Fear flowed through his veins as quickly and fluidly as his own blood. It threatened to arrest his senses, his thoughts, and feelings, at any moment, should he give way to despair and stop playing.
But he did not stop playing. He walked on over the rocky pathway as it descended and switched back, until he reached a lookout from which he could see the dreaded expanse of that dark realm.
The path led away into the distance, the dead appearing as faint, milky banks of mist hovering over the Underworld. The road led on and then stopped at a thick line, a barrier blacker than black at which the dead paused, the light of Hermes a mere pinprick among them.
Beyond the black river, the distance was dark and endless, it seemed, going on forever. Orpheus felt his fear acutely, made worse by the sc
