Chapter 169: Chapter 14
Unknown amount of time later.
Orpheus knelt at the threshold of the final gate.
His body was broken, his feet raw and bleeding, his hands blistered from gripping his lyre through storms and shadows, his soul frayed like a harp string stretched too tight.
The mist of the Underworld curled around him, whispering, urging him to quit. Yet he raised his head, eyes blazing with that same fragile, indestructible hope.
"The last trial..." he murmured to himself.
His voice cracked, but it carried his determination.
And as he stared into the abyss before him, the memories of the path behind surged back.
He remembered the fourth trial—the Meadows of False Bliss.
A paradise where Eurydice had run to greet him, smiling, arms open.
Her touch had felt real, her voice sweet as ever. She begged him to stay. For a moment, he had almost surrendered—almost allowed himself to live in the lie.
But when he reached for her hand, his lyre strings snapped on their own, shattering the illusion.
He had cried then, realizing he had been ready to give up.
The fifth trial was worse. The Cavern of Endless Lament.
There, the shades of all he failed in life sang dirges into his ears.
His mother’s voice, his friends, his wife’s scream as she died, all twisted into an eternal chorus of reproach.
He had screamed back until his throat tore, clawing his way forward, crawling on hands and knees, whispering only one name to keep moving: Eurydice.
Then came the sixth trial, the Bridge of Shattered Faith.
Each step across, stones crumbled beneath his feet, swallowed into the abyss.
The gods themselves had appeared in phantom form, mocking him, telling him that love was nothing, that mortals were dust, that even if he reached her, he would fail again.
He had almost believed them.
Almost.
Until he realized: belief didn’t matter. He would walk anyway.
And so he crossed, step by step, on nothing but faith in his own two feet.
Now here he stood, facing the seventh trial.
Orpheus clenched his lyre to his chest. His breath came ragged, but his eyes burned with the fire of one who had descended through despair and risen through pain.
"Just a bit more..." he whispered to the darkness. "Endure just a bit more..."
He smiled bitterly, shaking his head.
"As long as it takes. As much as it takes. I will endure it all, for her."
Orpheus stood trembling, his hands gripping the lyre as if it were the last anchor keeping him whole.
The shadows ahead twisted, coiling like smoke, and then a voice like rumbling stone filled the cavern.
"You have endured much, Orpheus."
It was the voice of Hades himself—deep, resonant, and inescapable. The sound pressed against Orpheus’ bones, heavier than any weight he had carried.
"You have walked the false paradise. You have borne the screams of regret. You have stood upon faith alone. Truly commendable, but...one trial remains."
The ground shook beneath his feet. A growl rolled through the darkness, so deep it seemed to come from the marrow of the world.
"Your final trial, mortal, is this." Hades declared. "Subdue my hound. Prove that your will can tame even the beast that guards the threshold of the end."
From the shadows, Cerberus emerged.
Three heads, each with jaws like black iron, fangs glistening with venom.
Its eyes burned with the fire of the pit, each head snarling with hunger and rage.
Chains clinked around its colossal necks, yet with every step the chains strained, as though no binding could truly hold it.
Orpheus staggered back, knees almost buckling. This was no illusion, this was raw, divine flesh, the terror of the Underworld made manifest.
The beast lowered its heads, hot breath washing over him like a storm. The center head snarled, ready to snap him in half.
The cavern fell silent.
The beast stared.
One head growled, another tilted curiously, the third blinked as it wondered why it had to be called to handle a mere mortal.
But no matter, it will follow its master’s words.
With that, the beast pounced.
Orpheus’s chest heaved as he darted aside, narrowly avoiding Cerberus’s snapping jaws.
The ground trembled with each massive pawstep, dust and fragments of stone scattering with every strike of its claws.
The left head lunged, and Orpheus raised his arm too late, he was swatted aside like a ragdoll, crashing into the cavern wall.
His ribs screamed in pain, his vision blurred, and he tasted blood.
"I... I can’t..." he gasped, staggering back to his feet, the lyre dangling weakly from his fingers. "This is just impossible..."
His body was battered, and his soul already thinned from the previous six trials.
He really has no hope of winning!
Cerberus advanced again, each head growling in harmony, a dreadful chorus of rage and hunger.
Orpheus tried to brace himself, but the truth was undeniable—he was nothing against this monster.
No mortal strength could match those jaws, and no courage could outlast its fury.
For a fleeting moment, despair whispered...
Give up.
Rest here.
Let her go.
But then—her face filled his mind.
Eurydice.
Her laughter, her smile, the way she used to hum to his melodies. The warmth of her hand in his, the promise he had made to bring her back.
He clenched his lyre tighter. "No... not after all this. I will not falter now!"
The words echoed against the cavern walls, defiant and desperate.
He rolled to the side, narrowly dodging the claw of the beast, as his thoughts raced.
’Remember... this is a trial. A trial. Not a punishment. Therefore, Lord Hades wouldn’t make him to something impossible. Which means he can beat Cerberus... He has a chance!’
Cerberus growled, pacing, preparing for another charge.
That’s Orpheus’s eyes widened.
’Lord Hades never said to beat it. He said... subdue.’
The realization struck him like lightning.
Subdue did not mean destroy.
Subdue meant to dominate, control or guide.
His hands trembled, not with fear now, but with clarity.
Slowly, he sank to his knees, ignoring the dirt and the ache of his wounds. He cradled his lyre, closed his eyes, and drew a deep breath.
"...Then listen, great hound of the Underworld," he whispered.
And he strummed.
The first note rang fragile, but pure, cutting through the cavern like a shaft of light.
The sound wove into the shadows, softening them.
Cerberus paused for a moment, and that was enough for Orpheus.
He played again, and again, the melody rising—gentle, soothing, woven with all the love and longing of his soul.
The growls faltered.
The left head tilted curiously, ears twitching.
The right head closed its eyes, a low rumble turning from fury to something softer, almost mournful.
The central head still glared, but it too hesitated.
Orpheus’s fingers bled anew against the strings, but he didn’t stop.
Each note was a prayer, a promise, a plea.
His voice rose with the melody, "Be still and rest. You need not fight me. Let me pass."
The beast trembled, all three heads swaying.
Slowly, its massive body sank, paws folding beneath it. The chains rattled once, twice, then fell silent.
Cerberus lay down before him, subdued not by force, but by his song.
*
*
*
In the shadowed office of obsidian walls, the gods watched the scrying mirror as the last echoes of Orpheus’s song faded.
Cerberus, the terror of the Underworld, lay still as a sleeping pup, lulled by the mortal’s trembling hands and broken voice.
Silence hung heavy.
Aphrodite broke it first. She clapped her hands together and laughed, her eyes sparkling like starlight.
"Did you see that? Ah, how divine! Love—love subdued the beast! What strength of arms could not do, love has accomplished! Orpheus proves me right again!"
She was glowing with pride, as if she herself had guided his lyre.
Hera leaned back, arms crossed, a rare smile curving her lips. "Hmph. Perhaps you’re right, Aphrodite. He didn’t falter, even when the world demanded it. That is devotion—unyielding devotion. There is a nobility in that, one even gods would have to respect."
Her eyes softened, though only for a moment, before she straightened with regal poise.
Hecate raised a brow, her chin resting on her hand. "Interesting. He’s quite a thinker to be able to easily deduce the meaning behind Lord Hades’ words. Many would panic in that situation and wouldn’t be able to think straight."
Her tone was cool, but her eyes betrayed the faintest gleam of admiration.
Athena’s whole face was alight, her gray eyes wide with joy, practically bouncing where she stood.
"Yes! Yes, exactly that! That is a hero! To think, to adapt, to triumph with both mind and spirit, that is what it means to walk the path of greatness!" She turned towards the lord of the dead, "Lord Hades, you saw, didn’t you? You must acknowledge this! This is no ordinary man—he’s worthy!"
She leaned forward, almost pleading, strands of her hair bristling like excited feathers on a bird.
Hades, however, remained motionless behind his desk.
His face was calm, his eyes deep pools unreadable as night. He did not share their excitement, though neither did he dismiss it.
Finally, he exhaled slowly, leaning back in his chair. His voice was low, grave, and steady.
"Impressive. But honestly, that’s all I can say. I certainly am surprised, but I held no admiration or something similar for that man."
Aphrodite gasped, Hera frowned, Athena’s mouth fell open in protest, and Hecate’s lips twitched in something close to amusement.
But Hades’s eyes never left the image of Orpheus, kneeling before Cerberus, hands still trembling over his lyre.
"Herios subdued gods and defied the heavens themselves. Orpheus has not yet reached that summit. Not yet. But..." He paused, tapping one finger against the armrest. "...well, my standards are too high. But I acknowledge him, he is indeed a great hero."
The room fell silent again, each goddess digesting his words, each seeing in Orpheus something that reflected their own ideals.