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Where Wisdom and Valor Fail


Nick Silverpen

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Where Wisdom and Valor Fail


 


Part I: The Places Loved


 


“The town does not exist


except where one black-haired tree slips


up like a drowned woman into the hot sky.


The town is silent. The night boils with eleven stars.   


Oh starry starry night! This is how


I want to die.”


 


Walking the moonlit beaches of the Charred Forest, Kapura peered out at the ocean, looking for something in the depths. He was not sure what he was looking for, only that he was looking for something, according to Turaga Vakama. Yet the ocean remained uninterrupted, not even the light breeze rippling its seamless surface. Nothing could be seen out there tonight gleaming in the moonlight that suggested that there was anything on the beach besides the Ta-Matoran himself. He could not even distinguish the village of Ga-Koro under the night’s sky, the fishermen of the town in bed for a few more hours. As he watched the scene, Kapura felt some resonating peace, feeling in the deepest hours of the night a quiet that he rarely knew.


 


This was a night where the shadows were not to be feared, an occasion seldom found on Mata Nui, especially in these “Dark Times”, as the Turaga called them. Makuta had used the Rahi and the very island against the Matoran, and months and years of fighting had left the villagers in a chaotic mind state; they now knew no rest, so paranoid that the Makuta lurked in every shadow that they even carried out their chores in a raging fashion.


 


According to the myths of Ta-Koro, not even the burnt trees behind Kapura were safe. Too much propaganda had built up in the villages of the enemy to where it was said with certainty of truth and little proof. But out on this still ocean, out where all of the worries had not littered, Kapura was certain that the shadows were nothing more than shadows. Makuta could only control the island, the Ta-Matoran knew; The tyrant’s grip could not brush the stars.


 


Surrounded by paradise, he did not want to leave. The sand seemed to nuzzle his body as he sat against a tree of the forest, procuring him to stay and watch this starry night until the sun rose over the ocean. But Vakama would worry, not understanding that some shadows were nothing more than shadows. Reluctantly picking himself up, with nothing to report of tonight, he turned to the path from where he came.


 


He unsheathed his throwing disk as he saw the glow in the forest, which had not been present when Kapura had come this way. Something up ahead illuminated the path of packed ash, unmoving as he took blatant steps toward it. The stillness would have put any other Matoran on edge, nervous for a possible meeting with a new infected Rahi, but the Ta-Matoran was as stoic as the ocean behind him, snaking his way off the path to reproach from a more cautious angle.


 


It was no new Rahi, but a stone that sat embedded in between the roots, glowing red about the dark wood. There were no signs of it having been placed, per lacking fresh tracks leading away from it. Though a bit puzzled on why it was here, Kapura knew exactly what it was, and what the Turaga had said about anyone that might find it. They'd been lost months ago, when the exiled Takua was caught in an ambush set by the Makuta and his Rahi in Kini-Nui, and now Kapura looked around warily for any monsters that might be lurking in the shadows. There were none, he assured himself, but as the stone pulsated, its power within reverberating through the rock, Kapura suddenly knew the night was not as still as it seemed.


***


He came back to the village in the dead of night, without a sound, yet the blushing glow of the Toa Stone brought everyone from their beds. Kapura could feel the eyes of Ta-Koro anxiously watching him, and as he crossed the village square to the suva, he felt more nervous than he had ever remembered having been; but he had walked the charred forest for years, with the Rahi hidden, watching in fear, and through them, the Makuta. The villager’s eyes were nothing more, so why should he be nervous? Yet as he approached the suva, he remembered all of the nights he had thought of it as nothing more than ornamental; but with this stone in hand, he finally felt the holy aura that had been long forgotten. 


 


 


He emerged moments later, feeling as when he had awakened for the first time on the beaches of Ga-Wahi. Though he walked with the same stride as he did when practicing, Kapura felt taller and more agile than the Ta-Matoran he had just been. Through his being pulsated a power, remnants of the stone, something that he had not felt earlier in the evening. 


 


“Turaga, what does this mean?” the new Toa of Fire asked, crimson hands reaching toward the elder for answers.


 


“Hope, I think,” Vakama replied with a smile, his joyful mask an orange candle in the blackness of the night.


*** 


He was on lookout once again, this time pacing above the walls of Ta-Koro with the uncanny feeling of vertigo, as he was now considerably taller than the rest of the guard. Discontent with walking aimlessly along the pathway, Kapura propped himself on a ledge, while Matoran were nestled in their posts.


 


A colony of Nui Rama had been sighted out in the Wahi that afternoon, and a scout had been reported missing not long after. Jaller and Vakama had put the Guard on full alert, and Kapura had returned immediately to his old post. The two officials had mentioned nothing, as if the transformation had not occurred. Though presence of a Toa was a novelty on the island, he and the villagers would have time to marvel at it later. But wasn’t it the job of a Toa to save others? Kapura thought once he had settled into the watch, curious if they were going to pull him for some other job.


 


Fog was making its way from the charred forest in the distance to the path of the village, and everyone was holding their breath for the Ta-Koran to walk out of it, safe and sound. The order was for a search party provided he was not found by nightfall, but somehow Kapura felt it was far past the time when a party should have been sent out. As all eyes waited for motion from the gloom, the unsure Toa let his own vision wander. The darkening skies of Ta-Wahi were clear of anything dangerous, and the ground was still… but the lava caught Toa Kapura’s eye. The Lake of Fire seemed to pour towards the Koro, the village being some plug that had been pulled from a great drain at the bottom. The lava didn’t usually flow like that toward the village, unless…


 


“Captain,” Kapura spoke up. The yellow Hau jolted in his direction, the breaking of the silence startling him.


 


“What do you see, Kapura?” he asked.


 


“The water drains from a sealed bowl,” he riddled the Matoran, gesturing to the lava. Cocking his head in confusion, Jaller scanned the lake as Kapura had done, and seeing what the Toa saw, he cursed. Red armored Rahi were sneaking their way to the city gates, hovering across the lava they blended into. If they didn’t act now, the beasts would be swarming Ta-Koro soon. Jaller began to issue hand signals, with Kapura relaying them to the Matoran who could not see the orders. The company took aim, and with a mighty heave, the disks flew.


 


As quickly as the projectiles soared away, their targets jumped from their camouflage to come flying back. Wings were beating fast enough to deflect the bamboo as a swarm of Nui-Rama charged in a beeline towards the guards, and all was chaos. Angry buzzing filled the air as they swept on top of the guards with sharp claws. More disks and staffs were unsheathed to beat the creatures back, landing solid blows to counter the Rahi; and though they jabbed back with the fury of a bonfire, the Nui Rama had the edge in size.


 


Kapura leveled the playing field with that factor as he tackled one of the flyers away from a Matoran, almost too fast to see. The time for moving slow was past, and now he dove in with speed enough to match the Rahi’s own, as they spilled onto the ground of the village. The Toa of Fire landed on bottom and was forced to stare into the eyes of a rusted Kanohi mask as the beast snarled at him, revolted as they grappled face to face, and that was enough motivation to kick the beast off of him. It tried flying away, but he snatched its wing with blinding speed and delivered a blow that subjugated the Rama. He would deal with that one later, Kapura thought as he felt the strength of a Toa coursing within him.


 


With the use of his old tricks he was on the wall again, dropping in on another beast as they swarmed over the rest of the Guards. Landing on the back of a beast, he sent it crashing down to the ground with a screech, the shock of its fall leaving it immobilized. Spotting another about to descend on him, he grabbed the stunned creature, spinning it once, twice, and then… he let it go, crashing into the advancing attack, and sent the duo soaring away from the battlefield.


 


The hot flash on his face as he ran back to battle was not from the flush of embarrassment from the bewildered Matoran who had seen that, Kapura figured as he bashed back another invader. He could feel something more behind his punch than had been there before, as if an extra vein of energy was flowing through his arms. His Kanohi had been activated, Kapura realized, his fist collided with another Nui Rama head, nearly cracking its infected mask as he landed the blow. Momentum was building in him, letting his adrenaline rise as his attacks became more furious, throwing punches faster and faster. He could feel the power rising, but he could not muster it down. He was out of control now, even the Matoran backing away as to not get sideswiped. He could hear Jaller yelling his name, see the flames from the lake of fire, a Nui Rama coming at him with high speed…


 


He could not block this one as it came at him, and it felt as if his vision cracked. A claw threw Kapura back, making him blink in pain, but as he hit the stone ground behind him, his eyelids would not come up.


 


***


 


He awoke to birdsong, though something did not register in his mind that there were no birds in Ta-Koro. A long call made him open his eyes, and all at once fire leapt into his vision. He was flying high above an ocean of lava, clutched onto the tail of a phoenix. Kapura wanted to scream, as he felt nothing but the feathers keeping him from falling to the fire. They were nowhere near any shores, letting the Toa of Fire wonder how long the bird had been towing him for.


 


He could see them struggling, down below; two titans on a slab of rock, fighting something that swarmed above their heads. One possessed the armor of a jungle warrior, coated in plates of the green of the treetops, the blues of the oceans, and the white of the snow, while the other was in darker hues, the red of the lava and the brown of the rock accompanied by the black of a dark night. He had spent countless nights finding nothing out on the shores of Ta-Wahi, and now he knew why, because these were the figures he had been seeking; they had been in this ocean of fire the entire time, not in the water. 


 


The latter Kapura sensed was part fire, like himself, but was struggling to control the rock’s stability in the lava flow. From up in the air Kapura watched them wobble; as if sensing his thoughts, the bird dove, and dropped him in the midst of the battle. The two titans took notice, but too distracted by their own struggle to heed him any greeting. Kapura focused on keeping them steady, and before they could fathom what was going on, Kapura was dragging them up a bank of rock that had appeared off to the side.


 


Whatever it was attacking the two could not follow them to the bank, and as the Toa of Fire yanked them from the slab, they were freed from what only they could see. Picking themselves up off the ground, they turned to Kapura, eyeing him with equal parts of curiosity and caution as he himself stared up in awe. “Who are you?” he asked them.


 


“More than any one Toa, their unity come to physical form,” the darker one spoke with a hard gaze. “But a pulse comes from within you that has a greater sense of wholeness then either of our own. Rather, it is us who should be asking who you are, since you are to complete the journey we had set out on.”


 


“Our time is yet to come, Akamai. He may be whole, but he is incomplete, though not by much,” the lighter figure pointed out to his partner. “He still has pieces of himself missing.”


 


“He will have a counter to help him, Wairuha,” replied Akamai. “Though you are as great as we are, Toa Kapura, you will have someone else out there. Whether it be someone to lean on or to rise against, you will not face your troubles alone.” The two titans nodded to him, and then turned toward the rock plain before them.


 


“Wait!” Kapura called. “What was it that you were fighting?”


 


“The same thing that you will,” Akamai responded. Kapura was about to ask what he meant by that, but the bird swept in to take him away, and a yell of fright and surprise was all he could manage. He was then pulled away, as the phoenix began to rise into the black abyss above the lava.


 


***


Though he felt the heat on his face that came from nearby, he felt strangely cold and weak; his chest quivering as he pulled himself up, Kapura opened his eyes to a strained sight, anything beyond what must have been the Sacred Fire a dark, unclear fuzz. Reaching up to his clammy face, he found his Kanohi Pakari gone. His mind felt distracted without it, as if he were unable to focus on anything more than slumping against the wall. 


 


The voice of Turaga Vakama sharpened his senses, however, his posture snapping to attention as the elder saw he was awake. He coaxed the Toa back against the wall, offering him a cup, which Kapura thankfully took. “What happened?” he managed to groan between gulps.


 


“You were overwhelmed,” Vakama reported. “You were so engrossed in you mask power that when one of the Rahi shattered it, the sudden loss of all of your strength took you out. I am sorry Kapura, but your Kanohi is gone.”


 


“My... my mask...” he breathed, setting down the now empty cup. “How will I do without it?”


 


“The Suva had minor damage, and I am missing Kanohi as well, but I still have some Noble masks to spare. I will lend you one, for now.” The Turaga passed a mask into his hand, and Kapura fitted it onto his face. His vision cleared, and now he could see the beyond the fire as if it were a sunny day. Kanohi Ruru. Blinking a few times to adjust to the mask, he could see Vakama staring into space with a look of sadness he’d never known the Turaga to possess. “What troubles you, Turaga?” Kapura asked. When all Vakama did was stare for a few moments, the silence lasting longer than Kapura would have preferred, he asked once more.


 


“I want to send you out there, and I know you want to go, but I am afraid of losing you to something greater than a swarm of Nui Rama, that you may disappear into the shadows as the villagers have.”


 


“The fisherman never learned to cast while someone else was holding the rod,” the left hand reminded the elder.


 


“And that is why I must let you go,” Vakama agreed, seeing wisdom in Kapura far beyond his years. “If you’re to journey out there, however, you need more power.”


 


“And how am I to acquire more power?”


 


“Long before you remember, when we Turaga were much younger, we discovered masks hidden around the island. No doubt that now they are guarded by Rahi, but there is a chance that some of them may be missed by the Makuta. If you can somehow find some of these masks whilst in pursuit of our missing brothers, then you would be taking the first step to prove yourself as a true Toa.”


 


“Where would I look for these masks?” Kapura asked excitedly.


 


“In places that only a Toa could reach,” the elder responded. “Places that the rest of the Matoran only see with wonder… or fear.”


 


Part II: The Places Feared


 


“It moves. They are all alive.


Even the moon bulges in its orange irons   


to push children, like a god, from its eye.


The old unseen serpent swallows up the stars.   


Oh starry starry night! This is how   


I want to die”


 


The lava flows of Ta-Koro were gone in the blink of an eye, replaced by a sea of emerald leaves on the treetops above Le-Koro. A feeling of nervousness filled Kapura as he sat behind Kongu atop his Gukko Ka; as they prepared for flight, a runway Matoran was instructing the bird to flap its skeletal wings. Once, twice, harder each time, until a sheet of energy appeared on the wings. Kapura felt the tension build in the bird’s muscles, and clutched the seat tightly as he and Kongu exploded into the sky.


 


The throttle behind the bird’s flight left Kapura sitting tight jawed in the second’s seat, one hand pressed firmly on his pack. Beneath the layer of leather, he could still feel the two Kanohi sitting snugly, but he feared for them slipping out and into the forest below. He’d found a Pakari in a swamp cave, in Le-Wahi with the assistance of a ground scout named Tamaru, and a Kaukau in the branches of a Charred Forest tree that he’d always noticed as a Matoran. However, looking at it as a Toa, there was something different about it, and in the topmost part of the web, Kapura had spied the mask, its unworn sheen of grey blending in with the forest. It had taken some climbing to reach, and at the very top of the tree he had been more nervous than he ever had in his life. Now, as he skyrocketed above the tallest trees on the entire island, he couldn’t believe he’d been afraid at the peak of a sapling compared to where he was now. Rocketing through the open sky, he looked ahead to where the Nui-Rama nest stood, but also to the open space that was all around them, where they could easily be knocked into the treetops below.


 


“Here they come!” Kongu shouted above the wind in their faces, pointing toward several specks flying their way. The Nui-Rama flew to meet the approaching Gukko Force, ready to fend off the invaders. Unsheathing a disk from the cache Kongu had given him, he began to fire on the Rahi. Having never shot from other than a still wall, the first few were lost to the trees below, and Kapura had to force himself to not glance the disks falling into the green; but his misses had allowed the creatures to bunch in, granting him a better target. The next few were more accurate, clipping a wing of several Rahi.


 


As Kongu steered, Ka moved with an agility matched by only his pilot, dipping under the claws as they swooped at the Gukko. He thrusted forward, the trees speeding past their vision as they soared toward the hive. “They’re plenty mad-angry!” Kongu shouted. 


 


They were almost there when a Rama came down upon the Gukko’s wing. It came from behind, twisting its talons into Ka until the energy sheet covering his skeletal wing flickered into nonexistence. The burdened bird went off balance, contesting to stay aloft whilst Kongu pulled at the reins, keeping straight and true for as long as possible. Kapura was a maelstrom of lashing as he fought off other attacks as treacherous, eyes fixated on the Rama as he felt Ka’s descent.


Out of the corner’s of his vision, he could see the treetops and the shadows below them, but he would not look at the ground, he would not look at the ground…


 


Ka’s flight failed at the rim of the nest’s opening; crashing against the side, the bird spun, and unable to uphold itself and passengers any longer, it dove, taking Toa and Matoran alike as he dipped into the darkness. 


 


 


Kongu slipped off of Ka and onto the floor of the catacombed hive, stunned from the fall. The Gukko slumped, having taken the brunt of the landing, but other than his attacked wing, was unharmed. Looking to the second's seat, Kongu grew troubled, seeing Kapura was not there. He looked around the area, but the Le-Matoran's eyesight was poor in the darkness of the hive. 


 


A screech from above caught his attention, and squinting, Kongu could see fleeting bursts of orange, in the dark beneath the pinprick of white that was the sky beyond the hive. Dots flitted in and out of that spot, but were they Rama beasts, Kongu wondered, or flanking Gukko Force? He silently prayed for the latter, as he got glimpses of the skirmish above. 


 


"Is it just you?" a voice called. Kongu startled, whirling to see the frightened mask peeking out from one of the catacombs. 


 


"No, up there!" he exclaimed. "I know not how he high-flies, but it is Toa Kapura! Fellow guardsmen distance-followed us as we entered the hive, and we're here to spirit-send you to Ta-Koro!”


 


"I hope you don't mean that in a literal sense," the guardsmen replied, spotting the small sparks of fire that signaled Kapura up in the heights of the hive. "But is it really the Toa?" he asked warily, gripping a Ta-Koran staff. 


 


"How could it not be?" Kongu asked. 


 


Whatever the Matoran had to say was cast aside as he pointed behind Kongu, as a Nui-Rama could be seen soaring toward the ground. They each readied their tools, but it was not flying, instead tumbling into the ground with a crunch. The two sat tense as they watched it still for several moments, before its wings began to move. Kongu was about to throw his disk when the wings fell again, and Kapura climbed off of the Rahi's back, his Kanohi changing back to the Noble Ruru. 


 


"Turaga Vakama still had his Komau," he remarked to the two, shaking his head at the fallen Rahi. "There is something in the swarm's mind, consuming them in the same way as the fires did the forests. Where is the guard?" 


 


 


The tunnel they followed had rotted into existence, decaying bits of hive material stemming off aged pockets of stone. A sickening green, the material was incredibly stiff, strong enough to support the entire hive, yet it crackled like straw when a lick of flame caught a low hanging strand. Kapura snuffed it out as he crawled behind the Ta-Matoran guide, Kongu giving the place a look of revolt. Kapura wanted to burn his way out, slice through the material with his fire, but the thought of what else might be lurking in the walls kept him at bay. 


 


An amber glow came from a hollow in the tunnel, a small campfire burning inside between a dozen or so Ta-Matoran. Their yellow toned eyes seemed to brighten upon seeing whom the scout had brought back, and they excitedly thrusted their two-pronged spears into the air as they gave the Ta-Koro salute. “How did you get in?” one of them asked. “We have been sending scouts searching for tunnels to the surface, even perhaps down to Onu-Koro, but to no avail!”


 


“We flew down on Ka,” Kapura explained, gesturing to Kongu beside him. “The rest of the Gukko Force is on its way, and we’re going to fly you out. Is everyone here?”


 


“Only one scout we sent at a time, so this should be everyone,” another called, initiating a roll call. “We are all here, armed and ready. But you, Toa Kapura, look like you need a weapon, if you are to fight the Rama again. Have my staff, and use it as well as you did in the Guard.” Kapura took it, and jabbed into the tunnel, giving it a test. With only a fraction of his power he sent a shot of flame from the twin prongs, producing a whoop from the company. 


 


“That is not all though. You must also have this.” 


 


The whoops dropped to murmurs, as something else was passed forward, and an emerald stone made its way to Kapura’s hand. Another? he thought, looking at it quizzically. “We found it a few patrols ago, off in another tunnel. It might be best if you held onto it for now.” The Toa nodded, putting it in his pack, and pulling out the Kanohi Pakari, letting it melt into his face. If more Nui-Rama were waiting outside, it would be of some use provided his own strength was not enough.  


 


 


A twisted figure stood in Kapura’s likeness at the mouth of the tunnel, and Kongu was suddenly reminded of the Ta-Matoran’s suspicious words when he had arrived. The Nui-Rama that the Toa had crashed in on had risen, but it was no longer a flying beast— skeletal legs standing on clawed feet, and a body draped in the rotting wisps of the hive, it was now a monster. The head was an amalgam of the two infected masks the Rama had worn, snarling empty eyed at the rescue party; The debauched body looked as if it could not move without disintegrating on itself, but it smoothly raised a slender arm, hook bared at the Toa of Fire, as if to challenge him as an equal. Too nauseated to look longer at the newest underground abomination, Kongu retreated to the back of the company.


 


The rocking flight into the nest had not sickened Kapura, nor had the rotting vibe of the tunnels. But it was the wisps of shadow that seemed to hang about it that made the creature repulsive, something darker than normal shade that his Mask of Night Vision could not dispel. This was no undiscovered Rahi, he somehow knew. It was the same force in the mind of the swarm, independent and far more sinister than an animal’s survival instinct. His grip tightening on the staff he had been given, Kapura jumped at the beast.


 


He went toward the thing in an upward feint, but it followed the arc of the pronged staff, leaping upward and over the Toa. Surprise from the move slowed him a moment too long, and it lunged at him, a hook swinging at his shoulder. The prongs caught it, momentum shoving it back towards its owner. The other hook was swung, his entire other side left open, but it was met with the spear again, and this time it was the creature’s turn to be surprised. Snarling, he shoved at the monster, and swinging his staff, let loose on the creature.


 


Twirling the staff with a double-handed grip, Kapura swung at the masked head, throwing all his force into the blow, but the creature ducked and knocked his feet out from under him. Rolling away as the hooks came down, Kapura sprung up and lunged again, but the hooks came down on the staff; his momentum kept him moving however, and with the raise of an elbow, smashed the creature in the face and leapt over it as it reeled. Spinning, he jabbed at its abdomen, sending a jolt of fire— the responding screech was of anger, and it lashed forward— but it could not land a blow, for the staff went spinning in the Toa’s hands, the monster unable to differentiate what end of the staff was which. Kapura used that confusion to deflect its blows, slashing downward toward its right side and then coming back up to hit the same spot, leading with a parallel hit to one of the masks.


 


The Rama beast was in pain now, its screeching emanating its rage. The novice Toa had gotten lucky with the first few blows, but was unprepared for the force with which its hooks came at him. A shoulder caught Kapura in the chest, and he was forced backwards, his staff spinning now on the defensive. The hooks caught on the prongs, and shoved the Toa again, a lash sent the spear smashing back into Kapura’s own mask. The Rama monster connected one of the hooks with his open shoulder, and Kapura could feel as it dug in. Holding the spear one handed, he swung it into the creature’s arm, before it could dig the hook deeper, and the two tumbled away from each other.


 


Blasts of fire leapt from the dark, cover fire as Kapura charged again, flames crackling from between the prongs of his staff. The creature responded as shadow energy crackled between its hooks, the energies neutralizing as they hit each other. Sending a slash of flame at the abomination’s face, cutting off its vision, he jabbed at its abdomen, and kicked out its feet. But the hooks once again grasped the staff, twisting Kapura’s wrist as they did so. He gave into the monster’s move, and moved with his staff, ducking under the controlling arm. Raising his foot, he kicked at the vulnerable shoulder, before a pain was sent up his forearm, and he backed off. Shadow energy crackled in the “Rahi”’s claw, grazing Kapura’s limb. He yelled in agony, slowly burning the pain off as he charged the hand with fire. Sending a stream into the beast’s face, he jabbed towards its waist, sending more flame into its torso. A screech let him think he was winning, but the blindsided swipe of a hook sent the Toa reeling. 


 


 


Toa and monster were flashes in the dark as the Matoran assemblage watched, the battle disappearing and reappearing all around the cave. Kongu watched with a burning intensity, with the hope to glimpse Ka; as there was no sign of the Gukko Force flank, he hoped to glimpse his bird somewhere in the milliseconds of light. But the shadows engulfed the place, something darker in the air that had come with the arrival of the beast. We have to leave, the Gukko pilot thought


as he felt the ground trembling while the fight advanced. It was becoming too dangerous to stay, and if they didn’t escape soon, they would have jumped into their own grave. They had to find a way out, to get out of the way of the danger, and if Ka was up to it, the bird was, at the moment, the only option. It was a futile attempt, to watch streams of fire be extinguished by the shadows they sought to fight off, but the Le-Matoran was also worried, uncertain of how much longer Kapura could hold the beast off. Could he buy enough time for them to escape?


 


 


The monster had Kapura pinned to the ground, its hooks pushing the staff towards his throat, but the Mask of Strength was holding up. Kapura grunted as he matched the beast’s brawn, attempting to break the stalemate. In desperation, he threw his strength to the side, and they rolled, Toa and monster switching positions. Fire from his palm shot to meet an ascending hook, reducing it to slag. The creature screamed mercilessly, finally admitting agony, and was distracted enough for the Toa to deliver a solid punch, fragmenting its already contorted face. Writhing, it lashed out, knocking Kapura across the hive, and he hit the wall of a catacomb, collapsing onto all fours; as he rose, he wasn’t sure if it were him or the ground shaking harder. 


 


The warped Rama jumped at him with enough force that it looked like it was flying, hooks ready to tear the Toa to shreds. Kapura mentally screamed— it was closing in too fast for him to concentrate, he wouldn’t be able to use his speed to escape…


 


The ground erupted between the two, and the monstrosity never made it to its target. Shards flew up in the air in all directions as a hole ripped itself into existence, one of them shooting right into the creature’s chest. The impaling rock cut its flight short, and it collapsed then and there, face a mix of agony and rage as it died. He was transfixed by it, not even stirred by the shapes climbing from the hole, nor the hand reaching for him. 


 


“Come, Toa, it is time to leave.”


***


 


The Matoran had escaped, and except for the buzzing of the wings amongst the catacombs, the hive was quiet once more. The Gukko Force reinforcements never arrived, having been driven off by a more formidable part of the swarm that inhabited the top of the hive; the Rama there now flew around robotically, as though back to business as usual. 


 


A few of the flyers hovered above the hole that had broken into the floor of the hive, where their mutilated “cousin” lay impaled by a rock. The Matoran and their Toa had escaped through here, but none of the creatures dared to follow in pursuit. No, the darkness was a rein that tugged tightly if they even tried. All they could do was look at the corpse, and the dark hole that the above creatures had retreated to. 


 


So it is true then, a voice whispered through the minds of all the infected Rahi. The Toa has arisen. A wall of dark thought wavered through them, making them screech in pain; then the darkness shallowed, and all was quiet again. 


 


***


 


The descent had brought him to one of the deepest levels of the Great Mine, where the sounds of battle had long faded away into the digging of the miners. The rhythm of it eased his mind, as his thoughts were still worried about the Ta-Matoran. The Ussalry would take care of them, their Onu-Koran rescuers had reassured him, as he was taken down a different tunnel than his people. The elevator he was now on shook as it descended, but it lent a view to the rest of the mine that ultimately calmed Kapura; From this deep down, the glow of the shelves that each Matoran worked on were faint stars in an underground night, he observed as he stepped off the elevator, remembering the stars on the beach in the early hours of the morning. 


 


Taipu led him to where a handful of Onu-Matoran leaned over the edge of a pit, lightstones posted to illuminate its contents. They scribbled into tablets as they studied, their mining tools discarded and broken near machines sitting still in the shadows. His footsteps unfamiliar, they looked up from their study, heads askew at the sight of a Toa. 


 


"It is embedded in some sort of layer our mining equipment cannot break through," one of them explained, gesturing at the sundial at the bottom of the shallow pit. "But it is of entirely different rock than the surrounding layer. Which would mean it was placed there, and is therefore easy to remove, does it not?”


 


"And why would one put a sundial underground in the first place?" another Onu-Matoran asked, scratching his head. Kapura's brow raised, and he filled his hand with fire as he leaned down to see what the miners spoke of. 


 


A slab of the Matoran day cycle, eighteen hours, sat there, embedded in the rock, as ordinary as anything, except for being placed where no light could reach. And was that... the faint whisper of the wind? Leaning closer, he peered at the edges of the circle. Miniscule cracks separated the timepiece and the rest of the rock, air floating through the cracks and brushing Kapura's arm. If it did not go around the entire ring, he would’ve thought it as a natural fault, but he saw what the Matoran had— the sundial was placed there, and there was nothing to bring it up from the earth.


 


"We need to figure out how to extract this so we can keep digging," the first miner said. "But we can't scratch through a single inch of this layer. So if there's no way to dig through it or blow it up, how else do we progress?”


 


The light posts that the miners had set up casted illumination evenly along the sundial, but the fire in Kapura’s hand danced, an uneven lick of shade falling on the rock, shifting as he strode around the circle. Raising his hand as he walked, the height of the fire casted a long shadow with Kapura’s Kanohi. It passed over each hour increment— seventeen, eighteen, one, two, three…


 


But when Kapura’s shadow passed over four, the darkness of the niches on the tile began to deepen, before intensifying into a bright glow. Startled, he stumbled backwards, the fire in his palm extinguishing itself, and the even illumination of the floodlights manifested once more. The miners looked to him in surprise. “What was that?” the first one asked. “Do it again!” The Toa of Fire nodded, relighting his palm. Concentrating on making a shadow at the four o’clock mark, it began to shine once more, and the rest of the symbols followed suit. With a singular flash from all the symbols, they began to sink, some mechanism from below pulling the sundial down. The miners scribbled on their tablets furiously as the edges of the pit formed a staircase, descending down into a blinding white column. 


 


They headed down the staircase with caution— though nothing protruded from the icy blue walls of the place, Kapura was still on the lookout for traps, but something told him that this was not a place that would be rigged. It may not be a suva, Kapura thought, but there was a palpation he felt that could not be broken by the miner’s industrial mindset, as they theorized amongst themselves what this could be. 


 


At the bottom of the staircase was a pedestal, a golden Kanohi Hau floating upon it. Around the mask was a hologram of the sundial, which morphed into a single word in Matoran- Rahi. Kapura eyed the mask, as the Matoran stood surrounding it, in scripting their finding. A Hau.… Just like the minerals that the Onu-Matoran needed to mine, this was what Kapura needed to dig up, a mask that he had not had, that would have been useful in the fight with the shadow creature… But how had it been placed here, miles below the surface in a place that had only been recently uncovered, in almost a thousand years of mining? 


 


A Matoran reached up to remove the mask from the pedestal, but his hand passed right through. He tried it a few more times, refusing to believe that it was an illusion. Puzzled, Kapura stepped forward to reach for the mask… 


 


…and made contact with it. 


 


Kapura reeled as his vision exploded, scorching fire and lava replacing the Matoran miners and the staircase. He was elsewhere, watching the swinging fire sword of Akamai as he and Wairuha fought a legion of crab-like creatures in the darkness. The Toa of Fire wanted desperately to help, to fight alongside, but could not leap into the scene. They struggled, and once the Kaita even fell. Then sparks showered over the two, and Kapura was eye to eye with a rusted, pitted mask just like the ones the Nui Rama wore. But where the eyeholes on the masks of the Rahi were dead, a pair of crimson eyes glared at him, before forming a claw that reached at him. But another light came from somewhere else, before—


 


“Toa Kapura!” somebody called. He was sprawled on the bottom of the staircase, once again seeing the white and blue walls that surrounded him. A Matoran peered at him from above, worry on his mask as he saw the Toa laying on the steps, and another lightly shook his arms. “Kapura, are you alright?”


 


He nodded, righting himself as he sat on the stairs, the Kanohi Hau still clutched in his hand. “You don’t want to dig deeper here,” he answered him, his eyes insisting they returned to the mines. Letting the mask melt into the face, he urged the Matoran back up the steps. “You want to… dig up, toward the light.”


 


 


 


A small smile was on Vakama’s mask as he watched Kapura walk though the Ta-Koro gate, the newly restored guards raising their staffs in salute to their rescuer. He could not have been happier to see the Toa; while he still walked in that slow stride he always practiced in, there was a new swagger that the Turaga’s left hand possessed, an air of experience that had not been there when he’d left on his mission. For all his happiness though, Vakama looked back into the depths of his dwelling, an anxiousness entering his chest. Maybe this is it, he thought nervously, returning his gaze to the Toa of Fire. Maybe he is ready. 


 


“I did it, Turaga,” Kapura said in his raspy voice. “Practice has paid off, like you said it would, and it helped me find the Kanohi.”


 


“Indeed it has, and I congratulate you,” Vakama nodded, his fingers fidgeting on his staff. “I have watched the suva fill with great pleasure in your absence. You have done well.” He was speaking vaguely, he knew, but his mind was elsewhere, as a decision was tearing at the Turaga. Now was the time to choose— not only if Kapura was ready to bear it, but if Vakama was willing to finally pass on the responsibility. Yes, it is time. “But there is still more we need to discuss on that matter. Please, come inside.”


 


 


The fires of the hut burnt low around them, crackles of flame filling the air as the two sat with a table between them. “The Guard has informed me about what happened in the Nui-Rama hive,” Vakama began, “and now I fear of what else is on this island that we are ignorant of. The Matoran’s stake here dwindles as we remain in our villages, while Makuta becomes bolder.”


 


“I can feel him out there, Turaga,” Kapura agreed. “His spirit is in the Charred Forest, and other places of destruction, where wisdom and valor have failed. The Makuta is out there, on those verges. But isn’t our discovery of the infected masks an advance for our side?”


 


“It is, but there are creatures out there, in corners of this island that I hope you never have to visit, where the Rahi are loyal to the Makuta even without one of those masks,” Vakama woed. “But, given your success so far, I think you are ready to face them.” 


 


“Turaga, what of the other Toa stone that was found?” Kapura queried. “Is it possible that there is another Matoran out there that Mata Nui would want to be a Toa?”


 


“There could be,” Vakama supposed, reaching into the shadows of a slot in the wall. “But they would not be the Toa that you are.” Coming back to the table, he placed an object in front of Kapura. It was a dull orange, but shined with a golden hue from the fires that reflected off of its surface. 


 


“It looks like a Kanohi mask, but it is not one anyone else on Mata Nui wears,” Kapura commented. 


 


“You have gathered the many masks of the island, but this is one mask that you will not find out there,” Vakama murmured to Kapura. “This is the Kanohi Vahi, the Mask of Time; I would call it a Great Mask, if it were not far beyond the levels of a Kanohi Pakari or Hau. This is the most powerful mask on the island, Kapura, and its power is like no other force that you will ever know.”


 


“Greater than a Great Mask?” he pondered. “How did you come upon it?”


 


“I wasn’t always just a village leader, or a storyteller,” the elder smiled. “There was a time before this time, when I did… other things.” He did not say any more on the subject, and upon silent agreement, Kapura did not ask. “But the Vahi, yes, it is greater than a Great Mask, Toa, which also means it is harder to control. But with your conquering of the Great Masks so easily, it is a mask I hope that only you can control.”


 


“M-Me?” Kapura stammered, taken aback. “Why would you expect only me to be able to control it?”


 


“That is what I mean when I said no other Matoran could be the Toa you are— your mind is different from the other villagers, something I saw on the day we came to our island home. You have trained your body and mind as you practiced going slow in order to move fast. The discipline to do that is possessed by none in this village, perhaps even the island, other than you. The Vahi will slow one’s movement, and since you have already learned how to operate under the condition, you can overcome that particular setback of the mask. It is something you have trained for in all your time here, and I believe it is your destiny to master the Kanohi.”


 


Kapura looked into Vakama’s eyes, remembering all the practice they’d done together in the first year; it had never made sense, articulating all of the parts of the stride Kapura was now fluent in. He’d never been sure of what it was for, but he did it anyway, and it went from an idea of Vakama’s to Kapura’s whole philosophical idea of life. But he saw now the plan that was in place, and as much as the Toa wanted to shake the dark thought of being used, he couldn’t. The training was woven through his being, physically and mentally, but there was something deep inside Kapura that disagreed with what was progressing. “This mask, it would not be used against common infected Rahi,” Kapura guessed, tracing his finger over the edge of the Vahi. 


 


Edited by Nick Silverpen
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