The sun like fire on his porcelain skin. Feathers needling at his shoulder blades and at the nape of his neck. Hot wax beginning to drip slowly down his chest. A sudden loss of control, the scales tipping and the beginning of the end. And then spiralling, tumbling, the benevolent sea rushing up to greet him. Thus ended the few minutes of freedom he had snatched from their iron fingers- taken from him as quickly as he had taken it.
But as Icarus fell towards the sea, he was not paralysed with fear. The ecstasy of flight still pulsed in his chest, an inextinguishable giddiness. He fanned his fingers out as the air rushed past him, feeling the cool breeze, and letting go of the fistfuls of feathers he had grabbed in his momentary panic. His father's screams were growing fainter now, drowned out by the crashing of waves. The glory still burned fiercely like flames licking at the insides of his ribcage, swelling and roaring. A faint smile played at his lips as he crashed head-first into the waves.
All that was left of Icarus was a smattering of feathers left to drift on the tumultuous surface of the sea, and he sank and sank and sank into the quiet and the dark, until the flame burned no longer.