The Rise of Icarus

Long ago, there was a great builder and architect named Daedalus. He had helped the king of Crete construct the grandest towers and most complex of machines, turning the Cretan Kingdom into a great, prosperous power. However, eventually, the king grew displeased with Daedalus and, deeming him too important to execute, imprisoned him and his son, Icarus, on top of one of his own towers.

Daedalus, being a genius inventor, spent the next decade planning their escape, carving through the stone with spoons and forks and designing wings with the wax of the tower’s candles. Over these years, Icarus grew from a child to a young man and gradually forgot the world beyond the tower. These ten years have trapped the boy in darkness for most of his life; all he knew was the cold stone bricks, the dim glow of the candle, and his father. The sun hadn’t kissed his skin in a very long time.

One day, Daedalus finally finished forging the pairs of wings, pouring the last of the wax into the final mold. He tore open the cast, revealing an intricately woven labyrinth of wax gears and pulleys. The inventor then carved away the last of the stone, and the sun’s rays broke through, finally entering the chamber, greeting the dulled eyes of Icarus. Daedalus handed Icarus a pair of wings, and to the inventor’s horror, he took off immediately up towards the sky. Daedalus had spent the previous night warning him about the dangers of altitude, of how the wings were made of wax and would melt if one got too close to the sun. Daedalus desperately called out after Icarus, pleading for him to fly lower, but he continued soaring upwards, as if he had completely forgotten Daedalus’s urgent warnings.

In reality, Icarus had never forgotten a word from his father. He knew that the wings couldn’t handle the heat of the sun. He knew that at the rate he was going, they would melt and he would fall into the ocean and drown. He could feel the wax liquefy on his skin, burning, begging him to come down. However, he kept shooting up through the clouds, wings creaking as he lost more wax. He had to, for he had broken his chains, and he had missed the loving embrace of Helios.

Those below, the citizens of Crete, chattered and babbled about what they saw as Nike’s silhouette above, speaking of it as if it were a blessing from the gods. They rushed to their temples of Zeus and Hera and all the other Olympians, praying for a good harvest and a plentiful year.

Icarus then plummeted from the sky, Daedalus bearing witness, weeping, but proud.