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PROLOGUE Not long ago: He was our salvation. A Toa of Light who claimed to have crossed the endless ocean from a landmass unknown to us, and landed here--on Kara-Nui. He said his name was 'Arrec,' and that in the language of his island, this meant 'a welcoming.' He was worshipped like a god, like Mata Nui Himself had stepped down from His place in our heavens and graced us with His presence--and Arrec might as well have been god to us. He was beautiful, and radiated like the twin suns. We embraced him. In the days following the Toa Civil War our island had become a place of sadness and pain, he turned that into happiness and comfort. He marched around the island, proclaiming his name and his good works to all who wanted to hear. He claimed he would help us to rebuild. To bring us back to the old ways and save Kara-Nui from ruin. Reunite her Toa under a single banner and make us strong again. He was a deceiver. He had preyed on our vulnerability like a muaka preys on the beasts of the flock. We had been blind to the truth, too caught up in jubilation to see something wasn't right. He revealed his true colors to us in an act of brazen violence--unveiling himself as a Toa of Shadow, a warrior enveloped in darkness and spite--and felling a multitude of innocents. Our angel was a demon. He claimed to be an envoy of the Unseen Voice, a figure seen as myth in our culture, who in just a matter of days revealed themselves to be so very real. He had come to take the island in the name of his master. The Toa who remained after the Civil War tried to fight back, but were struck down one by one by his dark might. Those who did not fight simply surrendered, and whether they lived much longer after that was up to Arrec. Our once beautiful savior was now twisted and ugly as blood splattered onto his dark armor, as he tore us apart wearing a face of determination--and glee. It didn't take long for him to stamp out all opposition and take control of the island, settling into the magnificent tower at its center, the bodies of those he had murdered piled around its base. He was our end. - excerpt from an unpublished article by Hashei, Kara-Nui chronicler, before he vanished from his home without a trace ~~~ Two thousand years ago, six Matoran sat at a table. The lights around them were dimmed and their own eyes illuminated the room for the most part, obscuring their masks. It felt appropriate, given the nature of the meeting. Obscuring things, that is. "So it's decided," one wearing a shape that appeared to be a Pakari said, "we hide the evidence and go on like nothing's different. This is life now, and we will say it was always like this." The rest of the gathered beings nodded in agreement, eyeing eachother as if to spot any dissenters. "For the good of the island," the Pakari-wearer said. "For the good of the island," the others repeated in chorus. Unknown to anyone in the room, just outside the door an uninvited Ta-Matoran listened in. ~~~ Now. The object hummed with energy, a light glow emanating from beneath the cloth wrapped tightly around it. A pair of cold blue eyes studied it, as the figure turned it over in his aged and shaky hands. He wasn't going to stand idly by as his island fell further and further into the dark. If he could not fight back, maybe someone else could. And he prayed they'd do better than he did, and not make the same mistakes his comrades had. He prayed they'd be nothing like them. ... REVIEW TOPIC
