Exitium

Had this been an open-ended question back when plasma was introduced and there were no characters or years-old statements from Greg, I would have voted yes. Seeing as this is a retcon, which as I have previously stated will have no impact on the canon, I voted no, since I see no advantage in making further changes to an established and concluded story. I don't understand this need people seem to have to do something about the unequal ratio because no one has yet explained what exactly that something is that this would accomplish. Do I like the unequal ratio? No. Do I think it is indicative of sexism? Yes. Do I think the story would have been better off with more female characters? Absolutely. Do I think that we, as a small group of fans, five years after the fact, should change the gender of characters who don't even appear directly? No. Look, I'm sympathetic to what you're all trying to do here, but making plasma a female element isn't striking a blow against the patriarchy (and I mean that sincerely, not sarcastically) or even adding more new female characters to the story. Want to make more female MOCs or have more female characters in your fan fiction? No one is stopping you from taking whatever liberties you want with the canon in those contexts. But tweaking the canon so that we can "do something" seems incredibly misguided because 1) it will accomplish effectively nothing and 2) I don't think fans should be given this kind of free reign over the story anymore. As for the argument that we should still talk about gen 1, yes, we should absolutely talk about these issues. But that's not what we're doing here. Instead of talking about the sexism present in Bionicle, both obvious (think Orde) and subtle (think few strong female characters), all I see is people trying to fix Bionicle. I think it's great that Greg was so engaged with the fans, and as a recent contributor to the canon myself (shameless plug), I'm grateful for that opportunity. But these attempts to fix and add to the canon are incredibly divisive and aren't adding to the story in a meaningful way. I'd like to see less bickering about what Bionicle should have been and more thoughtful discussion of what it was, both good and bad.

For the record, Lariska explicitly refers to the Toa of Gravity as male in Time Trap: And of course, there's the male Toa of Gravity from NOGLB, which is canon because that was the whole point of that contest. Gravity is a male element. I remember reading about Zaktan killing the Toa of Plasma, but I don't remember which book it was in, so I don't have the passage. It may contain a gender pronoun, but if not, I don't believe there are any other references to plasma's gender. I have little interest in getting further involved in this debate, but I would pose this question to both sides: What does it matter what plant life's gender is? It would solve none of the problems proponents of the change suggest (adding exactly 1 new female character to the story) and would hardly be the horror that opponents seem to suggest. We are talking about one character and a tribe with no screen time; no matter what happens in this topic, the story will remain essentially unchanged. There has been little of substance in this topic. If we want to talk about sexism and gender ratios, then let's talk about that instead of retconning a throwaway character in a story that's been finished for five years. Unfortunately, the level of dialogue about gender at BZP makes politicians look eloquent, which is why I have mostly steered clear of these topics. Rather than trying to fix Bionicle, let's simply evaluate it for what it was, flaws and all (and yes, the number of female characters was indeed a flaw).

Chapter 18 Ends and Means The first temple built on Kia Nui was a modest one. It was a small building with a single room, constructed from the wooden boats that ferried the Matoran from their ancestral home. Over time the Matoran expanded the original temple until it fell along with the rest of Eri when the Barraki invaded. While much of the city was burnt to the ground, somehow the structure of the temple survived, its insides hollowed out by the Barraki’s wrath. The Turaga declared the temple’s survival a miracle of Mata Nui and rebuilt it in his honor. That new temple was far grander than its predecessor, standing taller than almost any other building in the city. The interior was home to the most magnificent art in the entire island, while the high walls of the temple drew the viewer’s gaze upward in awe toward a towering dome. The curved walls at the front of the temple naturally magnified the voice of anyone who spoke from the right spot, allowing Arconis’s words to reach the ears of thousands. While it was likely that the temple could seat thousands, it had never been filled close to capacity. In one day’s time, Matoran would fill the temple for the weekly gathering in thanks of Mata Nui. For now its was empty except for Arconis, wearing his red and white Turaga robes, holding his staff, and gazing at a statue of Mata Nui. He often came to the temple to compose his sermons for the following day, but on this morning he was preoccupied with other matters. From an aesthetic perspective, the temple was one of Arconis’s favorite places on the island, yet despite the grandeur, Arconis missed the old temple, with its simple wooden chairs and modest image of Mata Nui. There was a place where one was not distracted by worldly concerns, and it seemed almost contradictory to him to create a worldly palace to commemorate an immortal truth. It had been many ages since Arconis had actually heard Mata Nui’s voice. True, he often felt guided by Mata Nui’s will or occasionally felt the brush of his presence, but he had long since realized that he would likely never hear the sound of Mata Nui’s voice again. The Turaga assured himself this silence was through no fault of his own, but more than ever before he felt as though he could use guidance. He closed his eyes, hoping for inspiration as he always did when pondering what aspect of Mata Nui’s teachings was most relevant for the Matoran to hear. “After all this time, we meet again.” The voice echoed through the temple, dissolving the morning silence. The presence of the voice did not startle Arconis, but he shivered when he recognized its owner. “You are no longer welcome here, stranger,” Arconis replied as he turned to face the temple entrance. “If that is indeed what you are called now. You have so many names, I can’t keep track of them.” He kept his voice low, the walls of the temple naturally carrying his voice to the other being. “That name will suffice,” the stranger replied, walking slowly closer to the front of the temple where Arconis stood. “Although perhaps I am not as much of a stranger as you would wish.” “Why have you come here now?” Arconis asked. “The Chronicler is in your custody,” the stranger said. “For thousands of years you leave me in peace, and now I capture one Matoran and you come knocking at my door,” Arconis muttered. “Since when has the fate of the Matoran, not to mention this one Matoran in particular, interested you?” “I met him on the slopes of Ko-Kia,” the stranger replied. “The little one was quite perceptive, and I imagine by the trouble he caused in Fe-Kia, he managed to discover your secret.” “There are things I wish to keep hidden, but no grand conspiracy you seem to suggest,” Arconis said. “Of course not.” The air seemed to grow cold as the stranger approached the Turaga, the candles flickering as he neared. “I was surprised that you had appointed another Chronicler, and I am not accustomed to surprises. Did you expect him to find the chinks in your armor, the weaknesses in your walls, hoping that you could then fix them? Did you hope that a having a record of history would legitimize your reign of stagnation?” “Stagnation?” Though the stranger dwarfed him, Arconis stood almost level with him on the elevated altar. “Surely you remember the havoc the Barakki and Matoran Civil Wars wreaked on my people. You were there. And what has become of your great people? If I lived in a glass house, I would be far more careful with my words.” “I was there, and I remember that we saved you from both calamities, just as we always have,” the stranger replied. “It’s a wonder you even bother to keep Toa around any more.” “Toa Goucaer was responsible for both victories, and he is no longer here to protect you should I tire of your presence.” The stranger was growing impatience. “Despite what you may think, I am trying to look after your people in spite of your obstuction. I am the one who sent Goucaer on his quest, and he has returned with good news: He has found the Mask of Life.” Arconis tried to hide the shock on his face. “And what would he have need of that relic for?” he asked. “We have not yet established a level of trust that would allow me to share information with you, which is why I went to Goucaer directly,” the stranger said. “Suffice it to say that a great evil will soon descend upon its hiding place seeking the mask. Goucaer is now looking for worthy Toa to defend it and asked me whether there are any to find here. I think you already know what my answer was.” “Clearly you have no desire to relieve me of any of my Toa, so what is it that you want?” Arconis asked. “I came to deliver a warning,” the stranger replied. “There is a great shadow on the horizon that threatens not just your island but the entire universe and all who live in it as well. You can either continue this isolation and wait until tragedy arrives, or you can meet this threat head on and stop a terrible war before it starts. Against my counsel, Goucaer intends to return soon and rebuild the Toa Army with Kia Nui as its stronghold to return this island to its glory days. You will have to decide whether to welcome him and join his effort or turn him away and bury your head in the sand.” “Why should I trust you?” Arconis asked. “Your kind maintains only a passing acquaintance with the truth.” “Because I ask nothing of you now,” the stranger said. “When Goucaer returns, you can ask him yourself.” He turned to leave before he stopped and continued, “What of the Chronicler? What will you do with him now?” Arconis sighed. “You have no need to worry about his fate. You asked why I sent him on his journey. I have long predicted some danger would approach, and it has become more real to me as my own mortality becomes more apparent. I wanted someone to be here for the final days of Kia Nui so someone could remember what we built here when the end comes.” “Then I hope we can do what we must to ensure that day does not come for a long time.” The stranger turned and walked down the rows of chairs to the entrance before stopping and taking in the sight of the temple. “I never understood these temples,” he said. “I have met Mata Nui, and I can’t fathom why you pray to him.” “In times when the weight of the universe is on your shoulders, all one can do is look to a higher power for comfort,” Arconis replied. “It is a hollow comfort they give,” the stranger said quietly. “Yet it the destiny of Mata Nui that will shape all of ours.” The stranger slowly faded away into the shadows of the early morning, leaving Arconis alone in the temple. Sitting in his office high above the city of Eri, Arconis did not look like the mastermind who had orchestrated a great conspiracy or even a strong ruler of a once great people. He simply looked tired. Now sitting in this office for the third time, Veelix noticed the dust gathering on the relics inside, mementos of a lost age. No doubt it had always been there, but he had not noticed before. After the Matoran had spent night in a prison cell, a Toa had brought Veelix unexpectedly to Arconis’s office, where he left his hands unbound. The Toa left, leaving the Turaga and the Matoran alone, the former looking as if he was unsure what to do with the rabble-rouser, and the latter waiting to learn his fate. “You have crossed the line this time,” Arconis finally said. “Inciting rebellion is treason, and we cannot have rebellious Matoran roaming the island. Tell me, what did you hope your little uprising would accomplish?” “I simply wanted to expose what I know,” Veelix said. “I was outraged to learn that you had been holding back out progress and had been willing to kill in order to protect your secrets, and I thought the Matoran who were affected had a right to know what I knew. By their reactions, it seems they were outraged as well, and we might have gotten some answers had the Toa not arrived so quickly.” Arconis sighed. “If it is answers you want, then I will provide them. What do you wish to know?” Veelix was surprised by the Turaga’s openness, a marked contrast from their previous encounter. “For starters, how did the Toa arrive so quickly?” “After collapsing the Cavern of the Sun, they warded the ground in case it was discovered again,” Arconis replied. “So you did know about the cave in?” “Yes I did, although I did not orchestrate it as you might believe,” Arconis said. “I believe I owe you a full explanation. Listen now to the story of our island, for I will explain everything from the beginning. “Kia Nui prospered for many years after its founding, though we narrowly escaped destruction during the Barakki War. Matters only worsened when Metru Nui, our ally and rival and the model of political stability was rocked by civil war. It was not a stretch to imagine the flames of that war spreading here where there was fuel dry and abundant, so we listened to the shouts of the people and forever shut our doors to Metru Nui and the outside world. At that time the Unified Government was born and we have been safe ever since.” “And what good did you hope this would do?” Veelix asked. “Metru Nui prospered without our help, yet here we are, living as if the Matoran Civil War were only yesterday.” “All of our troubles had been externally created,” Arconis said. “There was no ill here on Kia Nui that we could not conquer, and indeed we have provided for ourselves sufficiently.” “Provided for in the barest sense,” Veelix said. “In Ta-Kia I had a roof over my head and food on my table, but that was all. My life’s work until recently was utterly devoid of meaning.” “Not all Matoran have unqiue needs as you do,” Arconis said gently. “Most found what meaning they could in their simple lives, happy to be free from the wars that still lived on in their nightmares.” “There was stagnation for all to see on this island had they merely looked for it,” Veelix replied. “Ta-Kia’s useless masks, Le-Kia’s crumbling roads, Ga-Kia’s abject poverty. By any reasonable measure, these people’s lives are worse than should be.” “And yet they live,” Arconis said. “And nothing threatens their lives. Is that not a reasonable measure? You cannot imagine fleeing your burning home as the walls crumble and your heroes fall, surrounded by death and the ruin of all you once held dear. Many Matoran have seen so much, and even though these memories have blissfully faded away for most, the instinct to have order and stablitity after so much chaos is strong in their hearts. Would you deny them that comfort?” “I don’t see how order and progress are mutually exclusive, Veelix replied. “Isolate the island if you must, but why have you gone out of your way to stifle innovation?” “The island is like a scale finally at rest, its two sides carefully calibrated to reach equilibrium,” Arconis said. “Each kia is full of moving parts, and each Matoran fits a particular niche within a grander machine. What if a lightstone boom puts an entire city out of work? Who will provide for those Matoran? Will they find work elsewhere or will they riot in the streets? The unrest they could unleash would cost far more than a decline in the price of lightstones would save a few Matoran. Right now there is no unrest, for every Matoran has a purpose to fulfill from now until the end of time.” “It is a shallow peace if you are willing to kill for it,” Veelix observed. Arconis grimaced as if physically struck by Veelix’s words. “That has never been my intention. When I explained my philosophy to the Toa they agreed to follow it, but they were more diligent in its execution then I could have imagined. I asked them to keep eyes on the Matoran close to technological or philosophical breakthroughs, and with no true adversaries to occupy their time, they came to see these Matoran as a greater threat than I did. They hid their treachery behind hurricanes and landslides, but after the Cavern of the Sun went dark, their true nature came to light. “The Toa were dutifully punished, and sedititious Matoran no longer face death, as I’m sure is a comfort to you. However, the episode revealed to the Turaga the need for Toa to be seen as heroes, both for their own sake and for that of their people. We organized periodic fake disasters from burning buildings to natural calamities to give the Toa the opportunity to play the hero. So far, it has appeared to keep them occupied.” “That’s not heroism,” Veelix said with astonishment. “Have our Toa been reduced to the level of actors, donning the mantle of greatness for our amusement?” “No, they are not heroes,” Arconis replied, disappointment seeping into his words. “But they are what Kia Nui needs, and they have performed their roles to my satisfaction.” “And what role do the Turaga play?” Veelix asked. “Is that why you established the Unified Government.” “Those reforms were necessary, but for different reasons,” Arconis said. “An elected government with factions, power, and changing membership was hardly a recipie for stability. In the years leading up to its dissolution, the Old Government had lost much of the public’s faith, and indeed mine as well. It was clear that such a system could never look after the greater good, merely the needs of a handful of ambitious Matoran who were willing to do anything for power. It was agreed that it would be far more efficient for the Turaga to rule alone.” “And how well has that worked?” Veelix asked. “Perhaps this is what you think is best for us, but what of those who disagree?” “There is a majority who support this arrangement, silent now but once quite vocal,” Arconis said. “I see that you, Veelix, are not among them, but in any system, even republican, there will always be those who oppose the ruling party. Someone always has to make decisions on behalf of others, and the Matoran have given us that trust.” “But at least in the old system there was accountability; those in the majority had an electoral mandate to rule, and the minority, though out of power, could trust that the results were legitimate,” Veelix said. “There is nothing legitimate about your rule.” “And what of Metru Nui, which you admire so much,” Arconis countered. “All its power is invested in a single Turaga and the Matoran are watched over by robotic police that show no mercy at the slightlest violation of the law.” “That is also too high a price to pay for order,” Veelix replied. “But I would accept it over what you have created here any day, for at least the Matoran of Metru Nui continue to thrive.” “And they will pay dearly for it soon enough,” Arconis replied. “The light of the universe will forever draw those who wish to command it like moths to a flame. Do you have any further questions?” Veelix paused for a moment before asking, “If your power rests on a monopoly of information and obscuring history, why did you make me the Chronicler? Surely you must have known that I would go poking around where you did not want me looking?” Arconis leaned back with an amused expression. “Others in the Grand Council have wondered as much, and it will please my adversaries to have this rare vindication,” he said. “With that said, this outcome was not entirely unexpected from the beginning, though I did hope you might come to see things as I do. I had my own purposes, for I knew that someone needed to tell Kia Nui’s story should some inevitable disaster approach despite my best efforts. As for why I chose you, there was something about you that I cannot place, but something that is pleasantly familiar. I also believed that there was something out there that only you could discover.” “Fortunately for us both, I seemed to have found it,” Veelix replied. Arconis smiled softly. “Indeed you have, which makes what I have to say now all the more difficulty. The punishment for treason is exile, and I’m afraid you can no longer stay here to spread what you have learned. You shall be sent to the island of Molcene, our ancestral home, where you shall live out the remainder of your life in the company of those like yourself who found no place for themselves here, a place where you can truly have the freedom you desire. Unfortunately the weather is not particularly pleasant, but I believe you will be much happier.” “Will I be allowed to write?” Veelix asked. “Of course,” Arconis replied. “You will absolute freedom within the confines of the island. I am told that the exiles have built their own civilization with a participatory government no less. I wonder if you shall find it superior to our society here.” “I can only imagine so,” said Veelix. “There is one last matter: Molcene has no need for a Chronicler,” Arconis said. “I will need your badge and recorder.” As Veelix handed Arconis the gold and silver badge and the recorder, he imagined that the Turaga was pleased that the knowledge stored in the latter was safe in his protection. Little did Arconis know that the recorder was empty. Veelix had removed the memory crystal and left it in Titeria’s boat before he was captured. In addition to all the information he had recorded in Onu-Kia, he had left it running from the moment he returned to Fe-Kia until he had removed the crystal on the beach. With the knowledge that his work was safe, Veelix was almost ready to depart. “I have one more question,” Veelix said. “Was this society your goal, or have you settled for order at the price of greatness?” Arconis sighed and looked out the window at the shining city far below. “When one is youg, he thinks in the language of ideals, and sees the world as a set of problems. At first he is filed with despair at the injustice of the universe, until that feeling is overcome by the determination that he alone is willing change the world. And then he sets out to do so before he meets the harsh reality of the world, that what is good is hard, and what is perfect is impossible. It may seem like settling to you, but to me, any good in a world of sorrow is something to celebrate.” He stood silent for a moment surveying the landscape, past the white city to the lush forests, silver lakes, and snowcapped mountains. Veelix looked out the other window to see the vast desert beyond the moutains and the volcano where he had lived for much of his life. He imagined the ash raining down and slowly covering his former dwelling, his belongings preserved under the dust of an unwelcoming home. Whatever it was that Arconis saw in this society, it held no place for Veelix. “Like mariners in a storm Kia Nui had drifted, lost on the open sea,” Arconis continued. “At last it has brought us here, and forever afraid of the sea, here we remained. Yet without a boat, you can go nowhere, although perhaps what we sought is nowhere to be found.” Those were the last words Arconis spoke before bidding Veelix out of his office. They rang in his ears as the Toa bore him away to the lost island of Molcene to live in exile and freedom. He watched the island of Kia Nui fade into the distance, its silhouette slowly disappearing from sight. Now his last view of Kia Nui was soon to be little more than a memory, but it would be forever more real to him than what Arconis tried to grasp in vain, a great society as fleeting as the shadow of a dream. Review Topic

As a contestant, I'm naturally inclined to vote for the largest number possible to give myself a better change of winning, . Instead I've decided to vote for three because I'd rather see quality over quantity. Four is fine too, but I do feel like this is a contest, not a canon approving committee, so only the best entries should win. Either way, I'm excited that the polls are finally up!

From what I can see, the entry was approved in May, while the other Toa Mangai's elements were officially established in November, so it's not really the fault of the author or the judges. I think the entry should be evaluated on its own merits, and the paragraph in question can be reworked if it wins. (For those who are wondering, this is a perfect example of why some people don't like these kinds of details canonized. We authors write our stories in the gaps in the canon, and when those gaps are filled in this manner, it limits our creativity. Whether or not you agree is up to your personal preferences, which is why I've stayed away from this debate, but seeing as it is directly affecting this contest, I think it's worth bringing up. It might be worth establishing a moratorium on canonization at least until the contest is over.)

Chapter 17 Unity, Duty, Destiny Veelix was still shivering as he sailed south down the river, pondering his next move. The Toa had discovered his plans in Fe-Kia more quickly than he had anticipated, and it would be only a matter of time until they found him. There was no way he could return to Onu-Kia or Fe-Kia now, so he would have to lay low until the dust from the Fe-Kia strike had settled. Enough Matoran had witnessed the attack that it would be nearly impossible for the Toa to completely cover it up, which gave Veelix an advantage. He still needed a place to hide until he could determine his next course of action. Ga-Kia was the best place to go, since the Toa and Turaga often ignored the smaller and poorer of the islands. There he could regroup, and Titeria could help him by retrieving supplies and communicating with potential allies. He could also return the boat he had borrowed from her, a promise he intended to keep. Veelix passed through Eri undetected, arriving at the mouth of the Great River near Pawaki Beach. Night was falling, but it was not yet dark enough for Veelix to slip into Ga-Kia undetected. He moored the boat at the dock and decided to take a walk on the beach to pass the time. Worried that the boat might be mistaken as abandoned, he scrawled Titeria’s name and residence on a note and left it near the controls. As he wandered along the beach, Veelix recalled the last time he had visited this place. That day was Foundation Day, and on the day chosen for celebrating the Three Virtues, he had never found them more difficult to understand. It was unity, the first virtue, that Veelix had dismissed so easily, for there was no evidence of it in his life or his travels at that time. But recent events had opened his eyes to what a powerful force it could be when unleashed. He had seen the power of unity in Ga-Kia as the Matoran relied on each other in their struggle to survive. He had seen the Fe-Matoran stand together to oppose their oppression and rediscover the Cavern of the Sun. Since he had left Ta-Kia, Veelix had formed real friendships, ones that demonstrated to him that there was greatness is working with the help of others. His time with Titeria had demonstrated the power of two beings united in a singular purpose, and though the memory brought a smile to his mask, when it faded, he founding himself missing that feeling more than he had before. Walking along the beach, questioning all that he had ever been taught about his purpose in life, Veelix had never before felt more certain of his duty. The Turaga preached that each Matoran had a duty to Mata Nui, but Veelix had always struggled to apply this principle to his own life. When the quality of his work as a mask maker started to deteriorate, Turaga Prinkor chided Veelix for not doing his duty, yet the purpose of masking masks felt as empty as the expressions on the lifeless protodermis he forged. Before Veelix had understood duty on an intellectual level, fully aware of all of the Turaga’s teachings on its supposed value, and while he could not find fault in their logic, he could never understood its value on a personal level, never experienced its power in his own life. In his cynicism, he assumed that duty was merely a tool employed by the Turaga, a just-so story, a myth used to keep the Matoran working and society functioning, if functioning could accurately describe Kia Nui’s long, slow decay. Perhaps it was such a tool, but now Veelix understood the true meaning of duty. As he pictured the Toa attacking innocent Fe-Matoran, tossing their bodies aside with impunity, there was a sensation in his soul that he had never felt before. It was more than intellectual; it was the strong, visceral feeling in his heart confirming that he understood his purpose, a feeling so strong that he thought perhaps it had come to him from beyond the mortal power of reason alone. That thought brought him to the last Matoran virtue, the one Veelix struggled with most. More than ever before he could believe he had a destiny, but what of others whose lives seemed to hold less meaning or had ended prematurely? What of the Matoran who died in the cave-in in Fe-Kia? He could not help but wonder how the destiny of all the Ga-Matoran on the small island could be to linger in poverty while their neighbors had every opportunity they could desire. Veelix could see how it would be comforting to simply accept that the events of one’s life were the grand designs of a benevolent guardian, and the temptation of applying an external narrative to his own life was strong; yet if there were a grand scheme underlying Veelix’ life, it appeared to be a twisted one, but then, the Turaga never claimed to understand how Mata Nui’s mind worked. Yet Veelix had proved himself to be someone who did not simply accept the conventional interpretation of events. As Veelix pondered the actions of the Toa in Fe-Kia, he wondered how the Toa had come to be corrupt. He had spent his whole life learning how glorious and noble the Toa were, especially his idol, Jecitus. Were today’s Toa less heroic, or were the stories about the Toa of the past simply exaggerating their greatness? Veelix struggled to imagine Jecitus killing Matoran, but his understanding of what the Toa were capable of had been so distorted in recent days that he was entirely at a loss as to what to believe anymore. So noble they had seemed as heroes, so awe-inspiring in person, yet still unable to live up to the standards set by their legendary predecessors. The statues of Toa could be found all across Kia Nui, yet just as their images stood larger than the lives they represented, so too had their legacies been enhanced by fate. They had looked down upon Veelix, unflinching in their gaze, but behind their masks were hidden the flaws of mortals bound by their own heroism. The sins of the Toa could have been venial, yet their fall from grace was all the farther from the highest pedestals upon which they stood in the minds of the Matoran. It was not their actions that Veelix was unable to forgive, but their betrayal, shattering the very symbol of virtue that seemed to destroy the ideal itself. As the weight of these thoughts bore down upon him, Veelix stopped to watch the last rays of light cast their orange glow upon the walls of the barrier that enclosed Kia Nui and the silver sea upon which it rested. The twilight turned to dusk, leaving the world shrouded in the utter darkness of night before the gleam of starlight emerged. The wind rustled, and as if on cue, a Toa in silver and green armor approached from the shadows. “Stop,” he ordered, eyeing Veelix carefully. “I don’t want to hurt you.” He seemed cautious, but Veelix had no intention of resisting this time. “I’ll go without a fight,” he said, extending his hands palm up as the Toa bound them. “Turaga Arconis wants to speak with you when you return to Eri,” the Toa replied. “I imagine he does,” Veelix said. “We both have much explaining to do.” Review Topic

Chapter 16 Insurrection Fe-Kia was not an inviting place. The din of mining punctuated only by the occasional blare of the ordnance testing siren did not encourage Matoran to linger in its halls. The Fe-Matoran were always busying trying to provide enough lightstones, protodermis, and other raw materials for the island, but whenever a traveler happened to pass through, they never failed to recount the legend that brought a smile to the mask of every Fe-Matoran. Every Fe-Matoran knew of the Cavern of the Sun, a vast cave said to be filled with so many lightstones that the walls glowed like the first light of dawn. Legends said that when the Matoran discovered this cavern, it would be Mata Nui’s sign to his people that he would return and their labors would cease. The legend was so pervasive that Veelix had come across it numerous times during his research in Onu-Kia, and while different versions existed, all carried the same message of hope for a brighter future. Veelix had no idea if the Toa who collapsed the lightstone mine were familiar with the legend of the Cavern of the Sun, but if so, it only made their collapse of the vast lightstone deposit even more peculiar. The Fe-Matoran had labored in these caverns for millennia, and the discovery would not only validate the legend but also provide lightstones that the entire island needed. Following the map he had removed from the book in Onu-Kia, Veelix came to the tunnel that led supposedly to the cavern. Most of the city was located in the mountains above the mines, but the entrance to the cavern was inside the network of mineshafts that burrowed well below the surface of the city. As expected, the tunnel was collapsed, with boulders larger than Matoran blocking his way. Veelix then realized that he had no idea how he was actually going to reach the cavern. “Hey!” Veelix jumped at the voice and turned around to see a Fe-Matoran foreman standing behind him. “This is a restricted area! What are you doing here?” the Matoran demanded. “I’m trying to get to the other side,” Veelix said calmly. The other Matoran eyed him suspiciously. “This is a dead end,” he said. “This tunnel’s been collapsed for thousands of years.” “There must be another way around,” Veelix implored. “Is there another passage that leads to the other side?” “Has all the heat from the forge gone to your head, fire-spitter?” the Matoran barked. “I told you, this area is off limits. There was a cave-in that killed a few Matoran some years back, but there’s nothing back there anyhow.” Seeing that this conversation was going nowhere, Veelix decided to make his point. “The Cavern of the Sun is back there,” he said flatly. “Right, and Mata Nui and the Barraki just opened up a café down the road,” the foreman replied. “Don’t be ridiculous. The cavern is just a myth.” “It’s not a myth,” Veelix replied, producing the map he had taken from Onu-Kia. “I know where it is too.” That got the foreman’s attention. The Fe-Matoran looked at the map for a moment, but returned it to Veelix, shaking his head. “There’s no way I can believe you,” he said. “I’ve been working in these mines for thousands of years, and I can tell you that there is no Cavern of the Sun. It’s a story used to keep the miners’ spirits up, nothing more. I can’t help you.” “Why not?” Veelix asked. “I bet you’ve never been anywhere near this tunnel. You were so frightened by the first accident that you decided not to risk another.” Veelix was bluffing, but the Fe-Matoran’s expression suggested that he was right on the mark. “What does it cost you to help me? If it truly is a dead end, then you’ve lost a day of work and life goes on, but you’ll never know the truth if you give up now.” The Fe-Matoran was quiet for a moment. “Where did you get this information?’ he asked. Veelix briefly explained the origin of the map, leaving out the Toa’s betyral, which he feared might further strain his own credibility. He produced his badge to back up the story, watched the eyes of the other Matoran as he spoke. Veelix wondered if he had once believed in the Cavern of the Sun but had long since abandoned such notions as relics of his younger days. “I believe we can go around this tunnel,” the foreman said slowly. “If we dig carefully, and go through here, we should reach the location marked on the map in a few hours. I’ll gather my workers. You’d better be right about this.” About half the Fe-Matoran’s mining crew wrote off the attempt as a fool’s errand, while the other half, mostly younger miners, passionately embraced it. The foreman wanted to inform the Turaga, but Veelix talked him out of it. They could not tell the Turaga until they had found the cavern or he might have put a stop to their endeavor before it began. Veelix assured the other Matoran that they would indeed tell the Turaga if they were successful, but he suspected that the conversation was not going to go as the Fe-Matoran anticipated. Veelix wondered how he was going to explain to them that the Toa had hidden the cavern from them for so long. Progress was slow and Veelix was becoming anxious. There was nothing he could do to hasten their progress, but with each moment that passed, he became more concerned that the cavern was not there. Could he have misread the map? He checked it every few minutes. What if the reports had been fabricated and this was all a lie? The possibility seemed unlikely, but the miners were growing frustrated, and he was unsure how much longer they would listen to him before giving up, leaving Veelix empty handed yet again. He was mulling over his options when a bright flash illuminated the tunnel and a beam of light shone from the cavern wall where the Matoran were drilling. They quickly expanded the hole, until it was large enough for them to see inside. The sight was magnificent. Thousands upon thousands of lightstones lined the walls and the ceiling, more than any of the miners had ever seen. Some of the Matoran shouted with joy, others took in the view, and a few simply affirmed that they had always believed in the legend. “We’ve done it!” shouted the foreman, slapping Veelix on the back. “What’s wrong? Aren’t you excited?” Veelix pulled him aside and explained what he had learned in Onu-Kia about the true cause of the mine’s collapse. He watched as the expressions on the Fe-Matoran’s mask changed from puzzlement, to shock, and finally to anger. “They knew?” he asked. “All this time we have been slaving in these tunnels to find a pile of lightstones just to get us through the year, and they knew that this cavern was right here? How could—why would anyone do that?” “I don’t know,” Veelix said. “All I can say is that this information has to be made public. If we can expose this conspiracy, hopefully this kind of injustice will never happen again.” “Is there any way to prove that these documents are legitimate?” the miner asked. “How do we know that you aren’t making this up?” “I knew where the cavern was,” Veelix replied. “And I can retrieve the rest of the documents. I also have a plan that might just prove their legitimacy.” “That’s good enough for me. What should we do next?” Veelix thought for a moment before responding. “We need to get more Fe-Matoran on our side,” he said. “Once we have enough support, we can confront the Turaga about the Toa’s actions. Eventually we’ll have to start spreading the word to other villages, and then we can get some answers.” The Fe-Matoran nodded. “One thing at a time. I’ll make sure the message gets out to the rest of this kia that we will not continue mining until we know why the Toa did this to us. You go back to Onu-Kia and find proof that the Toa were responsible.” Veelix returned to Onu-Kia to retrieve the book detailing the Toa’s attack and then took the road to Fe-Kia proper, which was nestled in the mountains high above sea level. The dwellings here had been hastily constructed millennia ago when the city had first boomed, with the assumption that eventually the miners would all be wealthy enough to afford much grander lodging. Instead the population had dwindled significantly after the island cut off trade with Metru Nui, turning miners into migrants as they sought work elsewhere, while those who remained found their temporary shacks were now their permanent residences. Much of the mining now took place in a large open pit in the center of the town. The Matoran mined protodermis mainly from this pit, which had devoured much of what had been Fe-Kia as it expanded. The landscape was unlike any Veelix was accustomed to, for he could see mountains in all directions, upon one of which was a sparkling white statue of Mata Nui, reminiscent of the one he had encountered in Ko-Kia. Though the city was hardly idyllic before Veelix had arrived, Fe-Kia now resembled a warzone. The Fe-Matoran’s joy at discovering the Cavern of the Sun had quickly turned to anger when the foreman explained that it the Toa had kept it from them for millennia. Veelix smiled as he watched the assembled Matoran shout and demand answers. A lone dissenter was merely a fanatic, but a crowd of dissenters was a revolution. For a moment he found himself questioning whether all of his efforts were worth the trouble. Was it really right of him to question the Toa who had protected them for millennia? Was this all just some way of satisfying his own insatiable desire to know the truth? He tried to force those thoughts out his head. The Toa had not only stifled progress, they had even killed to keep their plans a secret. The Matoran would benefit from whatever revelations his efforts would bring. The foreman made his way through the crowd to Veelix. “The Turaga wants to speak with me,” he said. “I told him that I wouldn’t seem him without you.” Veelix thanked him for waiting. “It is not just the Fe-Matoran who will be watching what we’re doing here.” The Turaga of Fe-Kia was not pleased. “So you are the revolutionary who has brought our industry to a halt and driven this city to the brink of violence,” he said when Veelix arrived. “Tell me, what did you hope to accomplish with this little uprising?” “The Matoran want answers,” Veelix said simply. “They deserve to know why the Toa intentionally hid the Cavern of the Sun from them and why they continue to hide the deaths that are on their hands.” “Those are serious yet baseless claims,” the Turaga snapped. “Where is your evidence?” Veelix produced the book in which he had first learned of the attack and handed it to the Turaga. Glancing at the cover, the Turaga replied, “All you have is an ancient book of which no record exists. You expect this book alone to convince me that no less than four of our decorated and honorable Toa intentionally caused that cave-in?” “You can drop the act,” Veelix replied. “You knew all about the attack.” The Turaga frowned. “Now you have the gall to accuse me as well?” “The report in that book details the mission precisely, but I never shared it with anyone in any detail. Yet without even looking at the report, you knew exactly how many Toa were involved.” “It is still your word against mine,” the Turaga replied, undeterred. “I can guarantee you that all the Toa and Turaga will disavow knowledge of this event, and without this book there is no proof that we were involved.” Veelix watched in horror as the Turaga tossed the book into the fire, the flames licking the pages and removing all traces of Veelix’s proof. “There are plenty of other documents in Onu-Kia that are just as damaging,” Veelix said, trying to control his anger. “Now that this information is out, there will be no stopping the rest.” “We’re done here,” the Turaga replied. “I suggest you return peacefully to your homes or face the consequences.” He turned his back to the Matoran, who promptly left his dwelling to consider their options. “Now we have no proof that the Toa caused the cave in,” the Fe-Matoran said bitterly. “Not exactly,” Veelix replied, holding up the recorder. “I recorded that entire conversation, and the Turaga all but admitted the truth of our claims.” “It won’t be enough, but too many Fe-Matoran here have now seen the cavern for the Turaga to deny its existence,” the foreman said. “This protest will keep the Turaga busy while we look for something else they were hiding. What else is there that you can tie them to?” Veelix tried to think of something concrete, but to no avail. “There are only conspiracies and mysterious disappearances,” he replied. “I have no proof of anything else that they’ve done.” He sighed. “I was so close, but now I have to start over.” The foreman grabbed Veelix by the shoulders and looked him in the eye. “Do you believe that the Toa and Turaga have something they are hiding from the Matoran that we deserve to know? Do you believe it beyond all doubts?” “Of course.” “Then if you truly believe that there is something out there that will prove your case, only you can find it,” the miner replied. “I’ll stay here and keep the pressure on the Turaga. That should give you enough time to find what you need.” Veelix nodded and shook the other Matoran’s hand. “I’ll be back as soon as I can,” he said. The two Matoran headed back into the city square, where most of the kia’s inhabitants were assembled, divided into two sides, each shouting at the other. Veelix was making his way through the crowd in an attempt to leave the city when the earth suddenly shook from a massive explosion. Matoran screamed and ran in every direction. Veelix was knocked to the ground. The smoke cleared, and three tall figures entering the square, weapons drawn. In the center stood the Toa who had followed Veelix to Ga-Kia, flanked on his left by the Toa who had arrested him in Eri and on his right by a Toa in orange and white armor whom Veelix did not recognize. The three Toa quickly began subduing the Matoran involved in the strike, causing more panic and confusion as Matoran ran for the safety of their homes. Veelix heard the Toa in ebony armor shouting over the screams, his voice amplified by an unkown device. “Insurgent Matroan, you are ordered to surrender the Chronicler and the other leaders of this revolt,” he announced. “Any Matoran providing these individuals with aid or shelter will be prosecuted as an enemy of the Unified Government.” Realizing that only the panic was obscuring his crimson armor, Veelix dragged himself away from the chaos, pushing his way through a crowd of Matoran. The leader of the Toa spotted him. “Don’t move!” he shouted, but Veelix ignored his command. The Toa knocked several Matoran out of his way with his war hammer, gaining ground as all that separated him and his target was a throng of terrified Matoran. When he was within range, he called upon his elemental power to create a ball of chunk the size of his head and hurled it at the Chronicler. It barely missed, knocking a nearby Matoran to the ground. Without breaking stride, the Toa hurled another boulder, this time striking Veelix in the leg. Veelix fell to the ground with a cry of pain. “This time, you’re not going anywhere,” the Toa snarled. Before he could strike, the foreman stepped out in front of him and stood with his arms spread out. “I think you owe us some answers,” he said defiantly. The Toa did not budge. “If anything is owed, it is to us,” he growled. “We have not put up with millennia of thanklessly serving the Matoran to allow such insolence now. Stand aside.” “No,” said the miner. “Your duty is to protect the Matoran. You would never harm any of us.” “Watch me,” the Toa replied before backhanding the helpless Matoran, sending him sailing through the air like a ragdoll. Veelix was horrified by the effortless power this Toa had so casually displayed against the Matoran, but he could not waste this opportunity. Hoping that the miner was not critically injured, he raced for the exit into the caves, wishing he did not have to run away but knowing he had no other choice. The Toa gave chase, but this time, Veelix was ready for him. Looking over his shoulder as he ran, he hurled a lightstone he had taken from the cavern. It arced through the air and smashed into the Toa’s Mask of Concealment, shattering into hundreds of pieces. The Toa was more startled than wounded, but the intense light had blinded him just long enough for Veelix to get away. The Toa was not giving up without a fight, however. Tapping into more than seventy thousand years of experience, he gripped the earth and felt the power of the mountain coursing through him. And then, as if the entire mountain were an extension of his body, he trigged a rockslide that barreled down towards Veelix. Hearing the rumble above him, Veelix sprinted for the exit, barely dodging the falling stones from above before diving into a mineshaft. He followed the tunnel as best he could without a lightstone, eventually making his way into the tunnels of Onu-Kia and then into the daylight. Though he had escaped Fe-Kia, he continued to run until the city was far behind him. Review Topic

Thanks for the reviews, everyone, I really do appreciate them. After spending so many years writing this, it's nice to know that someone's reading it, and of course I'm always interested to know what you liked and what should be improved. Some comments on Chapter 15 for anyone who's interested (spoilers for Chapter 15 obviously): @lanceMuch7: Thanks for the review! I thought there was a postulate about parallel lines, but after looking it up, it appears I was remembering it incorrectly. Oh well, but thanks for pointing that out. @Akavakaku: I'm glad you liked it! I have every intention of finishing and will hopefully do so soon now that I have less on my plate (only three more chapters to go). I am entirely confident that I will finish, since a completed manuscript is sitting on my computer just waiting for a final edit spree, which I'm doing chapter by chapter. Even if I entirely gave up on that, I could always just post that, so at any rate, you'll definitely get to find out how it ends. @Toa of Italy: Oddly enough I didn't realize how much MNOLG had influenced this until I was far into the story (which is kind of silly in retrospect), but I decided to embrace it because I think the similarity to that story highlights the differences between this island and the ones we're familiar with. MNOLG was also my first introduction to the Bionicle story and remains one of the highlights of Bionicle lore, so I think it's only natural that it left its mark on my work.

Chapter 15 The Stranger The snow subsided as Veelix lay in a snowdrift, unable to move. Most of his body was buried in the snow, and he could see nothing around him but an endless white landscape. He was unable to feel anything below his waist and cried out in pain when he tried to move his arm. The pace of his breathing quickened as panic set in. He thought he saw light gleam off the armor of a lone figure in the distance blending in with the snow, but he figured it must have been his immagination. In desperation he cried out, and at first it appeared to ignore him before slowly coming towards him. Remembering the stories of the mountain’s ghost, he quickly found himself wondering if his situation had gone from bad to worse. Moments ago he would have derided the notion as superstition, yet here he was, helpless, as an unknown being came towards him on a haunted mountain in the dead of night. At first Veelix thought it was a Toa. It was clad in black and silver armor and wore a fearsome mask that Veelix did not recognize. As the figure’s approach brought it nearer, Veelix saw that it was wearing a tattered black cloak and carrying a wicked-looking spear in its right hand. He was no longer sure that it was a Toa, for it stood at least a head taller than most Toa, and its armor concealed a far more powerful frame than any Toa Veelix had ever seen. It stopped in front of Veelix and peered down at him with flashing orange eyes. As their eyes locked, Veelix felt an unfamiliar presence press against his mind, but it was gone just as quickly as it had arrived. The strange mind had touched his for only an instant, but Veelix was instantly aware of its age, melancholy, and darkness, yet it hid a flicker of light on the verge of fading entirely. While the two minds were in contact, Veelix thought he felt the weight of the universe crushing him, and he was relieved when his thoughts were his again own. There the figure stood for several moments before leaning down and placing its hand over Veelix’s chest. The figure’s mask glowed with a soft white light, and Veelix felt strength returning to his limbs. He crawled to his feet to find his savior turning and walking away. “Wait!” he called out. The being stopped but did not turn. “Who are you?” “I have been called many things,” the being said, his baritone voice echoing in the darkness. “I have borne many titles and am the subjects of many myths. However you may call me ‘the stranger.’” “Why did you save me?” Veelix asked as the stranger turned toward the Matoran but came no closer. “I sensed your presence as you fell from the mountain,” the stranger answered. “It costs me little to save a life, and…” his voice trailed off for a moment, before he continued softly, “there is something about your mind that intrigued me.” Veelix shivered as he heard this. “What would that be?” “You are on a journey,” said the stranger. “It has taken you across this island in search of its secrets. Once I walked these lands as you now do, but circumstances have forced me into hiding. By aiding you, perhaps I can help achieve what I cannot do alone.” “So you know,” Veelix muttered. “I have witnessed the fall of this island from greatness,” the stranger replied. “I began visiting this island when it was young, and I have been tasked as its guardian since the year the Matoran call 20,900 AF.” “Then you can help me,” Veelix said with excitement. “You can tell me why things have stagnated since the Unified Government came to power.” “It began with establishment of this new government,” the stranger replied. “On the surface, the old system was collapsing. The Old Government was in debt, the old political factions were at each other’s throats, and tensions between the kia were high. Those in power knew their rule was fragile, and the Matoran Civil War was its undoing.” “I don’t understand how the Matoran Civil War had anything to do with what happened here,” Veelix interrupted. “The Ta-Matoran and Po-Matoran started Metru Nui’s war,” the stranger began. “They also fought each other thousands of years before on Kia Nui. That event is known to history as the Scorched Desert War.” “So there was concern that somehow the Civil War would spread to Kia Nui?” Veelix asked. The stranger nodded. “Abandoning Metru Nui was supposed to keep the Matoran from war. It also cut the island off from its main trading partner, and Kia Nui was never as prosperous as it once was.” “So why did the Grand Council never reestablish ties with Metru Nui? The war has been over for thousands of years.” “In theory, once Metru Nui was stable, trade with them could resume,” the stranger said. “As you have observed, that never happened. This island has had no contact with any of its former allies: no Toa teams, not the Brotherhood of Makuta, and not Metru Nui.” “What does Kia Nui stand to gain from this isolation?” Veelix asked. “And what does that have to do with its stagnation?” “Perhaps the war and civil discord were only superficial reasons for the new political reality,” the stranger suggested. “The real impetus for the new order is far more sinister. Under the Old Government, power was decentralized by design; however, the Unified Government controls all lawmaking, all law enforcement, and the governments of the various kia.” “Are you saying that the Grand Council created the Unified Government to consolidate its power?” Veelix asked, shocked by what this stranger was suggesting. The stranger nodded gravely. “Whether intended or not, that reality was indeed the outcome. Furthermore, the power of that chamber is wielded by a single being, the leader of Kia Nui himself. He has always ruled the Grand Council with an iron fist, and even his rivals fear opposing his wishes.” Although the stranger’s claims seemed logical, Veelix struggled to imagine how this consolidation of power was linked to Kia Nui’s decline. “If Arconis went to such lengths to acquire this power, why doesn’t he use it?” Veelix asked. “That I cannot say,” the stranger said. “But though they may deny it, the Turaga are behind this plot. Perhaps they believe they are doing what is right, yet they will invite their own destruction.” The stranger turned again and began to walk away. The storm began to pick up. “Wait!” Veelix called again, wondering if the stranger could hear him over the howling of the wind. “There must be more you can tell me! How can you be so sure the Turaga are to blame?” Return to the archives in Onu-Kia. The stranger’s voice reverberated in Veelix’s mind. There you will find the answers you seek. With that, the weight of the stranger’s mind vanished, and he disappeared into the darkness. Veelix called out to him again, but there was no response. Veelix had intended to return to Onu-Kia under cover of darkness, but there was no need. It was always dark in Onu-Kia, yet the din of mining never ceased to echo in its halls. There were no guards in the museums, for it had been millennia since anyone would have dared rob them, and so few Matoran even bothered to visit anymore. Why pay Matoran to stand outside ancient relics when they could be put to better use in the mines? Despite the lack of security, there was one door which Veelix was forbidden to enter. Behind it was undoubtedly a vast library of documents hiding whatever it was that Veelix was not supposed to know. When Veelix had asked the director if he had ever considered going inside, the Onu-Matoran replied that he was too old to chase secrets. Predictably, the door was locked, although there did not appear to be any other defensive mechanisms in place. Veelix pushed against the door hoping it would move, but it did not give way. He threw his weight against the door, only to be met with similar results. Having come too far to quit now, he continued his attempts to knock down the door until he collapsed. The door did not budge. Veelix gingerly stood up and prepared to try again when he heard someone call his name. He turned around to find the director of the museum looking somewhat shocked to see him. Veelix said nothing as he tried to think of an excuse, wondering if the old Matoran would turn him in. “What are you doing?” the Onu-Matoran asked under his breath. “You leave without warning, vanish entirely from the island, and then return trying to break into the secret records. What has come over you?” Veelix was rehearsing a lie in his head, but instead he tried to appeal to the Turaga’s sympathies as a historian. “We both know that the records are incomplete. As a student of history, how can you walk these halls for millennia and not wonder what is behind these doors? Imagine the knowledge we could gain.” The director shook his head. “That is knowledge we are not meant to know. My predecessors and colleagues wanted to know what was back there. They went looking for secrets, and now that era too is in the past.” “Turaga Arconis told me that knowledge is power,” Veelix said. “There is knowledge there that could help us understand why Kia Nui is no longer as prominent as it once was. We can discover why the only nation to defeat the Barraki has fallen to stagnation and poverty.” “I don’t want to know the truth,” the director replied. “What is back there is not for us to know, and for good reason. When you cannot change the past, sometimes we are better off ignorant of the truth.” “The past may not change, but the future can,” Veelix replied. “You may have forgotten, but it is the power of the truth to change the future that led you to become a historian long ago.” Veelix was bluffing now, but he had no other choice. “That same need to find the answers to the past’s secrets is what drives me now. Please, open the door. It’s time we know the truth, for the sake of everyone on this island we call home.” At first the director did nothing. Then he quietly removed a key from his belt and handed it to Veelix. He put it in the door and turned it until he heard it click. The door rumbled open, and Kia Nui’s secrets were free at last. Veelix expected the director to follow him in, but the Matoran simply stood motionless at the threshold. The Chronicler urged him to follow, but he shook his head. “You are right, Veelix,” he replied. “I have forgotten why I came to this place. I am a Matoran of history, and I have found myself trapped in the past, unable to change. But you are a Matoran of the future. This is your journey now.” He removed the key from the lock and departed back into the recesses of the museum, leaving the door ajar. Veelix retrieved a lightstone to illuminate the dark room, revealing shelves full of books that were presumably once available in the archives. Doubting that he would find any chronicles of the Unified Government’s history, he instead examined the titles of the books for clues. There were several about the Old Government, more than one about the Scorched Desert War, and many about foreign lands, especially Metru Nui. He stopped when he came across a book with the words “Kia Nui Index of Deaths” written in plain letters on the cover. Intrigued, he lowered the book down from its shelf and looked for somewhere to read it. As these books were clearly never meant to be read again, there were no tables, so Veelix sat down on the floor with his back against the shelf and began to read. Part of him wondered why these books had survived at all, though he did not dwell long on these fortunate circumstances. The book contained a complete record of every Toa, Matoran, and Turaga that had died in Kia Nui during its long history. Each entry contained the date the Matoran arrived on the island, the date of death, as well as the cause of death. Veelix was unsure who had been maintaining this record, but he doubted it was one of the Onu-Matoran who worked in the museum, for it continued to be updated even after these tomes had been deemed too dangerous for even the historians to read. Although most of the deaths listed occured about during Kia Nui’s wars, there was a collection of deaths after the establishment of the Unified Government as well, mostly from natural disasters and other accidents. Veelix flipped to the back of the book and was surprised to find Keller’s name written in the last entry. Having not discovered anything particularly noteworthy, Veelix pushed the book aside and found another that chronicled Toa activity. Flipping through the pages, he scanned the reports without much enthusiasm until he reached the year of the establishment of the Unified Government. The follow reports mostly dealt with Toa reacting to natural disasters, such as protecting Matoran from hurricanes, volcanic eruptions, tornadoes, and the like. One report caught Veelix’ eye, one with the words “TOP SECRET” scrawled along the top. The report concerned a mine collapse in Fe-Kia that claimed the lives of seven Matoran. Intrigue turned to shock as Veelix read words that he could not believe were true: “Approximately four days before the operation, a lone Matoran miner discovered the existence of a vast lightstone deposit several hundred bio north of the current largest supply. Preliminary reports suggested that this mine would provide enough lightstones to satisfy current consumption rates for the next fifty millennia. Excavating said lightstones is estimated to take approximately 340 years. A team of four Toa of Earth was dispatched to collapse the mine, inadvertently killing seven Matoran in the process. The Matoran who discovered the mine was incapacitated and captured for questioning. The Toa suffered no causalities and departed before any other Matoran arrived on the scene. There are not believed to be any witnesses.” Veelix put the record down in shock. Somehow the Toa, those sworn to protect the Matoran, whom he had admired, had carelessly killed seven Matoran and intentionally kidnapped another. And for what? he thought. A lightstone mine? Why would anyone want to destroy the biggest lightstone deposit on the island when the combined efforts of the Onu-Matoran and Fe-Matoran could barely produce enough to meet demand? Veelix turned to the Index of Deaths and looked up the seven Matoran killed in the collapse. Each had “mining accident” listed as the cause of death. Suspicion gnawed at the back of Veelix’s mind, and he flipped back through the registry to examine the deaths of other Matoran killed in natural disasters and accidents. Almost all of them corresponded to a Toa mission to deal with the same disaster, and in each case, the Toa arrived on the scene remarkably quickly, usually in time to save all but one Matoran. In fact, the only element that the reports shared was that most of them resulted in a single death. However, the reports changed after the mining collapse. Most entries were listed as “Missing—presumed dead” followed by the date on which the Matoran disappeared. The list of Toa missions still recorded Toa responding to natural disasters, but there was neither a single death nor any relation to the missing Matoran. Perplexed, Veelix searched for clues about the missing Matoran. Without much history to go on, he thought he had reached a dead end when he stumbled upon transcripts of the Unified Government’s Labor Committee. Using that information, he determined that the commonality among the missing Matoran was that they had all been transferred to a different kia just before their respective disappearances. There was now a thread that tied the Turaga to this conspiracy. Looking into the biography of one of the Le-Matoran who had disappeared, he discovered that he had been mentioned in the reports. Veelix found the report and learned that this same Matoran had learned of a way to create a stable tube of liquid protodermis that resembled Metru Nui’s chute system. Two Toa, one of water and another of magnetism, had been dispatched to sabotage the invention on the orders of the Grand Council the day after the Le-Matoran was summoned to Eri to be reassigned to Ga-Kia. He had then vanished, never to be seen again. Veelix had long been suspicious of Kia Nui’s lack of progress in sciences and the arts, but he never suspected that there was an organized conspiracy behind it, especially one that involved the Toa in addition to the Turaga. Despite mounting evidence demonstrating that the Toa were involved in disspearance of Matoran and holding back their advances, he found no hint of motive. Nothing tied together their missions or the Matoran that disappeared on them, although it was clear that the Turaga were involved in some, but not all, cases. But that discovery shed no light on who was coordinating these actions and what they stood to gain. Despite these missing links, Veelix felt something he could not remember feeling in a long time. He had finally stumbled upon the answers he was looking for, and he had finally proven that in the wake of the Unified Government someone was trying to sabotage Kia Nui’s place as one of the greatest islands in the universe. Yet instead of triumph, Veelix felt only rage fill the gap that his hunger to solve this mystery once filled. He could hardly contain his anger at the thought that the Toa that he had looked up to for so long would stoop as low as murdering Matoran and then covering up the murders as natural disasters and accidents. The records might have never admitted to any intentional death, but it was clear that the Toa had been manipulating the Matoran for thousands of years, holding them back from progress for reasons Veelix could not fathom. Although he did not know why the Toa had behaved so reprehensively, he no longer cared. Now was the time for action. Despite the strength of his conviction, he could still hear a small voice whispering harshly in his ear, asking the familiar question, “What is more likely, that everyone around you is deluded or that you alone are?” Indeed, part of him even now, armed with all of this evidence, wondered how he, a mere Matoran could accuse the Toa of a plot that seemed inconceivable, yet his determination now rose up and swept aside those doubts. As quickly as he could, Veelix related all that he had learned into his recorder, including entire sections verbatim from the books he had uncovered. He tore out the map of the Fe-Matoran mines to take with him, and quietly left the forbidden room. Veelix could have spent years reading all of Kia Nui’s secrets, but now he was propelled towards a new goal. As he left the museum complex, he considered what to do with the information he had learned. Should he tell the Turaga? They almost certainly already knew, or worse condoned the Toa’s actions. Obviously the Toa already knew, for their corruption ran deep, which left just the Matoran. He decided to set out for Fe-Kia, for it was there where anger witg the mining collapse was most likely to resonate. Assuming Veelix could convince enough Matoran to believe his story, what then? How could mere Matoran stand up to Toa? They had numbers, perhaps, but no other advantage. But it was not the practical problem of taking on an organization as powerful as the Toa that held him back. These were their guardians after all, the champions of righteousness who served Mata Nui and had protected the Matoran since the beginning of time. Only the thought of their crimes, unknown to all Matoran but him, and the need for justice for those slain Matoran reminded him that the Toa were not worthy of this reverence. As he left Onu-Kia, he turned east and headed for Fe-Kia, formulating a plan as he entered another set of dimly lit tunnels. Veelix decided that his only course of action was to expose the Toa’s plot. With the abandoned lightstone mine and the trove of documents to back him up, perhaps someone would believe him. All he had to do was find it. As he entered the tunnels of Fe-Kia, he could hear the clang of machinery in the background, reminding him of the countless hours he spent at the forges of Ta-Kia. He smiled to himself as he realized that for the first time he could remember, he felt confident that what he was doing was right. Review Topic

Chapter 14 The Outcast Veelix was promptly escorted out of the citadel and left to his own devices. Arconis had instructed him to return to Ta-Kia, but Veelix had no intention of giving up so easily. His conversation with Ludin had sparked a memory of a Turaga in Ko-Kia who had fallen out of favor with the Unified Government tens of thousands of years ago in what Ludin had called a “power grab.” It was not a promising lead, but Veelix had little to go on. He needed someone else who had knowledge of Arconis’s government and was willing to speak out against it, and if there was anyone on the island who might be able to help him, it would be this Turaga. Worried that Titeria’s ship was being watched, Veelix decided to make the journey to Ko-Kia on foot instead. After a lonely march for several days, he arrived at the base of Ko-Kia, staring up the massive mountain, bracing himself for the climb. Its peaks were covered in frozen protodermis year-round, and the path was long and steep. Ko-Matoran rarely traveled this path, for they preferred to remain in their towers at the mountain’s peak, isolated from the rest of the world. Veelix reached the summit in the middle of the night, illuminated by the stars that he was now closer to than ever been before. Ko-Kia itself was an impressive sight. The buildings were ancient, perhaps not as old as those in Ta-Kia and Po-Kia, and grand despite their rigid and somber character. The marble of tall, austere towers gleamed, and the walls cast long foreboding shadows in the light twinkling from the towers in the towers. Veelix rapped the gate with his fist. For a moment there was no response until a Ko-Matoran peered out from a window above him with an expression of both curiosity and mild but unveiled disgust, as if he were inspecting an insect under a microscope. Veelix announced his intention to enter the city, and after a brief moment, the Matoran wordlessly disappeared and the gate opened just wide enough for Veelix to slip into the city. Though the streets were dark, many of the towers imbedded in the icy wall that ringed the city were illuminated from within by the lightstones of philosophers and thinkers for whom the late hour was no impediment. Snow covered the rooftops, yet the streets were carefully swept clear of all debris, a task clearly clearly performed with precision and borderline obsessive attention to detail. Few Matoran were on the streets, and those that encountered Veelix paid him no mind or cast irritated glances at him as they passed. At first Veelix was offended, believing he had confirmed the rumors of the legendary rudeness of the Ko-Matoran, yet judging by the same glances that they cast toward all they met, he suspected that this might just have been a traditional Ko-Matoran greeting. The temple stood out from the rest of the city, its front adorned with two massive rectangular towers and a tall marble door which stood open, allowing the cold night air to enter its halls. Pausing briefly on the threshold, Veelix entered the temple, spotting a lone Matoran standing by the doors with a lightstone. He ignored Veelix until the latter introduced himself. “We have always welcomed travelers, when they choose to visit,” the Matoran said, though welcoming was not the most apt description of this Matoran’s tone. “All those who wish to find peace and salvation are welcome here.” “Actually, I’m looking for the Turaga,” Veelix replied. The other Matoran did not seem interested. “It is late,” he said. “Perhaps the Turaga can have an audience with you in the morning.” “I am not referring to the city’s ruling Turaga,” Veelix clarified. “I wish to see another.” “The outcast?” the Ko-Matoran asked, surprise slipping into his tone. Recovering from this accidental hint of emotion, he continued, “He has taken no visitors in tens of millennia. I’m afraid your request is impossible.” “Please,” Veelix pleaded. “I have traveled a long way, and I need to meet with him to find the answers I am seeking.” “Our city’s Turaga will more than suffice to address your concerns,” the Matoran said. “He will be available in the morning.” “It must be the outcast,” Veelix insisted flashing his badge. “I have need of his historical perspective.” Realizing that Veelix was not about to leave emptyhanded, the other Matoran relented. “Very well, I shall take you to his chambers,” he said with some suspicion in his voice, “but I cannot guarantee that he will speak with you.” Wordlessly the Matoran led Veelix up the west tower, past rooms filled with Matoran observing the stars or sitting in silent meditation, and up to the highest chamber. The Matoran knocked on the door and waited. For a moment there was no response until a raspy voice pierced the silence. “I take no visitors,” the voice grumbled. “Leave me.” “I am the Chronicler,” Veelix said, not wanting his journey to have been in vain. “Please, I wish to speak with you.” There was no response. “It’s about the Unified Government,” Veelix continued. “I need to know why you left them.” There was another long silence. Veelix was about to speak again, when the Turaga finally said, “Leave me in peace. I will not repeat myself again.” “As I told you earlier, the Turaga is unavailable,” the Ko-Matoran said. “When do you think he’ll be available?” Veelix asked. “Never,” the Matoran replied flatly. “I suppose I’ll be on my way then,” Veelix said. The Ko-Matoran hesitated for a moment before saying, “It would be unwise for you to travel while it is dark. Ko-Matoran do not travel at night, for the mountain is haunted by the spirit of a Toa who long ago fell to his death on the slopes.” Veelix continued down the stairs. “I’ll take my chances with the ghost.” “There is also a storm coming, and it would be unfortunate if some misfortune were to befall you.” “Yes, that would be unfortunate,” Veelix replied, irritated that he had come all this way for nothing. “Perhaps you could join us for the evening prayer while we prepare you a room,” the Ko-Matoran said. He led Veelix to a room at the heart of the building that resembled Ta-Kia’s temple with its raised pit of sand and pillars covered in ancient writing. There he found several Ko-Matoran and the city’s Turaga engaged in silent prayer. A small number turned their heads to see who the visitor was, but otherwise none acknowledged his presence. Veelix stopped in front of a Mata Nui stone that stood in the corner of the room. It was oval in shape, about half his height, and carved with the customary shape somewhat reminiscent of the Mask of Shielding. Veelix bowed his head as he considered the stone. He recalled a sermon from Ta-Kia in which the Turaga explained that the Mask of Shielding was Mata Nui’s symbol because both served to protect. Veelix always thought that protection was one aspect of Mata Nui that troubled him the most. Mata Nui guided the Matoran, provided them with virtues, and taught right from wrong, but Veelix could not determine what it was that Mata Nui protected them from. Keller had told Veelix that the answer was evil, yet he found this explanation unsatisfactory, for by his estimation there was plenty of evil that Mata Nui had not protected him from. The Turaga preached that Mata Nui was all-powerful and perfectly good. As Veelix examined the statue in front of him, he encountered a paradox. An omnibenevolent being would wish to protect his people from evil if he had the power; an omnipotent being would have the power to do whatever he wished. And yet Arconis distrusted him, Ludin had turned on him, and Keller was dead; there was still evil in the universe. So is Mata Nui not all-powerful or is he not all good? Veelix asked himself. He was not sure which scenario worried him more. Perhaps Mata Nui is not all-powerful. Perhaps he cannot protect us from all evil. Or perhaps he can, but chooses not to. But why? Veelix raised his gaze and looked around the room at the Matoran silently gathered in prayer. If he asked how many of them believed Mata Nui was all-powerful and perfectly good, he had no doubt they would all agree. What did they know that he did not? Or did he know something they did not? What is more likely, that you are deluded or that everyone else is deluded? Veelix asked himself. It was a question that had been increasingly on his mind since he had become the Chronicler. Suddenly uncomfortable, Veelix left the room as quietly as possible, walking quickly down the hallway and ducking into a nearby room. It appeared to be an individual prayer room adorned merely with an ancient statue of what Veelix assumed was Mata Nui. This statue dominated the room, easily as tall as a Toa, if not taller, its arms fully extended out to its sides and raised slightly above its shoulders. Statues of Mata Nui as a physical being were rare, often considered heretical by Matoran who believed that Mata Nui was a spirit who transcended physical form. Even Veelix found himself slightly shocked by its appearance. “What are you doing?” demanded a voice behind him. Veelix turned to find his Ko-Matoran guide standing in the doorway. “You are not to wander about. Return to the prayer room until your room is ready for you.” “I find that room stifling,” Veelix replied. “I’d much rather be alone.” “You have my sympathies,” the Ko-Matoran replied curtly. “However, I must ask you to return to the prayer room.” Veelix sighed as looked again at the statue before asking, “Is Mata Nui all-powerful?” “Naturally,” the Matoran replied, betraying a hint of surprise. “And he is entirely good as well.” The Ko-Matoran frowned. “You are not the first to notice the problem of evil. Many more versed than you in the ancient writings have studied it, and all have concluded that Mata Nui and what appears to be evil are not mutually exclusive. The problem is merely an illusion.” Veelix expected the Matoran to continue, but when he did not, Veelix asked, “How can an omnipotent and omnibenevolent being allow evil in the world?” “Evil is not Mata Nui’s doing,” the Ko-Matoran replied. “The Great Beings gave us free will and Mata Nui to guide us and show us what goodness is. Those who embrace Mata Nui do good; those who do not create evil.” Veelix pondered for a moment before clarifying, “So Mata Nui would rather allow suffering at the hands of our fellow beings than prevent it?” The Ko-Matoran merely scowled at him. “It would seem to me you are suggesting that Mata Nui is not entirely good.” “What do you know of good and evil?” The Ko-Matoran shook his head. “Evil is temporal,” he explained. “Suffering vanishes when a Matoran becomes one with Mata Nui. Mata Nui believes that the only way to true benevolence is to ensure that Matoran choose his path freely.” “What about evils not caused by our fellow Matoran or even other beings in this universe?” Veelix asked. “What of natural disasters and other calamities? How do you explain those?” “It is arrogant to presume that we can understand all of Mata Nui’s works.” “That’s a weak defense,” Veelix replied. “I wasn’t finished,” the Ko-Matoran continued. “Perhaps Mata Nui decides it is time to punish us. Perhaps he decides some should end their worldly lives and ascend to become one with him. Or perhaps he sends us these calamities to test us, so that we may better understand and appreciate the life he wants us to live, for what is good if there is no evil? Do you think it is Mata Nui’s obligation to explain his rationale to you?” The last question was particularly pointed. Veelix took a deep breath and tried a different approach. “Wouldn’t it be simpler to suggest that perhaps these occurrences are random? Then there would be no need for a moral justification for seemingly immoral acts.” “Are you suggesting that there is no Mata Nui?” the Ko-Matoran asked. “I didn’t say that,” Veelix said angrily. “But you’ve been suggesting it the entire time,” the Ko-Matoran whispered, his voice cold. “Perhaps you do not wish to be beholden to a power greater than yourself. Perhaps you are a rebel who takes pleasure in defying the establishment. Is that not a simpler explanation for your belief in such nonsense? Your motivations do not matter to me, but I will not allow you to continue spewing heresy in this sacred space.” “And why not?” Veelix asked. “Are you afraid someone might challenge your beliefs and prove that your sacred truths have more contradictions than you would like to admit? What makes you so sure—” The Ko-Matoran’s eyes suddenly widened and he cut off Veelix with whisper: “Turaga!” Veelix turned to see a decrepit figure, bowed low with age, standing behind him. The Turaga’s thin and worn arms clutched a simple wooden cane, and his limbs were covered in dust. A pair of pale blue eyes peered out from behind a noble Mask of Mind Control, drifting from Veelix to the Ko-Matoran next to him. There was no doubt he was the outcast Veelix had come for. After a long silence, the Turaga spoke, talking slowly and carefully as if each word caused him great pain. “If you are debating the existence of Mata Nui, then you have missed the point entirely.” Both Matoran were stunned. The Turaga turned to leave, but halted when the Ko-Matoran began to say, “You came all the way from your tower for the first time in millennia just to say that?” “You have both come much farther to say far less,” the Turaga replied. “The problem of evil, the existence of Mata Nui—perhaps these are important questions, but your answers leave much to be desired. What would it mean to say that Mata Nui is but a fiction? Would that suggest the Three Virtues have no meaning, or can they still be embraced all the same by one who does not believe? What does it truly mean to be good or evil? Are they as clearly distinguished as you both appear to believe?” Turning slowly to Veelix, he continued, “I cannot help you with what you seek, for you will not find it here. Your quest may lead you to the truth, but perhaps it is not the truth you are looking for.” He then turned and left the room, returning to his tower. The two Matoran stood in silence for a moment before the Ko-Matoran whispered, “I think you should leave.” “I think you may be right,” Veelix whispered and exited the temple as quickly as possible without running. Veelix emerged from the temple into the frigid night. He knew he should remain in Ko-Kia until morning, but he also knew that the Turaga was right, and that there was nothing here that would help him. That thought kept him warm as he foolishly headed out into the darkness, forgetting the Matoran’s warning that a storm was coming. A Ko-Matoran tried to stop him at the gates, shouting a warning of the ghost that haunted the mountain. Not believing such superstitions, Veelix continued onward out of the city gates, making his way well beyond the city walls when the wind picked up and he could barely see his hands in front of his mask. Without warning, Veelix felt the ground beneath him disappear. Though he had not realized it, he had wandered too far from the path and reached the edge of the cliff. With a scream he fell from the cliff, tumbling into the darkness below. Review Topic

Chapter 13 The City of Legends As the sun set, a boat arrived at the southern shore of Kia Nui just south of Ta-Kia where the river of lava met the sea. A lone Matoran stepped off the boat and made his way toward the iron fortress he had once called home. Veelix had not shelved his ambitions to leave Kia Nui, nor had the pangs of homesickness drawn him back to the city of fire. Though he had no memory of his original home, the black fortress and ashen rain would never fill that void, and the Matoran of the city would never fully adopt him as one of their own. His travels across the island only served to distance himself from the city of his past, for as he returned, rather than feeling a comforting sense of familiarity, he was greeted merely by foreboding. He might never have returned if, in the hours before his departure, he had not learned that Keller was dead. And so Veelix found himself back on the beach of Ta-Kia to say a final goodbye to his mentor. Matoran rarely died of natural causes, especially of old age, for the life span of a Matoran was presumed to be at least the current age of the universe. As such, Keller’s death was a surprise to many, more so to those who had never lived in an environment as harsh as Ta-Kia. Veelix could imagine several Matoran at a party in a tower in Eri making conversation over the news. Can you believe a Matoran simply dropped dead? It’s terrifying to image waking up one day without one’s organs functioning. It must be something in the air they breathe down there, those poor Ta-Matoran… Veelix passed the guardhouse at the end of the bridge and entered the fortress of Ta-Kia through the same gate through which he had left. The city was just as he remembered it, save for the absence of the one Matoran whom Veelix had called a friend. Knowing he could not linger, he walked past the temple to Keller’s home. On the rare occasion that a Ta-Matoran did pass from the universe, there was a solemn ceremony in the temple before the deceased’s mask was placed in the river of lava. Death the volcano may bring, but without it there would be no life—from lava the mask was forged, and to lava it now returns, for all that is material shall be returned to the universe and that is spiritual shall be returned to Mata Nui. Friends and students left their remembrances outside Keller’s home where they would remain until the flowers faded, the candles blew out, and the memory of his passing had begun to fade from the city’s collective consciousness. This Matoran’s worldly life may have ended, but Mata Nui has assumed his body and spirit so that he may become one with him, for only by embracing Mata Nui can we achieve everlasting life, a gift for which our daily toil in his name can never repay. One night a member of the city guard would come to collect anything of value for the city’s vault; the rest was burned. Veelix was comforted to see that this fate had not yet befallen Keller’s property. Do not grieve that Mata Nui has not resurrected this Matoran’s body, for it is proof that his spirit has become one with Mata Nui. Do not grieve, for if we place our trust in Mata Nui and the virtues he has given us, one day we will all be reunited in Mata Nui’s embrace and our earthly struggles and faith shall be rewarded. Veelix had attended one such ceremony before, the only other time in recent memory that a Ta-Matoran had died. The Turaga’s words still rang in his ears. Veelix had already returned to his home to retrieve a prayer candle. A layer of dust had covered the few possession he owned, which but for the small circle in the dust where his candle had sat, remained undisturbed when Veelix departed. He placed the candle with the other remembrances outside Keller’s hut, wondering if he should say a prayer, but the words did not come, so he remained silent. Keller was the one Matoran who had believed in Veelix, believed that he was something more than a lazy eccentric. He missed the old Matoran and his calm faith in the workings of the universe. Had he not written that he was hoping Veelix would return to Ta-Kia? Veelix had indeed returned, but now it was too late. Veelix struggled to come to terms with the reality that the one Matoran from whom he could always seek advice was now gone. That friendship, that hope, that understanding that Keller had always shown would never be there to support him again. If the Turaga was right about Mata Nui, then perhaps he would see Keller again, but Veelix needed Keller’s advice in this life, not whatever came after. Regardless, the thought that he might see the old Ta-Matoran again was comforting, and more than at any time he could remember, he wanted to expel all doubt of Mata Nui’s existence. But even if Mata Nui was benevolent enough to give Keller life after death, why did he leave Veelix to confront his challenges alone? I can still honor his memory, Veelix vowed as he looked at a carving of the old Matoran that someone had left in front of his door. He would want me to find peace in my own way, and now I will—I must. With renewed resolve, Veelix paid his last respects to his mentor and turned back toward the city gates. Although he could not simply accept that the goodwill of Mata Nui shaped his destiny, he knew where he could find the answers he needed. He would find his own way, one that would take him far from Kia Nui, the island he could never truly call home. From the moment Veelix arrived in Metru Nui, he was in awe. The island was far larger than any city in Kia Nui and its towers dwarfed their counterparts in Eri in both size and technological advancement. His eyes were drawn upward as an airship roared overhead, gliding over the towers and Chutes as if unrestrained by gravity itself. The Matoran moved about their busy lives, completely unaware of how spectacular their city was. As Veelix’s boat entered a harbor in Ga-Kia, he caught sight of a large temple on a small spit of land floating in the silver sea. It was fairly tall, though dwarfed by Eri’s temple, and unlike the ornate temple in Eri, its structure was simple, an unadorned dome surrounded by four tall spires and several smaller ones. Its design was so unfamiliar and its premises so empty, that at first Veelix was unsure of its purpose. As he disembarked and set foot upon foreign land for the first time in his memory, Veelix immediately noticed the Coliseum, which he imagined was visible from every part of the city. Its smooth walls reached gracefully into the sky above all other buildings, and its elegant yet resolute form served as a constant reminder of the city’s strength and stability. Although it was the oldest building in the city, it seemed neither antiquated nor out of place, as many of Eri’s crumbling ruins did. Enthralled by these sights, Veelix decided to spend his first few days in Metru Nui exploring its wonders. Journeys that took hours in Kia Nui lasted minutes on Metru Nui’s Chute System. Mask making had been perfected to an art that surpassed the work of even Ta-Kia’s best craftsmen. Ga-Metru’s schools produced more knowledge in the time Veelix had visited them than Ga-Kia had in the last thousand years. The Archives of Onu-Metru and Sculpture Fields of Po-Metru would have put their counterparts in Kia Nui to shame. Le-Metru’s technology captivated Veelix the more than anything else: Vehicles sped faster, flew higher, and traveled farther than anything Domen or the Le-Matoran of Kia Nui could even dream of. Free access to Metru Nui’s records allowed Veelix to learn that Metru Nui and Kia Nui had been in close contact for over 15,000 years and had progressed culturally and technologically at relatively the same rate. The two islands were distinct, for their innovations were similar yet not identical, and the two were friendly rivals for economic influence throughout the universe. Their paths diverged shortly after Kia Nui broke off ties with its northern neighbor, when Metru Nui entered a golden age of prosperity in which culture and technology thrived. After his amazement at the sights of Metru Nui sunk in, Veelix began to wonder how Metru Nui had advanced so far yet Kia Nui had not. The two islands had been competitors until the two suddenly severed their ties, at which time Metru Nui overtook Kia Nui. As far as Veelix could tell, the pace of advancement had not sped up at all on Metru Nui; Kia Nui had simply remained in essentially the same state as it had on the day their contact ended. This turn of events puzzled Veelix. Clearly Metru Nui hadn’t suffered greatly when relations were broken off, and Kia Nui had sustained itself on its own without any adverse effects on its citizens. So why was the link between them so important to Kia Nui? Veelix searched through Metru Nui’s records looking for any mention of Kia Nui that he could find. Most were documents relating to trade, ledgers used by merchants and customs officials. Using them and his knowledge of Kia Nui’s history, Veelix confirmed that the two islands had broken their ties around 20,500 AF, almost 70,000 years ago. In Kia Nui that time was known for the establishment of the Unified Government, but in Metru Nui, it marked the beginning of the Matoran Civil War. Veelix was only partially satisfied with this information. On the surface the scenario was plausible. Not wanting to take sides in the conflict, Kia Nui broke off trade with Metru Nui while the war continued. Civil unrest unseated the Old Government around the same time, and the issue of trade with Metru Nui was forgotten among the collapse of Kia Nui’s political and economic system. Yet the members of the Unified Government were all Turaga who had served in the Old Government. Certainly they were aware of the benefits of trading with Metru Nui. Certainly they had the wisdom to realize that the island was suffering without it. And since neither the lack of trade with Metru Nui nor the establishment of the Unified Government directly caused Kia Nui’s stagnation, something else must have been at work. The other difference between Metru Nui and Kia Nui was its inhabitants. Metru Nui had only one Turaga and not a single Toa. In their place were the Vahki, merciless machines that maintained order by force, generally against Rahi, but they were unafraid to attack Matoran. Their constant presence unnerved Veelix, and he found himself constantly looking over his shoulder to see if they were following him. He was unsure whether he was more worried when he saw them or when he did not. The denizens of Metru Nui could not understand Veelix’s aversion to the lifeless automata, which he ascribed to their lack of familiarity with Toa, the guardians Mata Nui had intended for them. More concerning to Veelix was that on an island with so few Rahi that no outsider had dared to even threaten in millennia, the presence of law enforcement was ubiquitous. Bound by an algorithm’s unwavering dedication to the strict letter of the law, their tireless pursuit of every crime—from theft and counterfeiting to arriving late at work—lacked the heroism and mercy that Toa evinced. Veelix watched as some Matoran passed by the Vahki as if they weren’t there, while others hastened their step around them even if they did not realize it. Although Veelix did not enjoy having his every movement watched, he might have remained in Metru Nui for the rest of his life had there not been something nagging at him with every page he turned in his quest for knowledge. Metru Nui had surpassed Kia Nui long ago, and none of its scholars had any interest in why his island had disappeared into isolation. His journey had illuminated one piece of the puzzle, but there were no more he could find here. Veelix was comfortable in Metru Nui, almost content, but he could not shake the feeling that he was simply letting the days drift by, just as he had in Ta-Kia. He had found what he needed in Metru Nui. Now it was time to return to Kia Nui. Eri was not as Veelix had remembered it. The high towers cast long shadows over the city, engulphing the streets in an everpresent umbra. From one side they gleamed with reflected light, but on the other they were dark and bare. His eyes no longer fixed on their spires, Veelix now noticed the dank and dirty streets that lived in their perpetual shadow. Smaller, decrepit buildings sat squeezed together, many too low to be in view of empty high rises. Matoran shuffled by without speaking to each other, their hands sheilding their eyes when they stepped into a break in the shadows. Some were emaculate, just passing through on their way to somewhere more important; others sat on the street corners, their eyes drifting as others strode by without a second glance. Eri was still a city of promise, but this was not the promise of a better life: It was the promise of answers. Veelix knew he needed access to the Turaga, but he was unsure how he would be able to get to them. He could not simply walk into the citadel, and requesting a meeting was unlikely to work either. As he walked, Matoran started giving him a wider berth, some of them whispering to each other as he passed them. Realizing that he was attracting unwanted attention, he decided to get off the road until he could think of a plan. Before he could do so, he noticed one Matoran was actually coming towards him, albeit uncertainly. Soon Veelix recognized him as Ludin. “Veelix?” he whispered. “Is that you?” “Of course it’s me,” Veelix said, slightly perplexed. “Look, I need a place to hide for now. Can I stay at your place? No time to explain.” Ludin hesitated at first, but then nodded and guided Veelix to his apartment. “Is it true what they’ve been saying about you?” Ludin whispered as they moved briskly through the city streets. “What have they been saying?” Veelix asked, curious that anyone would be saying anything about him. “That you’d stolen state secrets, that you’d disappeared, that you were—,” he hesitated for a moment before continuing, “—a traitor.” “Well I did disappear,” Veelix said. “But I’m back now, and I need your help.” Once inside, he offered Veelix a drink and then disappeared into another room. Veelix realized that if Ludin was here he probably needed to return to the citadel to receive his next assignment. That would be Veelix’s ticket inside. A window slammed shut, and Ludin returned with a glass of water, which he handed to Veelix, his hands trembling. “What happened to you?” Ludin asked. “I left the island,” Veelix explained. “I took a boat to Metru Nui, where I stayed for a while, but now I’m back, and I need you to do something for me.” He quickly explained his plan to Ludin, who eyed him skeptically. “What do you hope to gain from interrogating the Turaga?” he asked. “I know you were having trouble finding something to do with your life, but do you think stirring up trouble like this is the best way to go about it?” “This is about something greater than me,” Veelix explained. “Once this island was the greatest in the universe, rivaled only by Metru Nui. I’m talking about restoring prosperity for all Matoran, not just for me.” “Our lives have been just fine,” Ludin said. “Perhaps we haven’t had the same technological breakthroughs as Metru Nui, but our lives are stable and safe. We have no wars, no famine, no need. Everyone except you has all they could want.” “Open your eyes!” Veelix said forcefully, standing now. “Half the Matoran live in palaces and the other half live in poverty. Just look at Ga-Kia, where you can see the contrast in a single kia! How can that be fair? How can that be what Mata Nui wants?” “No, you open your eyes,” Ludin said angrily, also rising from his seat. “In 90,000 years you are the only Matoran to make any such claim that something is wrong.” “There was another,” Veelix shot back, recalling a text he had perused in Ga-Kia’s library. “A Turaga from Ko-Kia who opposed the Unified Government and was exiled because of it.” “He was exiled because his power grab failed!” Ludin shouted. “You’re always poking around where you shouldn’t be, questioning everything that everyone takes for granted, about Mata Nui, about the Old Government, about our history, and maybe everyone else is right: The truth is exactly what we thought it was all along. Why can’t you be content with your life like everyone else? I know you feel that you don’t have a place in the world, but you can’t go around inventing problems for yourself to solve!” His words stung Veelix, leaving him without a response. Before either Matoran could say another word, the door flew open with a gust of wind, a tall emerald and silver Toa standing in the doorway, brandishing an ornate spear. Wordlessly he walked over to Veelix and bound his hands. “Let me go,” Veelix demanded. “How did you find me?” The Toa did not reply, but Veelix found the answer in Ludin’s expression. “I’m sorry,” Ludin said. “My first duty is to the state.” “How could you do this to me,” Veelix asked, incredulous. “I thought we were friends.” “We were,” Ludin replied. “But you lost that trust when you betrayed Kia Nui.” “I didn’t betray Kia Nui; I’m trying to save it!” “Betraying or saving?” Ludin muttered. “We have governments for a reason Veelix, and that was never your distinction to make. You’re asking me to trust you over the Turaga.” “I never thought our friendship was worth so little to you,” Veelix said. “And I never thought your country was worth so little to you,” Ludin replied. Veelix was unable to respond as the Toa turned him around and shoved him out the door. Of all the places Veelix expected to be taken, the last was Arconis’ chamber. The irony of the situation struck him, though whether he would be leaving on his own terms was unclear. The Turaga was seated at his desk fiddling the ring on his right hand and shaking his head as Veelix sat down. “What am I to do with you, Veelix?” he asked. “First you defy my friend, the Turaga of Onu-Kia, then twice you flee from the Toa assigned to protect you, and finally you disappear entirely from the island. Would you like to explain yourself?” Although he had imagined himself bravely confronting Arconis, he now sat in silence unsure of what to say. The Turaga was perhaps the most powerful being on the island, but he looked weary and frail as the dim lights behind his mask eyed Veelix. He could not quite place the Turaga’s expression, which seemed to be a cross between disappointment and fatigue. “What did you learn that convinced you to leave?” Arconis asked. “How much do you know about our island’s history?” “I know that the records in Onu-Kia are incomplete,” Veelix said hesitantly. “I think you knew that would be the case, yet you sent me there anyway.” “Are you suggesting that this inadequacy was intentional?” the Turaga asked, his tone and expression neutral, betraying nothing. “I am suggesting that you knew there was history missing,” Veelix said carefully. “I think you knew I would discover this.” “Then why would I make you the Chronicler?” Arconis asked. “What would that accomplish?” Veelix had no idea how to respond and found himself wondering the same thing. If Arconis knew that the archives were incomplete, why did he make Veelix the Chronicler? He knew full well that the records incomplete, but if that were intentional, he could not have wanted Veelix to fill in the gaps. “What happened after you left Onu-Kia?” Arconis asked. “I am told you arrived safely in Ga-Kia. What did you hope to accomplish there?” “I thought I might find something that was missing from Onu-Kia. Perhaps there were records or documents in that library that I could have access to that were unavailable to me before. But of course, there was nothing.” “What did you expect to find?” Arconis asked. “There are numerous time periods in which I could find no recorded history,” Veelix said. “The Scorched Desert War was missing from most documents. There were passing references to the ‘inhabitants of the north,’ but nothing identifying them specifically. Fe-Kia did not exist until 20,000 AF, but the settlement was controlled by Onu-Kia for years before that, yet there are no records of the split.” Arconis sighed. “The Scorched Desert War was kept quiet because it was a sad time in our history that all but a few who harbored old hatreds wished to discuss. The ‘inhabitants of the north’ you speak of were simply Matoran already living there. The division of Fe-Kia and Onu-Kia was merely a political separation that in all but name already existed, making it unworthy of the history books. Are you satisfied?” Veelix was surprised how quickly Arconis was able to rebut his claims, as if he had been anticipating them. “That still doesn’t account for the fact that there is no recorded history after the establishment of the Unified Government.” “There has not been a Chronicler since then,” Arconis replied. “But there was a Chronicler before then,” Veelix replied. “What happened to him? Why did you wait so long before appointing another one? And of course there are the historians in Onu-Kia who could have recorded it.” Veelix was starting to break through Arconis’ calm denial. He was right, for the pieces did not fit together unless the Turaga was hiding something. “We had no need of a Chronicler,” Arconis replied, still weary but unshaken. “There have been no wars, no major discoveries, no further exploration of the island. Kia Nui is stable and its people are cared for; that is all anyone needs to know.” “What about the people of Ga-Kia?” Veelix asked. “Who cares for them?” “They have the same opportunities as everyone else,” Arconis said. “Those who work the hardest are allowed into the university, and the rest provide vital roles for the community.” “We both know that is not true,” Veelix said. “Half the population has everything it desires, while the other half starves and works in filth.” “That is not my fault,” Arconis said. “Ga-Kia is responsible for its own citizens, and not everyone can have the same standard of living.” “Aren’t they your citizens as well?” “The government is here to promote stability not equality in all matters, especially economic ones,” Arconis replied. “But the Matoran of Metru Nui all live comfortably,” Veelix said. “There is no poverty there.” “Metru Nui,” Arconis sighed. “Is that where you disappeared to?” “They were our equal until the Unified Government came to power,” Veelix continued. “Why have they continued to progress while we have not?” “Both our islands have been prosperous,” Arconis said. “They have suffered strife beyond ours in the name of progress while our land is stable and orderly.” “I find the current history rather suspicious,” Veelix countered. “Perhaps you can explain it to me. First the Matoran Civil War occurs. Then the Unified Government comes to power and cuts off trade with Metru Nui. Five hundred years later the war is over and Metru Nui has entered a golden age while we had not shown any advancement whatsoever. Metru Nui has Vahki, airships, and Chutes while our civilization looks exactly like it did when the Unified Government took power. Why is that so?” “I ask you to consider what the purpose of the Unified Government is,” Arconis replied. “This government exists to ensure the basic safety and well being of its citizens. Its purpose is to ensure equal protection under the laws for all its citizens so that they can be the engines of progress. A government that attempts to create that same prosperity invites its own destruction, as did the Old Government, which bankrupted itself trying to keep up with our northern neighbor. In contrast, Metru Nui may look grand to you, but there is no poverty because there is no personal freedom. They have no right to wealth or private property. Instead of incentives to do well they face punishment for failure, for the Vahki watch their every move. If an effective Turaga leads, they prosper; otherwise, they do not. That requires a lot of trust in the government, one that our citizens have rarely displayed.” “That doesn’t answer my question,” Veelix said with more confidence now. “If the Unified Government did nothing, why does its establishment coincide with end of recorded history?” “Are you suggesting that this government has somehow intentionally censored history?” Arconis asked. “Yes, we broke our ties with Metru Nui, but it was the right thing to do. How could we trade with people who were killing each other over a pointless squabble? It was becoming clear that their ideology was not one we wished to see take hold here.” “Forget about Metru Nui and the history books for a moment,” Veelix said, seeing that this line of reasoning was going nowhere. “Why have the Matoran seen nothing but stagnation on your watch?” “I have maintained peace and order for nearly 70,000 years,” Arconis snapped, anger now cracking his calm visage. “I have protected them from foreign enemies. I have stamped out political corruption. My government has averted the fiscal catastrophe brought on by the previous one. The Old Government was not responsible for this island’s greatness, and the Unified Government is not responsible for this lack of progress that you continue to accuse me of causing.” The Matoran and Turaga stared at each other for a moment in a silence. Veelix was surprised how forcefully Arconis had made his point, yet although the Turaga seemed convinced by his own logic, Veelix knew that there was something missing. Arconis may not have admitted it, but Veelix knew the Unified Government was responsible for the island’s current situation. He simply needed to find proof. Finally Arconis spoke. “We are done here. It is time for you to return home.” Review Topic

Chapter 12 The Other Half For weeks, Veelix and Titeria chatted with each other, discussing everything from their classes to Veelix’s travels across the island. If not for their conversations, Veelix probably would have left Ga-Kia already, yet the thought of traveling alone again made him hesitant to leave. On the last day of their class, Veelix followed Titeria to the harbor, unsure when he would see her again. The memory of leaving the few friends he had still lingered in his mind as he searched for the right words to say goodbye. Titeria had other plans and insisted that he accompany her. Initially Veelix protested, but Titeria dragged him onto the boat anyway. “If you’re really concerned about studying, I’ll make sure you get back before it gets too late,” she promised. She assured him that there would be another boat back to the university that night. “Besides,” she said, “I think you’ll learn far more tonight than you would in any class here.” She refused to give him further details. The boat drifted into the silver bay, but instead of returning to the mainland, it turned and headed further out to sea. At first Veelix was unsure where they were going until he was able to make out the other island of Ga-Kia. Though he had seen it when he first arrived, he had never given it a second thought. Obscured by the darkness and its perpetual fog, the island was visible only due to a lone lighthouse on the shore. Turning her gaze from the bay, Titeria asked, “Why are you here, Veelix?” The question caught Veelix off guard. “The Grand Council sent me,” Veelix replied. “Well, I suppose they sent me to Onu-Kia, but I thought I might be able to learn more here.” “You already told me that,” Titeria said. She drummed her fingers on the railing for a moment and sighed softly. “I suppose I wanted to know what drew you to Ga-Kia. You see that island in the distance? I lived there for most of my life, looking up at the shining towers of the university, knowing that there was so much opportunity within those halls. The lights inside my home were barely flickering, yet the tower of Ga-Kia’s great hall was always illuminated. Sometimes I would stay up late at night, listening to the bells toll at the late hours of the night, barely audible across the body of water that separates us. So I came here looking for an opportunity to make something of my life, and I wanted to know if it was the same for you.” Veelix was quiet for a moment, before he replied. “I left Ta-Kia because I didn’t fit in there, so I left to find some way I could contribute to the world, to do more to make it a better place than creating masks to hang on the wall. I thought being the Chronicler would give that opportunity, but it merely confined me to the depths of Onu-Kia.” “So you were wanted to escape Onu-Kia?” Titeria asked. “Not exactly,” Veelix asked. “The more I learned there, the more I realized that I wasn’t the problem. Something was missing from the records, all of the history after the establishment of the Unified Government in fact. So I came here looking for something that might fill in the gaps, but eventually I started questioning what I was looking for in the first place.” He paused and stared at the waves disappearing under the boat. Titeria said nothing, waiting for him to continue. “I assumed there was something to find,” Veelix said. “There must be something that explains what happened to that history, something to explain all these holes in the record I keep finding, right? What if I can’t find anything because there’s nothing to find? After all, I’m the only one who seems to care.” “No one else has the resources you do,” Titeria pointed out. “They don’t know about the missing records, so naturally no one else has discovered this problem.” “It’s not just the missing records,” Veelix pointed out. “The Turaga seemed perplexed that I couldn’t find a job that suited me. The other Matoran in Ta-Kia considered me an outsider, and wherever I go I’m the only Matoran who questions Mata Nui and my destiny. I am the only one noticing the problem, or I am the one with the problem?” “Being different isn’t a problem, Veelix,” Titeria assured him. She pointed to the island that slowly drew closer. “I was the only Matoran living there to think that I could one day go to the university, and none of the other Matoran believed me. They ridiculed me and told me I was a traitor for wanting to go there. They were wrong, though I suppose they were just jealous.” “I don’t understand,” Veelix said. “Why would you be a traitor for going to the university?” “That should be clear to you soon,” she replied. The boat quietly came to a halt at one of the docks that ringed the island. “What is this place?”Veelix asked as he and Titeria disembarked. “This is Ga-Kia,” Titeria explained. “Part of it anyway. This place is known as the little island, which is under the authority of the main island. Most outsiders refer to the university as Ga-Kia, but we call it the big island.” “I’ve never heard of this place before,” Veelix admitted, looking around at the humble buildings lining the dark streets. “It’s a well-kept secret,” Titeria explained. “the university is grand and important, but it doesn’t produce anything tangible, so it’s not profitable. That’s where we come in. This is an island of fisherwomen and sailors, the busiest port in Kia Nui.” The two Matoran wandered down the main street, each with a lightstone, for the ones in the streetlamps had long since needed replacing. A Matoran with a cough sat on a street corner, huddled over a small fire and clutching a ragged blanket. “All the money we had was put into the university,” Titeria continued. “Unfortunately not everyone could go there and its construction left the city deeply in debt, so tuition was a little higher than expected. Although the Old Government initially offered scholarships, some of us have to work for a living.” “Why is it such a secret?” Veelix asked. “I can’t even find it on the map.” “It’s not intentional, they’ve just forgotten about us because it’s convenient,” Titeria said. “From time to time some of the new students offer to help, but even those who do rarely return more than once or twice before they find themselves too busy with their own concerns. Most of them prefer not to think about us, and we prefer not to think about them. But there is a desire that burns in the heart of all Ga-Matoran here, a desire to leave this place for good and do something more with their lives. In order to do that, I needed the help of the ones I long blamed for my fate. I decided to enroll in the university.” They were now walking along the shore again, drawing steadily closer to a shack near the docks. “So I saved up what little money I earned,” Titeria continued. “Eventually I was able to attend the university, but I had to continue working in order to support myself. Now I am dockworker by day and a student by night. And when I have a little extra time on my hands, I come here.” The two arrived outside the building to find a Ga-Matoran passing by. She stopped, squinting in the glare of the lightstone, as the two Matoran approached. She appeared to be quite a bit older than either of them, for her armor was even more worn than Titeria’s. “I see you’ve brought home a friend, Titeria,” the other Matoran said in a raspy voice. “He’s from the university,” Titeria said. The Ga-Matoran frowned. “Why would you come all the way from Ta-Kia to that island of self-centered Piraka?” she sneered. “I was disappointed when you decided to go there, yourself,” she said addressing Titeria now. “I never thought you would sink to their level.” “Neither did I,” Titeria replied, producing a round orange fruit from her bag. “I got this for you when I was there. It comes from the mainland.” The other Matoran refused. “No, you keep it,” she said. “You need it more than I do with all the extra hours you work.” Although she pushed Titeria’s hands away, her eyes told a different story, staring hungrily at the orange fruit with a longing that Veelix had never seen for something as ordinary as food. “I got it especially for you,” Titeria insisted as she placed the fruit in the other Matoran’s gnarled hands. “We have to look out for each other after all.” Before the other Matoran could object, Titeria opened the door and stepped inside the building as Veelix followed closely behind. “I can’t believe what she said about Ga-Kia, or the big island,” he whispered, afraid the other Matoran could still hear him. Titeria nodded sadly. “That’s the view most Matoran here hold. Of course, they would all attend the university in the flash of a heartlight if they could, even though they’d never admit it.” She sighed. “We’re not bad people. We try to lead honest lives and do what we can for each other. I remember when the Matoran you just met used to travel frequently to Metru Nui, back when we traded with them. She brought back trinkets for me every time. I still have all of them back at home.” Veelix looked around the room as Titeria spoke. They stood in a small boathouse that housed about a dozen small watercraft, mostly canoes and other boats that could only fit one or two passengers. Titeria walked over to a mechanical craft that had seen better days sitting in the corner. “This is my dream, Veelix,” she said placing one hand on the boat. “Once I have the training I need and this boat is fixed, I can leave this place and never come back.” “Where would you go?” asked Veelix, guessing that it would be some time before the vessel was seaworthy. “I was thinking about moving to Eri,” she replied. “There’s a busy port there, and lots of ships come by. My goal is to become a mechanic or engineer, and with my experience fixing this boat, I think I could get a fairly stable job, certainly better than anything I could find here.” The scene reminded Veelix of his brief time in Domen’s shop in Le-Kia, except while Domen’s shop was well equipped, Titeria seemed to be scraping by with barely any tools at all. “How close are you to being finished?” he asked hesitantly. “It’s almost done,” she replied. “Right now there’s no power source, so I’ve been trying to fix up a coal engine, but it’s not providing the power that I need, and a steam engine is too large for something this size.” “I remember I saw a compact power source once,” Veelix said, trying to remember how Domen had powered his vehicles. “It was about this big and powered by a lightstone.” “I read something about an engine powered by light not too long ago,” Titeria said, her eyes lighting up. “Veelix, where did you learn about this?” “I worked on one briefly when I was in Le-Kia,” he said. Titeria’s eyes widened. “You have experience with them?” “Not exactly, but they’re not very complicated,” Veelix replied. “You just need to find something that converts light into a form of energy.” “Light is energy,” Titeria corrected as she rummaged through a scrap heap nearby. “The trick is converting it into a useful form.” She produced several faded panels that looked similar to what Veelix had seen in Domen’s garage. “How do these look?” she asked. “I think that’s it,” Veelix said excitedly. Titeria nodded. “If we could make this work,” she said, “the boat could be ready to go much sooner than I thought. I only need a few more parts.” She looked around for a moment but seemed to be missing something. “There are a few things I need, but I know where I can get them,” she announced. “Veelix, tomorrow can you get a few of the books about photoelectric panels from the library and bring them here? I could find the parts we need, and we could finish the boat tomorrow!” Her excitement was practicably tangible, and Veelix knew it was rubbing off on him. He agreed to help and promised to meet her again the next day. Titeria pointed out that it was late and that he shouldn’t miss the ferry, so Veelix returned to the docks hoping he had not missed his boat. As he rode the ferry back to the small island the next evening, he found himself wondering why he felt so invigorated. Something about the spark of excitement in Titeria was contagious; something about her passion was so rare in Kia Nui. Her ardent pursuit of her dreams reminded Veelix of why he had left Ta-Kia. Veelix and Titeria spent the entire night assembling the new engine. Though Veelix helped Titeria when he could, he found himself mostly keeping her company as she put the final touches on the engine. In the early hours of the morning, Titeria and Veelix put the boat out to sea for the first time. Titeria lapped Ga-Kia and then piloted the boat out into the sea until the land was distant and the two of them were alone, far from everything they disdained. They floated in the sea quietly for some time, watching the sun slowly illuminate the morning sky, before Veelix broke the silence. “What happens now?” he asked Titeria. “We go back,” she said without turning her gaze from the horizon. “I have to finish my education before I can leave, and until then there is still work to be done. What about you?” Veelix remained quiet for a moment as he pondered her question. “I’m supposed to study volumes of knowledge that is woefully incomplete, but I’ve looked everywhere and found nothing to answer my questions. There’s no reason for me to stay here.” “There are so many places you could go,” Titeria replied. “You might find what you’re looking for in Eri or Ko-Kia.” “Everywhere is the same,” Veelix said. “No matter where I go in Kia Nui, I can’t find what eludes me. I don’t think there is anywhere in Kia Nui where I belong.” “The Unified Government won’t allow you leave,” Titeria reminded him. “There are no ships that leave this dome.” “Why not?” Veelix asked, questioning what other Matoran had taken for granted. “Why shouldn’t I have the freedom to leave? I won’t find the knowledge I’m looking for here.” “Where would you go?” Titeria asked. “Assuming you can find a boat that would take you.” Veelix thought for a moment before he replied. “Metru Nui. We used to trade with them before the Unified Government came into power. There must be Matoran there who visited here too. Someone there might be able to answer the questions I can’t find answers to here.” “That’s a bit of a long shot,” Titeria said doubtfully. “How can you be sure you will find what you’re looking for when you don’t even know what that is?” “I can’t be sure,” he admitted. “But this is my work, my passion, just as this boat was yours, and I will find a way.” The two sat in silence a while longer watching the sky grow brighter. Eventually Titeria pointed due east to the horizon. “There is a gap in the barrier there,” she said. “I’m told there is a tunnel that will lead you directly to Metru Nui. I’ll take us back to Ga-Kia, and then you can take my boat there.” “I can’t,” Veelix objected. “You’ve worked so hard to finish it. I can’t take it.” “As much as I wish I could go, I have years to go before I can leave,” Titeria said as she turned the boat back towards civilization. “Besides, I wouldn’t have finished the boat today if you hadn’t helped. But in return, I want you to bring it back with tales of Metru Nui. And then I want to go far away, never to see this dismal place again.” Titeria activated the engine, its hum shattering the silence, and the two Matoran began their journey back to the land they both knew they were certain to one day leave. Review Topic

Chapter 11 All That Glitters The cool breeze rushed past Veelix as he stood at the bow of the ship that now sailed toward Ga-Kia, an island university home to more knowledge than perhaps any other place in the universe, rivaled only by Ga-Metru. A number of Turaga served as instructors for the relatively small Matoran population that lived on the northeastern shore of the island. As Ga-Kia drew near, Veelix realized that it was not one island but several. A canal bisected the main island, forming a lake at the center of the city. Bridges connected several smaller islands to the largest one, but there was one island that stood alone some distance from the others. A thick fog hung over this smaller isle ringed with ships docked at a sprawling port that dwarfed the one in Eri. What few buildings he could make out were small and bleak in contrast to the shining towers of the main island’s halls of learning. Upon disembarking, Veelix located the central building floating in the island’s lake. Housing the Turaga and their offices and living quarters, the stone structure was reminiscent of an older era, similar in design to the old palaces near the heart of Eri. Its central tower sported a colossal clock with golden hands ticking away softly on a black stone face, awaiting the moments when the bells would chime, before falling silent again. Inside its ornate halls, Veelix briefly exchanged words with the head Turaga. She expressed the Grand Council’s displeasure with his behavior but admitted him to the university with little more than a reprimand. She summarily dismissed him, and a taciturn Ga-Matoran lead Veelix out of the building and across the island to its northeastern shore where a small temple and twin dormitories stood solemnly at right angles to each other around a square plaza. Inside the halls were dark, their brick walls unadorned unlike the lavish interior of the building he had just left. Veelix’s room was large enough only for a bed and a desk, with a small window and a lightstone as its only furnishings. He examined the pile of books sitting on his desk, as well as a stone tablet detailing the classes in which the Turaga had enrolled him. Most were studies of various time periods, generally around the time of the Barraki War. A note from the Turaga informed him that he was permitted to audit any class offered during his free evening block. Placing the tablet back on the desk, he lay down on his creaky bed and closed his eyes, recalling the gentle rocking of the boat that had borne him to this island as he drifted off to sleep. Veelix stood on the summit of a mountain, looking down on the valley below. Keller stood near him, scratching symbols into the dirt below his feet. He looked up at Veelix and asked, “Have you found it?” “Found what?” Veelix wanted to ask, but the scene playing out beyond the precipice captivated his attention. Ash rained down on the gray valley below, obscuring the landscape under its shadow. A trail of candles, the only variation in the scenery, led to Ta-Kia’s fortress, ringed in black walls, and crowned with a keep lit from within by an indomitable flame. Its spires were twisted and deformed, soldiers with long spears patrolled the turrets, and black spokes protruded from its high walls. Flames flickered around the city, but they provided no warmth, no familiar glow. A breeze swept up the ash and blew the candles out. Veelix was dimly aware of a voice calling his name. Opening his eyes, he saw his instructor, a stout Turaga of Earth, glancing at the drowsy Matoran disapprovingly. Veelix sat up and mumbled an apology. “Those of us with the courtesy to remain awake during class were discussing the importance of the Battle of Eri in the War with the League of Six Kingdoms. Perhaps you could enlighten us.” Veelix blinked and muttered, “During that battle the city was captured and the Toa Army fled—” “We were discussing the Second Battle of Eri,” the Turaga interrupted. “In that battle the Toa won back the city despite the Barraki’s superior numbers,” Veelix continued. “The Toa’s victory forced the League to negotiate an armistice that ultimately led to the end of the war.” “Who was the Toa’s commander?” “Toa Goucaer.” “And how was he able to recapture the capital successfully?” Veelix gazed out the window, wondering how long it had been since he had arrived at Ga-Kia. He had been looking for something, the unwritten history of the world that seemed to escape his grasp. Despite the knowledge emanating from the towers with their gleaming spires, Veelix had learned no more than he had in Onu-Kia. Sitting in this history class, he could name every leader of Kia-Nui, produce from memory the dates of important events, recite any piece of information he had learned, yet with every new fact he grasped, the bigger picture continued to slip through his fingers. The Turaga repeated the question. Without averting his gaze from the silver sea outside his window, Veelix replied that he was unsure, having already forgotten the question. The Turaga sighed, assigning him to review the battle and dismissing the class. As the other Matoran filed out of the classroom, Veelix proceeded to the library, as was his routine during the evening block. He preferred to sit in a secluded corner, surrounded by books and stone tablets containing the writing of the greatest scholars and philosophers of Matoran history. At first the tens of thousands of years of knowledge overwhelmed him, but now he saw there was no new scholarship, as if there was no new knowledge to create and every worthwhile thought had already been recorded. The dusty classics were hailed as remnants of a golden age while scholars memorized the names of great thinkers and analyzed their work endlessly rather than producing anything new of their own. Veelix searched the shelves for a book he had skimmed the day before, an ancient text with a passing reference to “inhabitants of the north,” a term he had not found in any other records. Asking the Turaga for assistance proved fruitless, for each either claimed no knowledge of the document or insisted that the inhabitants must have been Matoran already living there. Veelix dated the document to well before the founding of any of the northern kia, and further attempts to find information regarding that time turned up empty. Curiously, Veelix was unable to locate the book again, and assuming another Matoran had checked it out, he browsed the shelves until he located a book on the history of the Toa Army. He scanned the chapters on Jecitus and Goucaer until he reached the section on the latter’s successor, an unpopular Toa of Ice who struggled to command the Toa Army as its influence and prestige waned. The Toa was eventually driven from power and began a self-imposed exile in Ko-Kia as a Turaga. Veelix wondered if the old Turaga was still alive, and if so how he passed the time knowing that his glory days were behind him, and that he had been ousted from the position he no doubt considered his calling. As directionless as Veelix felt, he could only imagine the emptiness that this Turaga must be facing. At least he had a calling, Veelix thought. He looked up from the book, asking himself what he was doing in this distant land so far from home. But Ta-Kia was no more his home than Ga-Kia, and mask making was no more his calling than passing his days in empty libraries. Realizing that he would find little more of value in these books, Veelix left and made his way into the cool evening air, unsure of where to go. Remembering a distant offer to observe any class he wished, Veelix turned and entered the main auditorium, hoping there would be a class taught in a subject he had never studied in detail. Matoran filled the auditorium, mostly taking seats near the back of the hall. Veelix proceeded to the front row and sat two seats down from the only other Matoran in that row. Like the majority of students in Ga-Kia, she was a Ga-Matoran, yet there was something that set her apart from her peers. Her cerulean armor was scarred and stained, but her posture projected a rare confidence in stark contrast to the other students, who sat slouched in their seats, sitting up only to turn and glance at the clock in the back of the room. Her body seemed weary, yet her bright eyes gleamed. She turned and smiled at Veelix politely, and he quickly smiled back before turning his attention to the Turaga at the podium. “Today we turn our attention to the political theory that formed the foundation upon which the Old Government was founded,” the Turaga began. “Recall from our last lecture our analysis of the early Matoran thinkers and their views on the proper relationship between the Turaga and the Matoran. In addition, keep in mind the prevailing political climate and tensions between the kia, especially the sectional friction between the north and the south. It was in this climate that the authors of the Old Government established the island’s first written constitution.” It was immediately apparent that Veelix was in a class that required knowledge beyond what he had already learned. Although familiar with the underlying political conflicts before the establishment of the Old Government, he had no training in the writing produced in this era. He considered leaving the class, disheartened by his lack of knowledge, when the Turaga began to explain the reasoning behind the Old Government’s structure, one that he had never fully understood. “There was a fundamental difference between the existing governments of the kia in the north and in the south,” the Turaga continued. “Matoran in Ta-Kia, Po-Kia, and Vo-Kia had traditionally ruled themselves and were not keen on giving up their authority to a council of Turaga living on the other side of the mountains. Likewise, the Turaga in Eri considered themselves the legitimate rulers of the entire island and could not fathom sharing authority with Matoran. Eventually a compromise was reached in which the Turaga shared power with a Matoran Assembly and with the local governments of each kia. “While some scholars have claimed that dividing authority was a major concession from the Turaga, a closer analysis reveals that the Grand Council, as it came to be called, was clearly the superior partner, granting significant discretion to the Matoran Assembly but exercising final authority in all matters. Likewise, the Grand Council was careful to install Turaga sympathetic to its goals in high levels of local governments to ensure that each kia remained under Eri’s control.” While Veelix had read the constitution of the Old Government on multiple occasions, he had never realized how little of it he had understood. By his reading, the constitution signaled the unity of the island, an agreement to share power not only between the Turaga and the Matoran but also between Eri and the kia, yet as the Turaga continued to speak, Veelix realized how naïve this perspective had been. The notion that the Grand Council had been attempting to consolidate its power seemed counterintuitive, yet Veelix could not deny the persuasiveness of the argument that the Turaga presented. Instead of leaving, Veelix decided to remain in his seat, listening with interest as the Turaga explained how the Grand Council exerted its influence over the Matoran in subtle yet undeniable ways, a historical interpretation that Veelix had not considered before in his studies in either Ga-Kia or Onu-Kia. As he was only observing this class, Veelix felt no pressure to memorize the Turaga’s every word, but he found himself listening more intently than he did in his other classes. The other Matoran, many of whom were sleeping in the rows behind him, did not appear to share his enthusiasm, with the exception of the Matoran in his row, who wrote furiously, as if trying to record the Turaga verbatim. Veelix had no intention of understanding everything the Turaga said, but he found himself absorbed in the lecture nonetheless. The history may have had no relevance to his own life, yet there was something intrinsically fascinating about the subject and the manner in which the Turaga presented it. When the lecture ended, he left the hall with an unusual feeling, not ennui but rather a spark of excitement. There was something new here to discover, and he was determined to look into it. He returned to the library and scoured the shelves for documents from the time of Old Government’s founding. As he read them, he felt disappointment creep back into his mind as he realized that all the documents he could find were either written by the Turaga or a number of Matoran theorists who argued in their favor. Some of the very Matoran authors that the Turaga had mentioned in class appeared to be missing from the shelves. Frustrated and feeling the enthusiasm he had felt earlier slipping away, he returned the books to their shelves and left the library. Veelix was tired of finding so many holes in the fabric of history. Despite his hopes when he had arrived on Ga-Kia’s shores, there was little to learn here that he had not already learned in Onu-Kia. The same information was here and thus the same inadequacies. He eventually stopped informing others about his discovery of documents in the library from eras lacking in historical documents, for when he did, the books and documents were often checked out indefinitely or quietly disappeared. Despite these setbacks, Veelix continued to attend his evening class, for he felt it was the only one in which he learned anything new. Only his own lack of knowledge held him back, an insufficiency he sought to rectify with each class he attended. His studies in the past had neglected the details of historical politics, but now it was clear to him that the tensions between the branches of the Old Government were a clear pattern throughout its history. As Veelix sought to understand the political mechanisms of the Old Government, he began comparing them to the Unified Government and found himself questioning why it the latter had replaced the former. Much to his frustration, the records seemed to cease right before its establishment, with only terse announcements of the new government available for his perusal. Of all the students in the class, only the other Matoran in the front row appeared as interested in the subject as Veelix. Although Veelix had been meaning to talk to her, he never saw her around the island during the day. He intended to speak to her, but it was she who started a conversation one day before class. “Are you enjoying this class?” she asked. “It’s a little over my head,” Veelix admitted somewhat sheepishly. “Well you did start halfway through the course,” the Ga-Matoran pointed out. “Which school did you transfer from?” There was something distinctive about her voice that Veelix could not place, for her pronunciation of certain sounds was unlike that of the other Ga-Matoran. The distinction was so subtle, far less so than the differences between Ta-Matoran and Ga-Matoran, that Veelix did not even notice it initially. “I didn’t transfer,” Veelix explained. “I was studying history in Onu-Kia and the Turaga suggested that I come here. One day I was bored and decided to sit in on this class for fun.” “I’ve never met anyone who would call political theory ‘fun,’” the Ga-Matoran said. “But then again, I’ve met very few who seem to find learning in general to be fun.” “I’ve always liked learning, but most of my other classes are history courses,” Veelix said. “This class is a nice change of pace.” “How does a Ta-Matoran end up studying history in Ga-Kia, not to mention Onu-Kia?” she asked. Veelix was about to explain, but the Turaga had arrived and began to speak, rendering Veelix silent as the lesson commenced. When the lecture concluded, Veelix intended to continue their discussion, but the Ga-Matoran left quickly, explaining that she had to catch a boat. This statement stuck Veelix as odd, for he assumed that all the students lived on the island, but he was unable to learn anything else about his new friend except that her name was Titeria. As time passed, Veelix and Titeria discussed various topics before each class. Although these conversations were always brief, Veelix had finally found someone on his journey who shared his appreciation of knowledge. Titeria’s main areas of study were engineering and physics, but her knowledge of a wide variety of topics, including history and the study of Mata Nui, ensured that their conversations were never dull. One day when explaining why he had come to Ga-Kia, Veelix mentioned that he was the Chronicler, prompting Titeria to laugh. “What’s so funny?” he asked, more defensively than he had intended. Titeria smiled for a moment, but then looked at him quizzically. “You’re kidding, aren’t you?” she asked. “Of course not,” Veelix said, unsure if he should be offended. “Why would I joke about that?” Titeria shrugged. “I don’t know, but I haven’t heard any news about a new Chronicler.” “So?” “Well, there’s usually a lot of celebration when a new Chronicler is named,” she explained. “At least there was last time, don’t you remember? I haven’t heard anything since the last Chronicler was appointed back during the time of the Old Government.” She stared at him for a moment with a bemused expression. “Are you really serious?” “I truly am the Chronicler,” Veelix said. He retrieved his badge and handed it to the wide-eyed Titeria, who stared at it as if unsure what to do. “There’s no doubt about it,” she said quietly, slowly turning the badge over in her hands, as if afraid she might drop it. After a moment she carefully returned the badge to Veelix. “What kind of celebrations were there?” Veelix asked curiously, wondering what he had missed. Titeria thought for a moment. “Well it’s been a long time since the last Chronicler was appointed, before you of course. I remember Turaga Arconis ceremonially handed the Chronicler the badge in front of all the Toa and Turaga, and then the Chronicler went on a journey around the island before getting to work. Oh, and there was also a part where Arconis handed the Chronicler a recorder, which I think is the same one used by all previous Chroniclers.” “Is this what you’re talking about?” Veelix asked as he produced the recorder. Titeria took the recorder but did not appear impressed. “I honestly don’t remember what it looked like,” she admitted. He watched as Titeria examined the recorder for a moment and then proceeded to remove one end, much to Veelix’s horror. “Relax,” she said, peering inside. “It looks like it’s supposed to do that.” She removed a small green crystal from inside the device. “What is that?” asked Veelix, staring at the crystal with fascination. “I think it’s a memory crystal,” said Titeria as she examined it closely. “You can use them to record electronic data. You can’t find them naturally on Kia Nui, and there’s no way to manufacture them, which makes them rare. I haven’t seen one in ages.” “You’ve seen them before?” Veelix asked. Titeria nodded. “The lab here has a machine for reading the data on these crystals,” she explained. “Or so I’m told anyway. The university hasn’t used it since long before I arrived, but I’ve seen pictures of these crystals in textbooks.” “How long has that been?” Veelix asked. “Since I arrived? A few hundred years or so,” Titeria said as she replaced the crystal and twisted the cap back on the recorder. “I’m only here in the evening, so I haven’t taken that many classes.” “What do you do during the day?” Veelix asked, unaware that there were Ga-Matoran who held occupations other than students. This opinion was foolish in hindsight, but until now he had no reason to believe otherwise. “I’ll have to show you some time,” she said as the instructor cleared her throat to silence the class. After their class, Veelix parted with Titeria as she left for the docks to catch a boat to places unknown to him. He could not imagine where she was going—yet another mystery that presented itself to him. Despite his hopes upon reaching the island’s shores, his studies had left him just as perplexed as he was before. If he were to discover the secrets of Kia Nui’s past, it would not be here. Review Topic

I have to admit I was intrigued by the notion of a retelling, something I've toyed with for a long time myself. It would certainly be interesting to see another perspective on the Bionicle story, one that emphasized aspects the canon didn't, one that could play to a more sophisticated audience, and one that could be darker or more philosophical. In other words, a good retelling should make me think about Bionicle in a different way. So you've got a lot of potential going in, but so far I haven't seen much come of it. Despite all the hype you've been generating in S&T, I have to say that your writing style just isn't my cup of tea. There's not a lot that's technically wrong with your story so far, I just don't agree with a lot of the stylistic choices. A lot of what Aanchir and fishers said resonates with me: So far the reader is bombarded with a lot of details, and I'm getting the impression that much of this story is intended to be a vehicle for your theories. That may interest some people, but personally I'm more interested in a good story, and this one is a little dull so far. I understand that you want to tell a sci-fi story, and as a fan of sci-fi, I have no objections to that. But details such as how Matoran eat and how their masks are attached to their faces really aren't that interesting, especially to someone who's familiar with the canon. In my opinion, sci-fi elements shouldn't stand on their own, they should enrich the story or contribute to establishing the setting and characters. Otherwise they bog down the reader and distract from what's really important, and in this case they get in the way of characterization. Chapters 1 and 2 haven't done a lot to grab my attention (with the exception of chapter 2's cliff hanger). Deciding on a central protagonist for a retelling was a good move, as was making him an amnesiac, but other than that, he's a rather bland character. You seem to be relying on the mystery to drive his character, but other than amnesia, resourcefulness, and a deep understanding of physics, there's not much to him. If I'm going to read pages about him struggling to survive, I want to know why I should care if he survives. Right now he reminds me a lot of Fi from Skyward Sword: He provides a lot of technical details, but not a lot of emotion. On the technical side, you make heavy use of fragments, which when used for emphasis are quite effective. I think you've used a bit too many, but that's just my opinion. Some of the sentences are a bit bland and seem to be heavy on description, sometimes resulting in awkward sentences like "Surprise was on my face." In this case the old adage (which I'm sure you're familiar with), show don't tell, is particularly relevant. One last technical nitpick: I believe the correct word in both cases should be lying. In general, lying is intransitive, laying is transitive. I recognize that you're only two chapters in, but I think a little more needs to be done to make the story interesting. I would recommend livening up the prose and adding some characterization to your protagonist in addition to limiting the sci-fi details to what's necessary for characterization and the plot. That doesn't necessarily mean dumbing it down, it just means streamlining the story to speed up its pace. It's entirely your call, of course, and I don't want to tell you how to write your story, but I think it would benefit from some of these changes without significantly altering its essence.

Chapter 10 Foundations As dawn broke over Kia Nui, Veelix awoke, ready to complete his journey to Ga-Kia. Domen had offered to set out early in the morning, and Veelix accepted, eager to put Le-Kia behind him. As the Le-Matoran was bound by the law not to step beyond the bounds of the forest, he and Veelix parted ways at the forest’s edge. Even as Domen waved goodbye, Veelix wondered why the universe distributed talent as it did. Domen reminded him of Ludin, for both were successful, talented, content Matoran, unburdened by the personal struggles that Veelix found so daunting. Veelix admired both Matoran, but he could not repress the seeds of jealousy they planted in his mind, nor could he understand how all Matoran were supposedly equal in Mata Nui’s eyes when they clearly were not in reality. He recalled a speech in Ta-Kia in which Prinkor had assured the Ta-Matoran that the destiny of no one Matoran was more important than another’s, for all had vital roles to play in service of Mata Nui. While the Matoran appeared to accept this belief, they knew there were some who harbored the latent power of a Toa, the ultimate destiny. All Matoran dreamed of the day when they would receive a Toa stone and escape the mundane labor of everyday life, discovering a destiny of which they could be proud. Even if they believed the Turaga’s words, their secret dreams proved that in their hearts they knew they were little more than a thinly veiled deception. As the Matoran matured, these dreams gathered dust until they pushed them from their minds to be remembered as merely the fantasies of youth. To avoid disappointment, they listened to whatever the Turaga told them, wanting to hear not that Mata Nui preferred others over them, but that their work was as meaningful as that of any Toa. Perhaps that reasoning satisfied those whose lives held some meaning or those who had already given up hope. Maybe I shouldn’t think so hard, Veelix thought. After all, his problems emerged when he questioned himself, questioned his beliefs, and questioned his destiny. Another voice in his head reminded him that he was better off now than if he had stayed in Ta-Kia. Veelix had always desired knowledge, more than what Keller could give him, and soon he would have access to more than ever before. Even so, he was disappointed that despite leaving Ta-Kia and becoming the Chronicler, the outside world had not miraculously brought fulfilment to his life. Instead of leading to easy happiness, throwing off the veil of ignorance revealed more pain than he had expected. There were questions he needed answers to, but his search for their answers would never have started had he not questioned his very way of life. These questions had resulted only in more mysteries. History had never interested him before, but now that he knew something was missing from its record, he had to discover what it was. He had set out from Ta-Kia believing that just beyond its gates was happiness, yet he had discovered that the rest of Kia Nui was in the same state of stagnation and decay; Matoran went about their meaningless lives in the dark mines of Onu-Kia and on the dilapidated streets of Le-Kia in the same fashion as they did under the gray skies of Ta-Kia. Was he looking into the past merely to discover why he had been denied the happiness he expected to find, dwelling only in the pages of history? The chance events that led him to these particular questions brought a faint smile to his mask. The Turaga could have easily given him another menial task to perform, but instead they had given him one that exposed the island’s mysteries. It struck him as odd that the Turaga had chosen him, when other Matoran such as Ludin or Domen were clearly more intelligent and qualified. There was little noteworthy about Veelix, other than his desire to question everything about the world around him, a trait that Prinkor and most Ta-Matoran viewed as an annoyance at best and a weakness at worst. As if to remind himself that this journey was not a dream, he retrieved his badge from his bag and examined the symbols on its surface. Unity, duty, destiny. Three words that guided the Matoran, the most important teachings of Mata Nui. Unity to give them strength in the face of adversity, duty to give them a means to repay Mata Nui for his guidance and protection, and destiny to give their lives meaning in a world of uncertainties. Contemplating the three virtues that brought peace to other Matoran, Veelix wished Mata Nui had given him something more substantial on which to base his faith. If I have a destiny, it is a complete mystery to me, Veelix thought. Could his destiny be to discover the missing pages in Kia Nui’s history books? Doing so would be an achievement for which a few scholars might remember him, but even that fate, which was certainly preferable to the dull existence of a crafter or mask maker, seemed ultimately inconsequential compared to the destinies of those who became Toa. No matter what the Turaga told him, he could not believe the destinies of all Matoran were equally important. His thoughts turned to a Matoran he had once known in Ta-Kia who had been killed in an accident many millennia ago. He was an ordinary Matoran, with no accomplishments to speak of, but well-liked among the Ta-Matoran. After his death, his empty mask stared back at Veelix before it returned to the flames in which it was forged, a memory which still made Veelix shiver. The remaining Matoran placed a candle outside the home of the deceased. In the night, the cool wind extinguished the flames, taking with them the memory of the Matoran whose life was cut short. Was his destiny to die so young, or was his destiny simply unfulfilled? Perhaps there was a solution that was as simple as it was bold: What if the Turaga were wrong about Mata Nui’s teachings and their destinies were not equal? As heretical as this notion seemed, it solved many of the problems Veelix faced. Perhaps that Matoran had died not because it was a part of Mata Nui’s incomprehensible plan but because there was no plan; a tragic death, but ultimately a meaningless one. Perhaps the Matoran struggled to explain its meaning because there was nothing to explain. A nagging voice in Veelix’s mind held him back from this conclusion, whispering that if he disregarded the Three Virtues, he would have no reason to maintain his faith in Mata Nui. That idea seemed dangerous to him, for without Mata Nui, what purpose was there for his labor? He knew that if he cast out the idea of Mata Nui, who supposedly guided, protected, and nurtured him and all the Matoran, he would be truly alone if everyone else turned against him. Veelix’s wanderings brought him to the banks of the Great River, signaling that he had almost reached his destination. As he crossed over the bridge linking the two halves of the island, Veelix could see the island of Ga-Kia floating in the bay. Between him and the bay was a sandy beach, normally populated by little more than a few palm tree and huts, but today Matoran of all elements celebrated in the streets, dancing to the music of a parade. Veelix had almost forgotten that it was Foundation Day. Kia Nui had been founded 90,000 years ago this day. Normally it was a day of joy and exuberance, unless one lived in Ta-Kia, in which it was a day of prayer and solitude. Foundation Day was not only a day to remember the founding of Kia Nui but also a time to celebrate the Three Virtues given by Mata Nui. Veelix felt neither happy nor reverent as he proceeded to Pawaki Beach, the harbor that would convey him to Ga-Kia. Naturally it was closed due to the holiday as Matoran everywhere reveled in their day off from work. Veelix realized that on this day of celebration of the Three Virtues, Matoran everywhere put aside their duty for one day. Duty was similar to destiny, yet while destiny was a promise, duty was an obligation. The Turaga did not say as much, for they claimed that duty was just as important a gift as the other virtues, allowing the Matoran’s labor to transcend mere physical tasks to become a sacred obligation. Work was a requirement; duty was a privilege, one the Matoran would never have been thankful for if not for Mata Nui’s wisdom. Just as destiny was not enough for Veelix to believe that he had something worth living for, duty was inadequate in making his work appear more important than the daily toil that it was. Those two virtues have certainly served me well, Veelix thought bitterly. His thoughts strayed to the final virtue, unity. The Turaga usually emphasized the other two virtues, which Veelix understood. He could understand the premise that they were gifts from Mata Nui to make their lives meaningful, even if he struggled to reconcile the contradictions they brought to mind. But in contrast, unity did not serve to improve their lives, and the Turaga usually mentioned it in the context of conflicts that required a collective effort. Unity gave them strength, but as a virtue it was temporal in nature compared to the promise of spiritual fulfilment the others provided. Furthermore, unity was not what Veelix had observed in his travels across the island. The Matoran of each kia looked out for each other, but they remained isolated from the others and unconcerned about their problems. Veelix had been ignorant of Onu-Kia’s loss of historical knowledge and Le-Kia’s crumbling city because they were closed off from the rest of the island, keeping their concerns to themselves. The Matoran in each kia concerned themselves with only their own affairs without so much as acknowledging the plight of their fellow Matoran. When they did not turn blind eyes, these Matoran looked upon their neighbors with scorn that sprung millennia of distrust. Veelix was flooded with a lifetime of memories of Ta-Matoran mocking the Po-Matoran as untrustworthy, lazy, and uncivilized. Veelix arrived at the shore, not far from the shade of the palm trees near the river. The beach was cool, far unlike the harsh waves of sand beyond the mountains in the desert of Po-Kia. As he sat on the beach gazing at the distant city of Ga-Kia floating in the bay, its towers reaching up into the clear skies like beacons, he found himself as close as he had ever come to the greatest collection of knowledge in Kia Nui. The sand of the south was arid, dearth of life, but the sand here was a promise of greater things to come. As he sat in the sand and continued to mull over the circumstances that brought him to this beach, he wondered what would replace Mata Nui and his virtues if he abandoned them so easily. His search for purpose had not only revealed the empty pockets of Kia Nui’s history but also his lack of faith in the explanations the Turaga had given him. His search for answers about Kia Nui was merely a search for answers about himself, but if doing so was a worthy end, he would commit himself to it. Although the other Matoran went about their lives without the burdens Veelix bore, he knew there was a contradiction between what he saw on Kia Nui and what the Turaga told him. Discovering what it was might resolve the conflict in his mind, and even if it did not, for now it provided him with a worth substitute to the destiny Mata Nui promised. Veelix’s eyes closed as he took in the sound of the waves and the breeze, thankful that despite the difficulty of the questions he faced, he was no longer allowing his life to waste away in the forges of Ta-Kia. There was still life to be lived as his future waited for him in the secrets of the past lying just across the bay.