When the boy and his father flew, Apollo was enthralled. It had been a long time since he’d seen someone experience his warmth after being deprived of it for so long, and he smiled to himself as the boy flew circles around his father, excited by their newfound freedom.
“Remember what I told you, Icarus!” his father told him, but he didn’t hear.
Apollo felt a longing rise up within him, a feeling he had never been able to tune out. He reached out toward Icarus, gently warming him with his sunlight. And Icarus was grinning, full of life. He flapped the wings his father made, ascending towards the clouds.
His father shouted something at him, but the distance between them was too great, and Icarus did not hear.
Icarus flew higher, intoxicated by the gentle warmth of the sun, not noticing the effect it was having on the wax that kept his wings together. And Apollo didn’t think anything of the finely crafted feathers that fell in Icarus’s wake.
Then the young man felt himself stalling. He realized that his flapping wasn’t giving him enough lift to stay up this high. Still, he kept his cool and descended, gliding carefully downward to match his father’s altitude.
Apollo watched as the boy swooped downward at too sharp an angle. Icarus was going to fall into the sea if he didn’t correct his flight. Apollo held his breath in anticipation.
Icarus’s wings had lost so many feathers that he could hardly stop his fall, but he managed. The waves splashed lightly against his skin, and he realized he didn’t know how to fix this. He didn’t know how to save himself.
“Dad!” he called out, ignoring the salty taste of the seawater. His father would know what to do. He had to. He was the only hope Icarus had, and…
He caught a glimpse of his father, flying far above him. He was too far to hear Icarus’s cry.
Icarus panicked. He was going to die. Oh gods, he was going to die!
He flapped his wings, desperately trying to save himself despite knowing it was futile. His wings gave out, suddenly unable to carry him at all, and he fell into the ocean.
Icarus tried to swim, but the wings his father had built made it difficult. He was going to die he was going to die he was going to die.
As he sank, he saw a shining light glimmering through the water. For just a moment, he thought maybe the sunlight was crying. He reached out toward the surface… just as water filled his lungs, and consciousness faded.
The sun rose an hour late the next morning. Maybe it was just Daedalus externalizing his grief, but it didn’t seem to shine quite as brightly as it normally did. Somehow, this made his sorrow a little easier, as if the sun god himself was grieving alongside him, sharing the burden of loss.