"Take up the mantle you once wore in denial.
Herald of the Seventh Toa, serve us once more."
The Herald tells a tale of Jaller and Takanuva in the present day Spherus Magna. We have not seen much of Takua and Jaller together since Dark Destiny, when the Toa of Light was barred from continuing on the journey to Karzahni with Jaller, Hahli, and the others destined to become Toa.
I'm reposting the first few chapters here now, with some edits as I have some new ideas as to where I want this epic to go. Originally, it was only going to be 6 chapters, but it will probably be closer to 10. Chapters will be posted randomly, with no set schedule, so there may be a few weeks or months without story.
Disclaimer: I'm sorry to say, but I do not have time to read the epics and stories of everyone who reviews this. Please don't read this with the intention of me reviewing your stuff, but read it for pure enjoyment. I do not wish for that to sound harsh, but I barely have enough time to write as it is.
Fear was everywhere.
Fear was in the shadows – the shadows that were cast both upon the physical world as well as upon his own mind.
Fear was in his fellow Matoran – Matoran who were relying on him to complete his mission and restore light to their lives.
Fear was in Takua – Takua, the true Herald of the Seventh Toa - unique in every definition of the word, who watched this tragedy befall him, with not the power to prevent it, only to avenge it.
The fear pulsated from the ancient staff in rings of crimson energy, striking Jaller and then dispersing into a thin red cloud. The fear gave the Captain of the Guard incentive to grasp the staff even tighter, whatever it might accomplish. Whatever he had to do to save his friend would be worth it – it would have to be worth it.
A hiss and a sudden jolt.
Jaller was hurled through the air, the Turahk hissing in victory. Jaller watched dimly as he felt the effects of the Rahkshi of Fear’s staff course through his entire being. The fear – fear of shadows, fear for his fellow villagers, and fear for Takua - pounded louder in his mind and in his heart.
A lifetime seemed to creep by and he flew through the air, hearing not a sound – not even that of air rushing past his ears. The Ta-Matoran noted the slowing of his pulse. There were other signs as well – the sputtering of his heartlight, the struggle to draw air into his lungs.
His collision with the ground made his swiftly approaching fate final, a sharp gasp of air rushing to fill his struggling lungs. It was what it was supposed to be. From this point on, Jaller could do little to seek out the Seventh Toa. The legendary hero would make himself known now or the Toa of Light would never come.
And with these final moments, it was made clear to Jaller.
The night sky – the beautiful night sky – shown its stars overhead, shedding little light on the world below them, yet serving a purpose, nonetheless, to some other world. Sometimes the actions of others go unnoticed by the rest of the universe, but that doesn’t make them any less real.
A light was approaching – not that of a star, but of a hero – the hero.
The Mask of Light casted shadows upon the blue Pakari of the Matoran who clutched the mask – the hope of all Matoran - in his hands. And he layed that hope - that light - aside, to give his attention to his friend – his dying friend. Jaller smiled faintly at this, his eyes focusing one last time before glazing over and his vision becoming increasingly blurry. Sometimes you have to slow down and notice the little details in life.
Sometimes they mean the most.
“I’m supposed to make the sacrifice,” Takua wept over Jaller’s fading lifeform. “I’m the Herald.”
And Jaller had argued this for the entire journey. But the truth was clear. Though so very close to departing from this world, Jaller had, at last, discovered the Seventh Toa, the mission nearly complete. Jaller realized that it was he who was the Herald, not Takua. It was he who had been tasked with finding the Toa of Light – and found had he been.
Placing a hand on Takua’s shoulder – the shoulder of a friend with whom they had had countless adventures, - Jaller’s grin began to fade with his life, but he pushed for some last energy so that he would not die without the journey coming to a close. One last message, Jaller knew, and his purpose would be served.
“No,” Jaller rasped out, air not returning to his lungs as it had for as long as the Ta-Matoran could remember. “The duty was mine.”
Urgently, Jaller focused on his lungs, air slowly sweeping into them for what would be the last time. Relieved that his message would be delivered, peace came to Jaller. His journey ended here, but the Matoran would continue on – even prevail, perhaps.
“You know who you are.”
Jaller’s hand fell limply to his side, his eyes seeing Takua’s worried expression – the last sight he would see in this lifetime. And he spoke the last words he would speak.
“You were always different.”
Edited by Lewa Krom, Oct 14 2011 - 10:50 AM.