I'm Moaraka, and I'm excited to announce season 4 of my podcast, Mobituaries.

I've got a whole new bunch of stories to share with you about the most fascinating people

and things who are no longer with us.

From famous figures who died on the very same day to the things I wish would die like

buffets, all that and much more.

Don't you Mobituaries with Moaraka, wherever you get your podcasts?

Sing Muses.

Sing to me a story of Olympus and the deathless gods who govern Earth, sea and sky.

But there is no response to Orpheus's invocation.

This is the underworld.

The muse is singing, they're dancing, they're playing of the liar and the flute.

None of it can pierce the deathly veil.

So Orpheus must sing alone, and he must not stop.

So Hades, Lord of the Dead, has warned him.

For Orpheus's song is not merely a guide, a candle in the dark for his wife, darling

Eurydice, to follow as they wind their way back, pass the rivers and the forests, and out

of the underworld entirely.

No, his song is the only thing that gives Eurydice form clarity.

Its familiar tune is the only thing to separate her from the fog, from the formless dead,

revenants, little more than whispers and curling vapor.

And if Orpheus stops even for a moment, she will fade again, and forever.

He dares not even look back at her for fear of destruction.

...