My brother. My dear, dear
brother. We could not stop him.
He climbed the Celestial Stairway
and leaped. He spread his
wings, but did not fly. He fell,
fell, fell like so many Flightless,
headlong towards the ground.
He would not become a god this
day. Kluex, you have failed me.
You have failed us all.
If it wasn't for the pile of hay
positioned my chance below the
tower, my brother would be
dead. But a concussion is pretty
bad news, too. Curse you, Kluex.
I defy you. I accept the
Grounded ways. Tonight, I begin
reading my wife's copy of The