Page 50 - North Star Magazine 2022

The Broken Shadow, Chapter 1
by Tylea McCarthy-Walker
War is the rich man’s chess. You sacrifice the masses, the holy, the honorable, and, if it comes to it, your queen before you give up the realm. The greatest sacrifices might grant you victory, but your choices will echo; their consequences haunting your legacy, as they have mine-Emperor Gryth I 1
Rilos had seen these words a hundred times, yet whenever he read the passage,
a fire welted deep within his stomach. He sat in a small rotting wooden chair
by a large table. On his shoulder sat his oldest companion, a small, bright eyed bird by the name of Blink. Blink was no larger than the man’s hand and had a bright green breast; he was no ordinary bird. Blink had taken on the form of a hummingbird when he went into hiding with him. His true form was a sublime sight that no man in the last century had the privilege of looking upon. Yet, despite the grace and majesty, to the farmer, his only capabilities were the power of persistent sarcasm and ability to annoy. The little bird and the farmer had found each other when he was just a boy. Their bond was rooted with loyalty, unbreakable by any man.
His ancient body was covered in a dirty brown shawl. He stretched his boney fingers and noticed the sleeve began to crumple up his arm, exposing his dull brown skin. On the table lay a small portfolio made of withered leather. The contents of this portfolio had been damaged from the humid climate and the engraved name sanded off. It was safer that way. The leather served as a tomb, the illegible inscription was a gravestone, its remnants were a dedication to an eternity of irrelevance. The rest of the small house consisted of a tiny bedroom with nothing but a place to lay and a chest where the farmer kept the rest of his garments. Piles of papers and worn books were stacked along the stone walls, most covered in a light green moss. He sat at the center of his home at his old rotted table, scoffing at the book in front of him.
As Rilos touched the coarse paper of the book, his eyes became fixed on something. A word that meant everything to him once, but now filled his mind with resentful memories of a lifetime ago.
“Legacy.” There was pain in his voice. “What kind of idiot cares about what the world will know of him once he’s dead?” The old man sneered at the idea and continued. “He’ll be dead. He will never know what became of his legacy. All it