https://docs.google.com/document/d/1cOxpmRvc3OxT0IfU0NihJSbvEm4YIBp1zDTiaaSORfc/edit
I saw him again, Daedalus, I remember him well. This time he is flying. He's attempting to escape, soaring above the ocean with a young man—oh, it's his son, Icarus. Their shadows cast upon the sea's surface as they climb higher and higher. I hear fishermen shouting, proclaiming them to be gods.
Daedalus has always been like this, so full of ego. He became so jealous of his own apprentice, his nephew Perdix, that he even tried to kill him. I caught that poor boy and turned him into a bird. And here comes Daedalus again, trying to blur the lines between humans and us, the gods, always striving to be superior.
Icarus is getting too close to us now. I saw Daedalus's face fill with fear as Icarus's wings began to fall apart.
He falls into the ocean, the poor kid. I watched Daedalus cry out and scream as he watched his own son fall into the ocean with those fragile, broken wings.
When he buried his son, a bird named Perdix stopped by. The bird was right: the death of his son is the punishment for Daedalus's ego and his malicious act against Perdix.