Reaching For the Sun (⚣)

Prologue

My father steps up beside me, wings afixed to his back. "Are you ready?"

I nod.

"Do you remember what I warned you of?"

I nod again.

My mind races, thoughts like a bird freed from a cage. I cannot yet follow where they fly, but I know that I will soon.

Father pulls himself up on the great stone ledge of the window, struggling slightly. He balances there, buffeted by the sea breeze, before holding a hand out to me.

I take his hand, bare feet finding purchase in the cracks of the stones. I stare out at the golden ocean, wind running its fingers through my hair and stinging my cheeks.

My lips stretch across my teeth, head tipping back to drink in the call of the sky.

My father's hand comes crashing down on my shoulder, a heavy anchor. Smile turned down.

He steps off of the edge, pulling the string to open the wings, acting as the tendon between bone and feather. Air lifts beneath him, raising him to a height far above the tower.

I leap after him, a howling laughter bursting from my lungs in the moments that I fall. I wait to extend the wings, sending a damning curse to the island before Zephyr lends me a hand, lifting me to my father in a single current.

I sail past him, swooping in gleeful arcs as his voice fades into the whooshing air around me.

I pull the wings in, spiralling down with a shout to kiss the waters with my fingers. I tug the string at the last second, pulling back up.

Water drips from my hands, and I wonder absently how the sun would bless me if I brushed his golden surface.

I squint into the bright star, hearing his call.
I glide up, reaching, fingers outstretched, content with any sort of contact.

I can no longer hear my father, his cries have long since left my ears. I have no birds for companion, and even the clouds have stopped hugging my form as I aim for my light.

The sun remains untouchable, distant and stoic as he begins to undo the makeshift limbs at my back.
A cry slips past my lips as heated wax begins to melt, dripping onto my shoulders in harsh reprimanding. Hours of work begin to unravel, undoing themselves around me in a tunnel of wax and feathers.

My back bends, an arrow pointed to the ocean as I grasp for the sun.

I flail, hands full of feathers, wax trailing down my shoulder blades in hot tears.

My head turns, eyes connecting with my Father's. Saddened disappointment.

I plummet towards the sea as the heavens open up, shining a great light on my decent.

My eyes close, sun burning red behind my eyelids.

The water embraces me with warm arms, whispering. "You should have listened, dear Icarus."