It is as the light on the opposite horizon turns a burnt yellow that I ease beneath the opening in our tower, a smile gracing my lips.

The world is quaking when I wake. I drag a fisted hand across my eyes, realising my father is hurriedly shaking my shoulder.

"Wake up, son, they are done."

Sleep clouds my mind, foggy and sluggish, as I turn to the corner of our room with our wings. They span a great distance, glorious and grand.

I stand on uneasy legs, rushing over to hold them, tangible freedom.

A genuine smile graces my lips for the first time in ages, and laughter threatens to split my throat. Tears coat my cheeks in hot rivulets, a salty offering to the gods.

I look to my father as my fingers run along the bend of metal that acts as the bones of the wings.

He returns my smile, but hope doesn't light his greyed eyes in the same way

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He returns my smile, but hope doesn't light his greyed eyes in the same way.

I heave the great invention in my arms, surprised at the lightness.

"Is it time, father?"

He stands with his jaw in his hands, backlit by the bright light of midday. He makes his decision, nodding.

"We must be careful, my child. The sun is dangerous, but so is the sea. Fly too close to either and it will be fatal."

I look to the sky, warm and painted in gilded light. How could such a scorching beauty want to harm me?

 How could such a scorching beauty want to harm me?

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My father places his hand on my shoulder. "Do you understand?"

I focus my eyes on his face, nodding. "Of course."

"Then we must depart quickly."

He grabs the wings in my hands, pulling my arms through the harness and around my chest. The straps pull tightly against my skin, nipping and biting. I tug at the discomfort as my father pulls his own set of wings on.

I look around at our surroundings, the want to flee burrowing in my chest and blossoming. My fingers twitch, itching to leave. I can feel the wings fluttering against my back like an extension of my body.

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