Nato G

I don't think I've ever seen so many marbled parts in a single build before. Fantastic work!

IC: Gayle - Second Watch "Not that hard," she muttered, more to herself than her companion. "The way I see it, we're all going to end up in the same place. It's what we do on the way there that matters." @oncertainty

Chapter 19 – Secrets From the notes of Chronicler Crisda. During my time as a Chronicler, I’ve come to realise that our Turaga kept a great many secrets from us. That in of itself isn’t especially surprising; those in power are prone to hiding things from those they rule. But Unity is a virtue, one that is built on trust and truth. And as our universe spirals ever deeper into darkness, I look back and find it ever harder to trust the Turaga who had concealed so much from us. * * * Icthilos “Alright, I guess you’re real,” Icthilos found himself laughing, despite his dire circumstances. “Savnu almost had me convinced you were nothing but a scary story.” He didn’t much care about the consequences of mocking a Makuta. He was alone in a box with a being who could destroy him in several dozen different ways before he could even raise his weapon. There was no fight to be had here. All he could do was wait to be slain, or set free. The fact that he wasn’t already dead offered some small hope. “As I intended,” Vhel replied, “Most beings are more afraid of what they cannot comprehend.” “So why show yourself to me now?” “Because you are not most beings.” The Makuta opened his arms, gesturing to the chamber. “You came here seeking something. Take it.” Icthilos tentatively turned away from the titan, taking in the rest of the room. The three walls were lined floor-to-ceiling with display cases full of Kanohi and benches strewn with tools. Some masks he recognised as belonging to heroes of legend, while others seemed even more ancient, bearing more primitive designs. Some cases contained broken pieces of failed masks, what looked to be attempts at creating or recreating the Olmak, Avokhii, Vahi, and others he didn’t recognise. He saw an intact Kanohi Mohtrek on one shelf, but nowhere did he see the proper Mask Of Time. “You won’t find it here. Ironically, you were closer to learning its location while you were in Xia,” Vhel sneered, “The Vahi was taken from the Coliseum by the rogue Dark Hunter Voporak before Teridax’s takeover. Your Turaga chose to keep the theft a secret, to avoid causing a panic.” Though Icthilos was in no great rush to take the Makuta at his word, he knew it didn’t matter if the story was true or not. The Vahi wasn’t here, and finding it had always been a long shot. “Such an embarrassing end to your efforts, but I wouldn’t want you to leave here empty-handed,” Vhel plucked an ornate golden staff out from amidst the piles of tools and tossed it over to Icthilos, “The Staff Of Artakha, brought here by the Order Of Mata Nui after the fall of Daxia.” “This can’t be-” Icthilos started to scoff, but the second he took the staff in his hands he could feel its power going to work, old wear and scratches on his armour starting to repair before his very eyes, “-why?” “Because when you realise the futility of destroying this city to try to usurp my rule, your penance will be to painstakingly repair all of the damage you caused.” “No… I mean why not just kill me? Kill all of us? You have the power.” “Because killing you would just motivate your friends to fight harder, and I have no interest in martyrs or a massacre. You Toa and Matoran are valuable tools, ones that I cannot easily replace. The machines the Turaga used to bring new Matoran into being require significant power and resources, and this universe is running short of both.” The room rumbled suddenly, the floor sinking slightly as shifting soil was displaced from beneath it. Somewhere outside, Widrek was bringing his powers to bear. “And your friends are running out of time,” Vhel taunted, gesturing to the door. “You can walk free and help them… or stay here and take this opportunity to ask me the questions that haunt you.” “Why are you doing this? You could have stopped us any time. You didn’t need to pit our own against us!” “If I wanted to do everything myself, I wouldn’t surround myself with subordinates,” the Makuta sneered, “I needed to know how far they were willing to go. And how far you were willing to go.” Scowling, Icthilos started moving towards the door, then cursed and turned back to Vhel. There was so much he wanted to know – needed to know – and this was likely the only chance he’d have to ask. That was what Vhel wanted, to force him to choose between his allies and his answers. But what he learned now could help everyone in the long term… so he had to try. “How are you alive?” “Not the question I expected you to lead with.” “Everywhere we’ve come from, everywhere we’ve been… your kind are all dead. Your fortresses, your lairs, your armies, all destroyed when Teridax took power. So how are you still here?” “It’s no secret that Teridax mistreated his allies. He once murdered two Dark Hunters for a paltry short-term gain and plunged the Brotherhood into a thousand-year war with their organisation,” Vhel replied, “Suffice it to say, many of us suspected that Teridax might betray us as well once he had no further need for us. Everyone had their own plans to survive, escape, or destroy him… mine was the only one that worked.” “Wait… you destroyed Teridax?” “With this,” he raised his staff, indicating the glowing stone in its centre. “The collective power of all the Makuta he slew.” “I don’t understand.” “They’ll carve those words on your tombstone,” Vhel chuckled, his laugh only growing louder as another explosion rocked the archives from somewhere in the tunnel outside, “Theirs as well.” “What did you do? What’s that stone?” “I call it the Heart Of Antidermis. In my years watching over my island, I found myself fascinated by the story of the Nui Stone. A simple rock that can siphon the strength of all Toa in a vast radius to empower another. If such a device could be created for your kind… why not mine? Of course, the other Makuta would have turned on me if they knew what I was making, so I had to be cautious. It was Icarax and his Mask Of Scavenging that gave me the idea in the end. The Heart only absorbs the essence of antiderms in the moment of their death.” “So when Teridax started wiping out the other Makuta…” “…their power became mine, and I used that power to destroy him. I teleported straight into the Core Processor beneath this city and Disintegrated it so utterly that no trace of Teridax survived.” “And doomed the universe in the process,” Icthilos realised. “That was… not my intent,” there was genuine remorse in the Makuta’s voice, “I thought I was saving the universe. I didn’t fully understand how it all fit together. It was only afterwards, when I explored the lairs and plans Teridax left behind that I realised the extent of my mistake.” “But… can’t you use this to fix it?” Icthilos asked, holding up the Staff Of Artakha. “I already did, when I first took over this city. The Core Processor is fully restored, but without the Mask Of Life to revive the universe and a Great Spirit to take control, it doesn’t matter.” “So you’re working the Matoran to death to make up for your mistake? If that staff has the power of all Makuta why don’t you just use it to power the city?” “Because with the Mask Of Life gone, this may be the only artefact left in the universe with enough power to reawaken this mighty machine. I won’t waste it to sate the whims of complacent workers.” “You’re not going to save the universe by mistreating the only people left in it.” “The Matoran don’t matter. They exist only to serve, and if they die in their Duty, so be it.” “You don’t have the right to decide that.” “I have the only right!” Rage rose in the Makuta’s voice, and Icthilos was flung backwards by a brutal blast of air. “Your kind were never meant to want, or wish, or whine about your place. The gift of choice was ours! And now, mine alone.” Tools tumbled to the floor as Icthilos slammed into one of the benches, though he was stunned more by the words than the impact. “I see into your mind, Toa. I know what you want, and it’s insulting. You pervert your purpose in pursuit of selfish strivings, seeking meaning in an existence that was never meant to have one.” “Oh, enough!” Icthilos snarled, pulling himself upright, “I’m sick and tired of being talked down to over some secret everyone seems too scared to say aloud. Spit it out, you putrid Piraka!” “The truth, then?” “The truth.”

IC: Gayle - Second Watch "Not on the scale we might be walking into, but... yeah," she said. "I do a lot of odd jobs that take me out into the desert. Missing persons, bounty-hunting type stuff. Sometimes the people I'm sent to find have already been found by something else." It was a part of the job she didn't like to dwell on. As much as she loved a good adventure, the harsh truth was that not all stories ended happily. @oncertainty

IC: Gayle - Second Watch "For an entire village to just go silent like this, with not a single survivor showing up anywhere to explain what happened..." Gayle signed, regretting her grim words before she even said them, "...I think we're going to find a giant pile of bodies. Or just scattered bones, if the scavenger creatures got into the village." @oncertainty

IC: T’harrak – Fort Razorfish;Vaa The longer Sohmak spoke, the more T’harrak struggled to come up with compelling counterpoints. His enthusiasm, his faith, was frustratingly infectious. Five minutes ago she’d been ready to bend both neck and knee to the next warlord to come waltzing up to the island, and now she was being offered the keys to the kingdom by someone who had the strength and motivation to help her keep it. She’d never coveted control or conquest, but it was a hard offer to refuse now that it was being made. Ideas already bubbled, unbidden, in the back of her mind. Avoiding needless bloodshed while also keeping the warriors sated... it would be a balancing act, but there were ways to make it work. “We make it sound like they’re preparing for a fight,” she said, the beginnings of a classic Skakdi smile forming on her face. “Tell them we’re expecting a counterattack from Fort Garsi. Who knows? There might actually be one coming. Turning this place into the most defensible self-sustaining settlement this side of the Rift should keep everyone busy for a few days. Time enough for us to come up with some more long-term ideas.” @Techn0geist

IC: Avinus - Streets of Tajun "In the short-term it can, yeah," she conceded. "But the tournament aint just one fight. It's exhibition matches, tours of the other villages, interviews, surprise appearances, all sortsa things. People don't just come to the tournament to see their village win, they want to be entertained. They want to see a journey, a story, playin' out across the whole tournament. A comeback story or twist endin' can be more entertainin' than an outright victory." @Emzee

IC: T’harrak – Fort Razorfish;Vaa For several long seconds, she just stared at Sohmak. “You’re right,” she finally said. “You’re strong and scary enough to have the run of this place if you tried. I doubt anyone here would challenge you. But you’re wrong about me. An idiot like me doesn't have what it takes to run a place like this. I just... don't think like a Skakdi.” Her voice took on a bitter note. “You want to know how stupid I am? When Zanakra said ‘I think it's time we introduce ourselves to our neighbours’, I actually thought she meant talking to them. At no point on the whole trip over there did it cross my mind that she meant ‘I’m going to walk up to their front door and start firing rockets’. I was probably the only person in our party who didn’t think we were walking into a fight.” She glanced over at the throne. She didn’t think of it as Zanakra’s throne anymore. Even if Zanakra was alive, even if she made it back to the Fort somehow, T’harrak doubted anyone was going to eagerly fall in line and start following her orders again. “You want an advisor?” She said, turning back to Sohmak. “I can advise you on how to not die. I’m good at not dying. And it would be so easy for all of us to not die. Our boats give us easy access to fresh water from the river mouth. We have plenty of space on the island to grow our own food and firewood. We can send out trade parties or extort passing boats for anything else we lack. We have the firepower to sink anyone who comes here looking for a fight. We could have comfortable, low-risk lives right here and never worry about anything ever again…” Her gauntlet glittered in the torchlight as she swept one of her hands back to point at the Skakdi crowding the courtyard. “…but that’s not the kind of leader these warriors want. They want to fight strangers and die glorious deaths for the sake of someone else’s mad plan. They want a leader with murderous intent and expansionist ambitions. I don’t have that. I don’t know how to give you that.” @Techn0geist

Chapter 18 – Archival From the notes of Chronicler Crisda. People used to joke that I’m more like an Onu-Matoran than a Ko-Matoran, devoted as I am to recording yesterday’s events instead of prophesising tomorrow’s. My people were often characterised as being fervently focused on the future, eyes to the skies, contemplating that which has yet to come. Now there are no stars or signs, no prophecies or portents… only the past. Preserving it is all that matters to me. Even so, I must confess that I’ve never actually been to the Archives. Even as a fellow scholar and student of history, I find the thought of what the archivists do to be backwards and barbaric. I merely collect memories, but they collect creatures, capturing them and cramming them into a macabre museum. And that mire of misery is where our Toa found themselves in their fight for our freedom. * * * Trina Ever since waking up in the makeshift stone cell that had been summoned for him in the middle of the Moto-Hub, Maliss had appeared uncannily calm about his circumstances. He didn’t plea or struggle. He didn’t do anything at all. He just sat there, his gaunt face expressionless, his cold eyes staring unblinkingly at whoever happened to pass by. Trina could barely bring herself to look at him. His maskless face looked like that of a recently-exhumed corpse, all taut flesh, dull eyes, and exposed metal. He was changed, body and soul, and the more time Trina spent in his presence the more she came to understand that there was nothing left in him of the man she’d known. “Make certain he doesn’t get out,” Trina said to Behjen, who’d assembled the cell and offered to stay back and take first watch, “Do whatever you have to.” “Not sticking around to babysit me yourself, Trina?” Maliss taunted, speaking for the first time since he’d been captured. “I have more important things to do,” Trina snapped back, shoving her Brother’s macabre Kanohi into a nearby crate, “I still have one Brother that I can help.” “For now… maybe not much longer.” “Are the transports ready?” She turned away from him, towards the Toa who were preparing a pair of larger Vahki transports for the trip to Onu-Metru. “Ready when you are!” Came the reply. “Then let’s get moving.” * * * Icthilos The remainder of their trip through Onu-Metru’s streets went by unopposed, as did the descent down the elevator shaft. Rather than bringing any measure of relief, the absence of enemies left Icthilos feeling even more tense. Any second now, he expected Maliss to materialise from the shadows, or Widrek to bring the ceiling crashing down on their heads, or Bihriis to start messing with their minds. He didn’t believe for a moment that their enemies would commit only half their forces to the fight and give up after a single bout. “I know we were a little pressed for time in planning this, but do we have any idea where we’re actually going?” Pira asked quietly, as the group stepped out of the elevator and into the Archives. “Are we even sure this is the right floor?” Vhalem added. “Most of the buttons didn’t work.” Icthilos answered, “Seems like this is the lowest level where Matoran are still allowed to go. If we don’t find anything here we’ll work our way up, but in my experience most folks who hide things underground put the most important stuff in the deepest section.” “You have a lot of experience with underground lairs?” Pira asked. “Some,” Icthilos answered. “The Makuta of our region disappeared centuries ago. For a long time, people thought she’d just withdrawn from the world, until some local Matoran decided they wanted to establish a new village on her island, and sent us in to see if the place was clear.” It hadn’t been. The Makuta was indeed long gone, with no records or signs of a struggle to suggest what had become of her. But her fortress, and the network of subterranean chambers beneath it, had still been crawling with Rahkshi and filled with traps. And within those chambers were labs and libraries, filled with the remains of the Makuta’s grotesque experiments, and near-incomprehensible scribblings about the results of her research. Icthilos had ordered the chambers be set aflame, the tunnels collapsed, and the fortress itself completely demolished. It was a chapter of his life he’d thought he’d closed the book on, but the Archives reminded Icthilos far too much of that mission. The dimensions of the tunnels were similar, though these were better-lit. The elevator had let them out into a six way intersection, with cables connecting to lightstones strung across the ceiling to illuminate each route. There were signs on all of the tunnels, but their labels made little sense, being acronyms and shorthand that meant nothing to those who weren’t familiar with archival work. “You didn’t answer my question,” Pira pointed out. “I don’t know where we’re going,” he replied bluntly. “If Widrek was here-” “-I am,” the Onu-Toa’s voice echoed forth from one of the tunnels. “You shouldn’t have come here.” “You don’t understand what’s happening here,” Bihriis emerged from another of the tunnels. “What’s at stake is more important than the Matoran’s petty pleas.” “I’m getting real tired of being told I don’t understand,” Icthilos growled, “Want to let the rest of us in on the secret? “It’s difficult. I-” Bihriis broke off as a metallic clanking reverberated from another tunnel. An Exo-Toa suit stomped out into the open. There was no sign of a pilot, but a distorted voice crackled forth from some kind of on-board speaker. Orane’s voice. “You can still walk away from this.” “Can we?” Savnu sneered, “You’d just let us get back in the elevator and leave?” As if on cue, the elevator closed its doors and began to ascend, summoned back to the surface. “I guess not. But you can still surrender peacefully.” Still no Maliss… we have a chance. Icthilos considered their options. The tunnel Orane had just emerged from was clearly where the Exo-Toa were being stored. It stood to reason that Bihriis and Widrek had likely chosen to block important routes as well. “I know what you’re thinking, Icthilos,” Bihriis warned, “Don’t try it. Just stand down.” “You’ve fought by my side long enough to know I’m not going to surrender. Not to anyone. Not for any reason.” “Icthilos, please. There’s so much… it’s too much to explain… I don’t know how to make you understand. I didn’t even understand it all myself, at first.” “Enough talk,” Orane’s garbled voice growled, as the Exo-Toa stepped forward and raised its launcher, “I won’t ask again. Surrender.” “Not in here, you fool,” Widrek snapped, stepping forward and starting to raise a hand towards the launcher arm. And in that moment, Icthilos saw his chance. “Vhalem!” He shouted. “Don’t!” Bihriis shrieked. Icthilos loosed a blast of ice towards the Exo-Toa. Not enough to freeze it in place. Not enough to do any real damage. Just enough to make Orane think he was under attack, and retaliate accordingly. The electro-rocket leapt from its launcher… and dropped immediately to the ground, its gravity increased by Vhalem. It detonated on impact, sending both Widrek and the Exo-Toa sprawling in a shower of arcing electricity and sizzling sparks. The lights flickered, some of the lightstones shattering as errant arcs of electricity surged through the cables overhead. And then all Karzahni broke loose. Savnu slammed into Bihriis at high speed, battering her into the tunnel wall. Pira sprang past Widrek, stomping on his arm as she sprinted into the tunnel he’d come from. Vhalem focused his gravity on the fallen Exo-Toa, keeping it pinned in place. Icthilos glanced around, unsure of who to aid or which route to pursue… and then the choice was made for him as something unseen seized him and sent him careening down the tunnel next to the one Pira had run down. He struck a specimen case and spun, tumbling, finding himself upside down as he flew towards the solid metal door of some kind of vault. A door that mercifully swung open seconds before he would’ve splattered against it. The pulling force cut out the moment he passed the threshold, and he flopped to the floor, bouncing across hard rock before finally coming to a stop. “I admit this only because there’s no one else to hear it,” a bitter voice filled the chamber as the door swung shut once more, “I underestimated you.” The voice was one Icthilos had heard before, but now, without distance or speakers to distort it, its effects were all the more profound. The voice was cold and cruel, full of pride and power, rattling the room with every word. “It won’t happen again.” Footsteps echoed through the chamber, the stone floor cracking under the weight of the clawed feet that came to stop just in front of Icthilos. The same invisible force that had pulled him into the room – magnetism, he realised – now pulled him upright, forcing him onto his feet and turning him to fully face the being before him. Icthilos’ head was barely level with the chest of the black-and-silver titan. Claw-like appendages curled from its back in a macabre mockery of wings, and chains of various types and sizes hung from its arms as a disturbing attempt at adornment or decoration. A bladed staff with a glowing green crystal nestled amidst its tines was in one of its hands, connected to its forearm by another length of chain. An angular black Felnas adorned the titan’s face, behind which burned fiery eyes. There was no question in Icthilos’ mind as to what he was facing. This was Makuta Vhel.

IC: Skrall – Stronghold Office His back still turned to the pair, Skrall’s brow furrowed. Evidently, there was much he didn’t understand about Tirveus’ true plans, and the objective of this mission. "My convoy is going to Tajun, yes, but this is not the only Skrall who was never going to return to the legion after the tournaments. There is still one, in better condition, that I can deliver to your client." For a scarce second, Skrall feared that Atakus was referring to him. He knew he wasn’t as physically strong as some of the other Skrall, but he’d worked hard to overcome that. Surely he wasn’t such a disappointment that Tirveus would- No! The answer was obvious. The Special Forces Skrall with the unsettling sympathetic streak was the only member of the party (aside from Atakus and the disgraced Skrall) who’d been assigned to the group. The rest had all been volunteers. It had to be him. "That way no extra supplies are needed for the journey south, this weakling won't slow us down, my boss will be happy, your customer will get exactly what he wants, and my bodyguard here will compensated appropriately for the overtime he puts in to make this happen." Skrall’s frown deepened. He wasn’t one for shrewdness or subtleties, but he understood the implications of the last part of Atakus’ statement. Whatever was going to happen to the group’s guide, Skrall was now expected to help make it happen. It was a troubling situation… but Atakus was the voice of Tirveus in these matters, and Skrall wasn’t fool enough to question their leader’s orders. Not aloud, at least. Skrall relaxed slightly as the conversation continued. Given the request Fero was making, the prospect of him betraying the Skrall seemed less and less likely.

IC: Avinus - Streets of Tajun "A word of advice, then. Don't show 'em everythin' you've got in your first fight," Avinus said, lowering her voice a little as another group of Glatorian passed the other way. "The smart ones don't really come to the exhibition matches to fight. They come to watch, to learn what they're up against. So I'm not sayin' not to try... but at the end of the day, there's no shame in losin' an exhibition match if it means savin' somethin' for the real fight." @Emzee

IC: T’harrak – Fort Razorfish;Vaa “I was wearing that label long before yesterday,” T’harrak bit back, too tired for games. “I’m the Skakdi who sits in a workshop all day making the weapons and ammunition that the real warriors use to fight with. No one here is going to think less of me for giving exactly the kind of order they expected me to.” Only a few minutes earlier, she wouldn't have been nearly as confident in that last sentence. But Sohmak's thanks hadn't just been gratifying, they'd been vindicating. So much so that she felt guilty for snapping at him. But even here, on a windswept spit of land far from the eyes and ears of the rest of Skakdi society, weakness was whispered, and strength was shouted. She glanced at the De-Skakdi’s clanking metal gauntlets, warily wondering if Sohmak was just posturing, or actually planning to pummel her at some point to sell his act. “How about you spare me the rest of the setup and skip to the punchline?” she suggested. @Techn0geist

IC: T’harrak – Fort Razorfish;Vaa T’harrak had kept to herself since the return to the Fort. She’d lingered at the beach long enough to wash the dust and blood from her armour, and then spent the rest of the afternoon slumped, huddled at her workbench, absent-mindedly fiddling with the tools in front of her. At some point she’d fallen asleep, her dreams filled with fresh memories of fire and ferocity. Come morning, the moans and cries hadn’t ceased, enduring in the groans of the wounded recuperating around the Fort. She felt like they were mocking her, just like her neighbours back home had mocked her when she’d left to join a Fort. They’d been right. She’d run away. Worse, she’d given the order to run away. Worse still, people had actually listened to her when she’d said it. She didn’t know if that was good or bad, and she was terrified to leave the workshop and face anyone to find out. Was she brave for putting her life before her pride? Or a coward for abandoning Zanakra to her fate? Did the answer even matter? Society on Zakaz only valued strength. History would remember T’harrak as a coward, if it even remembered her at all. In the end, it wasn’t thirst or hunger that prompted T’harrak to step outside, but the thunderous crack and clatter of shattering stone. She stumbled out of her makeshift workshop, launcher in hand, searching around for the source of the sound. Had Fort Garsi sent someone to finish them off? Had another warband sensed their weakness and made a move to seize the island? It came as a relief when she instead saw Sohmak in the courtyard, displaced dust still swirling in the air around his upraised, metal-encased hand. But that relief abruptly evaporated when the De-Skakdi's stony stare settled on her and he bellowed her name with a degree of demandingness that rivalled what T'harrak's mother had managed in her worst moods: "T'HARRAK!" The arm now moved to point deeper into the structure, past the throne. "A word." "Please is a word," she muttered to herself, slinging her weapon across her back as she made her way towards the direction Sohmak was indicating. Whatever he had to say couldn't possibly be worse than what they'd all endured yesterday... but she still wasn't looking forward to it. @Techn0geist

IC: Avinus - Streets of Tajun "That's a good thing to hope for," she said, nodding. "Speakin' of which, were you plannin' to get in the ring for one of the exhibition matches?" @Emzee

IC: Avinus - Streets of Tajun "There's some who'll argue that anyone in this career is an idiot," Avinus replied, after weighing her words for a moment. "The way I see it, if you're an idiot, at least you're a kind one. Which makes you a better brand of moron than most of those you'll be meetin' in the arena." @Emzee

Thanks. That was one of the first ideas I had for the song, to acknowledge the origins of the characters and build up from there. The AI really didn't like every chorus being different, so it took a bit of wrangling to get it to sing everything properly. That's exactly what I was going for. While the song may be about the Toa Nuva, it was planned as an 810NICLE Day upload, so I also wanted it to end on something that captured the hope and creativity of the community as a whole. I'm glad you enjoyed the piece. There are plenty more to come.

Chapter 17 – Brotherhood From the records of Turaga Rost. I know what it is to be a Toa. I understand the bonds of brotherhood that bind them together, the kinship and comradery. My own team are long gone, but I still miss them dearly. That’s why I hoped the lost Toa would never return. I knew the chaos they would bring. I knew the conflict they would cause. I knew the question they would force me to ask. But they came… and so I asked. * * * Trina She stood alone at the balcony where she and Icthilos had spoken the previous evening, looking out across the shining cityscape. The sun had fully emerged now, and the Rahkshi had retreated, leaving the streets empty save for the detritus drifting in the wind. She heard footsteps behind her; someone bringing a report from down below. “Is everyone ready?” “I’m disappointed,” it was the voice of Maliss that greeted her, “But not surprised.” She whirled towards him, instinctively reaching for her weapons, but her armour tightened around her arms, holding them in place. “I guess Icthilos told you about our chat,” he sighed, “I wish he’d taken my advice.” “He did. I changed his mind.” “And you sound so proud about it,” the words came out in a snarl as Maliss stepped suddenly towards her, stopping with their Kanohi only inches apart, “You shouldn’t be.” Trina looked into her brother’s eyes, and saw nothing she knew in them. They were the icy blue of a frozen pond, cloudy and cold. Behind his Kanohi, his face was emaciated, his flesh sickly. The same was true of the organics she could glimpse beneath his armour, all of it pale and scarred and stretched taught over unrelenting metal, as if his very element were consuming him from within, tearing free of his flesh. She could sense electricity moving all through his body, pulsing through the wires that sprouted from the stump of his severed arm, spiderwebbing across his form. There was so much metal in him now, far beyond what would have been necessary to repair the injuries he’d suffered. “Why not?” She asked. “Because you’ve forced our hand.” “So, what? Rost sent more Vahki to stop them?” “No. He sent us to stop him.” For a fleeting moment, Trina figured it was a balanced fight, perhaps even a favourable one. Four Toa against three were decent odds. But one of those three was Maliss, and she’d seen him immobilise multiple opponents at once the same way he was now immobilising her. And if Orane and Bihriis had truly joined the enemy… “You see the futility now, don’t you sister?” He stepped away, his expression solemn. “Why are you doing this? What did the Makuta do to you to make you so willing to stand against your own people? Against our shared purpose?” “It’s your lot who’ve lost sight of our purpose,” Maliss snapped, jabbing a crooked finger towards her, “The Matoran have no right to freedom. They’re supposed to work. We’re supposed to keep them working. We stand in Unity. We do our Duty.” “Our Duty is to serve the Matoran, not oppress them.” “No. Our Duty is to right the wrongs of our makers, not kneel to the whims of feeble beings who were never meant to want.” “Did you come all the way here to lecture me with mad ramblings?” “No, I came here hoping to see that Bihriis was wrong, and I wouldn’t have to cross blades with my Brother today. Now I’ll settle for dissuading you from following him to his fate.” “And if we don’t? How far are you and your friends willing to go?” “I honestly don’t know,” Maliss replied, “If you don’t back down, we’ll find out together.” “We’ll find out now.” Maliss had only a fleeting moment to appreciate his peril before he collapsed, convulsing, an overwhelming amount of electricity suddenly surging through his system. His eyes rolled back, and his body went limp, though his heartlight still flickered weakly. Like most Toa, Trina preferred to channel her power through her tools, but she didn’t need them, especially not when she was controlling an existing source of her element instead of summoning it anew. Manipulating an element within another being’s body was a tactic that many Toa considered immoral, and one Trina had resorted to only a handful of times in the most desperate of circumstances. But Maliss was a Fe-Toa, and one who could teleport. She knew him well enough to be certain that taking him down quickly had been her only chance to best him. Without him on the battlefield, Icthilos and his team at least stood a fighting chance against whatever they were walking into. She knelt down and pried Maliss’ mask from his face. “I’m sorry, Brother.” * * * Vhalem Ko-Metru had come and gone, and now the transport was rolling smoothly through the empty streets of Onu-Metru, heading towards the nearest access point to the Archives. There’d been no sign of Vahki or any kind of resistance so far, and Vhalem was starting to feel the first flickers of optimism welling within him. Maybe Bihriis and Orane hadn’t turned traitor after all. “We’ve got company,” Savnu’s voice cut his hopes short. “Vahki?” Icthilos asked. “Toa.” The transport shuddered and shook, rattling wildly as something lashed at it. The something soon revealed itself to be thorny vines, which began to worm their way in through the windows, slashing at those inside. The transport skittered and stumbled as more vines snagged at its legs. “Icthilos, cover them!” Vhalem felt a shell of cruel cold suddenly envelop him and Pira, at the same time as withering heat washed over the hull of the transport, superheating the metal and setting the vines aflame. Scalding steam filled the capsule as Savnu’s heat met Icthilos’ cold. For a moment, though, it seemed to be working, as the transport started scampering forward at full speed again. And then came the harsh twang of metal pinging off metal as something exploded loose from the controls, the hiss of steam as hydraulics vaporised, the groaning of weakened supports as the heat eroded structures that were never meant to withstand such intense temperatures. The transport groaned, then tumbled to a stop, its legs falling off underneath it. Vhalem felt Pira fall into the back of him, slamming him against the still-sizzling walls. He recoiled with a cry, clutching his shoulder. The heat dissipated as swiftly as it had appeared, Savnu absorbing what she could and Icthilos cooling the rest, but the damage was already done. The transport was sprawled in the street, unable to advance any further. “Everyone out!” Icthilos shoved open the side hatch, diving out and scrambling towards the mouth of a nearby building. A Kanoka pinged off the door, reconstituting it into a mangled mess, and Vhalem ripped it from its hinges with his powers, flinging it wildly in the direction the disk had come from as he too clambered out of the transport. He caught a brief glimpse of two Toa at the far end of the street – one in grey and silver with a two-pointed spear in his hand, and one in green-and-blue wielding a scythe and shield – both scrambling to avoid his makeshift projectile. Rather than joining Icthilos in cover Vhalem decided to press his advantage, lifting up the broken-off legs of the transport then reorienting the flow of gravity to make them “fall” swiftly towards their foes, forcing the pair into cover long enough for Pira and Savnu to get out as well. For the first few moments, he was an autopilot, responding to the attack as he would any other, not fully appreciating the fact that he was attacking other Toa this time, not Skakdi or slavers. So preoccupied was he with keeping the pair pinned down that he didn’t stop to contemplate the fact that neither of the Toa he could see were carrying a Kanoka launcher. Indeed, it turned out no one was carrying one. The shooter was a lone Vahki perched on a rooftop above where the Toa had been, whose next shot would’ve likely turned Vhalem into something indescribable had Savnu not spotted it coming and pulled him out of the way, leaving the disk to instead pretzel the pavement. The Vahki jumped down into the street, already loosing another Kanoka from its jaws, this one being sent spinning away by an air blast from Pira. As Vhalem mumbled a thanks to Savnu and sized up this new foe, he realised immediately that something was very wrong with it. This Vahki seemed unfinished, its surface a dull grey, without the colour-coded paintjobs of most models. Instead of staffs, it wielded a pair of simple swords. Stranger still, its head casing was open, with no sign of the clockwork brain machinery Vhalem had seen in the ones he’d seen destroyed during the battle on the first night. But clearly something was allowing this Vahki to function. “What the-” “Orane,” Savnu scowled, drawing her sai and stepping towards the Vahki, “You two keep Tuxar and Dhozoh busy. I’ll deal with him.” “What about Icthilos?” Vhalem glanced in the direction he’d last seen the Ko-Toa, but there was no sign of him now. The idea that Icthilos had abandoned them was unthinkable, which could only mean he was trying to work his way around to take the attacking Toa by surprise. Which meant… they were committed. The line was crossed. They weren’t falling back. They were fighting their fellow Toa. “It was inevitable,” Pira said gently, touching his uninjured shoulder, “Come on.” “I know,” he muttered, readying his weapon and looking to the Bo and De Toa now emerging from their hiding places. “I just didn’t think it would be so soon. I didn’t think it would be us.” He and Pira worked their way around Savnu and the Orane-possessed Vahki, who were duelling with the grace and skill of opponents who knew each other well. Still, it looked like the fight was falling in Savnu’s favour. Her Kakama-assisted speed and superheated blades were steadily chipping away at the Vahki’s weapons and body, its artificial form incapable of utilising Orane’s elemental powers or keeping pace with Savnu. Once clear of the duel, Pira and Vhalem broke into a run, charging the two older Toa, only to find more thorny vines rising from the ground to block their path. Pira swept her staff one way, then the other, its razored blades shredding the flailing foliage. Vhalem sent a surge of heightened gravity washing over the ground, pinning some of the vines in place. But more vines began to rise up behind them, this time accompanied by a wave of screaming sound, sending the two Toa sprawling. The sound cut out as swiftly as it had started, the De-Toa flopping to the ground from a flail to the face as Icthilos stepped out of an adjoining alleyway, his Kanohi having allowed him to approach unnoticed by even the De-Toa’s sensitive hearing. The vines loosened as the Bo-Toa looked towards the new foe, and Vhalem struck out with antigravity, sending him suddenly floating upwards, to be battered away over the rooftops by another buffeting blast from Pira. “He won’t be floating for long,” Vhalem grumbled, rubbing his ears as he made his way towards the Ko-Toa, “How close are we to the nearest elevator?” “In the square in the next block over,” Icthilos said, reaching down to pry away the unconscious De-Toa’s mask, which he tossed through the window of a nearby building. “What about Savnu?” “I’m done!” Savnu sped forward to join them. She’d accumulated a few new scratches on her armour, but seemed otherwise unscathed. The Vahki, on the other hand, was a mess of melted parts, one intact arm trying to drag the rest of its shredded torso across the street towards them. “You picked the wrong side, Brother,” Savnu spat back towards the mangled machine, “Run back to your new friends and tell them what happened here.” After a moment’s consideration, Orane seemed to do exactly that, as the Vahki suddenly fell limp. “I don’t want to jinx us, but did that feel a little too easy to you guys?” Pira asked. “My ringing ears would disagree,” Vhalem muttered. “You’re used to enemies who are fighting to kill,” Icthilos said, “They were trying to capture us. These two at least,” he nudged the unconscious De-Toa, “I’m not so sure about Orane…” “Orane fights like us. Nothing held back,” Savnu muttered, “We need to keep moving. Tuxar will be back, and I reckon Orane’s already finding another body to possess. If he’s here…” “If Bihriis has joined them, she’ll be waiting for us down below,” Icthilos said, “Her go-to mask is a Faxon, and where better to copy rahi powers than the Archives?” “That’s worrying,” Savnu muttered. “We should be more worried about Widrek and Maliss,” Icthilos countered, “Where are they?” “So we’re still going ahead with this?” Vhalem cut in. “I just need to know… how far are we willing to go now that we’re fighting other Toa?” “Only as far as you’re willing to,” Icthilos said. “If you want to turn back, no one will blame you. You’ll probably be safer. But you need to decide now, not in the middle of the next fight.” “I’m staying,” Pira said firmly, “If these Toa are fighting to keep the Matoran enslaved, then they’re not Toa at all.” “She’s right,” Vhalem nodded grimly, “I’m with you.”

IC: Skrall - Stronghold Office "We have… a standing order, you might say. A customer in Tajun, who will pay well for a Skrall slave in mint condition." Several seconds passed before Skrall realised that he'd stopped breathing, so stunned was he by the audacity of the Gatherer's request. It took all of the self control he could muster not to to make his eavesdropping obvious by snapping around to stare at Fero. Skrall cared little for his disgraced kin, but this was crossing a line. Trading nameless failures to the Gatherers was one thing. They were kin, of a kind. But to surrender one of their own to the Southerners? It wasn't just sacrilegious, it was strategically stupid so close to Tirveus' intended conquest of the South. Atakus had to realise that, surely? He wouldn't even consider Fero's request, would he?

IC: Skrall – Stronghold Office In Skrall’s (admittedly limited) experience, there was a fine line between a simple life and a primitive one, and the Bone Hunters walked it well. They knew what they needed, and seemed willing to accept the bare minimum when it was sufficient to serve their purposes. Shade was shade. Walls were walls. And a fallen pillar was technically a desk. As Fero and Atakus spoke, Skrall took up guard by the door. Though he was certainly listening in on the conversation of his companions (it would be near-impossible for him not to), he was also listening for any sounds outside the makeshift office. The door was good for privacy, but that worked both ways. If Fero, for whatever reason, intended to betray the Skrall, he would likely have allies taking up position somewhere in the corridor outside, poised to ambush them on their way out. As he considered that fact, it occurred to Skrall that of all his companions, he had perhaps been the poorest choice to serve as bodyguard in this specific situation. While he was comfortably confident in his ability to best a desert-dwelling scavenger half his size in a straight fight, the Bone Hunters had numbers. Against multiple opponents, in the confines of the corridors, Skrall’s spear was going to be of limited use. Hopefully it wouldn’t come to that.

BS01 has a rough breakdown of the numbers, based on confirmed canon information and quotes from author Greg Farshtey: "Now, little more than 40 Toa are alive in the prime universe. Currently, 26 of the remaining Toa are definitely accounted for: Toa Mata Tahu, the five remaining Toa Nuva, the five remaining Toa Mahri, six Toa Hagah, Takanuva, Lesovikk, Krakua, Helryx, Tuyet, Orde, Chiara, Zaria, and Varian. Naho may or may not remain alive. If she is, then the total number of known living Toa is 27." Bear in mind also that it's entirely possible for more Matoran to be transformed, so your story can have as many or as few Toa as you want.

Ballads of the Bionicle I've long been a fan of lore/character songs for my favourite franchises, but I was surprised to discover that there's not a lot of that kind of content around for Bionicle. Since I have no musical skill of my own, I started writing some lyrics and playing around with Suno AI to see what I could come up with. I was very impressed with what the AI has been able to produce, so I've decided to start uploading some of the better pieces to YouTube to share with the community. The first video went up this morning to coincide with 810NICLE Day: I know AI-generated content can be a controversial topic, so if it’s not your thing, I completely understand. I’m not trying to take anything away from the amazingly talented real musicians we have in our community. I'm creating these songs purely for fun, and make no profit from them. Free download links for the MP3s are included with each video for anyone who wants to have the songs. New tracks are scheduled to go up weekly, covering everything from the Matoran Universe, to Bara Magna, to G2, so make sure to subscribe to the channel if you're interested in hearing more. Check out the list below for direct links: Toa Nuva Song - Six Heroes, One Destiny Makuta Teridax Song - The Plan Turaga Vakama Song - A Leader's Lies Turaga Dume Song - My City Will Stand Makuta G2 Song - I'm Back! Miserix Song - The Dragon Lord Nektann Song - The Last Warlord Hakann Song - Flames of Ambition Thok Song - The Smartest Piraka Lesovikk Song - I Will Not Fail Takadox Song - Look Into My Eyes Tren Krom Song - The First Flesh Lariska Song - You'll See it Coming Helryx Song - Beyond Destiny Skrall Song - On The March

Lots of intriguing stuff in that teaser! I look forward to seeing the finished project.

Chapter 16 – Lost Souls From the notes of Chronicler Crisda. In legend, Toa are always upheld as virtuous, noble, incorruptible. It was people in my profession who wrote those legends, and it shames me to know their words were lies. The truth is that Toa are as flawed and complex as all the rest of us, just as prone to misjudge and make mistakes, just as vulnerable to the whispers of deceit and doubt. But sometimes lies aren’t needed to turn a hero away from the light. Sometimes Toa choose to do so willingly. * * * Icthilos It was a cold night in Le-Metru. Icthilos was used to the cold, and though it didn’t bother him, he could still feel it, and sense just how bad it was. The windows were fogged with frost, metal surfaces were painful to the touch, clouds of mist formed in the air as beings breathed or spoke. Though it was still connected to the power grid, the Moto-Hub seemed to be cut off from the city’s heating, leaving Le-Metru nearly as frigid as Ko-Metru, with none of the infrastructure or insulation to make that cold bearable. It was only the efforts of Savnu and the other Ta-Toa who tended to the fires on and off through the night that kept the frigidity at bay. But where the night had brought cold temperatures, the break of day brought with it truths that were colder still. “How many are we missing?” Icthilos asked Trina. “Just the two we know of so far. Savnu’s still asking around.” “How’s she holding up?” “Not great, as you can imagine.” He didn’t need to imagine; he knew exactly how she felt. They’d been woken an hour before dawn with grim news. Orane – in the company of a black-and-purple Rahkshi – had walked up to the door where Bihriis was keeping watch. According to the reports of another Toa who’d been guarding nearby, Bihriis had left with them, passing unharmed by the other Rahkshi roaming outside. “I just… don’t get it,” Trina muttered. “What’s not to get? They’ve joined the enemy.” Icthilos was rarely one to jump to conclusions, but this seemed a foregone one. Why else would Bihriis leave without a word before dawn, under the protection of Rahkshi? “The Makuta probably already knows what we’re planning.” “It seems that way. What I mean is that I don’t understand why. Or how.” “I don’t know how, or why, but I think I know what: Makuta Vhel’s secret truth. He spoke of it, so did Widrek and Maliss.” Anticipating the question Trina was about to ask, he quickly continued, “Orane would have overheard it when he was spirit-spying on Widrek in the Coliseum. And Bihriis learned it from reading Widrek’s mind when she tried to talk to him yesterday.” “What kind of truth could change people so profoundly?” “I don’t know. Maybe it’s not an actual truth, but something else. This is a Makuta who spent the last hundred thousand years watching over the universe’s most skilled hypnotists. Maybe this is some new kind of mind control or infection they came up with together.” “So what, it’s like some kind of… psionic earworm? Anyone who even hears the words turns evil?” “If it were that easy I think Makuta Vhel would’ve just told everyone in the city by now,” Icthilos shook his head, “Whatever it is, he’s been selective about who he tells and when. He only asked for one volunteer, remember? Widrek was intentional; he had the time and privacy to make whatever he did work the way he wanted to. I think Orane and Bihriis were just… happy accidents for him.” “Neither of them were acting the same way Rost or Widrek were,” Trina replied thoughtfully, “And purple, that’s a Mind Reading Rahkshi, right? Maybe it could sense that Bihriis and Orane were thinking about this… whatever it is, and sought them out?” “I’m putting a ban on Suletus for this mission, just to be on the safe side. No Ce-Toa, either. If picking up a stray thought about this thing is enough to sway people, we can’t take the risk.” “But we can risk going on the mission?” Trina protested. “You’re still going ahead with it?” “Of course we are,” Savnu appeared at their side. “Acting quickly is still our best chance for success, right?” “You’re at least changing the plan, right? If we take an airship and they are expecting us, we’ll probably be blown out of the sky.” “Probably. So we have indeed changed the plan,” Icthilos gestured to a workshop across the way, inside which awaited a small six-legged transport. “Instead of going by air, we’ll send a smaller team overland to scout ahead in the small transport, followed by the bulk of our forces in the larger ones. There’s plenty of spare Speed disks in this place, so we can really get this one moving.” “I’ve got some folks scrounging up what scrap metal we can find to add some reinforcements to the front,” Savnu added. “If they do set up defences expecting us to come by air, we can turn this thing into a battering ram and punch right on through.” “Savnu, are you sure-” Trina started to ask. It was Icthilos who cut her off, speaking firmly, “She and I agree on this plan.” “You realise your approval doesn’t actually make the plan less reckless, right?” “Nah, but we’re sticking to it all the same,” Savnu insisted. “This occupation needs to end.” “It’s not going to be that simple,” Trina said, “I know you’re both hurting, you know I am too, but there’s no easy fix for this situation.” “You don’t have to come if you don’t want to,” Icthilos replied, knowing all too well that he was challenging rather than discouraging her by saying it. “The transport can only take four.” “And what team have you got so far?” “Savnu’s the most experienced with moving at speed, so she’ll be driving. We’ll have to cross through Ko-Metru to get to Onu-Metru, so I’ll be needed to navigate and clear the path. Vhalem can clear any other obstacles that get in our way. That leaves room for one more.” In that moment, he saw a mischievous twinkle in Trina’s eyes, a look he hadn’t seen since before the fall of the Great Spirit. Seeing that spark within her might have been encouraging under different circumstances, but in this instance it was borderline terrifying. “Take Pira,” Trina said, lips aligning in an impish grin, “She can be your fourth.” Icthilos glanced at Savnu, her expression mirroring his own. It wasn’t the response that either of them had expected, but it wasn’t one either of them really had any objections to. Pira was capable enough, and she had something to prove; now she’d have her chance. “I’ll let her know,” Savnu said, starting to turn away. “Wait, before I forget, were we missing anyone else?” “Just Ilton and the other volunteers,” Savnu said, before flitting off out of sight, “They’ve probably been out on the ocean all night.” “Piraka!” Icthilos stopped himself just short of facepalming, “Trina, could you please-” “-send someone to go find Ilton? Of course.” “Thank you. And if something goes wrong-” “-I’ll be on my way with the second wave to say I told you so.” “I wouldn’t have it any other way.” * * * Vhalem Vhalem sat against the wall of the transport, his bow-blade balanced across his knees, absently pulling at its string as the streets flashed by out the narrow window beside him. Sunlight had only barely begun to spill across the city; he glimpsed a few Rahkshi still lurking in alleyway mouths and abandoned chute sections as they passed. Savnu was at the controls, while Pira was sitting up the back, striking Kanoka into the transport’s mechanisms whenever Savnu requested an extra burst of speed. Icthilos sat across from Vhalem, his expression sombre as always. “You good?” Icthilos asked, noticing Vhalem looking his way. “Just thinking things over. This isn’t the first time I’ve rode into battle with some of you guys, but this time… it feels different.” “Because we’re the ones starting it,” Savnu said. “That’s not strictly true,” Icthilos replied, “There was something Crisda told me yesterday. I wasn’t sure when or how to break it to the rest of you.” “It’s about Yayle, isn’t it?” Vhalem leaned forward, “I saw how you reacted when Trina mentioned him yesterday.” “Who?” Pira asked. “The fourth injured Toa who was sent back to Metru Nui near the beginning of the war,” Icthilos explained, “The only one who wasn’t with Turaga Rost at the Coliseum.” “He’s dead, isn’t he?” Vhalem asked. A few months ago, he wouldn’t have dared be so blunt and insensitive. But his experiences had hardened him, and now wasn’t the time for niceties. “He is, but not for the reason you think. It’s… worse than that.” “Go on,” Savnu said, not looking away from the road before her. “The Matoran tried to resist. A few months after Vhel arrived, Yayle and a group of Matoran fought their way through the Mesmers and marched into the Coliseum. Yayle went inside, and… do you know what a Kanohi Felnas does?” Vhalem did. The Vortixx had wielded all manner of immoral masks, and Vhalem had had the misfortune of seeing more than a few of them in action. One of the guards who had been supervising the enslaved Matoran had worn a Felnas, and on the day Savnu’s Toa Stones transformed them, that guard had brought his mask to bear against the new Toa during their attempted escape. Ironically, it was the chaos caused by that action that had allowed the prisoners to escape in the end, but it had come at a cost, in lives and blood. “I’ve seen what it does,” he nodded, before glancing Pira’s way and noting her still-confused expression, “It’s the Mask Of Disruption. It makes you lose control of your powers.” “Yayle went inside, and Makuta Vhel used a Felnas on him,” Icthilos said, “And then he teleported him straight back outside. Right into the crowd of Matoran. Yayle… took his own life to make it stop.” “A hero to the end,” Savnu said softly, spoken in the tone of someone who’d known him, “I suppose that’s all any of us can aspire to.” “I… wavered last night. I’m sorry for that, and I’m thankful for all of you for helping steer me back,” Icthilos said, “I went to Xia to ensure that the deaths of my teammates weren’t without meaning. Now we must do the same for Yayle. For the missing Av-Matoran. For the Order Of Mata Nui members. For everyone.” “We’re nearing Ko-Metru. I need you up front.” Icthilos nodded, moving past Vhalem to hunch behind Savnu’s seat, extending his hand to exert his elemental influence over the terrain ahead. “How do you feel now?” Pira asked, nudging Vhalem’s arm. “Different, again,” he replied, “I guess… knowing this does kind of make it easier.” The statement sickened him, but there was no denying the truth. Once upon a time, the death of even one Toa would have been a tragedy. Today, it was a potent motivator. “Yesterday, before we spoke, I was almost ready to accept the way Vhel was running things,” he said, “But not anymore. You were right.” “I wish I wasn’t.”

Chapter 15 – Resistance From the journal of Turaga Marik. The elders say that in the time before time we were separate, without purpose, so the Great Spirit illuminated us with the Three Virtues. But it never felt like illumination to me. The beliefs we clung to for so long were shackles, chains that kept us as content and complacent as the god that gave them to us. We didn’t see the end coming. Even the Great Spirit himself didn’t see the end coming. And now here we are, left to die in the dark without any illumination at all. There are times I wonder if I should get my mask fixed, to see if its maddening visions might show me something of worth for once. All it ever showed me were shadows and sorrows, worries and woes that I was powerless to prevent. I wish it had simply shown me how my story would end. I don’t want to wonder or worry anymore. * * * Ilton “This is madness,” Marik muttered, his nervous hands clenching like claws around his gnarled staff, “How long are we going to sit here and let this thing hold us hostage?” He and Ilton were sitting up on the deck along with most of the rest of the crew, waiting impatiently under the foreboding shadow of the airship still hovering before them. Save for a single word blasted forth from some kind of on-board loudspeaker – “Wait.” – there had been no noise or movement from the mysterious airship since it had first shown up that morning. When the sun had gone down a spotlight had been turned on and trained on the boat, but that was the only change. Mercifully, it seemed that the Rahkshi the last messenger had brought word of didn’t roam this far away from the city. “Patience,” Ilton said quietly, “We wait for as long as it takes.” “As long as what takes?” “As long as it takes for one of our people to show up to check on us, or for whoever they’re waiting for to get here.” He’d been studying the airship since it had arrived, reaching out with his powers to gain a better sense of how it fit together and operated, so that if a fight did break out he could try to disable it before it could fire on the ship. With no Su-Toa on board to block or absorb incoming fire from the airship’s cannon, Ilton felt it wasn’t worth the risk to do anything that might provoke the airship until he was certain that it posed a threat. His background as a forger of Kanohi and Kanoka, combined with his elemental abilities, allowed him to recognise most types of disks and masks at a distance, sensing their unique compositions. It had proven an invaluable ability on Xia, where the Vortixx – owing to their very different facial features – had forged their Kanohi in different shapes and styles to those used by most Matoran craftsmen. It also meant he could usually make an educated guess as to the nature of unfamiliar Kanohi, and the Vortixx had brought plenty of immoral or unusual masks to bear in battle that most Toa had never seen before. That same talent allowed him to sense that the occupants of the airship were a mere two Matoran and a Turaga. It was a guess, but an educated one. All three beings were similar in size, but two wore Powerless Kanohi, while one wore a Noble Iden, and that one had been sitting still for quite a while now, which suggested they were actively using the Mask. The two figures he guessed to be Matoran were armed, carrying basic blades and Kanoka launchers equipped with Freeze disks. He could also sense the familiar compositions of the levitation and weight increase Kanoka that allowed the ship to function, though they were too many and too spread out through the hull for him to be able to easily bring down the vessel. Manipulating a few of them in the right spot at the right moment might be enough to throw off the airship’s aim if it was about to open fire, but hopefully it wouldn’t come to that. The fact that it was Matoran on board, not Vahki or Rahkshi, left Ilton equal parts curious and hopeful. Marik, however, did not share these feelings. “If you take out their levitation disks, or pull them down or something, I can hit them with a tidal wave and smash them against the Barrier,” he whispered. “That ship emerged from the sea, so it’s safe to assume it’s been waterproofed,” Ilton replied, “It also appears to be well-armoured. Rocks aren’t going to be enough.” In simpler times, he might have dwelled on the strangeness of a Toa giving counsel to a Turaga. But many things had changed when the stars had gone out. The status quo he’d known was long gone. “We have to do something,” Marik insisted. “We are. We’re waiting. And not for much longer, I suspect.” He could sense the Iden-wearer moving around again, hurrying towards a porthole on the side of the ship. Ilton rose to his feet and extended his senses out across the water in the direction the Turaga seemed to be looking. He swiftly found a small boat moving in their direction, and soon the sound of its sputtering engine echoed over the waves for all to hear. He rose to his feet and moved towards the railing to watch the vessel approach. It looked to be another kind of modified airship, this one far smaller, with some kind of hose system that allowed it to siphon the liquid protodermis it was travelling over and expel it out through a pressurised nozzle at the back. The vessel slowed, then sputtered to a stop alongside the larger boat. Once it had fully stopped, a panel in its side flopped open and a rusted gangplank extended forth to bridge the gap. Out from it emerged the sole occupant Ilton could detect, another Turaga. Even by Turaga standards this one was stooped and decrepit, his frame flimsy and his movements unsteady. He bore all the hallmarks of a being who’d had the misfortune of being “fixed” in Karzahni, his limbs skeletal, with rusted pistons and exposed wiring visible through his desiccated organics. Random patches and plates were bolted or welded haphazardly to his armour, as well as to his Kanohi. A matching pair of hand axes hung from the armour of his thighs, a far cry from the usual badges of office most Turaga carried. “I’m very sorry for keeping you all waiting for so long,” there was a harsh, rattling rasp to the Turaga’s voice as he spoke, and even the single sentence seemed to leave him out of breath, “My name is Larone. Who here speaks for you?” “That would be me,” Ilton said quickly, heading off any attempt Marik might make to assert himself, “Toa Ilton.” “Iron… you’re a rare breed, boy,” the twisted Turaga stepped fully onto the deck, his eyes – sharp and bright in stark contrast to the rest of his form – inspecting Ilton and the rest of the crew. “And I hear I’m exactly what this city needs,” Ilton replied, “Would I be right in guessing that you and your friends here represent some kind of resistance to the Makuta’s occupation?” It felt like a safe assumption. If the Vahki and Rahkshi were the Makuta’s main enforcers, it stood to reason any Matoran or Turaga lurking this far away from the city – operating from a submersible airship, no less – were in hiding. And these people seemed too well-armed to be simple refugees. “Astute,” Larone said, nodding, “I’m well-watched by the Makuta’s cronies in the city. I’m afraid I couldn’t speak openly with your companions when I encountered them at the Coliseum.” “So you jumped at the chance to come introduce yourself far from prying eyes?” “Exactly. There is much your friends do not understand about what they’re up against, and I fear the other Turaga may already be trying to coerce them into taking action.” “They won’t take much convincing. But if you’re a resistance, why are you against taking action?” “I’m against hasty action,” Larone said, “This Makuta is a crafty one. He’s had months to consolidate his power, to learn all there is to know about the city, its citizens, and the Toa who might someday return to it. He is well-prepared for any eventuality.” “I’m sure my companions realise that. But if they think this is a cause worth fighting for, they won’t much care. Nor do I.” “They should. An uprising was attempted once before, and it ended in bloodshed. So too shall the efforts of your friends. Only through Unity – the combination of your forces and resources, and mine – can we hope to prevail.” “Then let’s get to it.” “Are you serious?” Marik hissed. “We cannot,” Larone said, ignoring Marik to point at Ilton. “You cannot. Not tonight.” “Me?” “As I said, the Makuta is well-prepared. He read our records and chronicles, to learn all he could about the Toa who left for Xia, and plan for their return. The Rahkshi have long had orders to kill you if you ever set foot on the island. Those same orders extend to the Fa-Toa as well, though I hear only one of them made it to shore, and she’s been sensible enough not to strike off on her own so far. You cannot return until daylight, and even indoors you may not be safe at night.” “And if my friends decide to do something stupid tomorrow morning?” “Then we shall pray for their safety. In the meantime, I suspect we have much to discuss.”

Chapter 14 – Change Of Heart From the notes of Chronicler Crisda. Our heroes have words for their fellow Toa. They’re not merely teammates or colleagues, but Brothers and Sisters. On rare occasions, even Mothers and Fathers. As an outsider, I’ve found myself wondering what those relationships truly mean. These words feel more familial and affectionate than affirmations of mere friendship or comradery. To be transformed together, to endure turmoil and share triumph… until we’ve lived as they have, can we mere Matoran ever truly understand the bonds between Toa? * * * Trina Trina found Icthilos on the Moto-Hub’s upper level, occupying a balcony overlooking the streets below. He was leaning on a railing, looking down at the Rahkshi roaming about. Some of the creatures were returning his stare, though none of them seemed inclined to engage. Either being on the upper level of a building qualified him as being indoors as far as their orders were concerned, or they understood that he was close enough to an entrance that he could safely get inside before they could climb or fly close enough to reach him. “Brooding again?” Trina asked, joining him by the ledge. “Or tempting fate?” “No. Just… contemplating it.” “Well, contemplate this while you’re at it: you’re being too harsh on yourself. No one back there hates you.” “They should. I do most of the time.” “Well, I don’t,” she gently took his hand in her own. “You buried your best friend in a shallow grave on a Xian beach because of where I led you both. You should hate me.” “Great Spirit grant me strength,” she muttered, screwing her eyes shut for a few seconds to stave off the tears his words threatened to bring forth. She hadn’t expected him to dredge up that memory. “I really try to be here for you, Brother, but I can only take so much of your self-pity. You might have been the team leader, but that doesn’t mean it’s all on you. All five of us agreed with your decision to investigate Xia.” “But everyone else? I convinced them to come.” “I felt the same rage you did. I was every bit as vocal about freeing the Xian Matoran as you were. Maliss too. Sure, we appealed to their emotions, and you played the Duty card, but at the end of the day every Toa who went to Xia chose to be there. You never forced any of us to do anything.” Mentioning her brother brought Icthilos’ other revelation back to the forefront of her mind. She didn’t need a Kanohi Rode to know that Icthilos had been telling the truth about his encounter with Maliss, but that didn’t make it any less unbelievable. She had more questions that she could count, but they could wait a while longer. “Those Toa don’t look to you because they blame you,” she said. “They do it because they believe in you, but what you said back there has shaken that belief.” “Then they can go believe in someone else.” “There is no one else. Widrek’s gone. Savnu’s too reckless, Keidal’s too hesitant, Orane’s too lazy, Bihriis isn’t a leader, and the new Toa are too inexperienced.” “Ilton. He’s the best-suited to leading us against a Makuta.” “Ilton isn’t here right now, and he’s never wanted to take charge. He was always happier taking a support role and letting you call the shots.” “Pahlil, then.” “You’re just throwing out names now. She’s more closed-off than any of us.” “Then you do it. They trust you,” he turned to her, a tired look in his eyes, “I trust you.” “I can’t. I’m not like you. I can’t… shut myself off the way you can. They need someone who can set their emotions aside and make the hard choices. You’ve always been good at that.” She hated it. Even as she spoke the words she felt revulsion roil within her. She and Icthilos had known each other as Matoran, transformed into Toa together, fought side by side for centuries, but the war in Xia had turned him into someone she barely recognised. She missed the man she’d once known, the Brother who’d had her back through the innocent, low-stakes adventures of their youth. But the Icthilos she wanted wasn’t the one the Toa and Matoran needed right now. “I’m done with that,” Icthilos growled, “I did what I had to do to get us all here, so that I could stop being that person. I just want to go back to being myself… the Brother you used to know.” “I wish it could be that way, I really do. But right now, the Brother I need is the one who can organise an army, not the one organising his own private pity party.” “If this is meant to motivate me, it isn’t working,” Icthilos grumbled, “And if it’s meant to change my mind, it’s also not working. I stand by what I said earlier, until you can convince me that we stand a Piraka’s chance in Artakha of winning this thing, I’m not changing my mind.” “The Archives,” Trina said, “Nadrua told me that pretty much everything of value has been stashed in Onu-Metru. The Kanohi and Tools from the Great Temple’s Suva, Exo-Toa suits, other artefacts the refugees brought from their own lands, and the things the Turaga used to keep in the Coliseum… like the Mask Of Time.” “Assuming the Makuta didn’t take it for himself…” Icthilos replied, reluctantly enticed by her suggestion, “…assuming we could even get it… we don’t know how to use it. From what I understand even the Toa Nuva struggled to control its power.” “We don’t need to use it, we just need to have it,” Trina argued, “It was used as a bargaining chip against Teridax once. We can use it in the same way against Vhel.” “It’s a bold plan,” Icthilos withdrew his hand from hers and folded his arms across his chest as she regarded her sceptically, “You’d truly have us gamble with the power of Time?” “The way I see it, we can’t make this universe much worse.” Trina had never really been a risk-taker. She took her time with decisions, carefully weighing options and possibilities. She fought from a distance, to better understand the scope of a battlefield. This idea was a reckless one to be sure, but she’d taken her time to consider it. So many legendary artefacts and Masks Of Power were lost out there in the dark; this was the only thing in Metru Nui she knew of for certain had the power to give even a Makuta cause to pause. “If we did consider this, how sure are we that we can access the Archives? Aren’t they full of Rahkshi now?” “The tunnels under most of the city are, yes. But Matoran still work in sections of the Archives directly under Onu-Metru itself, which means at least some levels are still safe. Vhalem and Pira were there today and confirmed that there’s not much of a guard presence above-ground.” “And this building is full of vehicles,” he smiled as he realised her true reason for choosing this location, “We can be on our way to Onu-Metru as soon as the sun’s up.” “If we act fast, they won’t even know we’re coming.” “I don’t know how you do it,” he chuckled, his smile broadening. “You think it’s a good plan?” “I think it’s a terrible plan. We don’t know where we’re going, what we might be up against, or even if the thing we’re looking for will be there. But it’s a hopeful plan, and that’s what everyone down there needs right now.” Trina gasped in surprise as Icthilos suddenly enveloped her in an earnest embrace, his closeness comforting despite the cold that came with it. “Never lose your hope, Trina.” * * * Vhalem Vhalem and Pira were waiting by the stairwell that they’d seen Icthilos and Trina go up. He was simply slouching against the wall, while she was pacing impatiently. But both of them were waiting for the same thing, clinging to the same hope that the two older Toa would return with changed minds and renewed conviction. Vhalem still wasn’t sure how to feel about the whole situation. He didn’t have the experience or history of most of the Toa here, and that seemed to be as much a blessing as it was a detriment. In many ways, he was still coming to terms with his transformation into a Toa, to say nothing of the many other changes that had occurred in the months since. Today’s events were just the latest in a long procession of problems he wasn’t prepared for. But out of everything that had occurred today, it was perhaps Pira who had surprised him the most. Like many in the group, he’d been swayed by Widrek’s disdain, discounting Pira as a scavenger and loner who didn’t belong with the “true” Toa. But he’d seen her heart today. Everyone had. The sound of footsteps drew his attention back towards the stairwell. Trina and Icthilos were making their way down together, both of them appearing more upbeat than they had when they’d gone up. Pira whirled towards them, her expression conveying the same question that Vhalem himself had been about to ask. “Yes, I changed my mind,” Icthilos said. “And yes, we have a plan.”