Disclaimer Inspiration for this tale is drawn from the writings of Homer and Ovid, as well as the music of the ingenious composer George Frideric Handel.

I definitely don't own anything accept my portrayals of the characters.

It was a place of shadows, where the triumphs, joys and sorrows of humanity were reduced to pale echoes of their earthly glory. Here all mortals were equal, their titles, riches and achievements all stripped from them by the hand of death. King waited with peasant, soldier stood with slave, restless; ever shifting wraiths which bore little resemblance to the mortals they had been in life.

Here, all emotion was quickly swallowed by darkness borne of torment, the knowledge that all who entered would be aware of their loss for a moment, only to be consumed by the great emptiness about them, until all knowledge of their former mortal existence was utterly forgotten save for the anguish of knowing something precious had been taken. Even that one final spark of knowing lasted for a brief instant, until nothing remained but a deep longing for something which could never be named, for even the knowledge of language was denied them. So they drifted, ever restless, tossed about on the frigid winds which constantly swirled about this place, the domain of Hades, and his consort Persephone.

Then it would begin. More alluring than a siren's call, it wove itself into the fiber of each soul with gentle relentless persistence. It was music unlike anything conceived by mortal imagination, an endless melody so rich in texture, complexity and splendor that it drew each listener into its song with merciless, inexorable power.

In that moment of surrender the dance would commence. It was a ceaseless interchange of movements so intricate and graceful that the most skilled dancer's efforts to imitate them would be fruitless. Yet it was curiously devoid of emotion, containing neither joy nor sorrow, passion or fervor. The steps could be complex and intricate, or formal and elegant, reminiscent of the dances performed at the courts of kings throughout the mortal world.

Each shade had their turn, where they would for a moment be at the center of the endless throng of dancers, and take up the position of leader. This was a dance which required no particular skill, simply total absolute surrender to the steps each performed with flawless precision at the bidding of their lord, and the guidance of the music which held all enslaved to its will.

It was a dance which could never be learned through tuition or observation. A music which could not be contained within the fragile confines of written notes, which neither human voice nor instrument could hope to capture in all its terrible unending glory. It was the song and dance of eternity. And as intended it sought to smother that ever present longing within each shade, effortlessly captivating all who were destined by the fates to share this joyless existence.

All save one.

She moved as one with the throng of shades, a slender form clothed in shadow, every gesture and step revealing her skill and familiarity with the dance. Like the others her spirit was a fading echo of what it had been in life. The dark eyes held none of the warmth and passion they had once possessed, death had reduced the glorious tangle of raven locks to limp colorless strands. Only the face revealed a glimmer of the headstrong intelligent and ambitious woman she had been, classical features still retaining the suggestion of sensuality, independence and determination that had earned her a reputation for reckless impulsive behavior.

But unlike the others she had not yet surrendered to the siren call of eternity's rhythm and music. Welcoming then rejecting the call of infinity, she fought to retain even a shred of her lost humanity, though the effort cost her much. Ever restless, her soul drifted like the countless others bound to the kingdom of Hades, but within the deepest part of her essence remained a single spark of determination. She would not be like the rest, mindless specters with no will or memories of their own, save for the music of eternity which held all in thrall. No, somehow she would reclaim all that the gods had taken; through the strength of her will she would seek to conquer the emptiness which relentlessly sought to draw her into eternity's song.

Stubbornly, caughtiously she made the first attempt. Slowly extending her senses, she tried to focus all her concentration on remembering something, anything of the person she had once been. But despite all her efforts she could sense nothing but the distant echoes of knowledge just beyond her reach.

So close, and yet so far, elusive fragments of memories and emotions which slipped from her grasp the moment they were discovered. Echoes of regret, searing pain and a great, all consuming passion tormented her spirit, moments so full of warmth and life that they drove back the siren call of eternity. A moment passed before the call again took hold, stronger, deeper and more alluring than ever.

But in that second of silence, across the barrier between the worlds of the living and the dead it had come to her. Had she still possessed the knowledge of language, she would have known the sound recalled in that brief silence was a name. And though she knew not what to call this small discovery the shade knew that it was significant.

Determinedly she looked deeper, and heard at last the echo of beloved voices.

The recollection of a name, spoken with sisterly affection. The remnants of her spirit stretched further in another attempt to grasp it, ephemeral fingers reaching desperate for this fleeting spark of memory. A futile attempt, memories however real could never be captured by the semblance of physical effort no matter how often one tried. Gathering what little strength remained she sought to draw memory towards her by the power of her will.

Once again she caught the echo of that word, spoken by another beloved voice. It brought her fresh determination to regain all that the gods had taken. If she focused what remained of her will, she could hear it again, a word identical to the one that other had spoken. But in the hands of this speaker it was transformed into something surpassing mere human utterance. First a gentle caress, then a passionate declaration, and finally a plea for understanding and a desire for reconciliation.

Who was he?

Surely she could remember his name, if the fading echo she heard had been so powerful what might it have been to know this one who spoke with the authority and confidence of a king?

The question burned within the remains of her essence, driving her to reach, to seek the memory of this lost word. Once again it eluded her grasp.

A keening wail of frustration and sorrow filled the realm of the dead, a cry so full of loss and despair that the souls newly arrived turned to look for its source; only to glance away an instant later as the nameless spirit was once again borne away into darkness.

Though much was taken after a shade entered the kingdom of Hades, each soul knew when another was about to join them, sensed their inevitable struggle against death and ultimately their surrender to the grip of eternity. Knowing another shade had succumbed to the will of the fates, the mass of specters parted as another spirit joined them. As with all newly arrived in this realm, she retained for a brief instant the form and trappings she had worn in life. Tall and graceful, clad in rich attire, one could easily see that this one was of noble birth. Next moment all that had set her apart from the other shades of the dead had faded, until she stood before them, robbed of all earthly glory and vitality.

But not before the nameless specter had seen the fading outline of brilliant fire encircling the new comers head. Spectral eyes narrowed in concentration, focusing on the faded echo of the earth's riches. Once it had graced the heads of royalty, an exquisite tiara crafted of diamonds and gold. But in this realm it was reduced to a shadow of its former beauty, and yet it reminded her of something. If she could only remember.

She lay beneath a richly embroidered canopy, filled with a mixture of anticipation and curiosity, awaiting the arrival of her lover.

Then the sound of distant thunder drawing ever closer, a brilliance which no mortal eyes could hope to bear.

Her final moment, where triumph, awe, and regret were mingled with the awareness of the frailty of her mortal form.

Her attention was drawn inevitably back to the dance and song of forever. Yet now, armed with the fleeting recollection of her death she could summon the strength to resist. For beneath the echo of her final moments another memory waited, one which had been stirred by a note of eternity's music. And it was this final echo of her mortal existence which held the key to her identity. She surrendered gladly to its promise of freedom, and at last the door was opened.

Wild and elemental, terrible and glorious the recollection of music filled her senses. And she realized why the power of this song had shattered the hold of eternity's siren call. For She had known a greater music, the music of the storm, performed for her at the command of its ruler in all its untamed passionate glory. And amidst the splendor of his kingdom he had spoken that word, in a voice which had held the echo of distant thunder.

"Semele."

The name rang through her soul. This was what she had been seeking, her lost word, and the key to unlocking all that death had stolen. With that realization the last vestiges of the call were swept aside as the memories of a lifetime were restored.

There was no stopping the torrent of recollections now that they had been released.

A crown of flame rested amidst her raven tresses, the ancient symbol of a god's favor.

Moments of laughter and sorrow shared with her gentle sister.

Reckless escapades conceived in moments of desperation, futile efforts to win the love and favor of a father who cared for no one since the death of his queen.

Countless evenings of revelry and formal negotiations planned in the hopes that she would win a prince's affections.

Her wedding day, a time of mingled resentment, fury and desperate hope for a miracle.

Soaring upon the wind, joyous and triumphant, borne to safety and the promise of passion on the wings of her lover.

These and a thousand other recollections filled the princess's mind, overwhelming her spirit with an emotion which for an instant she could not name. A moment passed before she recalled the word. Triumph.

It gave her the strength to resist eternity's call, lent her the courage to lift her head defiantly, proudly, as befitted a descendent of royalty.

Once again the sea of specters shifted, placing her at the center of the dance. And although the steps she performed mirrored the movements of countless souls, within the core of her being she guarded the knowledge won by the rekindled flame of remembrance, and the strength of her will.

She was Semele, daughter of Cadmus, once beloved of Jupiter, and by all the gods she would not rest until she had regained every memory which had been taken.

Note from the authoress: To those familiar with the story of Semele, this tale will not be what you expect due to me using a number of different sources. I'm drawing on the plot and music of the opera Semele, composed by George Frideric Handel in 1744 and the libretto written by William Congreve and will use the text and music as the basic framework for my retelling of this legend. I'm also incorporating elements from Ovid's Metamorphosis and the writings of Homer, and of course my own ideas as to how this story will ultimately end. The title of this story comes from the musical Phantom, composed by Kopit and Yeston.

I hope you enjoy the story and look forward to reading any comments, as this is my first time posting my writing online and I'm rather nervous about sharing this.