Icarus is flying too close to the sun
Icarus's life, it has only just begun
-Icarus, Bastille
Watching dust motes filter through the soft rays of sunlight is one of my favourite pastimes. Inside these stone walls, time is in abundance.
I lay on the floor, the uneven ground carving its presence into my vertebrae as the sun burns red behind my eyelids.
"Icarus, come help me."
I crack open an eye to peer at my father, scenery desaturated from lounging in the light.
Rising from the ground, I wince as my spine makes noises of protest. I pad over to him, buried beneath vulture and warbler feathers. I kneel down before him, dragging a finger through the small river of wax that has formed at his feet.
He wordlessly hands me my harness, one half of a wing already finished. I stroke a hand over the long feathers, feeling the silken fibers beneath my calloused fingers.
We sit in silence, bathed in the dying light of the sun, adorning our wings with feathers and wax until the floor grows cold and bones grow old from stillness.
Father's eyes start to slip shut in the middle of the night, feathers falling through his fingers and candlelight burning out.
I make my way to the window on quiet feet, laying my arms on the ledge to rest my head beneath the glow of the moon. I gaze upon her beauty with lidded eyes, a sigh making its way through my lips. She sighs back, sensing my longing. I watch her slow descent into the Aegean Sea, a promise for the return of her twin.
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.
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?
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.
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."