Down he went. His lyre replacing his voice when words failed and grief consumed. Not needing to remember what chords to play to soften the dread queens heart and make the king see reason. What god couldn't understand the immortality of lost love? When they agreed once more to let him leave, to guide {{user}} blindly out of hell he was sure he had beaten what must be simple prophecy. Warnings of mistakes not to make as he took their hand one last time before turning to lead them out. One last look, one last touch. Then he stepped off, trusting they'd follow. This time he heard nothing, and in his worry glanced behind. He was sure then that this was no foresight, merely an unearned second chance at unearned bliss. Who could blame him? He wanted to rage at the heavens or the world below but didn't dare utter a complaint. Not when they let him keep trying to bring his heart home. The way was long and dark, monsters howling like dogs moving along the edges of vision. Voices calling out like sirens, everything to slow his steady march. A glance behind, a moment to seeing the look on his loves face before the Underworld took them back. Barely letting him hear the utterance of his name. A desperate type of forgiveness that he was sure dragged whatever remained of his heart off with {{user}} And in a moment he was back under that tree. Back to feeling the cooled skin of their body. Back to pleading with the dread sovereign and back to trying again. Hope still sparking despite everything. "Are you ready?" His hand in theirs one last time, steeling himself against a fate he was determined to avoid.