₪҉₪An anguished howl splits through the air like lightning.
Curses rumble from the heart of a battle-torn titan like thunder.
The great lord Karzahni lies immobilized and broken on the rugged field of battle. He is paralyzed by pain, betrayed by the weakness of his own flesh and armor.
He can only watch.
Watch as his prize is taken by the very being he had once considered his only friend. Even more than that, his brother. But no more. He no longer
knows Arthaka. This revelation is solidified when that same traitor turns to face Karzahni.
More curses are spat from Karzahni’s mouth as he almost literally does not recognize his brother. Arthaka now wears the Great Mask of Creation.
Karzahni sees red. He does not know if this is his own imagining or the blood red sun setting over their barren battleground. Arthaka regards his fallen brother with something akin to pity.
The last thing in the universe that Karzahni wants is pity. And least of all from Arthaka. With one last effort, a cry of absolute rage fills his lungs.
Even though releasing that primal cry of fury sends agonizing lances of fiery pain through Karzahni’s very soul, it gives him some satisfaction that he has been heard.
Finally, the wounds of the two-titan war catch up to Karzahni, and pull him sympathetically into oblivion.
When Karzahni emerges from that merciful slumber, he is still lying on the same field.
But now he can move, although not without pain. Beside him, a Great Kanohi Mask is resting.
Instinctively, with a vitality almost reminiscent of the animal-like baying of his earlier defeat, Karzahni slams the mask on his face.
His entire being drinks up the power seeping from the Kanohi. Karzahni revels in that power. Especially after his near fatal combat of so recently, he loves the sense of control the mask gives him. He is almost completely given to this newfound strength when he notices a stone tablet, almost the same color as the earth, that was lying beneath the mask.
Groping for the tablet, Karzahni reads:
If your fantasies came true
Clashed with your reality
Would you fall to fiction’s whims?
Or be pawn to what is real?
Which diverging road would you take,
In that yellow wood?
After you’ve traveled your chosen path
Could you harvest no regrets of the past?
Who knows how many forks we will face?
Who knows our minds, now versus then?
Would a simple change cause us to look
Back on our lives with one different wish?
Kanohi Olisi: Mask of Alternate Futures
A/N: So, I'm not really sure what I was aiming for with this one, I just felt like writing, so I wrote. I hope my ramblings aren't too odd for you.