, when returning from his travels aboveground. At every Winter and Fall when Lady Persephone returned to the world below, she’d bring a throughout update on her new, promising acolyte. She’s taking up drawing now, she said at some point, which made Orpheus wish he could smile once again. She took up the flute again, which made him feel surprised for a moment, because he didn’t know she used to play the flute in her past – she never told him, like she had never told him about her drawing talents.

Eventually she found another husband, Aristaeus. Orpheus did feel jealous, but he knew he had to move on and let her go, just as he had to move on about his beloved lyre in Hades’ hands. And Eurydice deserved to live the best life she could, free from any constraints. Her love life is hers and hers alone.

He only hoped Aristaeus would treat her well. If he didn’t… Orpheus would see if he could nudge from Lord Hades a special strip of tape reserved just for him. Perhaps some low quality cotton mixed with gravel.

But he knew Aristaeus would eventually become a footnote in Eurydice’s life, even if she never decides to leave him after all. He would eventually grow old, wither and die, while Eurydice would remain forever young and functionally immortal aboveground, watching the whole world change before her eyes, the seasons come and go as she learned and lived, as long as the silver tape lasted upon Orpheus’ eternally sealed mouth.

He took comfort in knowing nobody else would – could – kiss his own eternally sealed lips, not even Hades. They belonged to Eurydice and Eurydice alone.

At some point, Persephone told him she decided to pick up the lyre. Which made Orpheus feel even more surprised, the rare kind of surprise he never felt in this cold, dark world he existed in. A bit jealous, too, but only a bit. The lyre was his thing! It used to be, at least.

But he felt some warmth as well, in his cold, hard dead body. He wondered if her memories are, at least, slowly returning, as they did when they were both struck, stuck together in that cold, dark brimstone cell.

He wondered if one day she’d remember him. If one day she’d come, like he tried and failed a long lifetime ago, and find him lying in the bed he made.

He’s a dreamer, he’s a man. And he dreams as much as he can, as long as her heart pumps blood for her forever young mind, setting the beat for the song of her life somewhere the Sun shines bright.

He could not utter any sound beyond the m sound. But one sound was enough. He could still pitch this sound high and low, from the bottom of his throat. He could still hum.

And this is how he spent the remainder of his nights, the remainders of all days and nights he had in existence in his lavish, candlelit windowless burial chambers, humming melodies from a world long past as he was lain down on the comfort of his own deathbed.

Wherever Eurydice wanders, alone upon the earth, he only hoped his humming would follow her, and bring her comfort.

“ Hmmm-mm-mm-mmm-mmm-mmm-mmmmmmm… ”