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In the time before time, the Great Spirit descended from the heavens, carrying we, the ones called the Matoran, to this paradise. We were separate and without purpose, so the Great Spirit blessed us with the three virtues: unity, duty, and destiny. We embraced these gifts and, in gratitude, we lived the remainder of our days with these three virtues embedded into everyday life.

But our joy would not remain perpetual. Mata Nui's brother, Makuta, sought to make the world his very own, into a twisted regime of darkness, tainted and corrupted by the shadows, a reflection of his own heart. And so he struck; breaking their pact of unity, removing him from his duty, and ultimately, cast him out into the depths of the unknown, far away from his destiny.

Our world crumbled before our very eyes as fear consumed our reality, and every dawn was a new waking nightmare. There we were, in an existence without the Great Spirit, left to fight for our own against the onrushing and all-consuming evil.

Mata Nui, however, was not to be so easily defeated. In a last desperate attempt to save the very denizens of his world, struck back against Makuta, and in a titanic battle shaking the very foundations of the worlds themselves, the Great Spirit achieved victory, but only at the cost of his own life. The curtain of darkness was ripped from the skies, the stars no longer muted by its overwhelming presence, the land and its people came to prosper in this seldom-obtained time of peace, and a new era began.

Our happiness was not to last.

This new world was a paradise, but as the laws of the universe govern, entropy will set in, and chaos would reign superior once more, and a chaos never witnessed before struck us. This time, our saviour was nowhere to be found. Mata Nui had left us with nothing else but the three virtues, and as centuries passed, these came to be forgotten as we combated the unknown, having long since given up any hope on the ancient legends our valued virtues were founded upon.

Legends told of a mighty team of Toa, heroes borne of the very elements, who would vanquish the evil that threatened to engulf us, but these were mere ancient legends of Mata Nui, were they in any way true, or mere deceptions, to prevent us from ever losing faith?

As popular Matoran sayings go, the Great Spirit never lies.


Turaga Vakama paced about his chamber, staff in hand, the wise village elder deep in thought. Every so often, he would pause in his tracks and take a quick glance out of the large window of his dwelling, staring at the heavens above. It was night, but the pitch-black sky was clear with the exception of a few scattered stars littered across the horizon.

To the untrained observer, the night sky was one of the few constants that remained in the harsh world they lived in, and held little significance for any of the Matoran villagers. All they hoped for was that the dark blanket above would not be the last sight that greeted their eyes.

However, to the ancient village leader, Vakama, this sight was not only most unusual but unprecedented. From the day it all started, what many had termed “The Conclusion”, the stars had begun to vanish from the skies, one by one, until the heavens were a sea of inky black, and it remained so for millennia, unchanging, perpetual, permanent.

That all changed on this very night. The Turaga was initially unsure of what to feel- unbeknownst to the Matoran, these stars were not some mere decoration, but they represented something. Something that was an alien feeling to these villagers. Something the Matoran had never known in their lifetime. This something, was hope.

A small smile spread across the wizened old Turaga’s lips as he realised, after centuries, perhaps there would a day where they perhaps, could celebrate. However, that day was yet to come.The stars were few, but they illuminated the darkness above.

It seems we were foolish to have forsaken the wisdom of the past. There is much left to be accomplished, but the signs are there. All is needed to pierce the darkness are a few lights.

He had seen enough, and the aged chieftain plodded to his sleeping quarters, resting his staff against the wall as he went, content with his newfound knowledge. As he drifted off to sleep, one thought echoed throughout his mind.

They are coming.

Edited by Yagami Kumi

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Chapter 1

The vast barren volcanic lands of Ta-Kohi. A raging inferno, with temperatures that soared beyond comfort for the vast majority of the island’s wildlife, with the few exceptions miniscule insects and the occasional giant lava scorpion. Only the Ta-Matoran, villagers native to the element, had any sort of tolerance to the suffocating heat that encompassed the entire land.


These villagers were known for being courageous, but even then there was a place that none dared set foot in- the Hatu volcano. This dreary place simultaneously chilled the very depths of the bravest of hearts while enveloping physical forms in asphyxiating heat, with this place emanating an unearthly aura from its very core. It was no surprise that nary a Matoran dared wander within a mile radius of this Mata Nui-forsaken place.


This night, much like the many nights of the millennia gone by, was dead silent with the exception of the chattering of roaches as they scurried across the bare landscape, always seemingly in a rush to escape the lethal scorpions. These roamed around menacingly, fangs bared and stingers drawn, ready to inflict agony on prey or any foolish Matoran who encountered one unarmed.


These fiendish creatures, measuring approximately three feet in length, as their names suggest, were drawn towards the fiery nightmare of the volcano, unfazed by the mysterious atmosphere that clothed it. As devastating as these creatures were, they were highly lacking in the intelligence department, and when hunting was poor, they would prey on the rocks themselves out of desperation.


Tonight was one such occasion for an unfortunate scorpion. Smaller and significantly weaker than its compatriots, it struggled for sustenance and was near its breaking point. The creature stumbled along pathetically, until it spotted an unusual, metallic chrome object right in the base of the mountain. If an arachnid could feel joy, this scorpion would be dancing and celebrating like it won the Kolhii championship.


The dim-witted critter hurried towards the enormous silver mass and hurriedly clawed at it, frantically trying to obtain a chunk for consumption. Perhaps a more intelligent lifeform would come to the realisation that this sterling object shaped like a canister, measuring eight feet high and five feet in diameter, and made out of impenetrable steel, was as much prey as the lava that resided in the volcano.


The dull creature continued pounding on the exterior of this alien object, and it was clear the scorpion was causing more damage to itself than the metallic body. With one last frenzied effort, the arachnid threw itself at the canister with all its might, only to bounce off the silvery frame.


However, within the canister, it stirred. A pair of eyes burst open and slowly, from within, the being opened the bulky metal door, and from it emerged a sight the scorpion had never seen before. This new presence was in some ways similar to the Matoran the scorpion had seen pass through this realm, clad in armour in varying shades of blood crimson, with a pair of steel swords that gleamed faintly with a scarlet glow, and a mask covering its entire face. Unlike the commoners, it stood six feet tall, with an imposing muscled yet lean frame. It was slightly unsteady on its feet but power could be felt radiating from every pore of this unusual entity.


It was the power of the flames, the raging fires that encompassed the entire of Ta-Wahi, and behind its flaming gaze of its glowing eyes a blazing storm raged within.


This being, a he, had many questions unanswered. Who was he? Where was he? How did he get here? These questions haunted his conscious for a few moments as he stood staring at his surroundings, aggrieved by his situation, with half a mind to strike out at the environment enclosing him, and destroy the place, enveloping it with the intense flame that reigned deep in his soul.


The scorpion could sense every inch of his fury, and humbled in his wake, timidly retreated into a crevice, wishing to prolong its existence by a few more mere moments and not end up prey to this powerful humanoid that emitted a godlike presence.


Eventually, he slowly gathered his thoughts and regained his composure. There was little use in being furious at his situation, and for the time being, the answers to these questions were of little significance. In the back of his mind, a thought drifted through its very edges, comforting him and calming him.


The knowing will come.


He advanced into distance, aware a great journey lay before him, and many tasks and trials that he had to overcome, vaguely knowing of what he needed to do.


He had a purpose. He had a responsibility. He had a duty.


A duty to Mata Nui.


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Chapter 2


Onepu wandered through the dark tunnels of Onu-Kohi, carefully eyeing his surroundings, lightstone torch in hand. Even though he was an Onu-Matoran, and possessed a limited degree of night vision, it was unsafe to wander the twisting and winding caverns of the region without any form of light, or for that matter, without any form of company.


However the circumstances differed tonight. He had heard rumours of a well of energised protodermis deep within the maze of caves. This silvery translucent liquid material could be harnessed for many purposes, including defending the village of Onu-Metra from intrusions by the strange creatures that roamed the depths, some driven mad and possessed by the evils that enslaved the island.

He shuddered at the thought that these fiends could be at every turn and every corner, watching his every movement, waiting for the right opportunity to strike him down and turn him into the next grand feast.



Onepu thought back to the times millennia ago, when these vast network of tunnels were safe to roam alone, and he would spend many a day wandering through them, exploring and mapping out each and every crevice of these tunnels.


Nevertheless that had changed as unknown immoral forces slowly extended their influence over the island, and as millennia passed it reached the extent that only the six villages remained untouched, and it might only be a matter of time before they fell too.


He recalled his first few days spent on this island paradise of Metra Nui, where in every sense of the word the place could be called heaven. He still remembers his first memory-waking up on the sandy shores of the island, looking up to see the bright sun illuminating the vast blue horizon above, and looking around to see hundreds of Matoran lying around him in a similar state. He had no memory of what had happened before, and all he knew was his identity, with every trace of his past seemingly wiped and stolen, leaving a massive gap in place, and he was not the only one. Not a single villager possessed any of their memories, but together, the population pushed aside the concerns of the past and moved forward, guided by the Turaga. This day later came to be termed as “The Conclusion”, where they would start a new life, and leave their history behind for good.



For years the Matoran enjoyed a lifestyle of peace and solitude, and they were eternally grateful to the Great Spirit for having blessed them with this utopia. Time was not on their side as mysteriously, villagers began to disappear, abducted to never be seen again. Once, a group of brave people led by the then-incumbent Chronicler, Tamaru, had embarked on a brave search for these missing people, who numbered in the dozens, only to never be heard of again.



After the disappearance of so many of the islanders, the Turaga had convened together and decided that the villages had to shut their gates to the outside world, only exiting out of necessity. Since then, it seemed the elders had only gone increasingly insane as it seemed that day after day they continued their never-ending rambling about the legends of the “Toa”, who Mata Nui would supposedly send in their greatest time of need.



As millennia passed, like many other Matoran, Onepu’s faith in the old “tales” of the Turaga waned and eventually was lost in entirety. The six respective chiefs had observed that the people no longer cared about these perceived myths, and eventually abandoned trying to convince them, and becoming increasingly secretive as a consequence. They rarely wandered out of their dwellings and interacted with villagers even less so. Turaga Whenua, the head of the Onu-Matoran, was now seen these days spending his time in the library, poring over dozens of books and tablets, in a determined search for unknown information.


Not that Onepu cared, anyway. Turaga Whenua was clearly less than sane now and it was better that he spent his time in the library than being out and around ranting about the ancient stories to any passers-by.


Buried deep in his thoughts, the Onu-Matoran did not observe carefully where he was going, and tripped over a boulder, dropping his lightstone torch with a large crash and breaking it. Onepu could still see in the dark, but however, that was not the biggest issue at hand. The beasts that roamed these tunnels were mostly deterred by the torch, but however he no longer possessed one.



Of all ways to die, this has to go down in history as the most foolish.



The sound of footsteps echoed throughout the cavern.


Glancing back as he walked back to whence he came from, he spotted a few pairs of vicious eyes and various loud hissing noises followed. The Onu-Matoran broke into a sprint as the creatures approached him. Perhaps if he was fast enough, he could reach a lighted section of tunnel before they claimed him. The footsteps behind him increased in speed, and Onepu ran, knowing that his life was in his own hands, and no one could save him.



As the thundering sounds of steps behind him increased in intensity, he picked up speed, knowing that he had almost reached the section of illuminated tunnels leading to Onu-Metra. Looking up ahead, he saw only a mere few yards remaining, and with one last burst of pace, entered the lighted cavern, and slowly came to a stop. His breathing was ragged and shallow, having evaded the fiendish creatures by the slimmest of margins.


I’m safe now. No Rahi beasts other than Kane-Ra bulls inhabit this close to Onu-Metra, and they’re scared of light.


The sound of footsteps echoed throughout the cavern.


Onepu turned around and glanced back only to come face to face with multiple humanoid hunched reptilian beings, standing over seven feet tall, clad in various shades of armour, each holding a wicked staff with blades at each end, and a row of menacing spikes protruding from their backs. He had never seen anything like these creatures before, and they eyed him with a gaze so intense he crumbled before it.


He knew that there was no hope of running, and after the few times he escaped getting killed, it seemed death had finally caught up to him. He steeled himself for the final blow as one of the humanoids approached him, staff at the ready, prepared to strike at a moment’s notice.


It was a moment it would never get.


The walls of the tunnel shook and trembled as the cavern started to visibly collapse on itself, and watched dumbstruck as the creatures were slowly buried under the falling ceiling. Onepu would not make it back, but at least these terrible fiends would not be able to harm Onu-Metra. As boulders tumbled down and he sat there stunned by the sheer sight of it all, a strong pair of arms suddenly seized him and before he knew it he was being carried by some unknown person, and they were heading to Onu-Metra.

He looked up at his saviour to see that on his face bore a jet-black mask of unknown origin and of a design well ancient, so old that it might have been lost to time. Onepu, near fainting of shock, could muster only a few thoughts before passing out.


Who…who are you? Are you a…hero?



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Chapter 3

She was trapped, with no visible way of escaping. Breaking the walls of this prison seemed a task beyond her abilities and strength, and her weapons had been removed from her possession. She did not know who her name, let alone where she was.


Calmly collecting her thoughts she began to meditate and slowly recall the events of the past few hours, all of which had passed by like a dream. First, she had awoken to find herself drifting in the midst of a vast ocean, stretching as far as the eye could see. After finding herself in this unusual predicament, she explored the region, searching for signs of land. After an hour or two had passed, she was unable to locate land but spotted several huts floating on giant leaves. Upon closer inspection, the huts, too, were made out of these large plant structures.


Climbing on top of one, she was surprised by how sturdy the base was, and anyone could be fooled into thinking this was solid rock and stone beneath their feet. As she explored the village, taking in its wondrous and unusual sights, she could not help but feel that this was home to her. The surroundings seemed so familiar, almost as if she had visited it at one point or another.


However, before she could ponder the veracity of her thoughts, a group of villagers had emerged from a most enormous hut, located right in the centre of this curious city. They stood no more than four and a half feet tall, all clad in various shades of blue armour, and all with masks of varying shapes and sizes adorning their faces. They seemed rather friendly from afar, chattering among themselves with excitement, and sharing jokes with one another.


How wrong she was.


As soon as the crowd had spotted her, various weapons ranging from primitive spears to slightly-more advanced crossbows were drawn, and all pointed at her. With a frame standing nearly six foot tall, she contemplated fighting back against these little people, but resisted. Somehow, inside, it felt wrong to be harming these innocents, and could not bring herself to raise a weapon against them, even if in self-defence. She may not have known them in person, but as she glanced around the mass, a wave of familiarity washed over her. It seemed that she knew these people…yet she did not. There was a connection between her and them, but it was a mystery to her as to its true nature.


She let herself be captured by these villagers, without a single attempt at resisting as they took hold of her and locked her in one of these green hut structures, without muttering so much as a word as they went along.

Having recalled the incidents of the past few hours, she resumed pondering the questions which bothered her. As much as she did not like being encaged in this small hut, the questions on her mind were of far greater importance.


Why am I here? Who am I? What is it I have to-


A knock on the door shattered her concentration. A few moments later, the door swung open, revealing a short figure, hunched over, but nevertheless still slightly taller than the villagers, bearing a trident made out of the bones of a fish. She could see this person was different from the rest, and of far greater age, as the being slowly hobbled into the hut. Behind the large simple design of her cerulean mask were gentle eyes that radiated wisdom. Upon seeing her, this being broke into a smile, and plodding towards her, embraced her in a hug.


She was stunned and taken aback by the suddenness of these actions. The locals had been so hostile, yet this elder was embracing her like a long-lost friend. This turn of events was too much for her to bear, and she gently pushed away her visitor.


Too shocked to speak, she could only mouth a “Why?”


Her guest continued to wear a smile across her face, and spoke a few short words that left her momentarily left her stupefied.


“Welcome home.”


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Chapter 4

The village of Le-Metra was under attack, and Kahua was helpless to stop it. Mere moments ago the member of the Le-Matoran guard had spotted several unidentified beings approach from the eastern part of the forest, apparently attempting to attack the village in broad daylight, making no attempt to be concealed. Normally, few creatures were ever of any danger to Le-Metra, with the village being situated on a plateau that stood centre of the jungle. Any threats not deterred by the thick undergrowth were usually quickly taken care of by an ambush led by the Guard.


However, these strange creatures, all bearing a wicked staff with ends that crackled with energy, and a row of sharp spines on their back, had simply cut through trees and Matoran alike with ease, sending them fleeing from the might of these powerful serpent-like beings.


Only Turaga Matau would have had any inkling of what these strange invaders were. As insane as the elder appeared to be, he still possessed many years of wisdom and knowledge beyond that of any Le-Matoran. However the crazed chieftain had wandered off into the dense foliage unaccompanied over an hour ago, babbling something incomprehensible about the ancient legends. One of the few times in the thousands of millennia that Le-Metra required his services and he had vanished from under their masks, and it was easy to see why Kahua would be annoyed by this unusual behaviour.


Having had no time to dispatch a search team for Matau, the people of air focused their resources on repelling these fearsome brutes for as long as they could. No doubt the village defence force was prepared and well-equipped, but these beings they faced were no ordinary threats. One of them, clad in various hues of crimson and ochre had reduced several trees to ashes with the intensity of its eye-emitted lasers.


Le-Metra, in its current state, was doomed to fall before dusk.




Turaga Matau calmly walked through the forest, though with a hint of urgency. He knew that with several stars emerging in the sky last night, it could only mean one thing. The legends were possibly true, and perhaps salvation awaited them.


However, he knew that not only he and the five Turaga would have noticed such an occurrence, and sooner or later, they would come under attack. After all, once the villages were razed to the ground, what would the heroes have left to protect?


Bearing that in mind, the elder had set off from Le-Metra early in the morning undetected to search for the legendary warriors himself. Nevertheless, it had been hours and his search so far had bore no fruit. He knew he had to find the heroes- and quickly. Despite being many kilometres away from Le-Metra, he could hear the sounds of battle in the village, see the cloud of smoke that hung over the village, smothering it, and sounds of many trees crashing to the ground helplessly as the fearsome beasts attacking Le-Metra levelled the forest around them.


He did not need to see them to know what they were- the trail of destruction they left behind was more than enough for the experienced Turaga to know what kind of dangers his village was dealing with.


Rahkshi. Their name had many different meanings in the Matoran language, but none of them held any positive connotations, with the most common one being “harbinger of death”.


Time was running short as the screams from the village grew louder, and the cloud of smoke had now swelled to a giant blanket of haze that enveloped half of the forest and the plateau itself. Matau knew he needed to speed up, and he continued hacking frantically through the trees with increased energy and urgency. His people were in danger, and needed saving.


If there are any left by the time I return.


The grim thought made him even more determined the find them and despite his arms tiring, he continued to cut away at the forest at the same pace. The Turaga’s advanced age did not help with his quest, and his body struggled under the strain of navigating through the dense forest.


Both his mind and physical form drained and completely exhausted, the elder collapsed to his knees, clutching his buzzsaw staff for support.


I would have never thought that I could fail my people more than once.


Slumping against the base of a tree, the chieftain sighed, his head in his hands, near breaking down at the hopelessness of it all.

A Toa is what we need, and a Toa is what we do not have. I had one duty, and I have failed miserably. Mata Nui, why have you abandoned us so?


“Some evercheer, use, could you. Sun-bright day is time not to sad-frown!”


That treespeak accent. No one uses that anymore, it died many millennia ago…this could only mean one thing.


The tired Turaga looked up, and before his eyes, was a sight he never expected to see in his thousands of years on the island. It seemed that day Mata Nui had smiled upon him, as before him stood a figure leaning against a tree, clad in armour as bright as the leaves themselves, and possessing a sleek mask of ancient design. Beneath it, he could see a pair of eyes radiating the energy of youth and enthusiasm. In each hand was a sharp blade, with a jagged edge on one side.


This being broke into a sheepish grin.


“Gaze-long at me, very like, old one,” he quipped, before casually spinning one of his barbed blades and causing a breeze to blow through the forest, sending leaves flying.


This display of power more than confirmed Matau’s suspicions, and he had no doubt about the identity of the stranger, and he could not help but break into a small smile. Salvation had wandered long and far but had finally reached the doorstep of the Matoran.


After thousands of years, the Toa had been found.


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Chapter 5

Toa Vahrik swung through the forest on jungle vines, carrying the exhausted Turaga Matau on his back, who was hanging on for dear life. The Toa had politely offered to bring him to Le-Metra, and the out-of-breath elder had readily agreed to it. He now regretted his decision.


On the back of a crazed novice Toa, swinging through the trees like a rock monkey. Matau, you’ve made stupider choices.


The elder gritted his teeth as the Toa of Air increased his pace of swinging, who seemed to be not in the least bothered by the weight on his back. In fact, the Toa seemed to even enjoy it, savouring every moment his face met the cool breeze of Le-Kohi. He was not in the least worried about the threats that his village faced, wearing a big grin across his mask as he leaped from vine to vine with enthusiasm.


Mata Nui, what have I done to deserve this fate? thought the village leader.


Only ten minutes had passed since they first met, and in those ten minutes, Matau told the hero all he needed to know, from his name, his Toa duties and of Le-Metra being ravaged by monstrosities. The Toa took it all in his stride and carried on as jovial as he they first met, seemingly unbothered by the pressures that faced him and surprisingly, did not question how the elder knew his name.

Matau was glad he did not ask, not fancying Vahrik finding out about what the aged man concealed. Past experiences had taught him many a valuable lesson about the need for secrecy until the time is right.


Vahrik remained oblivious to the thoughts of his Turaga, choosing to stay silent and observe the wonderful sights and sounds of the forest as the pair continued their journey. If he did not have a duty to fulfil, there would be nothing stopping him from spending a day among the unusual fauna or the wild Gukko birds that soared above.


After swinging through the trees for what seemed like an eternity, the warrior of wind, growing impatient, let go of the vine, some fifty feet in the air, and dropped to the ground, unsheathing his twin jagged swords as he landed.


Turaga Matau, stunned at this turn of events, momentarily loosened his grip and dropped to the ground like a stone. The elder was quick to berate him for pulling such a ridiculous stunt and wasting precious time. Vahrik, ignoring the cross chieftain’s complaints and focusing on his control over the element of air, began swinging his blades in a circle, drawing upon the energies that radiated within. Slowly, the wind answered his call, whipping up the ground into a frenzy as leaves and twigs blew into the horizon and miniature dust-storms were born.


The elder, realising what the Toa was doing, could not help but break into a smile witnessing Vahrik’s idea take fruition, and hopped onto his back. The warrior of wind may have been a novice but he from the way he handled his powers, he could easily be mistaken for an experienced veteran.


With one final burst of elemental energy, a large gust lifted up both Toa and Turaga, sweeping both off their feet, and carried them towards Le-Metra.


A large cloud of smoke remained over the village, smothering and choking the city.


Vahrik’s face contorted into a frown. It was hard to see in these conditions, with visibility being no more than a few feet, and if he wasn’t careful, the pair might end up right on top of some unfortunate Matoran and crush them. Drawing upon his energies, he focused them, concentrating them into a sphere of air. After gathering his strength for a few seconds, he unleashed a gust of wind onto the village of Le-Metra.


It was more than a gentle breeze, yet insufficient to cause lasting damage, and most importantly, it revealed the locations of the very Rahkshi, serpent-like Kraata controlling a lifeless suit of armour, bearing wicked staffs that crackled with energy at each end and with a row of razor-sharp spines that lined its back.


Seeing the damage caused to the village by just a few of these fearsome creatures, the fearsome warrior gritted his teeth, his expression grim. These Rahkshi- they would pay for what they had done to Le-Metra, the village he swore to protect, once beautiful, but now half-destroyed with homes of the Matoran ruined and billowing smoke. His jovial mood had long since faded and his face now bore the appearance of a battle-hardened warrior.


These beasts, servants of shadows, harbingers of death, the walking omens- they would not be allowed to taint his beloved village for any longer than necessary. Striking with speed and grace, Toa Vahrik sunk one of his barbed weapons right into the back of one of these fearsome creatures, piercing through the armour and sinking right into the Kraata underneath. The entity screeched in pain, as Vahrik slowly twisted his blade, ripping apart the creature’s insides, killing it.


The now soulless armour shell crashed to the ground in a heap, unable to continue menacing the Matoran. One Rahkshi had been disabled with ease by the rampaging Toa, would the other two be able to halt his devastating power?


The answer was a resounding no.


Despite the fallen being’s comrades noticing one of their number was gone and having their attention fully drawn on the Toa, they stood little chance against his mastery over the elements. In one swift movement, Vahrik created a vacuum around the Rahkshi, suffocating the Kraata inside. Unfortunately, due to relative inexperience, he was unable to sustain it for long, but it left his opponents sufficiently weakened and unable to retaliate. Unwilling to allow Le-Metra come to any more harm, he decided the only choice he had was to end these ferocious death-bringers.


Calling upon his powers once more, the Toa readied himself for a decisive strike. The Rahkshi, now on their knees, were too weakened to use their powers to combat him, and were there for the taking. Tossing his twin swords right in the air, he directed every ounce of his summoned energies at them, creating a powerful burst of wind that send them hurtling towards the beasts at blinding speed.


The weapons struck the brutes with lethal force, cracking their armour right open, sending metal splinters cluttering the air, and cleaving the Kraata inside cleanly into pieces.


The Toa, exhausted from the outpouring of effort, collapsed to the ground, unmoving. Heavily drained from the fight, it would take him time to recover, but that was of little consequence.


Only one thing mattered.


The Matoran had a saviour once more.



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Chapter 6

Kotraka, Toa of Ice, stood on a ledge overlooking the village of Ko-Metra, his white armour blending in with the surroundings. There he was, outcast by the very Matoran he sought to protect. This was a fate the warrior did not deserve. Found mere hours ago in an icy cavern by several of the villagers, led by Turaga Nuju, they did not believe the elder’s claims that he was one of the legendary heroes.


Subsequently, he was paraded through the village, dragged past the shrine of Omorta, a deceased Matoran, and finally brought before the council of Ko-Metra, which had long since deposed of Nuju as leader, having decided that it was not in their best interests to retain him. All four members had unanimously ruled that the inexperienced Toa be given a chance to prove his status, and sent him out into the frigid conditions to deal with the raging tempest of Ko-Kohi.


His task was simple- rid Ko-Metra of these weather conditions, and they would recognise his legitimacy. However, this was no mere natural phenomena that he was dealing with. This violent snowstorm had been ongoing for centuries, never ceasing in intensity, filling Ko-Matoran lives with an eternity of chilling cold.


Kotraka was no stranger to using his power over ice, however he remained a novice. Raw and untested, he faced the council’s challenge but failed by a huge margin, with the strong winds and endless sleet showing no signs of abating. To the Matoran, he was as good as useless.


Mercilessly, the Frost Guardians, protectors of the village, had seized him and thrown him out, bolting the gates shut, denying him of any chance to protest his case. The usually cold Toa of Ice, nonetheless, had refused to blame the people, viewing them as merely “misguided”. He had to find a way back into Ko-Metra somehow, but it would not be through the tough Matoran standing guard. After undergoing millennia of hardships, filled with countless pains and struggles for survival, they were likely to be unrelenting.


He gazed all around the land, covered in a blanket of frost, with not a single sign of life present beyond the barrier. It was snow as far as the eye could see, an endless sea of dreary white. Closing his eyes, and shutting his ears out to the sounds of the howling wind that haunted Ko-Kohi, he began to compose his thoughts. His powers were insufficient for him to resolve this predicament, and the best option was to use his mind.


The storm…it never ceases, it has no end. My abilities of the cold…useless, unable to control the storm, but why?


He considered every possibility in his mind, reviewing them and eliminating them one by one.


The natural elements answer my call- but this weather remained unaffected. Even one as inexperienced as I should be able to reduce the strength of this frosty barrage.


A realisation struck him, and his expression turned grim, brows furrowing.


What if this storm is not natural, but artificial, a creation?


All other options had been considered impossible by this point, but where would he begin? He was out in the piercing frosty wind, with no one to assist him.


Abandoned, left only with my weapons, wits, and mask, what can I do?


Pondering the hopelessness of it all, an idea presented itself to him in the vaguest of forms, almost as if they were words whispered to him by Mata Nui himself.


The mask…use it.


Upon meeting him, Turaga Nuju had told the Toa the full extent of his abilities, including that the Kanohi mask bore powers of its own, though the elder was rather vague, merely describing it as “everything you do not wish to see nor know”. This came with a stern warning that using the Kanohi would be both physically and psychologically draining. Nevertheless, the hero was devoid of choice.


Summoning forth his willpower, he activated the energies of the mask, and the icy wasteland before him faded away, replaced by a dark cavern illuminated only by the glow of a few weak lightstones.


Where am I? Have I been teleported?


Reaching out to touch the rocky walls of the underground, his hand passed straight through. It was an illusion, and he realised what it was-


A vision.


In the blackness of the subterranean, Kotraka could vaguely make out the form of two figures, deep in conversation. Both stood tall, and were beings that would dwarf any Toa, one clad in armour shades of the darkest of nights, the other in a suit coloured the hue of rusted copper. Both had the same insignia carved on their right shoulder, of a black Kanohi mask, though one the Toa did not recognise.


The plan, it has been set in motion? Whispered the bronze entity.


All shall go as planned. The Matoran- they will suffer. Pain shall be dealt until it can be withstood no more. The hopes of the people must be crushed. We cannot risk anyone learning of the past, the legends gone before, of the Great World.


But the Turaga- they possess the knowledge, the very knowledge toxic to our existence.


Those bumbling foolish elders? They continue to repeat the same mistakes throughout history. For all their wisdom, they have not learnt that their desire for secrecy will be their ultimate undoing.


I shall take your word for it, however, do not underestimate the Matoran, they are strong. The Ko-Matoran have resisted our swarms of corrupted Rahi beasts and are yet to show any signs of crumbling.


Perhaps they deserve some…special treatment and grant them the slow, torturous death they deserve. The chill of Ko-Kohi has served them well, protecting them from the worst of creatures we can dispatch. But what if these very elements were to be turned on them, unyielding, unrelenting, unceasing?


I take it that you possess a plan, and that you require me to carry it out.


You have learnt well, Kraavu. Years of being my subordinate have taught you the role you serve.


The being named Kraavu was presented with a gemstone that glowed a sickly olive, and cloaked in a small cloud of toxic green.


It must be concealed, but in what location? We must not let it be found. The villagers, in their hunt for supplies, might stumble upon it by accident and destroy it.


Where better than beneath their very masks? There is a place no Matoran dare enter, a place that is sacred to them.


What exactly is this place?


The Toa of Ice steadied himself in anticipation. He himself genuinely did not have a clue as to where this mysterious object was hidden. Once found, he would finally find acceptance from the people.


A shrine.


Kotraka realised only one such place existed in all of Ko-Metra. He had seen it earlier, passing by it, albeit only momentarily.


Shrine of the fallen Toa.


Those were words the warrior never expected to hear.


As abruptly as it began, his vision ended, and he was back standing on the cold cliffs of Ko-Kohi. He had no idea how long it had been since his vision started, all that he knew was it left him with more questions than answers.


The shrine of Omorta… why did they refer to it as shrine of the fallen Toa? This was a vision from the past, and no Toa existed before us.


Deep in thought, eyes becoming slits, mouth upturned, one could see that the icy hero’s expression was bleak.


What is it the Turaga know, and why have they sworn to secrecy?


Many more burning questions remained in his mind, but he pushed those concerns aside. There would be sufficient time to question Nuju after he ended the storm.


As the Toa clambered down the side of the cliff, braving the stinging winds, he contemplated the elder’s words to him about his Kanohi- indeed, the powers of the mask were strong, and to an extent, true. It had altered his perceptions, and had left a lasting mark. Kotraka now knew of the most important of life lessons.


Trust no one.




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  • 2 weeks later...

Chapter 7

Akata, Toa of Stone, wandered the sandy wastelands of Po-Kohi, kicking at a stray rock as he went. It had not been long since he had awoken, and promptly kicked out of Po-Metra. Alone, he had tried bargaining with the Matoran guards, but they refused to let him enter. Out of options, he had simply barged into the village with pure force, only to get seized by a dozen guards and thrown out.


A villager, unlike the rest, possessing a hunched figure and wielding a large hammer, had approached him after, and revealed himself to be Turaga Onewa, the former leader of Po-Metra. He briefly spoke to Akata, telling him of his name, the powers he possessed, and the duty he had to Mata Nui, before retreating to the safety of the village on the cliffs.


Your duty is to the Matoran. Their safety is of utmost importance.


These words continued to dwell on the stone warrior’s mind, as he pondered their meaning. Essentially, his task was to protect the villagers, however, why should he bother with such a group of ungrateful beings? After all, they had left him abandoned in the middle of these vast plains, with some having casted a sneer as they carried him off. With his newly discovered powers over rock, he could have easily crushed the puny village for daring to pull off such an act.


Glancing around his surroundings, and noticing not a single soul walked these lands, Akata raised a pillar of stone, and with all his might, struck at it with a powerful kick. The rock shattered into hundreds of pieces, and to the Toa, it was a strangely satisfying feeling to destroy these temporary structures. He raised another such form, and it too, was destroyed by his devastating strength, as he took out his frustration on these columns.


It was not out of the question for him to continue this activity all day, however, his interest was piqued by an unusual sight. In the distance, he could just make out the forms of a few figures clad in various hues of armour fly towards Po-Metra. There were seven in all, and each possessed a wicked staff and appeared to have a row of sharp spines jutting out from its back.


Looks like the Po-Matoran have visitors, but what do they want?


Akata’s question was answered mere moments later as one of these creatures raised its staff and shattered the town gates.


Such polite house guests are a rarity. Whatever these things want, they really want it bad.


The Toa sat on the cracked ground, legs crossed, and watched as the band of serpent-like humanoids marched into Po-Metra. All was silent for a few moments, as the group of entities all went their separate directions, each exploring a different section of the village. Shortly after, they gathered at the gates once more, but this time with Turaga Onewa in tow.


The village elder did not look to be pleased about this in the slightest, and was seemingly held against his will. One of the creatures, clad in hues of bronze, much like Toa himself, threw the chieftain to the ground, and pointed one of the ends of its wicked staff at the aged Turaga.

Akata rose to his feet, and unlimbered his weapons. He may not have felt particularly obliged to protect the Matoran, but Onewa had at least provided answers to his questions, and he needed to repay the elder for that. He had to move fast. The fearsome entity appeared to be at the limit of its patience, and the ends of its staff now crackled with energy.


Gripping his weapons tightly, Akata began to channel his energies through them. His dual grappling claws now glowed with energy, and in one swift moment, he unleashed a wave of stone at the Turaga’s captor.


The creature, taken by surprise, was promptly knocked off its feet, and the energies of its staff collided with two of its comrades, shattering both into piles of armour. The other four beings turned to face his direction. Their staffs, now too surged with power, and all of them simultaneously pointed their weapons at him.


Every passing moment, today becomes more enjoyable.


They unleashed their energies, but the Toa had anticipated their attack and raised a wall of stone to protect himself. However, even the rocks themselves could not stand up to the combined force of this many attacks, and shattered with a loud explosion, throwing Akata off balance. The four humanoids, along with the one that menaced Turaga Onewa earlier, flew towards him as the stone warrior recovered from the blast. It was indeed very clear what they were seeking- him.


The Toa frowned. Not once did he recall ever facing five enemies of this power level at once, yet the thought left him unperturbed. Using his control over rock, Akata formed a large boulder, and dropped it to the ground, at his feet. He slowly drew back his right foot, and with all his might, kicked at the rock. His aim was true- this projectile struck one of these fiends dead on, and shattered its armour with a sickening crack, and it crashed to the ground mid-flight, unmoving. Its comrades continued on, almost as if oblivious to the fact one of their own had fallen.

These foes could not attack while they were flying, and thus, he possessed the advantage so long as they remained airborne. Calling upon his power once more, he raised two pillars right in the midst of their paths. Two of the beings swerved, narrowly dodging the columns. The other pair, however, were not as lucky, and both crashed right into the obstacles, and dropped to the ground.


Akata grinned. As a Toa of Stone, he could not only raise rocks, but bring them down, and that was exactly what he did, sending both pillars toppling right onto his fallen opponents. Both foes were soundly crushed by the weight of these columns, and neither stirred. The Toa could not help but chuckle. These creatures may have had strength in numbers, but they possessed neither brains nor Toa powers to go with it.

In his brief moment of victory, Akata did not notice that his two remaining adversaries had landed, and now both had their staffs at the ready, slowly circling him. Cracking his knuckles, the Toa readied himself for a proper fight. Earlier was nothing but practice. The fiendish pair stopped in their tracks momentarily, and at once, launched bolts of energy from their weapons.


The stone warrior was nothing if not prepared, as he dived at the last possible second, avoiding the attacks. He threw up a rock wall in the place where he was a mere moment ago, and the assaults struck it, obliterating it to form a cloud of dust and sand.


His opponents were now temporarily blinded, and he now possessed the advantage. The two perplexed creatures stumbled around, trying to find their target. With the creatures temporarily incapacitated, the Toa did what he does best- make rocks. Using his powers, he encased the remaining entities in solid stone, trapping the pair for as long as the natural elements would allow.


Akata, panting with exhaustion, being tired by the outpouring of his energies, slumped to the ground. This was the first of many battles to come- and he had won it. However, with barely a moment to catch a breather, Turaga Onewa approached him and began speaking.


“You have done well, Toa, but however, these Rahkshi are mere fodder compared to the greater evils that plague this world.”


There was no disguising the serious tone in the elder’s voice, and Akata raised an eyebrow in disbelief.


“If these things were ‘mere fodder’, the Matoran would be able to deal with them,” the bronze hero spat.


“You are young, and thus you lack wisdom. The Rahkshi are not opponents of the Matoran- they are here to hunt beings such as yourself.”


There was no mincing of Onewa’s words, and this revelation stunned Akata.


“Hunt me? What do they even want, I don’t even know them!”


The Toa was clearly annoyed.


“It’s not as if I’m out to destroy them or-“ His mutterings were soundly cut off by the wise chieftain.


“That, Toa, is very well your duty. The Rahkshi have been sent by the darkness incarnate himself, and your very mission is to defeat this evil.”


The warrior of stone continued to stare at the Turaga in shock, hoping to see even the smallest sign he was lying. Unfortunately, there were

none, and Onewa’s expression remained steadfast and unchanged.


“You said all I had to do was ensure the safety of the Matoran, not go around defeating dark entities!” Akata’s mouth was wide open, almost as if unable to comprehend the elder’s statement.


“Ah, but do you not see defeating this evil and saving the Matoran go hand-in-hand? Darkness has plagued our land for centuries, and only destroying it will truly guarantee their safety.”


The Toa opened his mouth and was about to protest, however, he could not deny the veracity of Turaga Onewa’s words. What he said made absolute sense.


“Fine. I will stop this evil.” Akata grudgingly said. “Now tell me where it is and I will crush it with my rock powers.”


Onewa chuckled.


“Did you think it was all that easy? The ways of darkness are not straightforward, and are a force not to be underestimated, and your quest is a long one.”


Onewa paused for breath, before continuing.


“First, you have to find the six keystones, and bring them to Mata Nui’s temple, and from there, you can continue with your quest.”


“Where do I find them?” came the quick response, and it was clear the Toa of Stone was eager to complete his task as soon as possible.


“There is one located in each Kohi, but the way to each remains treacherous, and I suggest you do not go about it alone. Find the other Toa, and only together will your duty be accomplished.”


Akata sunk into the ground with a loud groan, and muttered words incomprehensible to the Turaga, though Onewa was sure he was cursing about his situation. The aged one began slowly plodding back to the gates of Po-Metra.


He had nary walked a few steps before he spun around and spoke to the Toa.


“By the way, after your ‘impressive’ display of power, the Po-Matoran refuse to even spare you a chance to enter Po-Metra. They think that you are too dangerous a threat, and cannot trust you.”


Akata, overcome with frustration, could only look on, speechless, and the Turaga turned around, resuming his journey back to the village. Onewa could not help but feel pity for the brave warrior, and a thought passed through his mind as he continued his stroll home.


It seems that being a Toa becomes a harder task every generation.



Edited by Yagami Kumi

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  • 1 month later...

Chapter 8

Akata cursed as he trudged through the feet deep snow of Ko-Kohi, taking special care not to get buried in this frosty wasteland. As per usual, there remained a massive snowstorm. He did not know why the Toa of this region had not gotten rid of this raging tempest, he found it highly irresponsible to let it continue.


The Toa of Stone now regretted ever following the Turaga’s advice to find the other Toa first, it had led him into the vast cloud of frost that blanketed the region. He was still tired and a little worn out from the fight hours ago, it had drained him of his strength. The warrior had rested since then, but remained somewhat exhausted.


He continued reluctantly trudging forward, desperate to continue with his quest. Momentarily losing his footing, Akata tripped and landed face-first into deep snow with an audible groan. Before he could get up, he heard someone speaking.


“Who are you? You have no business in this land,” came the voice, harsh in tone.


The stone warrior slowly got up onto his knees and looked up to see a being stand right before him. This entity was similar in figure to himself, and was clad in similar armour, though in shades of white and sparkling chrome instead. The mask he bore was different too, with one eyehole being replaced by a mechanical scope of some sort protruding from it.


Slowly getting up to his feet, the warrior introduced himself.


Offering an outstretched palm to the stranger, the Toa spoke, “They call me Akata, Toa of Stone.”


“Kotraka, Toa of Ice. That is what they say I should be, anyway,” he responded, bitterly.


Akata was taken aback by the ice Toa’s cold demeanour, and withdrew his palm, before speaking again.


“I am sure we’ve all had a rough time the past few hours or days,” he shrugged. “However, I need your help.”


“Your desires are of no concern to me. Turn back now, Akata, for this is no place for one such as you.”


The icy warrior turned to leave, only to be stopped by the stone Toa, who had Kotraka’s left arm in an iron grip.


Kotraka’s eyes narrowed into slits.


“Let go.”


“Look, I didn’t come all the way here from Po-Metra, tired from defeating Rahkshi threatening the Matoran, getting denied access into the village, only to be rejected by the likes of you.”


There was absolutely no disguising the annoyance in his voice, and perhaps the subtlest hint of anger. Kotraka, however, would be unrelenting.


“I have other matters to settle. I too, have been outcast by my village, and it is my utmost priority to gain their trust, for they need me more than they can comprehend.”


Akata broke into a sheepish grin, and slackened his grip on the Toa’s arm.


“Perhaps we have reached a misunderstanding- my task, too, is to protect them, and only by destroying the darkness on this island can that be truly achieved.”


Kotraka’s eyes widened. What the bronze armoured hero said made absolute sense. They could protect the Matoran for millennia if they guarded the villages. However, if they were to end the slowly spreading evil, the Matoran would be safe for all eternity.


“I cannot deny what you said may be true. I will follow you and assist in completing this task, once Ko-Metra is free from this endless storm,” he coolly replied.


Akata was puzzled. “Wait, are you not a Toa of Ice? Can you not control the weather of Ko-Metra?”


“My powers have no limits on the natural occurrences of this land, however, this storm is artificial, a creation.”


An audible gasp was heard from the Toa.


“How did you find out about this?”


“My Kanohi mask has the power to see visions containing knowledge I seek, and I now know how to put an end to this living nightmare.”


And sometimes even more information than I need, he smiled grimly.


Akata was oblivious to Kotraka’s expressions, as he cheerfully exclaimed, “Well then, brother, lead the way. Tonight, we save Ko-Metra, tomorrow, all of Metra Nui!”


Kotraka would have preferred another choice of travelling companion, but he was in no position to choose, and the two set off for the village.


It was a long arduous trek to their destination, with the harsh winds and poor visibility only contributing to make their tough journey all the more punishing. Many a time, Akata had tripped and fell on the slippery ice, and the cold was beginning to take its toll on the brave Toa.


Arriving at the gates of Ko-Metra, Kotraka banged on it with his left fist, calling for attention. Alone, they would ignore him, but perhaps with another Toa in tow, they would be granted access.


On the other side of the gate, a group of Ko-Matoran villagers, the Frost Guardians, appeared, sharp spears in one hand and a sturdy shield in the other. What appeared to be the leader, who Kotraka recognised to be Apaku, spoke to the duo.


“You are, and always won’t be welcome in Ko-Metra. Even with a friend accompanying you, we will not let you weird types in,” he sneered.


“I never knew Ko-Matoran to be this despicable,” Akata shot back, unamused. “Now, will you let us in or do we have to do it ourselves?”


The group of Ko-Matoran guards merely stood there, unmoving, only to break out into a chorus of laughter. Once more, Apaku spoke.


“Do you think we will let you enter, and what makes you think you can break in, you poor impostors?” he spat.


“It’s simple; we’re Toa.”


Akata activated his Kanohi Mask. Onewa had informed him the one he bore would greatly increase his already significant natural strength, and with a powerful kick, the stone Toa shattered the gates of Ko-Metra. The group of gathered villagers could only look on, jaws wide open in shock at this awesome display of power.


The head guard could only stare at his awestruck comrades, before quickly issuing a command. “Stop stargazing, and take them down!”


The Frost Guardians rushed towards them, weapons held aloft, only for them all to be halted in their paths by a wall of solid stone a metre high. The Matoran slowly began trying to climb over it, only to be flash-frozen from neck down by Kotraka.


“Sorry, but this is the duty of a Toa,” the icy warrior said to the now furious Apaku, as he turned to leave in the direction of the shrine, with Akata following suit.


As the pair approached, they encountered many more Frost Guardians, but Toa Kotraka’s powers had made their journey relatively easy, having encased every guard in ice along the way. The Matoran villagers were proving to be little hindrance to their progress.

The two heroes burst into the place, and they witnessed several Matoran paying respects to the statue of a deceased Matoran, Omorta, which also possessed a Kanohi Mask on its face. Also present, to Kotraka’s surprise, was Turaga Nuju.


“You are very welcome back, Toa, but please do not disrupt the Matoran honouring their fallen comrade, Omorta. He was very dear to us all, having died reigniting the light of this world.”


“I apologise, wise one, but there is something we need to do,” the icy warrior, responded, before slowly ransacking the place.


Akata could only look on, wide-eyed, as the chrome warrior threw aside piles of books and tablets, emptying their shelves. “What exactly are you doing?”


“Looking for a green precious stone, now help me!” there was no disguising the urgency in his voice.


Akata began rummaging around the shelves as well, to the horror of the half dozen or so Matoran gathered there.


“Stop! What do you think you’re doing here!” a Ko-Matoran protested, grabbing onto the stone being’s left forearm.


The Toa shook him off, and continued his search, as an ever-growing pile of scriptures littered the floor. A few short moments later, the shelf had been completely emptied, and there was nothing to be found. He turned to his partner, only to see he too was empty-handed.


“We can’t find it,” Kotraka said through gritted teeth. “But yet, it must be here somehow!”


Akata was at a loss for words. He had not experienced the vision, and thus, did not know what to expect. The icy warrior began pacing back and forth across the length of the room, deep in thought. He was searching through every detail of his vision, but yet it contained no explicit location of this item.


A place ‘beneath their very masks’, but where?


With a start, Kotraka suddenly came to a newfound realisation. The statement could be taken metaphorically, but what if it were to be taken literally?


Glancing at the statue, he quickly walked up to it and grabbed its Kanohi Mask with both hands. As the mask came away, beneath it, revealed a glow of sickly green familiar to the icy warrior. Embedded in the forehead of the statue was the glowing olive stone, which pulsed every other second. Evil energy radiated from it, and it sent a chill down the Toa’s spine. Turaga Nuju was taken aback by this discovery, and could only wave his staff in annoyance, spewing words in anger.


“How did this end up in Ko-Metra? I demand to know!” the angered Turaga shouted, to no one in particular.


Akata shrugged, while Kotraka handed the statue’s mask to him. Using his weapon, he slowly tried to prise the gem from the rock. He chipped away until the gem was loose, and with his other hand, removed it from the likeness of Omorta. However, displacing it simply was not enough, the raging tempest continued to plague Ko-Kohi, and it needed to be destroyed.


Placing the item on the floor, he brought down the sharp end of his sword onto the stone, shattering it. As the gem split into several fragments, a loud scream emanated from its components, deafening all in the room, and the Toa dropped to their knees. The ear-shattering noise was replaced by absolute darkness, as the room before them faded away.


A pair of disembodied eyes that glowed blood-red appeared before them, and before the gathered Toa, Matoran, and Turaga, it spoke. Its voice was as haunting as the eyes before them, and the Ko-Matoran shivered in fear.


I see you have discovered one of my plans, and in doing so, you have revealed yourselves to me.


Akata and Kotraka could only look on at the sight before them, but neither were fazed- both were certain it was just a mere vision, and could not harm them.


Since you have such courtesy to introduce yourselves, I shall oblige as well. I am Mutunga, and I am happy to assist you….in carving your tombstones.


“Well, what a nice guy.” Akata muttered, arms folded.


I invite you Toa to leave this island, or you can stay. Stay, and I can add to my collection of preserved bodies.


Akata was about to make another sarcastic comment only for the blackness to fade away, replaced by the surroundings of the shrine, and a group of puzzled Matoran now stood before them, all overcome with shock. One pointed his finger accusingly at Kotraka, and in a mixture of anger and fear, spoke.


“You brought this on us!” he whimpered, leaning on a companion for support.


Akata took a step towards the villagers. “Why you ungrateful-“


He was promptly cut off by the Toa of Ice, who brushed off the claim, only calmly remarking that the weather in Ko-Kohi was good now. Nuju looked at the pair, and gestured for them both to follow him.


“What is it that you need us for, Turaga?” the stone Toa inquired.


“I cannot say now, as among us, the ears of the shadows are ever-present.” Nuju responded, his calm demeanour long gone.


Kotraka asked, “What do you mean?”


“There is only one way for that abomination of a stone to enter Ko-Metra, Toa.” His voice had an undertone of worry, and the two Toa were left unnerved.


“We have been betrayed.”



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