The Edge

chapter five

J: one of the rulers of the twelve regions took over to keep the peace but the reign of a false king desperately clawing for power is meaningless, so it all quickly descended into chaos...

i was now close enough to touch him, if only i lifted my hand.

J: Kill-Killian was a good man. a good father. he was one of the best kings i had ever worked alongside... and he died in front of me while i did nothing.

i reached my hands outward and held Joon's head in my arms to give him a small sense of comfort.

J: he was too good. even dying, he could not bring himself to command me to murder any and all enemies in the palace because he didn't want to risk hurting innocents or victims of any sort of brainwashing, especially since he knew i would lose control.

silence befell the room.

"you're not supposed to love icarus."

Joon shook his tears away and glanced up at me with confusion painted across his features. i return his look with one of my own, signaling for him to settle down and listen.

"ignore how pretty his wings look, how darling he is as he preens them. refuse to notice how gracefully he beats them to seek out the sky, how raw and wondrous his cry of joy sounds against your eardrums. look for the salt, the clouds, the ships. love the beauty of them instead. icarus' story will end only one way, and will not be in your arms because the sun and the sea love him too, and you are simply not enough."

i took a deep breath.

this was a story i had fallen in love with during my teenage years and studied over and over. it brought me comfort and sadness at times. it is a story with such a paradoxical interpretation that tends to stray towards the negative aspects -used as a ploy for parents to manage their children and scare them away from their dreams.

"this Killian," i began once more. "i imagine the goodness he carried gave off an aura that made him seem ethereal, a perfectly sculpted and crafted human made by the Gods, but like all things beautiful... out of reach in the end."

i looked out toward the rest of the drakari who had not strayed but seemed to settle as if they were children hearing a mother's bedtime story with a look of admiration in their gaze.

what was there to admire?

the memory of this killian perhaps...

i didn't know, but i knew that it probably wasn't me.

"in the flashes i see... he too radiates like the golden hue of icarus' wings. dripped with the secrets of the universe and the icor of the Gods as a foreshadowing sign of his fate. the emotions he portrays are raw and true, there does not seem to be darkness in his gaze."

stray tears ran down my face, that i only now noticed because they seemed icy cold against the warmth of my skin. i didn't know this man but the way Joon had spoken so highly of him made me feel-- it made me feel immense sadness for him and a small part of me grew jealous because i doubted anyone would ever speak of me in that same manner. with love, admiration, respect, awe, disbelief, and faith.

i continued, "i can only imagine how even while succumbing to death, he remained this way. a story of horror -a story of how a boy flew too close to the sun and fell. and yet when you look closer, it is a boy who dared to fly and be free. a boy who loved the sun, a star in itself, so much. a mind far beyond that of others, even his father... Killian may have a horror story too, but what is a story if not how you choose to remember someone or something? so, choose. choose the way you want him remembered. not by the last few moments that resulted in his death, but those that were raw and so divine that soon even the Gods will envy his tales."