His fascination for flight had gripped him at early age. Walking had seemed so primitive, and slow. In his lifetime he had invented wagons even ships. Never a device that could take to the skies.
In his tower workshop, the artificer tinkered tirelessly day and night. All the calculations are correct, but somehow it wouldn’t lift off. He let his exhausted body fall into his chair. Tch… Gravity… He thought to himself. My final nemesis. He dosed off into a deep sleep.
That night, an unusually violent lightning storm raged. When the artificer woke he noticed his vision was purple, and strangely faceted. He wasn’t sitting in his chair anymore. He lay on a big table. With a sigh and a flap of his wings, the table fell from beneath him and he was suspended in mid air. With whirring sounds around him, he turned, saw the window. Without hesitation he took to the skies.