Embers - A Bionicle Saga

[Nato G]

Prologue – Dying Of The Light

From the notes of Chronicler Crisda.

Deep down, everyone’s afraid of the dark. It’s a powerful, primal thing, an instinct born long before any of us were created. In the dark, anything could be waiting. A ravenous rahi, a roving Rahkshi, Karzahni or Irnakk or Tren Krom or any one of the other nightmares of legend. 

But now we know there’s nothing waiting for us in the dark.

Nothing at all.

And somehow, that makes it even more frightening.

Two years have passed since everything changed. Two years since the Turaga of Metru Nui sent the universe’s greatest Toa heroes to Karda Nui to reawaken the Great Spirit, a mission from which they never returned. Two years since the day that the stars formed the shape of the Kanohi Kraahkan and Makuta Teridax proclaimed his dominion over creation. Two years since war and strife wracked our universe. Two years since the terrible earthquake, and the even more terrifying stillness that followed it. Two years since the lightstones started to die.

It started small, at first. Old stones fizzling out, as they sometimes did. But then newer stones started to die as well. Even the fresh ones dug out of the mines seemed dimmer. And then, within only a few weeks, there were no functioning lightstones left to be found. We could still hook them up to the city’s generators and charge them that way, but whatever had once empowered them naturally no longer worked.

Soon, the same thing started to happen to our heatstones.

And it wasn’t just Metru Nui. Boats began to arrive, ferrying Matoran, Turaga, and Toa from shores far afield, where the dark and cold had rendered entire lands unliveable. I myself was among them. Only the heat of the Great Furnace and the lifegiving light of Twin Suns still shining high overhead had kept Metru Nui from meeting the same fate. The city welcomed the refugees with open arms, of course. More Matoran meant more workers to help keep the city functioning enough for us all to continue surviving. More Turaga meant more wisdom to aid in navigating our new situation. More Toa meant more protectors.

However, we soon learned of one land that our fellow Matoran had been unable to leave. Though those who sailed past or docked to resupply said its streets remained busy and its foundries still spewed smoke, Xia hadn’t sent a single ship our way. A team of Toa were sent to meet with the Toa of Xia and arrange the relocation of their Matoran, but of the six who departed, only three returned. The tidings they brought were grim: the Vortixx of Xia had slain their city’s Toa team and taken the Matoran as slaves, forcing them to work the power plants to keep their city alive. And when they’d learned of new Toa in their midst, the Vortixx had promptly tried to kill them as well.

Debate raged for days, but the decision was never in doubt.

The last fifty Toa in existence departed for Xia, intent on liberating the trapped Matoran.

Weeks passed, and a lone boat limped back to Metru Nui, bearing four injured Toa and a few dozen rescued Matoran. Their report on the situation in Xia was a dire one. Embroiled in a battle to liberate the Matoran, the Toa had found themselves caught in an unexpected crossfire. From the South had come the Dark Hunters, intent on taking the city’s technology and power for themselves. And from the East had come the Skakdi hordes, seemingly motivated by nothing more than a defiant desire to end their lives fighting in the universe’s last great war, instead of dying quietly in the dark.

We waited for our Toa to return. We prayed to our absent Great Spirit. Some even offered prayers to Makuta Teridax. Neither god answered us. A few brave Matoran even boarded a boat and set sail for Xia. They didn’t return either.

And still, the rest of us waited.

And waited.

More than a year passed before the Toa finally came home, but the world they found was not the one they had left behind. And the world they made was not one any of us expected.

[Nato G]

Chapter 1 – Homecoming

From the notes of Chronicler Crisda.

Turaga Rost once told me that he regrets allowing the Toa to leave for Xia.

Sure, none of us could have known what would arrive in their absence, but he still argued that leaving the city protected only by the few Vahki we could afford to keep powered up was a mistake. The Matoran of Xia, he said, would have been an acceptable sacrifice to ensure the safety of the remaining Matoran.

I remember at the time dismissing his words as the grim grumblings of an old man who’d lost his hope. The other Turaga had dismissed him in much the same way when he’d raised his concerns to them.

But today, the Toa returned. And after learning how much they sacrificed… I too can’t help but wonder if the meagre number of Matoran they saved was worth the price we all paid.

* * *

Icthilos

Shrouded in mist and murk, a fleet of battered, blackened boats limped through the languid waters of the Sea Gate tunnel, on approach to the Great Barrier. The lightstones that had once illuminated the passage were long dead, with only a few ailing lanterns hanging on each boat offering enough illumination to keep them from running into the walls, or each other.

A year earlier, that fleet had left with fifty Toa and high hopes. It returned now with less than thirty Toa, a dozen Turaga, more than a hundred rescued Matoran, and hopes of a different kind. Hopes for a brighter future in a safe city, free from further fighting.

Hopes that would soon be dashed.

Leaning by the bow of the lead boat, silver-white armour glimmering in the dim light of his lightstone lamp, was a tired Toa of Ice. Icthilos was his name, though his actions before and during the war in Xia had earned him a fair few other nicknames and titles, from enemies and allies alike. Some were friendly, even affectionate. Others… decidedly not.

Save for the few crew members quietly going about their duties and the lookout on the mast above, Icthilos was the only passenger on deck. Most of the others were down below, enjoying the first truly safe rest they’d had in months.

Like many Ko-Matoran, Icthilos had lived a relatively solitary life as a Matoran, and that trait had never entirely gone away even after he’d transformed into a Toa and become leader of his own team. And now for the first time since leaving for Xia a year ago, he could step away and sit in silence, letting his thoughts drift to tomorrow. Once, he’d looked to the stars for guidance on what the future might bring, but there were no stars left now. They’d gone dark, like everything else.

Now, all he had was uncertainty, and hope. Metru Nui wasn’t his homeland. He and his team – the Toa Gelida – had come from windswept mountains and sheer cliffs of the Northern Continent’s southern coastline, being among the many who’d migrated to Metru Nui after the darkness had come. He hadn’t stayed long enough for the island to truly feel like home. It was a strange city, full of silvery steel and sprawling structures, metal and machinery overtaking nature. It was far too similar to Xia for his liking. But the outer reaches of Ko-Metru, where industrialisation had yet to mar the landscape, that wasn’t too different to the mountain village he’d left behind. Perhaps-

“Gateway ahead!” Came a shout from above, followed by the frantic ringing of a bell, the sound greatly amplified by the abilities of the De-Toa on lookout. The bells and shouts were soon taken up by the other boats in the fleet, who all slowed their approach to avoid colliding with the first vessel as it came to a halt before the Sea Gate. Splashes echoed through the darkened tunnel as anchors were cast, mooring the fleet in place.

“Watch the rocks!” Another Toa called, their Kanohi Ruru cutting through the dark like a spotlight, “The water level’s a lot lower than when we last came through here.”

The last ship they’d sent from Xia, almost a year past, had been ordered to ensure all of the Sea Gates and underwater chutes leading to Metru Nui were closed and sealed, preventing any hostile forces from entering the dome or reaching the city. Fortunately, the fleet still had the means to unseal the gates from the outside, possessing a pair of Fa-Toa and Masks Of X-Ray Vision to help guide them in their work.  Already those Toa were working their way up from belowdecks, along with a number of Ga-Toa to assist with navigating through the gate, so Icthilos took up his lantern and moved away from the railing to give them room to work.

Like the others in the expedition, Icthilos had gotten used to operating in near-total darkness. While some areas in Xia had still had generator-powered lightstone lamps or good-old fashioned flaming torches, light swiftly proved itself to be a hindrance rather than help in battle, marking one out as an easy target for the enemy. So the Toa had learned to coordinate by sound and sensation rather than sight, moving in certain ways or speaking in hushed whispers to announce their presence and position to one another. And though the war was behind them, and many, like Icthilos, now felt comfortable carrying lights, those practices still held sway. The Toa murmured as they moved, speaking softly more out of habit than necessity.

A few acknowledged Icthilos as he passed them by, but most were focused on their tasks, too driven by the thought of finally seeing Metru Nui again to care about much else. One, however, passing close enough for his Kiril-clad face to be illuminated by the lamp, stopped to smile at him.

“There you are!” Ilton grinned. “I figured you’d be up here somewhere.”

Ilton was a Fe-Toa, one of only two that Icthilos knew to still exist. While many Toa in the war had changed their armour colours to better conceal themselves, or confuse the enemy, Ilton wore his heritage proudly, clad in metallic grey and burnished yellow-orange. He’d been a Mask Maker prior to becoming a Toa, and his expertise in identifying and creating Kanohi had been instrumental in the campaign on Xia. Like Icthilos, he was the leader of his Toa team – the Toa Vehi – who hailed from the Tren Krom Peninsula, the southern-most edge of the Northern Continent.  

Unlike Icthilos, he still had most of his team. Indeed, Ilton’s team held the distinction of being the only one to emerge from the Xia conflict with more than half of its members still alive. It was a grim statistic, and not one Ilton had ever felt the need to boast about. 

Not that Ilton was an especially boastful person to begin with. Their two teams had essentially been neighbours, crossing paths many times over the years on missions, sometimes loaning team members to each other for missions that needed a particular element. There’d been plenty of interaction during their downtime as well, with tours of each other’s territories, and the occasional friendly sporting competitions. Most memorably, they’d once combined the full forces of both their teams to help repel an attempted Frostelus invasion a few centuries ago. In short, Icthilos knew Ilton well, and trusted him implicitly.

“Were you looking for me?” He asked.

“Trina was.”

“Where is she now?”

“Headed to the bridge to look for you.”

“Thank you,” Icthilos started to move away, then stopped, “You don’t have to be out here. After everything you’ve already done, no one’s going to think any less of you for sitting this one out.”

“Oh, I’m not coming up to help open the doors. Now that we’re stopped, I’m moving to the last boat to help close them once we’re all through. I’m the only one who can make sure the Sea Gates can never be opened again.”

“Understood,” Icthilos nodded numbly, unable to find further words before Ilton had disappeared into the dark again.

Closing up the Sea Gates for good was an idea that had been discussed on-and-off during the voyage back. Icthilos himself had voted in favour of the plan, but he hadn’t realised it was going to be put into effect right now, without consulting the people of Metru Nui first. Icthilos, like many, still harboured some hope that there were other friendly survivors out there in the dying universe who might still find their way to Metru Nui someday. Permanently sealing the gates like this would close the door on that hope forever.

Despite his disappointment at the decision, Icthilos understood the necessity of it. If the Dark Hunters and Skakdi ever got tired of fighting each other, or if any other hostile force managed to make it to Metru Nui… well, these Toa weren’t ready for another war.

As he made his way up the stairs towards the bridge, he almost bumped into Trina on her way down. A lanky Vo-Toa clad in blue and black, her face adorned with the helm-like shape of a Mask Of Threat Detection, Trina was Icthilos’ oldest and closest friend, and the only member of his original team still part of the expedition. Their only other surviving member had been one of the wounded Toa sent back to Xia a year ago.

“Well, I guess I owe Ilton a few widgets,” Trina grumbled, in way of greeting.

“Were you two taking bets on where I was?”

“No… well, maybe,” she grinned, leaning back against the railing, “I thought you’d be down below somewhere, napping. He said – and I quote – that you’d be somewhere above decks, brooding.”

“I don’t brood.”

“Oh, of course not. You just stand still, stewing in stoic silence.”

“Well, when you put it like that…”

“Brooding is quicker.”

“-anyway, Ilton said you were looking for me. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I just wanted to check up on you,” she replied, “You’ve been even more reserved than usual since we left Xia.”

“I’ve had a lot on my mind,” he mumbled, “On Xia there was never really time to think more than a few hours ahead, most of time. But now…”

“…there’s so much time it feels overwhelming?”

He nodded, “You feel the same way?”

She returned the nod. “Once we close the Sea Gates for good, the most we’ll ever have to worry about is the odd rahi. Will the Matoran even need protectors anymore?”

“Would it be so bad if they didn’t?” Icthilos replied, “A part of me hopes they never need us again.”

“What of our Duty? Our Destinies?” There was a tone in her voice that Icthilos recognised well; she was asking more out of curiosity than umbrage or disappointment.

“We’ve done our Duty,” he said, shrugging, “And with the gods of this universe dead and gone, I’m not sure if Destiny even exists anymore. If it does, I’m sure mine will find me eventually.”

“So what will you do, once we’re back in Metru Nui?” 

“I was thinking of settling in Ko-Metru, somewhere on the outskirts, away from everyone. But close enough to the light from the Sun Holes that I won’t have to pester you to charge up this lamp every few hours anymore.”

“I really don’t mind.”

There was something in her voice that gave him pause, an earnest, almost pleading, sincerity that made the simple sentence come across as something far more profound. But before he could fully process or ponder its meaning, a great grinding of metal rumbled through the tunnel as the Sea Gate began to open. The ships shuddered and shifted backwards as liquid protodermis rushed into the tunnel in a tepid torrent; the water level inside the dome seemed to be much higher than it was in the tunnel. With it came an unpleasant scent that stung Icthilos’ nostrils and made him gag; the acrid reek of seawater that had long gone stagnant. The tides had died with everything else.

Disappointingly, there was no great ray of daylight coming through to greet the expedition, just murky twilight seeping through the dim, distant specks that were the Sun Holes high above. It seemed that it was night-time in whatever world lay beyond their own. Lower, through the mists that hung over the sea of protodermis, the lights of Metru Nui twinkled. There were fewer of them than Icthilos remembered, but they shone all the same. The city still stood, safe and awaiting their arrival.

“There it is, Brother,” Trina’s arm draping over his shoulder stirred Icthilos from the sight, “Let’s bring these people home.”

The two Toa made their way down the stairs and back towards the front of the boat, where the Fa-Toa duo who’d opened the way were now standing by to watch the approach. The fleet’s crews were bustling about, pulling up the anchors and bringing engines, sails, or oars to bear to move the fleet forward once more. Ga-Toa manipulated the waves, reversing the flow of the water to allow the ships to move through into the dome. The last ship – the smallest of the fleet – didn’t follow the others, instead moving just beyond the Sea Gate so that Ilton could seal it up when it was closed.

In the lead ship, Trina and Icthilos stopped near the front of the deck, gazing out at the city.

“I’ll be honest,” Icthilos said softly, “There were times I really thought we weren’t going to make it to this moment.”

“Oh, thank the Great Spirit,” Trina exhaled, “I was worried it was just me.”

As the boat rolled forward and the city steadily drew closer, Icthilos felt a strange sense of dread whirling within him. The thought of the pomp and parades of the hero’s welcome that no doubt awaited them turned his stomach. This didn’t feel like a triumphant return. In many ways, it felt like a defeat. A defeat that many of these Toa personally blamed him for.

He didn’t resent them for feeling that way.

Most days, he blamed himself as well.

As the shoreline grew close enough for the keen-eyed to make out the shapes of Le-Metru’s chutes and spires, a babble of noise broke out behind the gathered group as a panicked Le-Toa blundered up from below, clutching at his temples as if he were in the throes of a terrible headache. Such a sight might have been strange were it not for the fact that this Toa wore a Mask Of Clairvoyance.

“What’s wrong?” Trina asked, only for the Le-Toa to brush right past her.

He shouldered through the group to stop at the very front of the ship, where Icthilos himself had been ruminating earlier, and stare out across the water for several seconds.

“This is it!” The Toa blurted out, whirling to face the crowd. “Here, now! We have to turn back. We have to leave! The city isn’t safe!”

“What did you see?” One of the Fa-Toa asked, taking the Le-Toa by the shoulders and shaking him as if he were a faulty appliance. 

The seer looked crestfallen. “Death.”

“What death? Whose?”

“Yours…” the seer’s eyes widened, surprise and despair filling his face as he seemed to only now recall the most important part of his vision, “…mine.”

With a warbling whine, a silvery disk streaked out of the sea mist and struck the two Toa, randomly reconstituting them into a mangled mess of meat and metal that sloughed apart almost instantly, splattering across the deck and its occupants.

Icthilos could only stare, shock and sorrow paralysing him more effectively than any stasis field could have managed. Not again. Not here.

The murderers made themselves known a moment later, as ranks of airborne Vahki came flying out of the night, unleashing volleys of Kanoka and stun blasts upon the boats.

[Nato G]

Chapter 2 – Beachhead

From the notes of Chronicler Crisda.

Someone once told me that the difference between misfortune and malice is intent. If a branch falls and strikes a wanderer on the head, it’s misfortune. But if the branch was cut by one who sought to bring the wanderer harm, then it’s an act of malice.

It was we Matoran who voted for a squad Vahki to be kept stationed in Le-Metru, programmed to intercept and attack any fleet that came through the Sea Gates. Turaga Rost was convinced that the Toa were dead. He told us that anyone coming through would be a hostile force, and we believed him. We always believe our Turaga.

Was what happened to the returning Toa mere misfortune?

Or was our faith used against us, to exact an act of malice?

* * *

Vhalem

Vhalem had never seen Vahki before, but from the stories he’d been told of the city of Metru Nui, that was the only thing these automated attackers could be. Why they were attacking was a question for a later time.

Flashes of flame, lashes of lightning, and whirls of water struck out at the Vahki flitting by. Blasts and barriers of all elements rose and roiled around the fleet as the Toa – veterans of a war against far more powerful opponents – swiftly recovered from the shock of the surprise attack.

Stationed in the kahu’s nest of one of the middle ships when the attack had broken out, Vhalem was in the ideal position to bring his abilities to bear, summoning a swirling swell of gravity high over the fleet, pulling the airborne automatons and their Kanoka off course. Below, the last surviving Fa-Toa caught on and added her powers to the mix, enhancing the pull of gravity with the force of magnetism. Vahki who flew too high soon began to crash and crush together in the middle of the gravity well, swiftly twisting into unidentifiable shapes as Kanoka collided with their sparking remains, repeatedly Freezing and Weakening and Reconstituting the mess of metal.

Sparing a glance towards the decks below, Vhalem noted that some of the fleet’s passengers were now fighting among themselves, or stumbling around dazedly, as the Vahki used their staffs to incapacitate or mind control whoever they managed to hit. Ce-Toa and Komau-wearers were rushing around the decks, springing across from ship to ship, trying to cure or overcome the effects of the Vahki weapons as swiftly as they were inflicted.

One Vahki seemed to identify Vhalem as the summoner of the gravity swell, circling wide and loosing stun blasts in his direction, only for them to splash harmlessly against the Hau shield of a Po-Toa, Behjen, who’d clambered up the mast to aid him. A well-thrown spear of stone sent the Vahki careening into the sea a second later, shedding shards of shredded metal from its splintered skull.

Offering a grateful nod to his unexpected saviour, Vhalem focused once more on his element, willing the pull of gravity to widen and increase, dragging in more and more Vahki until those that remained finally broke ranks and retreated back towards the city.

Sighing in relief as cheers rose up from the fleet below, Vhalem released his power, letting the Fa-Toa below handle the task of flinging what remained of the Vahki into the sea.

“Thanks,” he said, slumping against the mast and raising his fist towards the Po-Toa.

Bhejen raised his right arm – a fully mechanical prosthetic – and returned the fist-bump with a smile. “You’re one of us now, Brother. We look after our own.”

Not so long ago, Vhalem had been looking up at the Toa, not meeting them as equals. He’d been one of the Xian Matoran these heroes had come to rescue, though in the end he’d wound up having to rescue himself.

His transformation into a Toa had been brought about by the desperate efforts by one rogue, reckless Ta-Toa, an act that had earned her plenty of condemnation from her kin, and ample gratitude from the Xian Matoran. Her name was Savnu, and three months ago she’d launched a covert mission against the wishes of the Toa leading the efforts on Xia. She’d convinced some of her companions to create Toa Stones, and then smuggled those stones into a coal shipment that was being brought to the foundry where many of the Matoran slaves were being kept.

It was a mission that had turned the tide of the war, giving the dwindling Toa the fresh forces and local knowledge needed to liberate the remaining slaves, and eventually mount an effective retreat. But the shift had come at a cost, with many of the new, untrained Toa falling in their initial escape, or the battles that followed. Vhalem was one of only four who had survived.

Savnu herself was perched by the railing as Vhalem made his way back down onto the deck. Smoke wafted from the blackened wood of the railing beside her, scorched by proximity to the searing flames she’d summoned against the Vahki. The limited in-fighting had died down now that the Ce-Toa had finished calming those effected by mind control staves. Many, like Savnu herself, were slouched or sitting, physically and psychologically drained by the battle, brief as it had been. No one had expected a fight here.

“Vhalem! There you are,” she smiled wistfully as he approached, “That was you doing the swirly stuff up in the sky?”

In the relatively brief time Vhalem had spent among other Toa, he’d quickly come to realise that Savnu wasn’t like the rest. She kept things casual and conversational, addressing other Toa by their names rather than by titles or honorifics. Where some of the other Toa were still protective and, at times, even belittling of the recently-transformed Matoran, Savnu spoke to them as equals. It was a small thing, but it went a long way towards making Vhalem and the others feel like they belonged.

Like the other members of the Toa Vehi, Savnu’s build was taller than that of most Toa, with a lean, limber frame. Armour of grey and red covered her body, while her face bore both a wry smile and a stylised Kakama. Tattered purple robes hung from her frame, ripped and stained from battle; from what Vhalem had heard, most of the villages Savnu had protected on the Southern Continent hadn’t had Turaga of their own, so it was Savnu herself who had stepped into the role of religious leader.

“I had a bit of help, but yes. Are you alright?”

“I should be the one asking you that,” she chuckled. “I’m feeling fine. But just do me a favour real quick and tell me to do something.”

“Uh... stand up?”

She didn’t move.

“Not a Staff Of Suggestion, then,” she said, shrugging. “One of those Vahki tagged me with something, but my brain doesn’t seem scrambled. At least, not any more than usual.” She hauled herself to her feet, and started to move past him.

“Where are you going?” He asked, as she started heading for the entrance to the lower decks.

“Away from any important planning that might be about to happen. I’m not feeling anything weird, so I reckon the blast that hit me was from a Staff Of Presence. If those Vahki come back for another swing at us, we don’t want them knowing anything useful.”

“Fair enough. Stay safe.”

“I should be the one telling you that.”

* * *

Trina

“What’s the count?” Trina gently asked one of the healers, a Ga-Toa named Lhiyla.

The fleet had drawn close, with some of the Ko-Toa summoning an iceberg to bind the vessels together and make it easier for those in charge of each vessel to cross over and talk. Spare Kanohi of Healing and Shielding were being brought up from belowdecks to assist with recovery, and defend against the next wave, if one came.

The rear ship, which had been far enough away from the fleet to avoid the battle, had re-joined them long enough to offload its Matoran and supplies before venturing out to allow Ilton to continue sealing the Sea Gates; if it was attacked while out on its own, there would be no lives at stake save for those few who’d volunteered to remain on board.

“A dozen or so injured, four seriously,” Lhiyla replied. She was a little shorter than the average Toa, with iridescent blue armour over a grey body, her face bearing a Kanohi Hau. “One lost an eye, two have stab wounds inflicted by other Toa, and another’s been reconstituted pretty badly. It was a lower-level disk, so as long as we keep him stable in his current state he should revert back to how he was once the effect wears off.”

“Did we lose anyone else, aside from…” Trina glanced towards the greasy stain on the foredeck that was all that remained of the other two Toa who’d been reconstituted. There was no hope of putting them back together.

“One other. They found him floating, facedown. We don’t know if a Vahki ordered him to drown himself or if he just took a hit to the head and fell in. We’re doing a headcount now to make sure we’re not missing anybody else.”

“The Matoran?”

“Most were still safely belowdecks when the fighting started. As far as I know, none of them were hurt.”

“That’s something, at least. Thank you.”

She vaulted over the railing and onto the iceberg, donning a spare Suletu as she approached the circle of Toa standing in the middle of the ice.

Telepathy masks had been key to operating on Xia, a tactic the Vortixx had used against them frequently in the early days before the Toa had managed to secure a Kanohi forge and start making their own. With the risk that some of the Toa here had been unknowingly struck by Presence blasts, the Suletus had been brought to bear again, to plan the next move without the Vahki learning of it.

“…can’t just call this a mistake.” Icthilos’ voice was the first thing Trina picked up as she donned the mask, his rage and remorse roiling over the mental plane like a tidal wave. “Those Toa risked everything for these people. We all did. They didn’t deserve to die like that.”

Though Icthilos carried himself as a typical Ko-Toa, closed-off and uncaring, there was no hiding one’s emotions in a telepathic conversation. Trina knew better than most that her brother had the righteous rage and tortured temper to rival even the most choleric of Ta-Toa. And no one here was going to begrudge him his grief; the surface thoughts and feelings Trina could sense told her everyone felt much the same way.

“What was or was not deserved isn’t up for debate, brother,” came the voice of Widrek, a goliath of an Onu-Toa whose burly build could nearly match that of a Steltian bruiser. Even his mental voice came out in a guttural growl. “What is, is our next move. Do we risk approaching the shore, where the Vahki have the home advantage?”

“The greater risk is remaining on the open water,” Trina felt now was the moment to enter the conversation. “If the Vahki return and decided to focus fire on the boats rather than us, the Matoran’s lives could be in danger.”

“She’s right,” thought the Ce-Toa Bihriis. She was only one of the group not wearing a Suletu, having no need for one. Slung across her back was a Skakdi-made Buzzsaw tool, a souvenir from the battles on Xia. “A few leaks we can fix, but if they hit a ship with one of those reconstitution disks there’ll be nothing we can do.”

“Then we push on, secure a beachhead,” resignation rang through in Icthilos’ mental voice. “You all know the drill. Physical element wielders with Haus up front to provide cover once we hit the sand. Everyone else in position to provide cover fire.”

“This city was supposed to be a safe haven,” a new voice arose on the mental plane, as the young Ba-Toa Vhalem approached the group, “Now you’re planning to go to war with it?”

“Hopefully this is all just a misunderstanding, and there won’t be any need for further violence,” Trina quickly cut in. “The Vahki are probably reporting back as we speak, and will be stood down once the Turaga know it’s us, and not some invading force.”

“That sounds too little, too late for the two brothers we lost,” Vhalem’s mental voice was ablaze with bitterness.

“Three,” Trina corrected, grimacing. “They pulled another out of the water.”

In a motion that would have been meaningless to anyone else, Trina glimpsed one of Icthilos’ hands drift towards a leather pouch hanging from the side of his belt. Inside it, she knew, was a stone tablet upon which Icthilos had painstakingly inscribed the name of every Toa who had fallen on Xia. He’d told her once that he intended to someday turn the tablet into a Toa Stone, so that some good could be done in the names of the fallen. But for now, he had three new names to add to the list.

“How’s Pahlil holding up?” He asked, referring to the last remaining Fa-Toa.

“Even more withdrawn than normal,” it was Bihriis who answered, “But about as well as can be expected from someone who’s just become the last of her kind.”

“Let’s get this done, then.” Icthilos said. “Watch your siblings. Let no one else be lost tonight.” 

* * *

Icthilos

No one was upset to find the beach devoid of Vahki when the boats finally reached the shoreline. What was upsetting was how devoid of everything else Le-Metru seemed to be.

As his companions set about raising barricades of stone and earth to defend the spot where the boats had put ashore, Icthilos took a few hesitant steps up the beach, peering into the shadows of the city. Le-Metru had been his least favourite part of the city, alive and alight at all hours, machinery and chutes constantly active. Now it was a silent, empty shell of its former self. Not even any rahi seemed to be roaming around.

There were definitely lights on somewhere in the city, they’d seen that from a distance, but the entirety of Le-Metru appeared to be shut down. It looked like it had been that way for quite some time, given the dust and foliage that had accumulated over some of the structures. And it was cold, too, the kind of stale, psychological cold that one might associate with a tomb or graveyard. Cold enough that even Icthilos felt a slight chill.

“I’ve got movement!” Came the shout of one of the lookouts still on the ships, a Turaga wearing a scoped Akaku. “In the alley, by the chute station on your left!”

Icthilos whirled towards the indicated direction, his flail rattling as he let it unfurl at his side. Before he’d even finished turning, the alleyway’s opening was already being illuminated by two of the Toa on the frontlines who owned Kanohi Rurus.

The shape that emerged from the crevice between the two structures was an artificial entity of grey and green, carrying a staff in its hands… but it was no Vahki.

“Get the Matoran below!” Icthilos roared, “We’ve got incoming!”

The Rahkshi’s mouthparts unfolded as it raised its stave and let out a horrific screech, a screech that was answered tenfold from further in the city.

[Nato G]

Chapter 3 – Shadows By The Sea

From the notes of Chronicler Crisda.

No one goes out at night. Not anymore. Not those who value their lives, at least. That’s been the rule since the Shadow and his sons stepped into our city.

I know people who’ve tried to break that rule.

I know how many pieces they were found in.

It was a rule the Toa were forced to learn, hours before most of the rest of us even learned of their return.

* * *

Trina

To some extent or another, all of the Toa gathered on the beach were aware of what a Rahkshi was. But most of them had never had the misfortune to face one, let alone an army.

Though army wasn’t quite the right word for his force, Trina reflected, as she raised her bladed tonfas and sent blazing bolts of lightning launching across the beach, breaking the charge of a few incoming Rahkshi. Though they held weapons and fielded formidable abilities, they still acted as little more than beasts, each one running or flying towards the Toa without heed for coordination or cooperation. And though the Toa had landed on the beach expecting to face Vahki, the defences they’d prepared were equally capable of fending off these newfound foes.

The Toa on the front lines were focused wholly on blocking, their Hau shields deflecting most of the incoming fire. Those without Haus were shoring up the barriers, reinforcing and repairing them as swiftly as they were damaged. A few Toa – Icthilos, Bihriis, and Savnu included – roamed just outside the defences, striking at any damaged Rahkshi that managed to make it through the barrage of elemental blasts that Trina and the other Toa up on the boats were raining down. Up in the rigging of the ships waited Pahlil, Vhalem, and other Ba-Toa, who were using their powers to ground any airborne Rahkshi that flew within range.

For the first few minutes, the battle went well. The Rahkshi – inexperienced and reckless, seeming to possess only low-level abilities – rarely drew close enough to do any meaningful damage. The barriers held up against the onslaught of their strange powers, and the beach was soon strewn with sparking shards of slain shadowspawn and sticky stains of oily ichor. Where each Rahkshi fell, gaseous wisps of antidermis wafted up from its kraata and armour, flittering away into the dark as if blown away by some unseen breeze. Some two dozen of the creatures were already dead or dying on the beach, and yet still more emerged from the shadows of Le-Metru, and screeches continued to ring out in the distance.

Where did they all come from? Trina knew there had been some Rahkshi kept in the archives, and there had been rumours of wild ones lurking in the dark corners of the city, but there were far too many of them here for that. No one had seen or heard anything of the other Makuta since Teridax’s short-lived takeover. And there’d been no sign of breaches at any of the nearby Sea Gates according to the last report they’d gotten from Ilton’s ship.

There was no time to dwell on the troubling question. From her vantage point, Trina could see the cracks beginning to appear. She’d seen it before, in countless battles on Xia, and knew all too well what to look for. Any one slip-up or moment of weakness usually wasn’t decisive on its own, but the longer a battle dragged on, the more those mistakes added up… and these Rahkshi showed no sign of stopping.

Fatigue soon proved a greater foe than any Rahkshi. The Hau shields began to falter, allowing more Rahkshi fire to chip away at the barricades. And as elemental reserves began to dwindle, it took longer for the barricades to be repaired, and the Toa up on the boats had to become more selective with their attacks. In one spot, a stray fragmentation blast snuck through and injured two Toa. In another area a red-and-silver Rahkshi managed to make it all the way down the beach and over the barricades, effortlessly evading every attack sent its way and wounding several Toa before finally being entangled and incapacitated by a Bo-Toa’s vines. It was the first breach, but it wasn’t the last.

A small group of blue-and-tan Rahkshi soon arrived on the scene, and these ones acted very differently to the rest. While most of the new arrivals continued charging blindly into battle, this group hung back and began scattering illusory Rahkshi of all hues across the beach, forcing the ranged Toa to spread out their attacks to try to stop any real Rahkshi from slipping through. But slip through they did, and it wasn’t long before another breached the barricades, and another, and soon the entire defence broke down into a desperate melee.

“They’re through! Get down there!” Trina was leaping overboard before she’d even finished giving the order, stumbling in the sodden sand for a moment before making it onto the dry beach and flinging herself into the fray.

The rest of her group were soon at her side, two or more Toa to each Rahkshi to try to overwhelm the creatures and keep them from using their powers. At the railings where the Toa had been firing from, Turaga and Matoran were now taking up positions, firing Kanoka, Rhotuka, Zamors, crossbows, and anything else they’d taken from Xia at the Rahkshi that were still making their way down the beach.

Where moments ago Trina had been able to oversee the entire battlefield, now her picture became far more limited. She found herself side by side with Bihriis, singling out a black-and-gold Rahkshi whose body bore a ragged crust of rock in addition to its regular armour. It saw them coming and raised its staff, magnetically slinging shards of stone from one of the broken barricades towards the two women. What Bihriis’ telekinesis didn’t deflect was melted to slag by Trina’s lightning, and then they were upon the creature, slashing at it before it could let loose another wave of projectiles. Their blades skittered futility off its stony shell, even Bihriis’ powerful Skakdi saw struggling to chew through the rock.

The Rahkshi replied in kind, slashing at Trina with its stave. She blocked the blade with her own weapons, but the sheer force behind the blow still sent her stumbling. Bihriis swung low at the Rahkshi’s leg, where the stone armour was thinner, not doing much damage but still distracting the creature from pressing its advantage against Trina. It sent its staff slicing back the other way, only for the strike to suddenly stop, as Bihriis seized the weapon with telekinesis and held it in place.

As the creature screeched in irritation and began a brutal tug-of-war to retrieve its staff, Trina sprang into action, bringing both of her blades down on the Rahkshi’s exposed wrists – where it lacked the protection of its stone shell – and sending its severed hands flopping to the sand. Without its staff to enhance its abilities, the Rahkshi’s additional armour layers flaked and fell away, leaving the two Toa free to strike at its kraata case and end its nightmarish existence.

It was a victory, but only a small one.

The Rahkshi just kept on coming.

* * *

Vhalem

Vhalem had lost track of how many Rahkshi he’d already sent crashing into the sand, their weight increased tenfold. They were resilient creatures, and he’d glimpsed more than one of them getting back up once the effects of his power had worn off, but that wasn’t his problem; his focus was on keeping the skies clear.

But behind that focus, dread and doubt lurked. He’d been told this city was safe, the last haven of light and life, the final hope for the Matoran people. After everything he and the other Xian Matoran had endured, he’d wanted more than anything to believe that somewhere was safe. But they’d been inside the dome for barely an hour and come under attack twice. The attack from the Vahki had been awful, but he’d been willing to accept that as a tragic accident. But these Rahkshi… this was something else. He could see his fellow Xian Matoran-turned-Toa friends fighting desperately below, Ithnen struggling to manipulate earth on a beach mostly covered in sand, Erdo trying to wrangle Rahkshi with vines, Tivni searing them with plasma, but for every Rahkshi they managed to fell, four more joined the fray. 

The ones joining the battle now seemed older and stronger, their armour marred with scars and their powers far more formidable. They were strategising, too, calling out to each other with guttural hisses and shrieks. More than that, though, the stronger ones were protecting the others, summoning illusions or shadows to obscure their positions, or using their own abilities to counteract those of the Toa.

As Vhalem loosed his powers against a brownish Rahkshi flying towards the ship, he felt a strange resistance to his attack. As he tried to increase the Rahkshi’s weight, an equal force of gravity from one of the Rahkshi elsewhere on the field fought to decrease it. The airborne Rahkshi wavered, losing control for a moment, then righted itself and loosed a fragmentation blast directly into the mast as it flew past, splintering it asunder.

The mast and the Toa perched upon it came tumbling down in a mess of flailing sails and ragged rigging, crashing over the deck and spilling over the side. A cloying cloud of displaced sand and shattered wood filled the air as Vhalem and his companions were scattered across the beach or the boat. Screams and cries echoed over the sand, almost lost in the cacophony of battle.

Splinters slicing at his forearms, Vhalem picked himself up off the beach, spitting out a mouthful of sand to groan as the movement strained the new bruises already forming across his chest and back. He heard a whine behind him and turned towards it, spotting the brown Rahkshi flying back for another pass. He used his powers to manipulate a flapping shred of sail, sending it floating up directly into the Rahkshi’s path, entangling and blinding the Rahkshi before it could unleash another blast from its staff. Flailing wildly, it tumbled out of flight mode and crashed down somewhere over the beach.

He didn’t see where it landed. What he saw instead was another Rahkshi – yellow, with a fiery light glowing in its eyes – shuffling towards him. One of its legs looked to have already been mangled by a Su-Toa somewhere on the battlefield, but if the creature could feel pain, it wasn’t showing.

Blistering beams of heat emanated from its eyes, leaving black marks on Vhalem’s armour and singeing his organics as he scrambled for cover, managing to dive behind the fallen mast. Unfortunately, the weakened wood offered little protection, swiftly beginning to smoulder and burn, so Vhalem turned his defence into an offence, using gravity to make the burning chunk of the mast “fall” towards the Rahkshi, bowling the creature over in a spray of sparks and splinters.

Any other being might have been at least momentarily stunned by the impact, but the Rahkshi was already rising once more… and then it fell for good as a reddish blur flashed past, taking its head clean off before vanishing into the fray once more. Though his rescuer was moving almost too fast to perceive, Vhalem had spent enough time fighting alongside Savnu to recognise her fighting style.

And then, as if the death of that one Rahkshi somehow mattered to its kin, the creatures began to retreat, each of them issuing a strange, plaintive cry as they scuttled off into the shadows of the empty Metru. The true reason for their retreat made itself evident to Vhalem as he cast his gaze upwards; the first rays of daylight were beginning to filter through the Sun Holes high above.

The night was over.

[Nato G]

Chapter 4 – Good Mourning

From the notes of Chronicler Crisda.

Twenty-seven of our lost Toa entered the dome last night. Six of them didn’t live to see the dawn.

Everyone is looking for someone to blame… we should start by looking at our mirrors.

* * *

Icthilos

The dawn had brought with it six more names for his record, six more than he ever thought he’d need to add.

But if not for the break of daylight, the Rahkshi would have likely claimed far more than just the three lives they’d taken. Though it looked like they might take a few more before the day was done.

“How bad is it?” He asked Trina, as she made her way back to him. She’d been checking up with the makeshift trauma centre the healers had set up on the beach, to tend to the Toa injured in the battle. She’d picked up her fair share of bruises and abrasions during the battle, as had Icthilos himself, but those more seriously injured took priority.

“Better than some of our days on Xia, but still not great. It’s hard to find anyone who hasn’t been hurt to some extent,” her hand reached up to rub at her shoulder, where the armour was crumpled and partially melted from a Rahkshi’s blast. “Our real issue is healers. We’ve got plenty of Masks Of Healing, but not many people with the medical know-how to use them properly.”

It was a problem that had plagued the Toa during their time on Xia. The Mask Of Healing required the wearer to have an understanding of the illness or injury they were trying to heal in order to work properly. And while most of the Toa could figure out how to deal with basic cuts and bruises, there were few among them who knew how to properly treat broken bones or internal injuries. And fewer still were left now.

“Worse still, we’ve got a few Toa suffering from some kind of… infection? Sickness? I don’t even know what to call it.”

“Rahkshi poison?”

“Not exactly. They’re suffering from chills, fatigue, nausea, and weird headaches that go away once they’re out of direct sunlight. They’re experiencing pain when they use their powers. I’ve never seen anything like it, and they all seem to be getting worse.”

“Can the healers do anything for them?”

“They’re trying, but it’s the same problem as healing other injuries. Without knowing what it is they’re trying to treat, there’s only so much they can do.”

“Alright,” Icthilos sighed, glancing back towards the stark cityscape before them. “Ask around to see who’ll be willing to head into the city with me. We need to find out what’s happened to Metru Nui.”

“You don’t need to put this on yourself,” Icthilos felt Trina’s hand on his shoulder, turning him back towards her. “Someone else can go. You’ve done more than enough.”

The words were familiar. This wasn’t the first time she’d implored him not to volunteer for a mission, and this likely wasn’t going to be the last time he’d disappoint her.

“I got us all into this mess,” he said. “I have to make it right.”

* * *

Pira

While most of the Toa were off tending to the wounded, guarding the boats, or restoring the barricades on the beachhead, a lone Le-Toa scavenged the battlefield.

As a Matoran, Pira had always been something of a scrounger, living on the streets, scraping and stealing to survive. Pretty much everything she had to her name had originally belonged to someone else, from the Kanohi she wore to the spear she wielded, from the pieces of plating she’d used to patch up her original armour, to the Toa Stone that had transformed her in the first place.

Pira had originally come from a village on the Southern Continent, and stowed away on a trade ship to gain passage to Xia, thinking a more civilised city would offer opportunities for a more comfortable life. If she’d known the universe was going to go to Karzahni and she’d wind up in a warzone a week after arriving in Xia, she probably wouldn’t have bothered. And if she’d known that going to Xia would have resulted in her becoming a Toa, she definitely wouldn’t have bothered. Dying in the dark back home would’ve been easier than everything she’d dealt with since leaving.

It wasn’t the insults that bothered her the most. It was the stares and sneers, the silent judgement, the unseen eyes boring into her back every time she turned away. Even in the middle of a war, when they’d needed every Toa they could find, when they’d welcomed the other Xian Matoran who’d been unwillingly transformed, they’d still looked at her with loathing and disdain.

She ignored them, for the most part. The mere fact that she had this power meant she’d always been destined to have it, right? What did it matter how she’d gotten her hands on the Toa Stone? It wasn’t like she’d intentionally stolen this power; by the time she’d realised the shiny rock was much more than a shiny rock, it was already too late.

Vitrified sand crunched underfoot as she crossed an area that had been scored by lightning and fire, leaving blackened fragments of Rahkshi scattered all around. She spotted an intact Rahkshi staff amidst the debris strewn and bent down to pick it up, turning it over in her hand. For weapons wielded by monsters, they were well-crafted tools, each type of Rahkshi having a unique and intricate design to its staff.

She wasn’t sure what specific kind of Rahkshi had once wielded this weapon, and it probably didn’t matter much, given that the staffs didn’t seem to hold any power of their own except as an amplifier for the Rahkshi. Still, a weapon was a weapon, and no one was going to complain about her looting these remains.

She pulled her battered spear from her back and held it against the Rahkshi staff as she activated her Kanohi. Hers was the Mask Of Combination, a close cousin to the Mask Of Fusion that allowed her to combine inorganic objects together however she wished. It had already come in handy plenty of times on Xia, allowing her to patch up her armour with pieces salvaged from fallen foes, and improve her weapon, which had started off as nothing more than a length of metal pipe.

Metal rearranged and redistributed in her hand, her battered spear transforming into a sturdy bident as it integrated the new material. The blade took on a grimy appearance, as she willed the impurities and dirt that had been on or in both weapons when they’d been merged to redistribute on the outside where she could easily remove them. She deactivated her mask and channelled her power through the weapon, sending a fine cloud of dust and rust flitting away from its surface.

“I thought you would’ve learned by now not to pick up strange things off the ground,” came the voice of the burly Onu-Toa Widrek.

“It usually works out for me,” she shrugged, giving the new staff an experimental swing. The weapon whistled softly as it moved through the air, “I’m lucky like that.”

She turned towards him, not particularly looking forward to the coming conversation. Out of all the Toa, he’d been one of the most hostile towards her, though he was also the one whose hatred was perhaps the most justified. The fallen Toa whose Stone Pira had taken had been Widrek’s Brother. He had no teammates left now, and Pira’s presence was a daily reminder of that grim fact.

“Luck has little to do with it,” Widrek growled, “Icthilos is putting a team together to investigate the city. I suggest you volunteer. Maybe you can put your stolen power to some good use.”

She didn’t bite. There was no sense in debating him. She’d tried to point out in the past that since she was apparently Destined to become a Toa, it didn’t matter whose Stone she ended up using or how she ended up finding it. If she hadn’t taken it from that corpse that day, she would’ve found another somewhere else, somehow. But with the Great Spirit seemingly dead, the idea of Destiny didn’t mean as much as it once did to many Toa. And as far as Widrek was concerned, Pira was nothing more than a worthless thief who’d stolen his Brother’s final gift from some other, more deserving soul.

“Sure, I’d be happy to help.”

Widrek seemed almost disappointed by her reply, especially since the Kanohi Rode he wore no doubt informed him that her words were genuine.

The grumpy Ko-Toa who everyone seemed to vaguely accept as leader was one of few members of the group who hadn’t treated Pira poorly at some point or another. He wasn’t exactly warm or welcoming, but he also wasn’t judgemental. He hadn’t spoken a single ill word towards her, or even to Savnu, who was also unpopular among many of the Toa. Out of all the group, Icthilos seemed to have the firmest grasp on the sacrifices and necessities of war, accepting them despite how much they upset him, and not condemning others for the compromises they’d made.

“Good,” Widrek grumbled. “He’s over by the boats.”

“I’ll be over in a minute,” Pira said, spotting another intact Rahkshi staff a few bio away and moving to pick it up. “If we’re about to head into more trouble, I’d rather…”

She trailed off as a strange metallic rattling noise reached her ears, originating from somewhere amidst the abandoned buildings of Le-Metru.

“Rather what?”

“Do you hear that?”

He paused for a moment, then frowned, and turned back towards the boats, “We’ve got incoming!”

Pira hastily pressed spear and staff together, merging them to manifest a second blade at the other end of her weapon. She brandished the tool before her, ready to send whatever was coming right back the way it had come if it proved to be yet another threat.

And threatening was certainly an apt descriptor for the multilimbed metal monstrosity that came lurching out onto the beach. It appeared to be a transport of some sort, a steely centipede composed of multiple carriages, each one supported by six insect-like legs. Its hull was laden with armour plating, and Pira could see Kanoka launchers jutting out of narrow firing slits on its sides.

But mercifully, when the transport came to a stop and its side panels slid open, it wasn’t Vahki or more Rahkshi that stepped out, but Matoran and Turaga.

[Nato G]

Chapter 5 – Welcome To Metru Nui

From the notes of Chronicler Crisda.

I’ll never forget the looks on their faces when we first opened up the transport. They were so relieved to see us. But not in a happy way. In a… broken, weary way. As if seeing any one or thing else would have shattered them completely.

Those looks told me more than a hundred interviews could have.

I understood in that moment why they hadn’t allowed me to go with them to Xia.

* * *

Icthilos

The delegation that emerged from the Vahki Transport were mostly ones that Icthilos recognised, but not the ones he’d expected to see.

There was the Chronicler, Crisda, an exuberant Ko-Matoran who was likely going to become a very annoying presence in the near future. With him was the Ga-Turaga Nadrua, a member of the council of seven Turaga who’d been running the city before the Toa had departed. But conspicuous in their absence were the four Toa who’d been sent back to the city a year ago.

“I have questions,” Icthilos called loudly, moving to stand by Widrek and Pira. “Many questions.”

“Make that two of us,” Pira piped up.

“All of us,” Widrek corrected, gesturing back towards the boats.

“And there will be time to answer them all,” said Nadrua. “But not here. Bring your people aboard the transport. There should be enough carriages to carry you all. This Metru is abandoned; your supplies will be safe here until additional transportation can be arranged.”

“Carry us where?”

“To the Coliseum. Regent Rost wishes to welcome you all home.”

“Oh, we already got our welcome,” Icthilos bit back, concealing his surprise behind snark. Regent Rost? What had happened to the council of Turaga? “From the Vahki.”

“And the Rahkshi,” Pira added.

“The Vahki were tasked with defending the city,” Nadrua said, “As soon as they reported back and we realised it was you, they were stood down. As for the Rahkshi… the night belongs to them, just as the day belongs to us.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Makuta Vhel rules this city now. His sons are citizens as much as the rest of us.”

“What?”

* * *

Trina

The trip to the Coliseum went by mostly in solemn silence, each traveller consumed with confusion and concern. The meagre information that Nadrua had given before the transport embarked had sparked questions without count, each more disconcerting than the last. Turaga Rost was regent of the city? A Makuta ruled Metru Nui? Rahkshi had free reign?

None of this made any sense.

Trina was in one of the lead sections of the transport, sharing a compartment with Icthilos, Widrek, Bihriis, and the remaining members of the Toa Vehi – Savnu, the Vo-Toa Keidal, and Su-Toa Orane. Ilton was still on the last boat, tending to the Sea Gates. In his absence, the seven in the transport represented the oldest and most experienced Toa still alive, though that experience wasn’t helping any of them make any sense of this situation.

“I guess I’ll be the one to lose the quiet game,” Trina spoke up, after a half-hour or so of travel. “What are we going to do about all of this?”

“We need more information before we can do anything,” Widrek said. “We need to learn everything we can, and only then can we act. Together.”

The last word was said with a pointed glare towards Savnu, who deflected the jab with a question.

“What do we know about this Makuta Vhel? I don’t recognise the name, but I didn’t exactly have them all memorised.”

“I’ve heard him mentioned in passing,” Bihriis said, “He was assigned to the land of the Brighteyes shortly after the League Of Six Kingdoms were defeated.”

“Brighteyes?” Trina asked.

“That’s what the elders of my village called them. I’m not sure if they have a common name for themselves. I’ve heard them called mantids, mesmers…”

“Takadox’s people, you mean?” Keidal asked.

“That’s them,” Bihriis nodded. “The original inhabitants of Odina, before their armies were destroyed and the Dark Hunters displaced them to a little island to the south of there. After defeating the League, the Brotherhood Of Makuta assigned one of their members to each of the Barraki’s lands to monitor them and prevent any future uprisings.”

“Their lands, and everywhere else,” Trina muttered. The two Makuta nearest her homeland – Gorast and Aemula – had long indulged in a petty, private game of sending Rahkshi raiding parties into each other’s territories, causing problems that the Toa Gelida or Toa Vehi had often ended up having to deal with.  

“And has this Vhel done anything since then?” Savnu spoke up. “No experimenting on locals or trying to invade continents like the other Makuta?”

“Not that I’m aware of.”

“So Vhel has just been waiting in some isolated corner of the universe, doing nothing?” Rather than answers, Trina was left with even more questions. “And now he’s here, repopulating Metru Nui with his creepy kids?”

“So it would seem.” Widrek nodded grimly.

Trina glanced at Icthilos, who had been sitting quietly throughout the exchange, staring at the floor. The only one being more quiet than him was Orane, but given the way he was slumped in the corner of the transport with his eyes closed, he was likely either asleep, or using his Kanohi Iden to roam around in spirit form somewhere.

“Icky?” Trina gently nudged Icthilos’ shoulder, using the nickname she knew he hated in the hopes it would annoy him into speaking. 

“I’m listening,” he mumbled. “Just processing. Widrek’s right. We can’t do anything about this until we better understand if anything needs to be done about it.”

“If?” Trina scoffed, “There’s Rahkshi roaming the streets-”

“And it sounds like there’s already some kind of arrangement in place to manage that.”

“What about the Makuta running the city?”

“What about him? So far no one’s said he’s done anything wrong.”

“Something is clearly very wrong.”

“You were the one who urged us all to go to Xia,” Widrek rumbled, narrowing his eyes at Icthilos, “No one doubted you, no one denied you. Why are you so reserved now?”

“I urged us to go to Xia because it’s our Duty to protect the Matoran,” Icthilos said. “I’m urging us to be cautious now for the same reason.”

“Because starting a fight with this Makuta and his Rahkshi would risk Matoran lives,” Trina said, realising where he was going, “If we were to force his hand, he has thousands of hostages.”

“It’s more than that,” Icthilos said. “Even one Makuta has more than enough power to destroy the generator, the furnace, or any of Metru Nui’s other key infrastructure. Without power or heat this city will meet the same fate as the rest of the universe. I don’t want to provoke a being who can sentence us all to a slow extinction.”

Trina opened her mouth, then closed it when words failed to emerge. She had no counterargument. This wasn’t a rescue mission in a foreign city. This was an occupation, and the invading forces were already in full control.

Orane suddenly sat bolt upright, eyes snapping open. “We’re here.”

Sure enough, the transport shuddered to a stop and the sides slid open to reveal that it and its companions were now parked on an ascending elevator. The platform soon reached sunlight, revealing the familiar interior of the Metru Nui Coliseum. Trina and the others clambered out and stepped out into the arena. Already, the ramp that had allowed the transports access was receding into the floor, rendering it smooth and solid once more. Most of the arena was sparse and dusty from disuse, and the thousands of seats overlooking it were mostly empty, save for a few hundred hunch-backed beings in armour of all hues sitting in the front rows. Even from this distance, Trina could make out the eerie glows in their beady eyes, and she found herself lowering her gaze out of instinct.

It seemed that Makuta Vhel had brought the population of his island with him to Metru Nui.

“Come forward, old friends!” Boomed the voice of the Po-Turaga perched in the box overseeing the arena. Trina heard the voice echo from beyond the gate the transport had come in through; Turaga Rost was broadcasting the scene through the city’s telescreens. “At long last, welcome home!”

With a metallic creak, the box began to lower, and as it got closer to the ground Trina could better discern the six figures standing in it. At the front was Turaga Rost, of course, though he now wore ornate armour of brown and orange. In his hands he held a steely staff with a top that looked to be made from the faceplate and kraata case of a silver Rahkshi. Just behind him stood one of the Odinan creatures, a muscular being clad in metallic hues of grey and black, with a green glow to his one remaining eye; the other had deep scars cutting across it, clearly a claw mark of some kind.

Behind them stood three Toa, all of whom Trina recognised despite the new equipment or unfamiliar Kanohi each of them now bore. There was the De-Toa Dhozoh, clad in silver and grey, now wearing a Kanohi Tryna. Beside him stood the Bo-Toa Tuxar, clad in blue and green, with what looked to be a Mask Of Laser Vision on his face. And standing just ahead of the two of them was her brother Maliss, a Fe-Toa clad in orange in black, colours he’d adopted long ago to pass himself off as an Onu-Toa. The last time she’d seen him, he’d been badly wounded and on the last boat back to Metru Nui. Now he stood tall and proud at the Turaga’s side, the arm he’d lost in battle with the Vortixx now ending in a mechanical prosthetic with a buzzsaw tool in place of a hand. Much of the rest of his body seemed to have undergone alterations or augmentations as well. Her elation at seeing him again evaporated when his eyes briefly met hers, shifted right past her to Icthilos, and his expression transformed to one of… disgust?

Something was very wrong. Not just with Maliss, but with every one and thing that was happening here. Last time Trina had seen Rost, he’d been bitterly resentful towards the Toa, and incredibly resistant towards their departure. He’d never been one to sheathe his smarm for the sake of politeness or propriety, so a warm welcome like this was the last thing Trina would have ever expected from him. An insensitive “I told you so” in regards to the many Toa who hadn’t returned was far more his style. Not to mention how incredibly unpopular he’d been with the other members of the Turaga council; none of them would have willingly put him in power.

“Welcome, too, our lost brothers and sisters from Xia,” Turaga Rost continued, as the rest of the Toa and Matoran who were able to began to make their way out of the transport. “I’m sure you have a great many questions, but first, refreshments are in order, I think.”

The doors at the base of the Coliseum tower creaked open, and out emerged groups of unarmed Vahki carrying tables, crates of food, and barrels of water. Behind them were more local Matoran and Turaga, bearing stretchers and supplies to treat the wounded still on the transport. Trina recognised among them some of the other missing members of the former Turaga council, which at least meant Makuta Vhel hadn’t killed them all during his takeover the city. Though, given that he’d brought hundreds of beings with hypnosis powers with him, a hostile takeover probably hadn’t even been necessary. 

“Sit, rest, eat, and listen,” Rost said. “Hear the tale of our new protector.”

And then a new voice, unseen and unfathomable, echoed from the speakers arrayed around the arena. It was a voice that sent a chill down the spine, that made the shadows feel colder and closer. A voice of great age and greater veneration, its every syllable seeming to demand total attention. 

There was no need for introduction or explanation.

This could only be the voice of Makuta Vhel.

[Nato G]

Chapter 6 – A Tale As Old As Time

From the notes of Chronicler Crisda.

The Makuta’s tale has been told and retold several times since he arrived in our city. At first, he told it only to the Toa and Turaga in a private gathering, who in turn passed it on to us. After the failed rebellion, he told it once more, broadcasting it across the city. And his Toa Hagah are all to eager to remind us of it any time we step out of line.

Today marked the third time Makuta Vhel told his tale himself, and this time it felt… different. It’s hard to describe in words. There was something provocative and prideful in the way Vhel spoke. It felt like a challenge, directed at the returned Toa. Putting them in their place, daring them to disagree, belittling their beliefs.

The first time this tale was told, there was violence and vitriol, defiance and despair. Some Matoran and Turaga even took their own lives. But this time, I fear the outcome will be far worse.

* * *

Trina

“There is much that you do not understand about this universe and your place in it. To understand how we have reached this end, you must first understand how our story began.”

Trina suppressed an involuntary shiver as the Makuta spoke. She’d spent most of her life living in the mountains, and the last few centuries in the close company of a Ko-Toa, but something in Vhel’s voice gave her chills in a way she’d never experienced before.

“We Makuta first came into being some 100,000 years ago, wrought from antidermis by the Great Spirit you all so revere. He cursed us with pride and power, and set us to work nurturing and protecting life in this universe. Despite what your Turaga teach you, it was we and we alone who created the plants and rahi that provide you your sustenance and fill this world with wonder. It was we who took it upon ourselves to thwart the League Of Six Kingdoms, we who ended the Matoran Civil War in this very city, and we who toiled for centuries to prevent similar uprisings elsewhere in this universe. And yet… who did your kind proffer their praise and prayers to? Not us.”

Murmurs rang through the crowd as the Makuta spoke. On the surface, nothing Vhel said truly stood out as unfamiliar or false. From everything Trina knew of history, the Makuta did have a known history of creating creatures, they had been the ones to bring down the Barraki, and Teridax’s massacre had ended the Civil War, but the way Vhel was completely cutting out almost any involvement from Mata Nui flew in the face of everything the Turaga taught, everything Trina had always held to be true.

“No. You gave your faith to an absent, distant Great Spirit who has never done anything for any of you! The same Great Spirit who put the Barraki in power then let them conquer unchecked for a thousand years. The same Great Spirit who designed us to be jealous, and let that jealousy fester to the point where we rose up against him. If your god was truly all-seeing, all-knowing, how could he not foresee the consequences of his choices? Why did he stop any of it? Why did he not spare you from your suffering? The answer is not that Mata Nui could not see, but that he simply wasn’t looking. Your Great Spirit had a Destiny of his own, one that left him looking ever outwards, not inwards.”

Trina glanced at her companions. Some looked disinterested or confused, while others appeared distraught. Icthilos’ brow was furrowed, as if the words being spoken were some complex riddle to be deciphered. But it was Widrek’s crestfallen expression that left Trina most concerned. Widrek wore a Kanohi Rode, and was capable enough of recognising falsehood even without it; if anyone here could discern the deceptions in the Makuta’s words, it was him. The fact that he looked so utterly defeated could only mean he hadn’t found any.

“But that Destiny is lost to us now,” Vhel continued. “There is no new world awaiting us. Only this one, and it dies a little more with each passing day. So we each must fulfil the functions we were made to perform, and in so doing make up for the mistakes of our kindred and forebears. I will be your provider, the Toa will be your protectors, and you Matoran will work, as Duty demands.”

“And if we don’t accept your rule?” Came the amplified voice of a De-Turaga somewhere near the back of the crowd.

“I urge you to speak with the citizens of this city before blindly flinging yourself into defiance for defiance’s sake. Do what Mata Nui could not: contemplate the consequences of your choices before you make them.”

“You say the Great Spirit never did anything for us,” Trina interjected, “What of heat and light? Gravity? The means to bring new beings into being?”

“Valid points. But as I said, there is much you don’t understand about this universe. The truth of it is beyond what your kind are capable of comprehending.”

“Then dumb it down!” Savnu shouted.

“Even a simple explanation is better than none at all,” Trina agreed.

“Your brother said much the same thing,” the Makuta mused. “So I tell you all what I told him. Your Great Spirit was not a god, and this universe is not some magical realm. For lack of a better term, this universe is a machine, and we are all essential components in a grand, symbiotic system. The Great Spirit gave you light and warmth because it was what your kind required to live and work efficiently. He gave many species the means to create more of their kind to ensure there would always be new workers to replace those who died or retired.”

It made a twisted kind of sense, loathe though Trina was to admit it. The Matoran of Voya Nui, Mahri Nui, and Metru Nui had all spoken at times of a world above and an ocean below, of inconceivably vast open spaces without walls or Domes or Sea Gates. It was already difficult to dismiss so many beings from so many places swearing to the same story, and the fact that light still shone through the Sun Holes of the city only added to the veracity of their claims. The idea that this universe was some manner of machine made as much sense as any other for why there were apparently these arbitrary artificial barriers barring access to the world above.

“We need proof!” Savnu’s voice rang out across the arena again. “You’re just words, spouting revised history from somewhere we can’t even see.”

“It’s strange, isn’t it?” Vhel chuckled, “For 100,000 years you didn’t need to see the Great Spirit to believe in him.”

“What I see is a few hundred beings who have the power to make anyone say anything they want,” Savnu countered, “For all we know there is no Makuta, and you’re just one of these Mesmers speaking in a scary voice and spinning a stupid story.”

“Your cynicism is… warranted. If you doubt my words, then consider the history of this very city. When a Civil War broke out among the Matoran the effects were felt throughout all corners of the universe. A Toa had to retrieve the Kanohi Ignika and give their life to revive the Great Spirit. The same events played out after Makuta Teridax caused the Great Cataclysm. This city is deeply connected to the machine you call your universe, and when the work stops, the system crashes.” 

“You’re still just words.”

“Then designate one of your number. They will have the privilege of meeting with me in person, and learning the terrible truth of our reality. I will share with them my memories and knowledge… if their mind survives the experience, I trust their testimony will sate your scepticism.”

Trina found herself stepping forward. There was no rational reason for it, just an impulsive need to know. If this was all true, then she needed to understand, not only for the sake of her own curiosity but for the sake of everyone’s survival. If the universe was a machine, maybe it could be fixed? If the Makuta understood the nature of this universe, perhaps he knew something of what lay beyond it?

But she’d scarcely taken two steps before Icthilos’ firm hand caught her arm.

“Don’t you dare say you have to be the one to do it,” she warned, pulling out of his grasp but not moving any further forward. “You don’t need to be the martyr every time-”

“No. It shouldn’t be me,” he said. “And it can’t be you.”

“Why not? If you say you think I can’t handle it I swear-”

“Because we didn’t make it this far to lose each other,” he snapped, his earnestness taking them both by surprise, “Especially not to the most obvious trap in the universe.”

“I… okay, I’ll give you that one,” she stammered, trying to cover up her surprise with the first flippant remark she could think of. “So who, then?”

“Him,” Icthilos said, pointing to the lone figure, already at the front of the crowd, who was moving out into the open. He stood a head taller than any of the other Toa, more so if one counted the fin jutting from atop his Kanohi Rode. Widrek.

The second he stepped fully away from the rest of the crowd, the shadows around the arena seemed to stretch and shudder, coalescing into a cloying curtain of blank blackness that engulfed the lone Onu-Toa, leaving no sign of him when they dispersed.

Edited August 3 by Nato G

[Nato G]

Chapter 7 – New World Order

From the notes of Chronicler Crisda.

Most Matoran have always held the Vahki with a certain degree of dread. The unnerving way they speak, the unnatural way they move, the ruthlessness with which they carry out their orders… and yet, we still understand the Vahki. They’re consistent, predictable.

But our new enforcers are far more frightening, for no one knows what’s truly going on behind those eerie eyes.

* * *

Ilton

The Sea Gates were all closed.

Sealing them up had proven to be the easiest part. It was actually finding them that had been the most difficult. The Great Barrier was pockmarked with cliffs and caves, some of which had collapsed during the earthquake that had wracked the universe after Teridax’s takeover. Several of the gates had been near-completely obscured, and it taken a close inspection of the cliffside to even discern their locations.

Even being able to sense metal hadn’t helped Ilton as much as he’d expected. The Great Barrier was home to numerous smuggler caches and hideaways, not to mention shipwrecks. The tides (back when there still had been tides) had brought the debris and detritus of old wars piling up against the base of the barrier in some places, leaving rusted armour and broken weapons lodged amidst the rocks.

But the work was now done. Metru Nui was now completely cut off from whatever was left of the old universe. Any hostile force that tried to reach the city would find the gates gone, reshaped into solid slabs of metal with twisting roots buried deep in the rock. Ilton had witnessed a great many horrors in Xia, and he’d done his utmost to ensure none of them would ever threaten Metru Nui… assuming any Vortixx, Skakdi, or Dark Hunters had even survived.

The last report he’d gotten, via a Kadin-wearing messenger Toa who’d come and gone earlier that morning, was that the city was home to its fair share of horrors already. Ilton was all too eager to get back to the city – he was one of the best-suited Toa in the universe to take on an alleged Makuta, after all – but the messenger had advised that Icthilos and the others wanted him to stay safely away from the city until they had a better sense of what was going on. So here he waited, with a meagre crew and mounting worry, for his friends to send word.

Hopefully Savnu wasn’t doing something characteristically reckless in his absence.

He wandered about the ship for a while, chatting with various crew members to keep at bay the worries brimming in his brain. But eventually his concern could no longer be ignored, and he found himself approaching a lone Ga-Turaga perched near the front of the boat, hoping he might have some sagely solace to offer. The man’s name was Marik, if Ilton recalled correctly. He’d transformed into a Turaga in the earlier days of the Xia campaign, and had been mostly relegated to a support role since then.

“Could I trouble you for some advice, wise one?” He asked gently.

“Don’t call me that,” the Turaga snapped, glowering at Ilton as if he’d been slapped, not merely spoken to. Like the first Toa who’d died in the Vahki strike, he wore a Mask Of Clairvoyance, though his bore a ragged crack from battlefield damage that had likely rendered it powerless.

Ilton almost blurted out an offer to repair it for him, but many of the Toa had kept Kirils as backup masks to repair their equipment after battles. Plenty of others would have offered to fix the crack long before now, which meant Marik was choosing to leave his mask mangled out of choice.

“I apologise. I meant no offence.”

“I’m the one who has committed the offence,” Marik replied, gesturing to his body, “I transformed with my blade buried in a Skakdi’s heartlight. This form isn’t a… promotion. It’s a punishment from the Great Spirit for breaking my oath as a Toa.”

Ilton had heard the story. Marik had been the first – but far from the last – Toa who’d been forced to bend or break the Toa Code in the heat of battle. Ilton himself had escaped having to make that terrible choice, but he knew others – Savnu, Bihriis, Widrek – who’d crossed lines they once wouldn’t have. Unlike Marik, though, the others hadn’t turned into Turaga while doing so.

“I was told that Skakdi you slew was poised to destroy a Xian transport with Matoran on board. How do you know that saving their lives wasn’t the fulfilment of your Destiny?”

From what he’d heard, that transport’s destination had been the same foundry where Savnu had later deployed her Toa Stones. There was a very real possibility that the Matoran Marik had saved were among those who had gone on to become Toa. To Ilton, at least, that explanation seemed a far more likely interpretation of Destiny than assuming Marik was the only Toa in existence to be turned into a Turaga as some kind of cosmic punishment.

But remorse and self-loathing were hard things to overcome, for Marik simply scoffed at the suggestion. “What would you know of Destiny?”

“I’m one of the last Fe-Toa in existence, and I’ve just learned there’s a Makuta in Metru Nui in need of deposing. That sounds like Destiny’s design to me.”

“Hm, perhaps-” Marik paused, brow furrowed. “Something stirs in the water. We’re not alone.”

Sure enough, Ilton soon felt the same thing with his own abilities. A vast, complex shape with ample mechanical components moving beneath the water, as large if not larger than the boat beneath his feet. The sea began to swell as the unseen thing rose, then broke the surface, battering the boat with a brutal wave that brought it rolling against the rocks of the Great Barrier.

As Ilton pulled himself upright, he saw the surfaced object for what it truly was: an airship. An airship with what looked to be a Hagah plasma cannon mounted on its underbelly. A plasma cannon that was now taking aim at the battered boat…

* * *

Trina

Ten minutes of strained silence had passed since Widrek’s disappearance. Some of the Toa murmured amidst themselves, but few were willing to raise their voices above a whisper. Some of the Matoran were already helping themselves to the food and water that had been brought out, and Turaga were tending to the wounded, talking with the healers in hushed tones.

Trina nudged Icthilos. “If you were so sure this was a trap, why did you let Widrek go?”

“He wanted to go. None of us could’ve stopped him,” Icthilos replied softly. “And everyone here knows and respects him. If something happens to him, we’ll have no trouble rallying everyone against the Makuta.”

Trina wasn’t shocked by the words, nor even disappointed. This was the side of Icthilos that the war had brought forth, the calculating pragmatist who sought the advantage in any situation, no matter how dire. He and Widrek had often thought alike, which meant Widrek’s had also considered the possibility that he was sacrificing himself when he’d chosen to step forward.

“Besides, he didn’t go in alone,” Icthilos said, gesturing back towards the transport.

Trina glanced in the direction he’d indicated. It took her a few moments to identify the detail that was out of place, a Toa lying unconscious on a stretcher with the rest of the wounded. A Su-Toa that she knew full well wasn’t actually injured: Orane.

“You knew he’d do that?” She asked, certain she hadn’t seen Icthilos order Orane to do anything.

“I assumed. Hopefully he can tell us more about whatever’s going on inside the Coliseum.”

As if summoned by the mention of his residence, the one-eyed Mesmer that had been by Turaga Rost’s side earlier suddenly pushed through the crowd to approach the two Toa.

“Icthilos, and Trina,” his mandibles clacked together as he spoke, “I’ve heard much about you.”

“I’m afraid we can’t say the same, mister…?” Icthilos said.

“I am Talok. Administrator Talok. Aide to the Makuta, advisor to the Regent,” his already-hunched form bent further forward into a bow, “I understand you are among the leaders of this group, so I thought it prudent to introduce myself and address any questions you may have.”

Despite his poor posture, Talok seemed taller and burlier than the other Mesmers Trina had glimpsed around the arena. He was still head and shoulders taller than many of the Toa, save perhaps for Widrek and the Toa Vehi. Both his body and the ornate, angular armour he wore bore the scars of innumerable battles; this was an old being, and one who had known war.

“I have… quite a few,” Trina said, “How about you start by giving us a bit of a rundown on the chain of command here. Obviously Makuta Vhel is at the top, Rost is his Regent, but how does the rest of the hierarchy fit together?”

“I am the appointed leader of my people, just as Rost is for yours. There is also an advisory council, where your Turaga have input in our decision-making processes, as do some of the elders among my kind, and the Rahkshi representatives.”

“You have Rahkshi advisors?”

“At their final stage of evolution, some Kraata can speak and reason. They think and want just like the rest of us, and so they must be heard. There are three such Rahkshi in the council.”

It sounded utterly insane, but Trina had heard rumours of powerful talking Rahkshi in the past. If such beings existed, she supposed it was only fair that they be given seats at the table. As fair as anything could be in this mad new pecking order.

Although, the idea that there were Rahkshi involved in the city’s decision-making processes suddenly made the events of the previous evening far more worrying. Could these Rahkshi leaders prosecute the Toa for destroying the wild Rahkshi that had attacked them? Did they have that right?

“So beyond this council, where does everyone else fit in?” She asked hurriedly, not wishing to dwell on the thought.

“Your fellow Toa continue to fulfil their duties as protectors of the Matoran, while mine aid the Vahki as enforcers. The Matoran occupy the lowest tier of society, as workers.”

“And why do your lot get to lord it over the Matoran?” Icthilos asked.

“Because it is our Duty, given to us by the Great Spirit at the dawn of this universe, just as you were given yours. As you should well know, the Prime Species were ordained by Mata Nui himself to uphold law and order in the universe.”

“And they dishonoured that Duty by becoming conquerors,” Icthilos countered. “Your lot aren’t worthy to claim that Duty now.”

“By that logic, the failure of your kind to stop Teridax supplanting the Great Spirit would make you equally unworthy to continue in your role as protectors, would it not?”

Trina audibly winced. She had nothing to offer as a counter or comeback. Teridax had outwitted them all. So many heroes had made so many sacrifices, and all they’d managed to do in the end was doom the universe to darkness.

“I don’t blame you for your… narrow focus,” Talok continued, “Your Duty was only ever to protect your own people. But ours was to uphold order among all peoples, and now those who dwell in this city are all that remain. We have been denied our duty for tens of millennia, and we will not be denied any longer.”

Trina felt Icthilos’ hand take her own, a gesture that was as much for her reassurance as it was his own. She could feel him trembling slightly, though whether it was due to anger or something else, she wasn’t sure. 

“Okay, what of the city?” She asked, “Why is Le-Metru abandoned?”

“Le-Metru was deemed… wasteful. The machinery, the chute systems, it all used too much power, so it was evacuated and shut down.”

“And the Rahkshi live there now?” Trina asked.

“The Rahkshi reside in the Archives, beneath the city. They dwell there during daylight hours, and roam the streets at night.” Apparently anticipating their aghast reactions, Talok quickly continued, “There is an understanding in place. The Matoran adhere to a strict curfew, and the Rahkshi know not to trespass in any structure with doors or windows.”

Trina wanted to scoff at the idea on instinct, but a key detail from the battle on the beach stopped her short.

“They didn’t enter the boats,” Icthilos said, realising the same thing she had. “They attacked us on the beach, at the railings, even knocked down the mast, but none of them went inside.”

It was a comfort to know, but only a small one. The Rahkshi had been merciless in their attack on the Toa; Trina didn’t want to imagine what the creatures would do to any Matoran who broke curfew.

“Precisely,” Talok said. “As to your earlier question, the city has been restructured. With Matoran of more than the six prime elements present, we saw no sense in segregation. Le and Ko Metru are now abandoned, while Onu-Metru is only sparsely populated, and now used primarily for storage. The rest of the Matoran are now concentrated in the remaining Metrus. The furnace of Ta-Metru provides heating and other vital supplies for the city. Po-Metru is used for manufacturing, and Ga-Metru is the source of our food and water.”

“It sounds like there’s not much room left in this new world order for Toa.” Icthilos said.

“After what you’ve endured, is that so bad?” Talok asked, “You’ve done your Duty. You brought your lost Matoran home. You’ve earned your rest.”

“If that were true, we’d all be Turaga by now,” Trina pointed out, “We’re still here, which means our Destinies remain unfulfilled.”

“Well, of course. The people will always need their Protectors,” Talok said, starting to turn away, “I suppose only time will tell what they need protecting from.”

Trina couldn’t shake the feeling that she was already looking right at it.  

[Nato G]

Chapter 8 – Truth

From the notes of Chronicler Crisda.

Few beings have had one-on-one audiences with Makuta Vhel, and each of them has come back changed. Even now, the Turaga don’t understand how or why. There is no sign of Infection on their masks, no evidence of meddling in their minds, and yet they are changed. What truth lurks in the Makuta’s memory that can warp a being so completely?

Rost became joyous and jubilant. Dhozoh became more dour and withdrawn. Maliss became cold and cruel. Tuxar now consider himself to be a god.

Widrek too, returned a different man to who he was when he departed.

* * *

Pira

“How’re you holding up?” Savnu appeared at Pira’s side, making her jump slightly.

“I appreciate the check-in, but I’m not one of your brood,” Pira said, waving her hand and summoning a brief breeze to dispel the dust that had been kicked up by Savnu’s Kakama-assisted arrival, “You don’t need to Mother me.”

Savnu had been blurring about the crowd since Widrek had disappeared, speaking with some of the other Xian Toa. Ever since they’d transformed she’d taken full responsibility for them, overseeing their care and training. Due to her affectionate attitude and role in their creation, many of them had taken to calling her Mother, rather than Sister. Though Pira hadn’t been one of those transformed by Savnu’s Toa Stone gambit, she was the only other Matoran from Xia to have been turned into a Toa, so she’d often been lumped in with Savnu’s four surviving charges. While she didn’t mind having someone looking out for her, she wasn’t so big on the touchy-feely stuff. 

“Noted. But while I’m here…?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?”

“I’m worried about him. Is that what you want to hear?” She blurted out, “Widrek hates my guts, and I’m still worried about him.”

“He’s your Brother Toa. Our strength comes from our ability to set aside our squabbles and stand together when it matters. It’s only natural to feel as you do.”

“Natural? What’s natural about any of this?”

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed stares being directed her way by others in the crowd. Before she could send some scathing remark towards the gawkers, Savnu suddenly wrapped her in an embrace, and after a brief blur they were both standing behind the transport, out of sight and earshot from the crowd.

“Sorry about that. People are worried enough as is. Let’s not make it any worse,” Savnu said, letting her go. “You were saying?”

“I don’t know what I’m saying. I don’t know what to say to any of this!”

“For what it’s worth, you’re far from the only one feeling this way. We’re at the mercy of a situation we still don’t understand. I feel just as helpless as you do right now.”

“You don’t show it.”

“It wouldn’t help.”

“So… what? You just shut off your feelings and pretend everything doesn’t suck?”

“Nah, that’s Icthilos’ job. The sad truth of our universe is that sometimes bad things have to happen for good things to follow. The forest has to burn for new life to take root in the ashes.”

“I’ve never been one for metaphors. You got anything more tangible?”

“I keep faith in the Three Virtues. The world may have changed, but our Duty hasn’t. The fact that we’re all still here means our Destinies still lie ahead.”

“Maybe you missed the news, but the Great Spirit is dead, and so is his evil replacement. I’m pretty sure Destiny died with them.”

“How do you explain your own transformation, then? Or those of the other Matoran and Toa who changed after the Great Spirit seemingly perished?”

“Dumb luck. Happens a lot to me. I still haven’t decided if it’s good or bad.”

“It sounds like you and I believe in the same thing. Just with different names.”

The only response Pira could bring herself to offer was an ambiguous grunt. She wanted to believe there was some plan or purpose to her transformation, to everything that was happening, but all facts were to the contrary, and blind faith had never come easily to her.

“Perhaps the Great Spirit isn’t as dead as he seems,” Savnu said, “Or maybe, our Destinies are decided by some Greater Being beyond the confines of this universe. Maybe concepts like Luck and Destiny are just words we use to assign meaning to random chance.”

“Or maybe it’s all meaningless. Maybe-”

On the other side of the transport, the crowd stirred and murmured as a sound like a whirlwind swept across the arena. 

“-maybe we should go see what that’s about,” Pira finished.

In a blink, Savnu had brought her back around to join the rest of the crowd. Widrek had reappeared, and now stood in the box platform alongside Turaga Rost and the other three Toa. He still looked like himself, with no sign of Infection on his mask, but when he spoke, there was a fanatical glee in his usually-sombre voice that made him seem an entirely different man.

“My friends… I have spoken with the Makuta, shared in his memories, and he has shown me the error of our ways,” Widrek proclaimed, gesturing grandly as he spoke, “For too long, we have called ourselves the chosen people, placed our faith and praise upon a being who saw us as nothing more than cogs in his machine.”

Pira felt something twist inside her.

The Widrek she’d spoken to this morning was gone.

“I have seen the truth,” Widrek pointed at his mask, “And I tell it to you now. The Great Spirit is not dead, but exiled, trapped within the Mask Of Life and banished into the void beyond our universe. Without him, this machine we live in is breaking down, and only the labours of the Matoran can keep this universe alive until he can be recovered.”

Pira exchanged a glance with Savnu; the taller Toa’s expression indicated that she shared Pira’s scepticism, but there was also a grim kind of acceptance in her eyes. Pira understood why. Widrek – or whoever was putting words in his mouth – had just given all of the believers in the crowd cause to hope, preying on their faith to dissuade them from interfering with the new world order.

His unspoken threat was a powerful one: any disruption to the daily work of the Matoran – such as the attempt to overthrow the Makuta’s rule that many of the Toa had no-doubt already been considering – could ruin any hope for the future.

“So, is this Destiny’s design?” She asked Savnu, her tone bitter.

“I hope not.”

* * *

Icthilos

Any doubt he might have had about something nefarious unfolding behind the scenes had been swiftly dispelled by Widrek’s impassioned speech. He’d been gone less than a half-hour and his entire demeanour was different.

“What are we going to do about this?” Trina asked him, speaking softly. “And don’t you dare say nothing.”

“Nothing, for now,” he replied, not looking away from Widrek. “Round up a few Toa we trust, ones on the less… spiritual side. Get them to chat up as many of the local Matoran and Turaga as they can. We need a clear picture of what’s really going on in this city.”

“What about you?”

“I’m going to talk to the Chronicler. I figure he’ll either be the voice of free speech around here, or the propaganda orator for the new order. Either way, I’m sure I’ll learn something from him.”

“What about Mal?”

Icthilos’ gaze shifted from Widrek to the Fe-Toa standing behind him. The Brother that Icthilos had known was nearly unrecognisable; beyond his new prosthetic arm, his whole build was different, with a stooped posture and gangly proportions, enhanced all over with mechanical components, encased in jagged armour. The only consistent detail was the familiar, Kualsi-esque shape of the Mask Of Shadow Travel he wore.

It had been nearly a year since he’d seen his brother, and time had clearly taken its toll on both of them.

“If we go over there to him, he’s just going to toe the line, whether he’s bought in or not,” Icthilos said, “I think we need to wait for him to come to us, and hope he’s still himself.”

“And if he’s not?”

“We’ll find a way to help him. To help all of them.”

[Nato G]

Chapter 9 – Uncertainty

From the notes of Chronicler Crisda.

I thought when the Toa finally returned I’d spend weeks, maybe months, quizzing them for every detail of their expedition. Instead, I was the one who found himself being questioned.

Icthilos was the one who sought me out. He’d always been something of a leader among the Toa, even before they’d left for Xia, and that fact remained unchanged now.

Though we’d come from different islands originally, he and I had both settled in Ko-Metru, and come to know each other in passing (though I suspect I followed his exploits much more closely than he followed mine). I knew him well enough to understand that – more so than perhaps any other Toa – the conflict on Xia had been his war. And now he seemed ready to start another.

He and I spoke for some time. I told him of Makuta Vhel’s unexpected arrival, of how he and his followers had simply appeared inside the Coliseum in full force. It had been a bloodless takeover; the invaders took the Vahki offline as soon as they arrived, and four Toa and a handful of Turaga stood no chance against hundreds of Odinans and Rahkshi.

I told him of the changes the new rulers enacted within days of their arrival, of the abrupt evacuations of Le and Ko Metru, and the forceful amalgamation of the Matoran populations. I told him of how Order Of Mata Nui members in the city had been rounded up, and never seen again. After that had come the Rahkshi curfew, the restriction of recreation, and the increased work quotas. And after that had come the attempted rebellion.

Icthilos seemed unsurprised when I told him of its grim outcome. 

Eventually, Icthilos’ questions turned to his Brother Maliss, though I fear the answers I gave were not the ones he was hoping for.

For the first hour or so of our conversation, Icthilos was clearly sceptical and suspicious, no doubt wondering if I’d been swayed to the Makuta’s side like so many others. But the longer we spoke, the more his apprehension abated, until at last he was willing to allow me to ask some questions of my own. He told me of the battles on Xia, describing it as a gruelling guerrilla war of temporary alliances and betrayals as Toa, Dark Hunters, Skakdi, and Vortixx all vied for control over advantageous terrain and vital resources. He told me of the liberation of the slaves, and the retreat that followed, the Toa and Matoran fleeing the city while the other forces were left to tear each other apart.

And when his tale was done, he showed me a simple stone tablet. It was inscribed with names, some I recognised, some I didn’t, but I didn’t need to know them all to understand what it was… what it meant to him.

He asked me to write down their names, and make sure they were remembered.

I promised him I would.

* * *

Vhalem

It was somewhere past noon when Vhalem regrouped with Trina, Savnu, Keidal, and Icthilos. At Trina’s request, he’d had conversations with several of Metru Nui’s Turaga, approaching them under the guise of seeking advice about his Toa transformation, before slowly steering the conversation towards the status of the city and the nature of its new rulers.

Savnu and Pira, as well as Trina herself, had been having similar conversations with some of the other local Turaga and Matoran who were here offering aid, while Icthilos had been doing the same with the city’s Chronicler. All of the accounts they’d collected concurred on the key details, and it all painted a grim picture of daily life in Metru Nui.

“We have to do something about this, right?” He urged. “This is… inhumane.”

“It’s pragmatic and oppressive, but-” Icthilos sighed, “-I don’t want to be the one playing Piraka’s advocate, but so far the way Vhel is running things isn’t that different to how Metru Nui or even Xia were run before.”

“And I came here because I was told this place would be better than Xia,” Vhalem said softly, “You promised all of us a better life.”

He knew it wasn’t fair to lash out at Icthilos of all people for this, but he also didn’t really care right now. This wasn’t the future any of them had fought for.

“You have light,” Icthilos jabbed a finger towards the sky, “You’re free. This is better.”

“All recreational activities, religious ceremonies, and social gatherings cancelled. Increased work quotas and no days off or downtime, even though the city is using less power with the chutes offline. All these people do is labour, day after day, with barely any breaks. The only difference between this city and Xia is that these Matoran don’t sleep at their workstations.”

“What do you want me to say, Vhalem?” Icthilos snapped. “It’s awful, but even if everything else Vhel said about the universe is lies, we do need heat and power to keep everyone in this city alive, and those things do require the Matoran to work.”

“Nah, it doesn’t add up,” Savnu interjected, “With all of the refugees that came in, there were more Matoran around than workstations that needed filling. The Matoran were doing enough work to keep the city going before we left, and that was with the chutes online, and break days. But Vhel is working them all even harder now.”

“So it begs the question, where is all of the extra power going?” Trina asked. “It certainly wasn’t lighting up Xia or Zakaz or anywhere else in the universe, at least not as far as we could tell when we were still out there.”

“I don’t have the answers,” Icthilos shrugged, “Maybe you should ask Talok, or Orane whenever he gets around to returning his body.”

“What about the people who’ve gone missing?” Keidal spoke up. “There used to be Av-Matoran here who escaped Karda Nui, but no one’s seen any of them in weeks.”

“Apparently the Order Of Mata Nui members who were in the city were also rounded up,” Icthilos added.

“I have another question,” Vhalem said, “You guys told me that you sent four Toa back to Metru Nui, right? But I only saw three up there with that Rost guy.”

“Yayle. A Su-Toa,” Trina said, “I asked around, no one seemed to know anything.”

Vhalem noticed Icthilos’ gaze shift abruptly downwards, as if he found himself suddenly unwilling to meet anyone else’s eyes. Before Vhalem could pry, Savnu spoke up.

“No one seemed willing to say anything is more like it,” she said, “I asked after him as well, and a few Turaga that I haven’t seen around yet. The fact that they won’t say says it all, I reckon.”

“Couldn’t Bihriis get us a clear answer?” Vhalem asked, “Where is she?”

“Attempting to get answers out of Widrek.”

“I don’t think we’re going to get any more answers out here,” Icthilos said, appearing back to his normal self, “Not with the Vahki and Mesmers around, and not this close to the Coliseum; we don’t know the effective range of a Makuta’s mind reading.”

“That’s assuming there even is a Makuta,” Savnu said.

“I’m no expert, but what we heard seemed pretty convincing,” Vhalem spoke up. “That… felt like a Makuta. That aura… that presence… I don’t know how else to put it.”

Makuta Vhel seemed far more intent on secrecy and theatrics than the Makuta of Xia had been. Antroz had always been very direct and straightforward, appearing in public to make proclamations rather than relying on emissaries. It hadn’t been uncommon to see him roaring around the streets on his Destral Cycle some days. By Makuta standards, he’d been quite down-to-earth, albeit not in a friendly sense. But still, on those rare occasions were Vhalem had found himself close enough to the Makuta to see and hear him clearly, he’d felt what he’d felt today when Vhel’s voice had issued from the speakers. A sense of smallness, an awareness of how powerless he was in the presence of this alien demigod.

“You said the same thing during Vhel’s speech earlier,” Trina turned to Savnu, “You really think the Mesmers are somehow faking a Makuta?”

“That’s impossible.” Vhalem said firmly.

“There were a lot of things I once thought impossible, Vhalem,” Savnu said, “But on Xia I saw Kanohi, weapons, and powers I’d never dreamed of before. We know these Mesmers can hypnotise people, we know they can wear Kanohi, we know they had the tech and tactics to conquer the universe once before, and they’ve had tens of thousands of years to develop since then. I reckon enough of ‘em working together could pull off just about anything.”

“And this story about the universe being a machine?” Vhalem asked, “I don’t know this city and its history as well as the rest of you, but I saw the way the story rattled you all. There’s something to it, isn’t there?”

“A fiction forged around cherry-picked facts,” Savnu said firmly, “The idea of a Makuta gives people something to fear, but no one can rule for long through fear alone. So they came up with this ridiculous story to give everyone something to hope for. We need to act now, and bring this farce to an end before anyone else gets swayed to their side.”

“I know consequences are usually an afterthought to you-” Icthilos growled, “-but we can’t dismiss any of this out of hand. If there’s truth to any of it we can’t risk acting rashly.”

“Icthilos, please-” Trina said gently.

“Nah, I want to hear what he has to say,” Savnu snapped, waving dismissively in her direction, “Go ahead, Icthilos. Tell me how I’m the rash one, when it was your reckless need for revenge that landed us all on Xia in the first place!”

“You sounded enthusiastic enough at the time.”

“The difference between us is that I regret it.”

“You truly think I don’t?”

“You don’t show it.”

“Neither do you.”

Vhalem slowly stepped away from the group, a cold knife of guilt twisting within him. He’d pushed them to this, his own anger fuelling the fires of their deeper, darker sorrows and resentments. So much for unity…

He turned his back on the bickering group and started wandering back towards the transports. Icthilos was right; they needed to understand the consequences before they started another conflict. Savnu was right; they needed to take action before more Toa like Widrek switched sides.

There was no right way.

“Looks like Mother and Father are having their first fight,” Pira appeared out of the crowd, falling into step beside him, “And in front of the kids, too.”

“Can you just… not, right now?” Vhalem grumbled. “Where have you been, anyway?”

“After Savnu headed back to give her report, I decided to keep chatting with the Turaga.”

“And?”

“And I think I know what’s wrong with the sick Toa.”

[Nato G]

Chapter 10 – Hitting The Streets

From the notes of Chronicler Crisda.

Our universe was once vast and mysterious, its most distant shores unseen, its darkest depths unexplored. And yet, we thought we understood it all.

It is only now, when our universe has become so much smaller, that we came to understand how little we truly knew.

* * *

Pira

“He called it shadow sickness,” Pira said.

Icthilos and Savnu had stormed off by the time she and Vhalem had made their way back to Trina, so she was just telling her and trusting the information would be passed on. Trina had always come across as one of the more level-headed Toa leaders, striving to balance out the unchecked egos of her companions.

“I’ve never heard of it,” Trina said, frowning. “Go on.”

“He said it happens when a Toa tries to absorb energy from a Rahkshi, or even a Makuta. Like, if you tried to catch a blast from a Lightning Rahkshi, that sort of thing. The powers of some Toa overlap with those of Rahkshi, but their abilities are… different, you know?”

As she spoke, Pira glanced at her spear, suddenly feeling far less comfortable with integrating Rahkshi staff pieces into the weapon. Had she inadvertently exposed herself to some kind of illness by salvaging scrap from the creatures?

“Because they’re creatures of antidermis. Everything they are is twisted and tainted by the Shadow they were wrought from,” Trina nodded grimly. “I think I understand.”

“Exactly. The way it was explained to me, when a Toa absorbs an energy like that, they willingly take that Shadow into themselves. It infects them. Feeds off their elemental energies. Festers.”

“Like infecting a Kanohi. Or draining their light with Shadow Leeches.”

“But slower, and…” she grimaced, “…and a lot more painful, I’m told.”

“Did this Turaga tell you anything else?”

“Just that even if treated, not everyone survives.”

“Thank you. This Turaga, did he tell you his name?”

“No,” Pira shook her head, “He just showed up while I was asking some of the others about the wounded. You should be able to find him pretty easily, though. He stood out.”

“Stood out?”

“He looked kind of off. He had all this scrapwork armour with patches on it, like he was cobbled together out of spare parts or something.”

Pira had seen more than her fair share of unpleasant things since the universe had gone dark, but the Turaga had been on another level. The way he was pieced together looked excruciating, barely survivable. If he hadn’t been walking and talking Pira would have thought he was dead. And there had been a weariness in his voice that made it sound like he wanted to be dead.

“Was he an Onu-Turaga?”

“Yeah.”

“I know of him. Larone. He was the Turaga of Metru Nui during the time of the Matoran Civil War. He was injured during that conflict, and sent to Karzahni for repairs afterwards. From what I hear, he’s been a bit eccentric ever since.”

“Can we trust what he says, then?” Vhalem asked.

“I think so. It makes sense. It’s a Vo-Toa, Le-Toa, and Ba-Toa who’ve fallen sick. Those all line up with possible Rahkshi powers. And if anyone would know about an obscure ailment, it’s someone who’s had the misfortune of spending time in Karzahni.”

“Is there anything we can do?” Vhalem asked.

Before Trina could answer, the voice of Turaga Rost rang out across the arena once more.

“Thank you for your patience, friends. The Vahki have completed their task of cataloguing you all-” Pira didn’t recall him ever declaring that the Vahki were doing that. “-and now you’re free to go. Your injured will be taken to Ga-Metru to rest and recover, and the Matoran will be allocated new residences before the day is done.”

That’s it? Pira thought bitterly. No fanfare, no welcome, no citizenship ceremony…

“You Toa are free to go where you wish, settle in whatever Metru you feel most comfortable in. Those of you who had homes here will find your lodgings exactly as you left them, the rest may requisition any empty residence you wish. Just ensure that you’re behind closed doors come nightfall, when the Rahkshi roam the streets.”

“I think you’ve both done enough for one day,” Trina said, turning back to Pira and Vhalem. “You should check out the city. You both fought for the right to be here. You’ve earned this.”

If you say so… Pira turned away without a word. Trina’s words had seemed like a compliment, but they felt more like a dismissal.

How was Pira ever meant to prove herself if they kept pushing her away?

* * *

Icthilos

He should’ve been happy.

He was back where he belonged, officially freed of his burdens and responsibilities, the mission and its grim memories finally behind him. The Matoran were home. His work was done.

And yet, his thoughts were tormented.

As the Toa had dispersed from the Coliseum, Icthilos had quietly activated his Kanohi and slipped away in the direction of Ko-Metru. His was the Kanohi Alaka, the Mask of Obscurity. Where the Kanohi Huna prevented the wearer from merely being seen, the Alaka made the wearer imperceptible to every other sense. Those who glanced his way would see him plainly enough, but no one would hear him pass, nor even feel the vibrations of his footsteps. He was indiscernible to even the subtle, subliminal sensations that so many beings subconsciously relied upon, and so went entirely unnoticed by most he passed. Even other Kanohi, such as the Arthron or Suletu, wouldn’t have been able to detect him.

He deactivated his mask once he reached Ko-Metru; there was no one here to notice him. There didn’t seem to be much of anything at all here now, not even rahi. The only fresh tracks he could make out in the snow were those of Rahkshi. And the only companions he had were ranks of deactivated Keerakh scattered around, standing or sprawled in whatever position they’d been in when their power supplies had finally run out.

Even the snows, it seemed, had stopped. Whatever systems in the city that created separate climates in each Metru seemed to have malfunctioned or been shut off. The entire Metru felt warmer than it once had, and the snow underfoot sodden and half-melted, with no signs of fresh snowfall anywhere in sight.

Ko-Metru had truly been abandoned.

But that didn’t mean he couldn’t find what he needed here.

He soon spotted the silhouettes of the Knowledge Towers in the distance, and set off towards them.

* * *

Vhalem

Pira had been uncharacteristically quiet since departing the Coliseum. Vhalem didn’t know her all that well, but he knew she was someone who loved to talk, and had no qualms about making her thoughts known. That she was keeping those thoughts to herself now spoke volumes. 

They were exploring the streets of Onu-Metru, which seemed to be mostly empty save for a few patrolling Vahki and Mesmers. The Matoran they saw were few and far between, moving about in twos or threes, hurriedly pushing carts or crates to or from the various elevator entrances that led down to the underground Archives. They didn’t walk, they ran, as if terrified to be caught doing anything at a steady pace.

“So, what’re your thoughts on the city so far?” Vhalem asked, after a half-hour of sullen silence. “I know Ithnen would love all of this. She’s been wanting to see Onu-Metru since we left.”

He was somewhat wishing he’d brought her along instead of Pira, but he hadn’t been able to find her among the crowd on their way out of the Coliseum. 

“It’s a step up from Xia. A step,” Pira replied glumly, “At least here I can see the sky. Not that there’s much to see up there since whatever was projecting the stars stopped working. It’s kind of weird knowing that I should have a Spirit Star, but I’ll never get to see it…”

Even in Metru Nui, the sky wasn’t much to look at. The conditions were more twilight than daylight, with the positions of the sun holes and the dense clouds overhead allowing very little direct light down into the city.

“Have you given much thought to the future?” He asked.

“Well, everyone seems to think that me, you – all of us that aren’t Turaga yet – still have some kind of Destiny ahead of us, so I guess I’m just waiting for that to happen so this can all be over with.”

“You don’t like being a Toa?”

“I didn’t even like being a Matoran,” she laughed, but there was no mirth in it, “My life was misfortune and misery long before Terry turned off the lights. Things would work out for a little while, but my luck would always turn.”

“Things could be different now, though, you know?” Vhalem said. “The war’s over, and it sounds like we don’t have much in the way of responsibilities here.”

“So we should be carefree and happy while these Matoran are subjected to the same kind of slavery you all endured in Xia?”

Vhalem felt like he’d been slapped. He had his qualms about the Makuta’s way of running things, but somehow he hadn’t fully appreciated how bad it really was until she’d phrased it like that.

“Well, I mean-” he scrambled for a response, and settled for snark, “-I thought Le-Toa were meant to be carefree and happy?”

“Firstly, that’s stereotyping,” Pira stopped to jab an accusing finger in his direction, “Secondly, if I had something to be happy about, I might be. But I keep thinking about all those Matoran we rescued and brought here. They wanted a better life, and instead they’ve been given the same one.”

“You didn’t strike me as someone who cared much about anyone else,” he countered, leaning back against the side of one of the buildings.

“I might not be great with other people, but that doesn’t mean I don’t have empathy. Are you really okay with freeloading while the rest of the Matoran are left slaving away?”

“Not really, but I’m choosing to be grateful for what I have,” the words came out hollow; his heart wasn’t in it, despite Icthilos’ earlier insistence that he should be thankful.

“That’s not good enough for me,” Pira said firmly. “I don’t think it’s good enough for you, either, otherwise you wouldn’t be trying so hard to convince me.”

“What is that even meant to mean?”

“I’m not stupid, Vhalem. You’re not really trying to convince me. You’re trying to convince yourself.”

“Of what?” He challenged, unable to deny her words.

“That you’ve done enough. That you deserve what you’ve been given. I ask myself those same questions at least a few times a day.”

“And what’s your answer?”

“I don’t have one, yet.”

“Then what do you have?”

“Perspective.”

“On what?”

“The Great Spirit… the Toa… my whole life, none of them have ever done anything for me. Even this power I took for myself. I know what it feels like to never be saved, Vhalem. It’s what all of those Matoran are going to feel if we do nothing to help them.”

She wasn’t wrong.

But that didn’t mean she was right.

“We’re just two Toa. There’s nothing we can do.”

“You know full well we’re not the only ones.”

“Sure, yeah, some of the other Toa might be unhappy about how things are being run here. But they’ve just come home from a war that wiped out half their number. No one wants another one.”

“That’s the thing,” Pira said, sighing, “If freedom for the Matoran is what they fought for, then I don’t think the war ever ended.”

[Nato G]

Chapter 11 – Forgotten Futures

From the notes of Chronicler Crisda.

My people used to look to the stars for meaning. The stars offered promises and prophecies, preaching to us our purpose and potential. But now the stars have darkened, the Matoran have moved on, and the Knowledge Towers stand abandoned.

Abandoned, but not empty.

The records and writings of the soothsayers and scholars still remain, forgotten on their shelves. I’ve visited on occasion, sifting through the records for literature to add to my chronicle. But there’s so much waiting to be rediscovered. I never knew what was important, or where to even begin.

Icthilos knew better.

He knew what he was looking for. 

But he didn’t know what was looking for him.

* * *

Icthilos

Much like their counterparts in Metru Nui, the Ko-Matoran of Icthilos’ homeland had been stargazers, though their beliefs were far more primitive. They’d been trackers and trappers, guides and guerrillas, the most adept at navigating the mountainous terrain that surrounded the villages in their region. To them, the stars were signposts and navigation tools, occasionally offering omens and portents for what tomorrow might bring.

The Ko-Matoran of Metru Nui were far more privileged in that regard. Their practice of complex prophesising had fascinated Icthilos from the moment he’d first learned of it, but of course the stars were already going out by the time he’d arrived in the city, and soon there were no new predictions to be made.

But the observations remained, scribbled and scrawled in pieces throughout the towers. There was one story he’d once heard in passing, one he’d thought nothing of at the time, one that had suddenly resurfaced in his memory when Widrek had given his speech. Specifically, when he’d mentioned the Mask Of Life.

The Matoran who’d told Icthilos this tale had been older than most Turaga, ailing and frail, and had sadly suffered a fatal fall shortly before the Toa had departed for Xia. Icthilos had investigated the incident himself, and found no cause to believe it anything other than an unfortunate accident. But now, he wondered if Destiny had had a hand in it. It was entirely possible that no one else knew of the story the old Matoran shared with Icthilos, or at the very least didn’t realise its true significance. It was the story of the one star that hadn’t gone dark… and a night when that star had briefly become two.

For several hours, Icthilos explored the towers, searching for the notes left by the Matoran he’d met. It was as he emerged from yet another fruitless search that he found a figure waiting for him in the snow outside. A twisted Fe-Toa clad in black and orange, his form infused with machinery, and an icy blue hue to his beady eyes.

“Mal,” he beamed, holding out his fist in way of greeting, “It’s good to see you, Brother.”

Maliss made no move to draw closer or complete the fist-bump. “Is it?” He replied, his voice a hoarse whisper, “You might be able to hide your feelings from the rest of them, even from Trina, but I see you. You’re disappointed.”

“The Brother I knew fought against tyranny. He would never have stood with it.”

“The Brother you knew was proud, and principled, and it cost him dearly,” Maliss rasped, brushing his fingertips over the metal of his fake limb.

“I’m sorry. These… augmentations. They look like they must have been excruciating.”

“Pain is merely a message. Information to be interpreted. It doesn’t have to mean anything more.”

“I don’t understand,” Icthilos lowered his outstretched hand.

“There is much you don’t understand.”

“Then tell me!” Icthilos demanded, “What became of my Brother?” 

The Chronicler’s words hadn’t been exaggerated. Maliss had become more machine than man, in mind as much as meat. Even as he spoke to Icthilos he seemed distant, detached, his gaze fixated on something only he could perceive, his thoughts far afield from the conversation at hand.

“Makuta Vhel showed me the truth, a truth that even Widrek was too afraid to speak to you all. It’s a terrible truth, one that pushed Dhozoh to misery and Tuxar to madness.”

“And what truth would that be?”

“The truth of the lie. The lie we have lived all our lives. The lie that is our lives.”

“You’re not making any sense.”

“I am. Just not to you.”

“What do you want, Mal? Why did you seek me out?”

“Truth be told, I was thinking about killing you,” he raised his hand and curled it into a fist; Icthilos felt his armour constrict around him, holding him in place, “I could make it look like an accident, or suicide. No one would question it, given all the guilt you’re clearly carrying.”

Icthilos opened his mouth to say… something, he wasn’t even sure what. He’d faced death countless times on Xia, but he had no words for this. But before a single syllable could spill forth he felt cold steel against his skin as a blade grew from his own armour and curled across his throat.

“I doubt even sweet Trina would be surprised to find you’d put a knife through your own neck,” Maliss sneered, “But ultimately you’re worth more to me as a messenger than a martyr.”

He opened his hand, and let it fall to his side. In the same moment, Icthilos’ armour returned to its natural state, and he flopped forward, sprawling in the snow.

“What message?” He sputtered, too stunned to rise, too numb to ask much else.

“Some among the Toa wish to act against our new order, and they will look to you to lead them. Deny them. Your Duty is done.”

“You expect me to take the side of tyranny?”

“I expect you to do what you need to do to save lives. This is the way the world must be. That is the only truth that really matters. You’ll find no more satisfactory answers among the forgotten fates and failed futures recorded in these towers.”

“What truth could possibly justify this?” Icthilos forced himself to his knees, “What truth could make you turn against your own Brother?”

“Our Brotherhood is part of the lie,” Maliss said sadly, turning away from him, “We’re cogs in a machine, Icthilos, and cogs were never meant to be conscious.”

And then he was gone, falling through his own shadow as if it were a hole in the ground.  

* * *

Trina

“Here they are,” Savnu said, as she and Trina came to a sudden stop before Pira and Vhalem, who were on their way back from the outskirts of Onu-Metru.

“News, Mother?” Vhalem asked.

“A plan. For the evening, at least.”

“Some of the Toa and Turaga who had homes here are already returning to their old residences, and the wounded have been taken to Ga-Metru,” Trina said, “The rest of us have decided to make camp in the Moto-Hub in Le-Metru. It’s big enough to house everyone, and we might be able to scrounge up some useful tech.”

Even as she spoke the words, they sickened her. Scarcely a day since returning to the city, and they were already thinking about scavenging whatever technology they could find to give themselves an advantage, just as they had on Xia.

Everything had changed.

Nothing had changed.

“I’m in,” Pira said, “Hanging around with all of you for one more night beats going back to sleeping on the streets.”

Vhalem cast a quizzical glance in her direction for a moment, before nodding to Trina, “I’ll be there.”

“Alright, I think that’s everyone,” Savnu said. “Everyone who still wants to be with us, at least.”

“Everyone except Icthilos,” Trina said. “You two haven’t seen him?”

“Nope, sorry,” Pira said, “Should we go looking for him?”

“It’s getting close to dark,” Trina sighed, “We should get moving if we want to make it the Moto-Hub in time. Icthilos knows to find somewhere safe before the Rahkshi show up.”

She had an inkling as to where he’d wandered off to. She knew him well enough to know he would want to be alone right now, though she had half a mind to try to track him down and deny him that. The group needed him every bit as much as he needed them. Unity mattered more than ever now.

“I’ll go look for him,” Savnu offered, seeming to read her expression, “I’ll bring him back, or at least keep him company. None of us should be alone right now.”

“Thank you, Savnu,” Trina smiled, “Try Ko-Metru. The old hideaway.”

Savnu disappeared without a further word, leaving the three Toa to set off to Le-Metru as the shadows lengthened around them. 

[Nato G]

Chapter 12 – The Question

From the notes of Chronicler Crisda.

We all wanted the same thing. Most of us weren’t brave enough to say it, let alone ask for it. But as Chronicler, I often find myself being the one to ask the hard questions.

* * *

Icthilos

The Ko-Metru Hideaway, as it had colloquially come to be called, had once been the secret sanctum of the mysterious rahi Keetongu, during the days before the Great Cataclysm. In the time since, it had become a place of quiet contemplation for more than a few Matoran, and more recently, one Ko-Toa refugee.

“Trina said I’d find you here,” Savnu said, as she entered the chamber where Icthilos sat on a frosty outcropping of rock, looking down at the glassy surface of a long-frozen pool in the room’s centre.

He’d been staring at it for a while now, engaged in a senseless staring contest with his own reflection. His encounter with Maliss had shaken him in a way he hadn’t felt since the day that Maliss had been struck with a Skakdi’s Devastator lance on the beaches of Xia. What he felt for his Brother now was very different to what he’d felt then.

“Were you taking bets?” He asked absently.

“In hindsight, we probably should have,” Savnu said, sitting down across from him, “You know how I love to gamble.”

“What I said- I didn’t mean-”

“You did,” she cut him off. “And I… well, things got a bit heated back there, but I’m not angry at you. Not really. I’ve heard it from almost everyone else, it was long overdue coming from you.”

“No, it’s not alright,” he growled, looking up at her, “I broke my one rule.”

“Your rule?”

“I never spoke ill, never judged any of you for what you had to do, or chose to do.”

“Some of us deserve judging,” Savnu said, “Because you’re right, I didn’t think about the consequences. I almost never do. Even today, when I was thinking about using these.”

She withdrew a small leather satchel from a pocket of her robe and tossed it across to him. “But I am thinking about the consequences now.”

Icthilos had a feeling he knew exactly what he was going to find inside the satchel, but he opened it nonetheless, tipping it towards his open palm. Stones of all shapes and sizes tumbled out onto his hand, each one aglow with energy. There looked to be a few dozen in total.

“Toa Stones,” he observed, “You kept collecting them?”

“From anyone I could convince. In case we needed more… recruits.”

“And the need is greater now than ever.”

“When I told Trina I’d go looking for you, I thought about heading to the other Metrus instead, passing these out among the Matoran returning to their homes from work.”

“But you’re giving them to me instead? Not interested in being Mother to any more Toa?”

“Last time, we were desperate. Last time, I was sure it would work,” she said, “I’m not certain of anything now. You’re right. We need to know more before we act… if we act.”

“I’ll keep them safe,” he promised, returning the rocks to their pouch and tucking them away alongside his memorial stone.

“I told Trina I’d keep you company if you didn’t want to rejoin the group,” Savnu said, standing up again. “But if it’s all the same to you, I’d prefer to spend the night somewhere a tad more temperate. They’re gathering in Le-Metru. I reckon everyone would appreciate having you with us.”

“I think that would be for the best,” he stood up as well, resigning himself to renew his search of the Knowledge Towers another day, “Let’s go.”

* * *

Pira

For all their maddening mannerisms, the Le-Matoran of Metru Nui sure knew how to build. Even dusty and disused, the Moto-Hub was an impressive testament to engineering and technological advancement. The structure was packed with workshops and storage rooms, each filled with half-finished vehicles and components, and Pira already found herself eager to explore them more thoroughly. With her mask, who knew what she could cobble together? Especially now that another group had finished bringing all of the gear and gadgetry they’d salvaged in Xia from the boats to the Moto-Hub.

But for now, she and the other Toa were only exploring enough to ensure that the building was secure, that the doors and windows were intact and no rahi or Rahkshi were lurking about. True to the information they’d been given, there were no signs of Rahkshi tracks anywhere inside. It seemed the creatures truly did avoid buildings, though that wasn’t enough to dissuade Pira and a few others from volunteering to keep watch at the entrances.

Though everything in Le-Metru had been turned off, all of the equipment remained intact and connected to the city’s power supply. Most of the Moto-Hub’s wired lightstones and other machinery still worked, even the chute systems would probably function if switched back on, though there was no real reason to test that theory. For now, the lights were enough, and those lights made it easy enough to spot the first Rahkshi that were beginning to creep forth from their hiding places by the time Savnu and Icthilos finally arrived, bursting through the front doors in a hurried haze of white and red. A few of the Rahkshi seemed to take an interest in the duo as they sped past, but backed off as soon as the Toa were inside.

“The neighbours seem nice,” Pira quipped, in way of greeting.

“Hopefully they’re not too riled up about last night’s party,” Icthilos grumbled, “Whose idea was it to set up camp in the same Metru where we fought a bunch of those things, anyway?”

“Trina said it was a group decision,” Pira replied, “There aren’t too many places in Metru Nui big enough for all of us. Aside from the Coliseum, of course.”

As she spoke, Pira noticed a new Rahkshi step right up to the glass of the front door, peering at the three Toa. It was blue and yellow, with a simple piece of silver plate attached to its chest, which didn’t look to be part of its natural armour. The creature studied them for a few moments, then clacked its faceplates together and began to walk away, its demeanour more like that of someone taking a casual stroll than the animalistic scrabbling of the other Rahkshi roaming around.

“But I don’t think anyone was too excited by the thought of spending a night with the Mesmers,” Savnu said, unaware of what had just happened over her shoulder.

“Who’s here?” Icthilos asked, forcing Pira to pull her attention away from the receding form of the strange Rahkshi.

“Almost everyone,” she said. “A few of the Toa and Turaga have gone back to whatever homes they had here. That Tuxar guy apparently extended an invite to all of Bo and Ga elementals to stay in Ga-Metru for the night. Widrek seems to be staying at the Coliseum with his new friends. And I haven’t seen Orane around,” she glanced at Savnu, “Did he say anything to you?”

“He’ll be curled up somewhere ghosting around, probably,” Savnu said, shrugging, “He spends more time in spirit form than his actual body. Hopefully he’ll have some intel to offer when he gets back.”

“Speaking of getting back, we’ve been waiting for you,” Pira gestured over her shoulder, towards the corridor that led deeper into the Moto-Hub. “The Chronicler decided to stay the night, says he has something he wants to ask. Trina insisted we wait for you.” 

Not for the first time, Pira wondered what exactly the chain of command was around here. Even after being with them for months, she was no closer to understanding, and too apprehensive to ply her companions for answers. Many of the Toa looked to Icthilos as some kind of leader, even though none of them save for Trina herself was a member of his team. Yet she rarely saw or heard of Icthilos actually giving any orders. It was more like the others looked to him for permission rather than instructions, and there were exceptions to even that, with Toa like Savnu doing whatever they wanted and generally remaining on good terms with him.

But though Pira was at least partly curious, she also didn’t really care. Other people making the decisions meant less for her to worry about. As long as they made the right decisions.

That’s what she told herself, at least.

The trio made their way towards the former test track, a wide-open area marred with old skid trails and scorch marks, where the Toa and Turaga had space enough to sleep where they wished, while still having the security of being close to one another. Makeshift bedding and even some tattered tents were strewn about the area, while some of the Ta-elementals among the group had set up small campfires for the scattered groups to sit around.

After sending another volunteer back to take her spot at the door, Pira decided to follow Savnu and Icthilos to one of the fires, where Vhalem, Bihriis, and Trina sat speaking with the Chronicler, Crisda. Vhalem offered her a nod of acknowledgement as she sat down, and no one else objected to her presence, which came as a surprising comfort. After Widrek’s departure and her conversations with Savnu and Vhalem earlier in the day, she felt like she was finally… tolerated? Accepted? Whatever it was, it was better than what she’d had the day before.

“I’m told you have a question for me, Chronicler,” Icthilos said, as he sat, “Why didn’t you ask it when we spoke earlier today?”

“It wasn’t a question to ask where the Makuta and his Mesmers might hear,” Crisda said. “Though they know it will be asked, nonetheless. No doubt they’re prepared for the possibility.”

Pira didn’t need to be a mind reader like Bihriis to know what the question was. Everyone knew what the question was. Every Toa who’d felt the slightest inkling of discomfort or disappointment at the way the Matoran of Metru Nui were being treated had been waiting to hear this question.

“The people of this city have suffered since you departed, brave Toa. They toil and tremble, slaves to a savage shadow,” Crisda said, with the practiced ease of someone who’d probably written this speech specifically to feature in his chronicle. The words felt hollow and artificial, with none of the emotion they should have come with. “You left to free our kin in Xia from tyranny, and though we know it is unfair to ask more of you, we’re asking all the same.”

He paused, seemingly for dramatic effect, before finally speaking the words that were no doubt on the lips of every Matoran in the city. This time, the emotion was there, the fear and desperation of a man trapped under the thumb of a tyrant.

“Please, will you set us free?”

The answer, when it came, was not the one anyone expected. It was one that cut Pira to her core, every bit as cold and cruel as a blade through her heartlight. It was only a single word, spoken without rage or remorse. A word that brought all of her own memories of loneliness and abandonment surging to the surface.

“No.”

[Nato G]

Chapter 13 – The Answer

From the notes of Chronicler Crisda.

I thought I’d known Icthilos.

Not personally, of course. But who he was, what he stood for. It was he who rallied the rest to leave for Xia, he who had fought the hardest and sacrificed the most to save the Matoran of that city.

It was in that moment of his refusal that I finally understood just how profoundly the war had changed him. The way it had changed all of them.

* * *

Icthilos

He’d expected anger, but the direction it came from wasn’t the one he expected. A wave of air battered him off his feet as Pira leapt to her own, staring at him in abject anger as if he’d been the one to strike her, not the other way around.

“No? No!”

No one moved to stop her, no one spoke up to calm her. Every face Icthilos could see shared her confusion, pain, and outrage. Even those Toa and Turaga at the other campfires were staring at him in surprise and sorrow, understanding all they needed to from Pira’s reaction. 

“No,” he repeated, picking himself up off the ground.

Pira started to step forward, one hand rising towards the staff slung across her back. In that moment, Icthilos wasn’t sure if even Pira herself knew what she intended to do with the weapon, and fortunately they never had to find out, as Vhalem reached up and caught her arm, physically holding her back but still saying nothing to dissuade her from her rage.

“Why?” Trina asked, softly.

“Because an hour ago our Brother put a blade to my throat and threatened to kill me if I didn’t discourage you all from this course of action,” he snapped. “A man I’ve known all my life, a man who has honoured the code for centuries, spoke of killing me as if taking a life is an everyday occurrence for him. And we all saw this morning how quickly Widrek became a fanatical thrall. I don’t know what truth or torture can transform a being so completely, but it’s not one that any of us can fight.”

Trina gaped at him, stunned into silence.

“We’re all afraid, Icthilos,” Savnu said gently, “We always have been. It’s never stopped us before.”

“This is different. You already know that, or you wouldn’t have given me your Toa Stones.”

That earned a murmur from the rest of the group, who were quietly stepping away from their own fire pits to converge on the conversation.

A colourful curse was the only response Savnu offered.

“You laid down your lives to save us from slavery,” Vhalem said, releasing Pira’s arm and standing up at her side, “We’re ready to return the favour. You don’t even have to ask.”

“I’m not asking,” Icthilos said firmly, “I’m telling you, this isn’t happening. We’re not up against Xian slavers or Skakdi warbands. This is a Makuta, with an army of Rahkshi and a city full of hostages.”

“Six Toa are enough to take down a Makuta,” Pira protested, “Toa Seals aren’t just a story, right?”

“We’ve got a Fe-Toa and a Fa-Toa,” Vhalem pointed out. “Ilton and Pahlil could take care of this one on their own.”

“This Makuta has had months to prepare for our possible return. He’ll have a counter for anything we can come up with” Icthilos retorted, “There’s an army between us and him, and even if we got through it all, he can just teleport away before we have a chance to do anything. This isn’t a fight we can win.”

“It won’t even be a fight,” Bihriis muttered.

She was almost certainly sifting through the series of grim scenarios playing out in Icthilos’ mind, or perhaps dwelling on some of her own imagining. Makuta Vhel simply sitting back and letting the Toa fight their way to his doorstep was the best-case scenario, but it was far more likely that the Makuta would become directly involved long before it got to that point. Icthilos shuddered to think how many lives could be lost in a crossfire against the Makuta if he chose to fight in a populated area.

“Why are we even listening to him?” Pira scoffed, ignoring Icthilos to address everyone else, “We all want to do something about this, right? We don’t need him to lead us.”

A few of the gathered group mumbled half-hearted words of support, but most were looking at the ground, or at each other… anywhere but towards Pira. 

“What do you know of how we came to Xia?” Icthilos asked her.

“Some Toa came to the city, saw things sucked, and came back here for reinforcements.”

“We were the first. My team. I led them to Xia. I led three of them to their deaths. And then I came back here and convinced dozens more that it was their Duty to do the same. Some days I tell myself it was to save all of you… but Savnu was right today when she called it revenge. I refused to let the deaths of my friends be for nothing.”

That gave Pira pause. She stared at him now, eyes wide, her expression one of long-sought understanding finally realised.

“They won’t show it, they won’t say it, but deep down, most of these Toa here resent me,” he gestured to the crowd, “I’m the one who convinced them to leave. I’m the reason their teammates are dead. I’m the reason they had to break the Code. I’m the reason this city was left undefended. And for what? To save Matoran too feeble to save themselves? To fulfil a Duty to a dead deity?”

“It wasn’t for nothing,” Vhalem whispered. “We’re here. You succeeded.”

“You’re my Brother, Vhalem. I love you as dearly as I do every other Toa here,” Icthilos said, “But I’m still going to spend the rest of my days wondering if the lives we saved are worth the ones we lost.”

Vhalem slowly sat back down.

“Do you get it now, Pira?” Icthilos stepped closer to the Le-Toa, “These people want to fight, but they’ve seen war before, and none of them want to be the one responsible for leading the rest into it. They need someone to hate, to hold responsible. Someone to blame so they don’t have to blame themselves. If you think you can be all that for them, little girl, step right up.”

Pira didn’t move, continuing to stare at him in stunned silence. Determination and indignation still shone brightly in her young eyes, but the fires were fading.

“I’ll spend the rest of my days debating whether I was right to lead us all to Xia,” Icthilos turned his attention to the rest of the group, “But there’s no doubt in my mind that the fight we would face here is unwinnable. Until someone can convince me otherwise, my answer will remain unchanged.”

With that, he began to walk away, wishing he’d simply stayed with Savnu in the cave.   

* * *

Pira

Pira was still standing there long after Icthilos had gone and most of the others had quietly returned to their own fires. A determined defiance still blazed within her, but its fire was one fuelled by stubbornness and spite, not the selfless aspiration to offer aid that had first prompted her to speak.

She didn’t want Icthilos to be right.

She didn’t want a better future to be impossible.

She didn’t want these Matoran to be abandoned as she had been.

She looked around at the others, most of them staring at the ground or the flames, the only gaze still raised to meet her own being Trina’s. 

“I’ll talk to him,” was all the Vo-Toa said.

[Nato G]

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.”

[Nato G]

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.”

[Nato G]

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.”

[Nato G]

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.”

[Nato G]

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.

[Nato G]

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.”

[Nato G]

Chapter 20 – Outmatched

From the records of Turaga Rost.

Talok once asked me if I believed our Toa could best those who might someday return from Xia. I offered him my honest answer, yet he still laughed at me for it.

The returning Toa have deeper determination, and far greater numbers and experience. 

But now that Vhel has swayed more of their kind to our side, if Talok were to ask me that same question today my answer would be a very different one.

* * *

Pira

Just as she’d hoped, Widrek had abandoned the battle to focus on following her after she’d sprinted past him. And though she’d successfully spared everyone else from having to deal with an Onu-Toa with a home field advantage, now she had to contend with Widrek alone. She could hear him somewhere behind her, not running or exerting himself, just following.

He didn’t need to chase her down.

The soil slithered and slid beneath her feet, tripping her up as the ground cracked and quaked. She jumped, kicked off the wall, swung from a pipe overhead, anything and everything to limit her contact with the floor. She rounded the next bend and found herself faced with a locked vault door, a sealed slab of solid steel that might have spelled a certain dead end for any of Pira’s companions.

But just as her Kanohi could be used to combine components, so too could it uncombine them, though doing so required an approximate knowledge of how it fit together. And though she of course didn’t know enough about an Onu-Metruan vault to disassemble it effectively, she knew that every door had hinges… and those were easy enough to take apart.

At her touch, the fastenings securing the door to its frame popped loose, disconnecting it on one side and putting the entire weight of the heavy door onto the bolts keeping it sealed. Metal creaked, and Pira sprang backwards as the door toppled towards her. She avoided the door, but not the earth opening up like a mouth behind her to engulf her ankles. She sank to her knees and fell forwards, rattling her skull as her chin struck the lump of metal now before her.

“I know it doesn’t matter… I know I shouldn’t care…” Widrek said, as Pira felt his heavy footfalls behind her, “But I do. He was my Brother… he mattered to me.”

“Spare me the lecture,” she spat back, swinging her staff wildly behind her.

With dismissive ease, he caught the weapon and ripped it from her hand; she heard it bounce off the wall somewhere far behind them both.

“You stole a precious gift from a dead man’s hands,” Pira felt Widrek’s foot slam down onto her back, buckling her armour and wringing a strained cry from her lips, “You don’t deserve this power.”

Blinking through bleary eyes, Pira looked past the fallen door and into the room that lay beyond it. The chamber contained a veritable armoury, its racks lined with ancient Toa tools and other relics from wars long forgotten. Displayed on shelves against the far wall were Toa Disks, emblazoned with the Kanohi of heroes from long before Pira’s time. There was nothing she could reach. Nothing that could help her. Unless… 

“So now I will take it back.”

Widrek’s burly hands grasped her head on either side, and she let out a gasp equal parts hurt and horror as he started to pull and twist.

In pain and panic she struck, summoning a blast of air behind the rack of Toa Disks she could see before her, propelling them through the open vault door. Bursts of elemental energy enveloped the tunnel as the disks struck the walls, the floor, each other, and Widrek.

Widrek’s hands mercifully withdrew as he recoiled with a roar, his elemental control dissipating in the same moment, allowing Pira to kick free of the dirt trapping her legs and scramble towards the vault. Water splashed across her back and heat seared her feet as she moved, a burst of magnetism from one of the Kanoka causing some of the nearby disks to move and reactivate once more. She pulled herself into the vault and hauled herself upright, straightening her dislodged Kanohi and looking back towards Widrek.

He was looking right back at her, eyes narrowed in a hateful glare as he broke chunks of ice from his shoulder. Pira reached out blindly and grabbed the nearest weapon, a sword with a wavy, flame-like blade that had clearly once belonged to a Ta-Toa.

“Another stolen relic,” Widrek sneered, “That’s all you know how to do, isn’t it? Take from those better than you?”

“I hope you’re not counting yourself in that category,” she snapped back, her shaking voice betraying her lack of bravado, “You’re in no state to judge anyone right now.”

She could barely keep the sword steady. She’d been in brutal battles, had brushes with death before on Xia, but this was different. For another Toa, someone she knew, to literally take her life in his hands and try to end it was something she didn’t know how to process.

He hadn’t even hesitated.

“I am,” Widrek answered, “I saw the truth of this world and our place in it. The Code… our mad grab for moral mightiness… it’s all meaningless.”

“And yet you condemn me for stealing?”

“I know, I’m a hypocrite,” he shrugged, “But he was my Brother. Even if nothing else matters, what I felt for him was real. But I wouldn’t expect you to understand. What would you know of loyalty or love?”

“I’m learning.”

For a moment, she saw genuine surprise on his face. But it vanished as swiftly as it appeared.  

“Not quickly enough.”

“Widrek, please,” she pleaded, “I don’t know what happened to you, but I don’t want to hurt you.”

“That makes one of us,” Widrek raised his hands, and Pira felt the chamber shudder.

Metal clattered as weapons toppled to the floor all around her. A falling spear slashed her arm and the sword fell from her suddenly-slack fingers. A hammer fell against her bruised back and she doubled over with a groan.

“You came here to steal artefacts, but you were never going to find them,” Widrek sneered, “The true objects of power are buried in the sub-levels below, where the Rahkshi protect them better than we ever could.”

“Widrek, wait-”

“Here, let me show you.”

And then the earth below withdrew, and the entire chamber plummeted down into the dark. 

* * *

Vhalem

The fight wasn’t going well. Vhalem had finished off Orane’s Exo-Toa and used its wreckage to block up the tunnel, but even in a two-on-one fight Bihriis still held the advantage.

Savnu had taken her by surprise in the initial scuffle, but she’d recovered quickly, and was now dancing circles around them both. For every attack they threw her way, she’d already read their minds and had a rahi power primed to counter it. Projectiles passed harmlessly through her as she channelled a Phase Dragon’s intangibility, fireballs were negated by a Lava Eel’s heat resistance, and attempts to pin her in place with gravity failed as she used a Fader Bull’s ability to teleport away. 

She was equally unrelenting in her counterattacks, barrelling at her foes with a Vohtorak’s berserker charge, or engaging them in close range while her body was superheated or electrified. 

Recoiling from another swipe of Bihriis’ brutal Skakdi saw, Vhalem retaliated with a gravity blast that sent her flying back a few bio. She sprang back to her feet a second later and flung a ball of magma right back at Vhalem, which Savnu swiftly intercepted.

Unharmed by the heat but blinded by the brightness, Savnu was too slow to see Bihriis coming at her again, taking a savage slash across the chest, followed by a telekinetic blast that flung her towards the far wall. Vhalem cushioned her impact with a burst of antigravity, but he had little time to do anything else before Bihriis was lunging at him.

He ducked a swing from the saw and followed up with a slash of his bow-blade, but Bihriis had already read his mind and started moving out of the way, leaving Vhalem open to an electrified punch from her free hand. He stumbled back, managing to deflect another saw strike with his own weapon, then found himself flat on his back as Bihriis blasted him with her telekinesis.

She didn’t pause to gloat or demand surrender. She was already raising her weapon to bring down for finishing blow before Vhalem had finished hitting the ground.

For a fleeting moment Vhalem caught the look in her eyes, not one of triumph or victory, but one of grim resignation. Any reservations she had weren’t enough to stay her hand, but for that brief, fleeting moment, her eyes and attention were solely on Vhalem, and that second of undivided focus was all Savnu needed.

In a rush of red she slammed into Bihriis, shoving her to the floor with a sai sunk into her side, her saw skittering from her grip. Vhalem kicked out at her, knocking her Kanohi from her face before she could recover. 

“I’m sorry,” Savnu said gently, her voice strained as she slumped beside the groaning Ce-Toa. Her torso was stained with oily ooze from her own wound, and even the effort of the single attack seemed to have exhausted her.

“Thank you,” Vhalem said, scrambling to her side, “Is there anything I can do?”

“Find Icthilos and Pira. This mission is a bust. We need to get out of here while-”

She was cut off by an Electro-Rocket explosion from the corridor Vhalem had blocked with the broken Exo-Toa suit. Dislodged dirt drifted down from the ceiling as shards of metal scattered into the intersection, making way for a second possessed Exo-Toa, which was already reloading its launcher for a second shot.

“-never mind.”

[Nato G]

 

Chapter 21 – History Lesson

From the notes of Chronicler Crisda.

We know a world exists beyond our own. Its light keeps us alive. Its existence gives us hope for a better future. The Matoran who lived on Mata Nui and Voya Nui have seen and explored it, a dome-less dominion of endless ocean almost entirely without land or life.

But if our universe is artificial, does that mean the one outside is “real”? Or is it merely another self-contained sphere housed within an even larger realm? Are we merely the innermost layer of a Nynrah Nesting Doll of universes?

And if our universe was made, then by who? How? Why?

* * *

Icthilos

He saw a world.

It was vast beyond anything he’d ever imagined, a gigantic globe spinning slowly in a sea of stars. There were no domes or lightstones, just open skies and shining sun. There was no smog to obscure its skyline, no machines to mar its landscape, no structures in sight save for a handful of ramshackle villages and the shadowy silhouette of a formidable fortress, rising up from the heart of a lush valley amidst the mountains. In the tower’s shadow toiled beings the size of Matoran and Toa, though their bodies appeared wholly organic, devoid of protodermis armour or mechanical components.

Time passed, years of peaceful trade and cooperation flashing by in seconds until Icthilos found himself watching two white-armoured beings of the smaller race approach a pool of silvery liquid leaking through the ground. It was a substance Icthilos recognised instantly: energised protodermis. Sure enough, as one of the beings bent down to touch the silvery liquid, they sizzled and screamed, vaporising into nothing. 

More images blurred by, almost too swift to understand. More beings interacting with the energised protodermis, some mutating, others dying. Innovation. Industrialisation. In-fighting. Armies of beings clad in all kinds of colour clashing over the new resource. Entities of elemental energy leading those armies. The earth itself shaking and shuddering as more and more of the precious liquid was siphoned from within it.

The vision changed again, flitting swiftly between the furtive discussions of the beings in the fortress, their belligerent commands to the warring parties, killing machines of their making slaughtering indiscriminately on the battlefield… and finally, grim realisation and resignation that the world’s imminent annihilation could not be averted.

Construction began. A new shape came to dominate the dying world’s skylines as those below continued to battle. A mass of metal shaped like a man towered among the clouds, but when it moved it blew apart, scattering its remains across the sand. But construction soon began on a second, even larger than the first, its body filled with domes and oceans. Beyond its empty eyes, Icthilos saw a city he recognised. The very city in which he now stood.

Beings were created to occupy the new world. A creature of incomprehensible crimson, who slithered through the confines of the towering titan. Two brothers, equal in ambition but disparate in skill, made to compete for the Mask Of Creation. And then Matoran, but not as Icthilos knew them. These Matoran didn’t dream or desire, didn’t wonder or worry, just worked. They were unthinking, unfeeling, no different to the Fire Drones they would later build to assist Mask Makers, or the Vahki who would come to patrol their city streets.

The first Toa were made. Then the six Prime Species, then other beings and races, some of which Icthilos didn’t even recognise. But all were the same, soulless and silent… cogs in the massive machine. A machine which found itself imbued with an equally mighty mind, the Great Spirit that would come to be worshipped as Mata Nui. A machine that was sent soaring into the stars as the planet shattered beneath its feet, splintering into three fragments whose silhouette Icthilos had seen more times than he could ever count. A silhouette that would someday become a symbol, a symbol he would dedicate his life to.

The man-shape soared through the stars, bound and bowed by a Duty to explore, learn, and return to repair the broken world. Within his new world Mata Nui followed in his maker’s footsteps and became a creator himself, birthing a new race into being. These were creatures of great power and dark impulses, brought into being with minds full of ideas and hearts full of ambition. True sapients, like Karzahni, Artakha, and Tren Krom before them, created to create in turn.

“We were everything,” Makuta Vhel’s voice cut through the vision, “And the rest of you were nothing. You were so beneath us that we didn’t even notice you all beginning to change.”

More images came, fast and fleeting as centuries passed by. Workers asking questions, abandoning their tasks, discarding Duty to instead create worthless pieces of art and pursue meaningless hobbies. The Barraki, confused and crazed by the paranoia and inadequacy taking root in hearts that were never meant to hold such feelings, succumbed to doubt and distrust. Their desperation to fulfil their Duty twisted them from generous guardians into controlling conquerors. The Makuta, finally realising that something was wrong, intervened to end the conquest, but they soon realised the problem ran far deeper than they’d dared imagine.

Factions and civilisations had risen up around them, weaving a turbulent tapestry of culture and creativity, politics and prophecies, stars and stories… and the Great Spirit did nothing, even when strife and civil wars brought him to the brink of death. In the wake of the Barraki’s fall, new factions like the Dark Hunters rose up to fill the power vacuum, and expeditions of Matoran and Toa ventured out across the continents, exploring and expanding, dispassionately displacing the other species they encountered to establish new settlements of their own. The Makuta scrambled to keep the universe on course, appointing themselves overseers of the populated islands, ending conflicts and uprisings through whatever means necessary.

“Something needed to be done to fix the mess you’d all made,” Vhel said, “We did what we had to. For Duty. How… why… I still don’t understand it. You were never meant to be like us!”

The Makuta’s hands withdrew from around Icthilos’ head, shoving him away and severing the telepathic connection.

“None of this matters. Somewhere out there is a real world, with real beings, waiting for us to come and save them, and the petty protests of your people are preventing us from following that path.”

Icthilos slumped on his knees, clutching his skull. He couldn’t speak, could barely think, his head aching, his psyche struggling to make sense of what it had just seen.

“Your kind were never meant to be able to contemplate your own existence, but now that you can, know your history. Know that you are a flawed facsimile of true life. Know that everything you have ever felt and thought is a mistake.”

And with that final, cruel word, Makuta Vhel vanished, leaving Icthilos alone in the vault.

[Nato G]

Chapter 22 – Retreat

From the notes of Chronicler Crisda.

Unity is the first and most important of virtues to the Toa.

To them, there is nothing harder than having to abandon their allies.

* * *

Vhalem

“What in Mata Nui’s name made you think this would work any better a second time around?” Vhalem taunted, gesturing to the fizzling Electro-Rocket he’d suspended in antigravity just a half-bio in front of the Exo-Toa. “We came here to take those suits for ourselves, but if you’re going to make me keep blowing them up, I will.”

His bluster wasn’t much more than a bid to buy time. Savnu and Bihriis were injured, Pira and Icthilos were still missing, and he was alone with no way to find them all or get them out safely.

“If that’s what it takes,” Orane’s voice grated forth from the suit, “How many more explosions do you think this room can take? I’m not worried about being buried… how about you?”

“You’d kill your Sister, and your ally?” Vhalem challenged.

“You can’t kill what was never alive,” Orane snapped back, “What we are… it’s not living. It’s an echo. An imitation. A mockery of life.”

“Orane…” Savnu’s voice came out soft and strained, “…please.”

“It’s almost over, Savnu.”

“For you, it is,” Vhalem snapped, orienting the pull of gravity back towards the Exo-Toa and sending the rocket careening into its launcher, shredding the suit into sparking shards of mangled metal.

The room rocked once more, lights and wires falling to the floor as the walls and ceiling splintered further. Vhalem fell against the wall, groaning as he struck his injured shoulder.

“That doesn’t sound good, does it?” Widrek’s voice reverberated through the room almost as loudly as the rumbling itself. He strode out of his tunnel and into the room as the tremor subsided, regarding the scene before him with a solemn expression, “Unlike Orane, I have no desire to bury you all. Surrender, and survive.”

“Not a step further,” Savnu warned. Her voice was weak, her hands shaky, but she still had strength enough to level the blade that wasn’t already embedded in Bihriis’ body to the Ce-Toa’s throat. “Or I’ll-”

“What? Even if I did believe you were stupid enough to kill your only leverage, I know you don’t have it in you to kill in cold blood.”

“Interesting choice of words,” Vhalem observed, looking not at Widrek, but at the white-armoured Toa emerging from one of the tunnels behind him.

Widrek started to turn, but by then Icthilos was already upon him, encasing him up to his shoulders in a block of ice. For a moment, it seemed like Icthilos was ready to freeze him even further, claws of cold starting to curl around Widrek’s neck and chin as well… but Icthilos stopped himself short, lowering his hand and turning away without a word.

It was only after Icthilos stopped of his own accord that Vhalem realised he hadn’t even thought about stopping him.

“You should kill me now, while you have the chance,” Widrek growled, “We’d be even then, at least.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Vhalem demanded, a knot of fear forming within him, “Where’s Pira?”

He started to move towards Widrek, but Icthilos caught his arm, pushing him instead towards the elevator. “This mission is over. We need to leave.” The Ko-Toa helped Savnu to her feet, letting her lean on his shoulder, and after a moment’s hesitation he lifted up Bihriis as well.

“You’re taking her but not Pira?” Vhalem protested.

The familiar clanking footsteps of another Exo-Toa rumbled from the same tunnel the others had emerged from; Orane was coming back for another round.

“I’m saving who I can.”

“We’re out of time,” Savnu wheezed, “I’m sorry, Vhalem.”

“We didn’t leave anyone behind on Xia. I’m not leaving anyone behind down here.”

“I need you to lift us up the elevator shaft,” Icthilos grunted, prying open the doors, “If you want to stay after that, I’ll be too far away to stop you. Your life is yours to gamble with… but ours are not.”

“I- okay,” Vhalem nodded, moving to help them. He summoned a gentle column of reversed gravity in the elevator shaft, allowing the three Toa to levitate steadily towards the surface. “Good luck. I’m sorry. I don’t want to abandon you, but-”

“-but you’re the only one who can help her, if she can still be helped,” Savnu smiled down at him, “Do what you have to do.”

“Thank you, I-” He broke off to the sound of ice splintering somewhere behind him. “Sorry!” He increased the upward pulling of gravity, sending the three Toa soaring towards the surface. 

And then he felt a brutal blow against the back of his skull and was flung, flailing, into the darkened depths.

* * *

Icthilos

Icthilos didn’t see Vhalem fall. In the space between eyeblinks, he went from being a silhouette in a darkened doorway to a black shape buried in the blacker shadows below. The gravity well dissipated in the same moment, and it was only the hasty summoning of a slab of ice across the elevator shaft that stopped Icthilos, Bihriis, and Savnu from falling after Vhalem.

“Savnu, get us out of here!” He barked, gesturing to the bottom of the elevator above them.

With a pained groan, Savnu forced herself to her feet and superheated her sai, plunging it into the bottom of the elevator and starting to cut a circle big enough for them to get through. Sizzling sparks rained down onto the precarious ice shelf, forcing Icthilos to constantly reform and reinforce it. Through the bottom of the ice, he could make out the figure of Widrek clambering up the elevator shaft after them.

“Faster!”

The roundish slab of scalding steel soon splintered free from the bottom of the elevator, melting a hole straight through the ice in a rain of molten metal. Icthilos helped Savnu clamber up into the elevator, then lifted Bihriis through and clambered up after them, forming more ice below to block Widrek from following. It was a reprieve, but a brief one, for as Icthilos opened the elevator doors he found Dhozoh, Tuxar, and a few dozen Vahki waiting on the other side, weapons already aimed. Two Vahki transports were crowded into the square, inside which even more of the enforcers waited, currently powered down but likely able to be activated quite quickly if a fight broke out.

Dhozoh wore a scowl that was only made all the more menacing by the scratches on his Kanohi and bruises on his face from where Icthilos had knocked him out earlier. “Step out and surrender,” he snarled, brandishing his bident – styled to appear similar to a tuning fork – in their direction, “I’m only going to ask once.”

“Why ask at all?” Tuxar snapped, raising his scythe and causing vines to rise from the ground and drag the three Toa out of the elevator, before binding Savnu and Icthilos in place. “Take their masks and weapons and prepare them for transport. We’ll make an example of them, and broadcast it on all of the telescreens.”

“That’s not for you to decide,” Dhozoh snapped.  

“Tuxar, Dhozoh, you don’t need to-”

“Spare me the speech, Icthilos. Your words have cost enough lives.” 

Icthilos tried to continue, but broke off as he realised no sound was coming out; Dhozoh had summoned a sphere of silence around him.

A pair of Vahki moved in to disarm the two trapped Toa, but before they could reach them a third Vahki Transport came stomping into the square, from the direction of Ko-Koro.

Icthilos couldn’t hear what Dhozoh and Tuxar were saying, but from their demeanour he surmised that Dhozoh was asking if the transport was one of theirs, and Tuxar was confirming that it wasn’t. Sure enough, when its side doors slid open it was Toa who came springing out, brandishing Hagah Plasma Cannons, Nektann Turrets, Heavy Rhotuka launchers, and an assortment of other powerful Vortixx-made weapons that the Toa had salvaged during their escape from Xia.

Trina stepped out, bellowing a command as she brandished her blade. After a few moments of shouting back and forth, Tuxar and Dhozoh backed off, withdrawing their vines and silence and letting Trina’s Toa rush in to help Savnu and Icthilos.

“-and beg for his mercy, he might be willing to let this one go,” Tuxar was saying, as Icthilos felt his hearing return, “There won’t be any second chances.”

“I could say the same to you,” Trina said, nodding to Icthilos as he moved to join her.

He hefted the barely-conscious Bihriis with him, handing her over to a pair of Toa wearing masks of healing. A pointed glare he projected towards Dhozoh and Tuxar all but dared them to object, though neither of them seemed especially concerned.

“Is that everyone?” Trina asked quietly.

Icthilos nodded gravely, earning a grimace from Trina.

“Back onto the transport!” She called to the rest of the group, “We’re leaving.”

The Toa piled back onto their transport, weapons still aimed warily towards the Vahki, before the vehicle turned around and trundled back the way it had come.

[Nato G]

Chapter 23 – A Matter Of Perspective

From the notes of Chronicler Crisda.

While most of the Toa were gone, those that remained forced me to wait near Maliss, where his guard could easily keep an eye on me. Though I wasn’t made to stay in a cell as he was, we were both prisoners. If something went wrong for the Toa out in the field, suspicion and blame would undoubtedly fall on me, as the person who had pleaded for the Toa to act.

I sat there quietly for a time, updating my notes. It was Maliss who broke the silence.

“What happened to your vow of neutrality, Chronicler?” He asked, his tone accusatory. “The privileges you enjoy come with a price, or did you forget that?”

“I tell stories. That’s all I did. I guess they didn’t like what they heard.”

“Turaga Rost won’t like what I have to say, either.”

It wasn’t so much his words that gave me chills, but the confidence with which they were spoken. As if his escape was a certainty, beyond question or challenge.

“What do you have to say, then?” I asked him. “You and the rest of the Hagah have always refused my requests for interviews. Is there anything you want me to record for posterity?”

“No. You and your scribblings have no place in the world to come. None of us do.”

He didn’t say anything else, and I was glad of it.

* * *

Icthilos

“I’m fine,” Icthilos insisted, brushing off any attempts to assist him as he made his way back into the Moto-Hub. “See to Savnu.”

He spotted two Toa carrying Bihriis in on a stretcher, and waved for them to stop as he approached, “Tend to her wounds, but don’t give her a Kanohi. Secure her in one of the side rooms, with at least four guards at all times. I’m not sure if she still has the strength to try to mind control someone in her condition, and I’m in no hurry to find out.”

“We’re imprisoning our own?” Trina asked, joining him.

“Until we figure out what to do with her, yes,” he turned back to the stretcher-bearers, “Have the guards wear Suletus. Instruct them to bombard her with mental noise until her defences are drained, but make sure they don’t actually try to read her mind.”

“That’s… almost torture,” Trina protested.

“It’s necessary. Once her elemental reserves are exhausted she won’t be a threat.”

“You’re skirting a dangerous line, Brother.”

“I’m well aware,” he nodded for the stretcher-bearers to continue on their way, before he turned back to Trina, “Any word of Vhalem or Pira?”

“Not since the last time you asked, no. I’m sure there are plenty of Toa here who’d be willing to make a foray into the Archives if-”

“Now who’s being reckless?” Icthilos asked, sighing, “From what we saw on our first night, the Rahkshi aren’t in the habit of taking prisoners. If they haven’t been able to rescue themselves, then there’s nothing left of them to rescue.”

He hoped they were alive, more than he’d hoped for anything in a long time. But even if they were still alive against all odds, trying to get to them would put even more lives at risk.

“I’m sorry,” Trina said, gently putting her hand on his shoulder, “This is my fault. I was the one who suggested that you take Pira with you.”

“She would’ve volunteered if given the chance,” he said, shaking his head, “And from what Savnu says, if Pira hadn’t kept Widrek distracted for a while he might have just buried all of them.”

“Them? Not us?”

“I was… separated from them.”

“What happened to you down there?”

“I’ll tell you when I’m ready. For now, I want you to have this,” he handed her the golden staff that Makuta Vhel had allowed him to take, “I have reason to believe this is the Staff Of Artakha. It repaired my armour, see what else it can do.”

“At least you didn’t come back empty-handed,” Trina muttered, turning the tool around in her hands to inspect it from all angles, “What will you be doing?”

“Speaking with our Brother.”

* * *

Vhalem

“Hey. Hey!” Vhalem awoke to sharp whispers in his ear and a firm hand shaking his shoulder, “Come on, wake up, please!”

“Ungh…”

For the first few seconds, Vhalem wasn’t sure if he’d managed to open his eyes or not. What lay beyond his eyelids was every bit as dark as what was behind them. But a few small pinpricks of dim light filtered into view as his eyes adjusted; the greenish glow of Pira’s eyes and heartlight as she leaned over him, trying to shake him awake.

“I’m here,” he groaned, trying to sit up. “Wherever here is.” He could feel rock and dirt under his hands, and a curved wall at his back.

“Still in the Archives,” Pira whispered, sitting down beside him. Her voice was laboured, every word an effort, and she winced as she moved.

“Are you alright?” He asked.

“Widrek. Then Rahkshi. Turns out they can see in the dark just fine.”

“You’re hurt?”

“A few burns and stab wounds… hard to tell how bad it is. And I think one of my hands is broken.”

“What happened?”

“To me or you?”

“Both, I guess.”

“Widrek pulled the earth out from under the room I was in, dropped me through… I don’t know how many levels. I got attacked by some Rahkshi, managed to get into the elevator shaft, and then you nearly fell on me. The Rahkshi were climbing up after me, so I opened the first door I found and here we are. Not sure what level we’re on now.”

“Karzahni… and here I was trying to rescue you.”

“You’ll have your chance,” she replied, “There’s Rahkshi in the levels below us, probably on this level as well. And I’m guessing the rest of team bad guy is upstairs waiting for us to come up?”

“Probably. Assuming they haven’t already written us off.” 

“Any chance of a rescue?”

“I doubt it. Savnu was hurt pretty bad. And I don’t really know what’s up with Icthilos. He looked… shaken. I’ve never seen him that way. Not even last night when he was talking about his Brother trying to kill him.”

“I’m getting the impression that we’re out of our league here,” Pira sighed.

“Seems that way,” Vhalem began carefully patting himself down, searching for any signs of damage or injury. Beyond his aching head from where Widrek had pummelled him, he felt fine. “Should we try to get out of here, then?”

“We should-”

Pira broke off at a sound from somewhere in the darkness. Heavy footfalls, accompanied by the clack of shifting faceplates and the slithery hiss of a Kraata.

Rahkshi.

* * *

Icthilos

Icthilos stood alone, just few bio across from the stone cell were Maliss was caged. He’d sent Crisda and the guards off to make themselves busy elsewhere, ensuring everyone else was out of earshot before he dared speak to his twisted sibling.

“I met your Makuta.”

“And he showed you the truth. I see it in your eyes, the burden of knowledge,” Maliss replied, “So why am I still caged?”

Icthilos blinked at him, incredulous. “Why would I let you out? Your new friends just tried to kill us today. You threatened to do the same.”

“Surely you understand why, now? You’re not still clinging to the Matoran’s petty plea for defiance, are you?”

“You think some insane slideshow of ancient history is going to make me abandon everything I stand for?”

Somehow, despite the borderline absurdity of the visions he’d been given, he couldn’t bring himself to doubt their veracity. The history he’d seen had been too detailed, too complete and complex, to be any mere illusion. He was willing to believe that some of it could have been embellished or misrepresented, but there was no pretending there wasn’t some truth to it. Makuta’s rage had been too real. But even now that he’d been shown the same things his fellow Toa had, Icthilos still couldn’t understand the choices they’d made in response to it.

“What you stand for is nothing,” Maliss hissed, “You are nothing. We are nothing.”

“Why? What does this change? We always knew we were made by a greater power. We always knew we had a Duty.”

“But we aren’t real. We’re just machines, maintaining an even larger machine.”

“Maybe we were, once. But clearly we’ve become more than that.”

“We’re less.” Maliss rose to his feet, snarling at Icthilos through the bars. “Mistakes. Malfunctions. Those real beings out there are the only ones who matter.”

“Oh, please!” Icthilos scoffed, “You don’t give a Karz about those creatures. You’re not doing this for some lofty higher purpose.”

“Then why am I doing it?”

“You abandoned your Duty for the same reason I cling so strongly to mine. Because it hurts. Everything we suffered, everyone we lost… but where I kept fighting, you sought an excuse to shut everyone out and pretend you don’t care.”

“I don’t.”

“I think you do, though. Vhel is using this vision to make you all believe that everything you’ve ever done is for nothing, and that sense of futility… I can’t begin to imagine how much that must hurt.”

“Why?” Maliss’ hand gripped tightly at the bars of the cage, ““How do you not feel the same way?”

“Because that’s the way I’ve lived my life, Brother. You know that. I can’t accept… I don’t know how to… it has to have meaning. Everything. Always.”

“But it doesn’t. It was all pointless, a distraction from our true purpose, from the true beings we’re supposed to save.”

“You honestly think our lives are worth less than those… stupid savages, squabbling in the sand? They fought each other to destroy their world, but we have always fought together to save ours. At least, we used to.”

“We’re just as savage. Did you not pay attention to the vision? Our species has spread through this universe like a plague, carving our mark into every corner of creation.”

“No,” Icthilos scoffed. “I know that part wasn’t real. Our people have always been everywhere. That’s why it’s called the Matoran Universe.”

“Says who? The Turaga? The Chroniclers?” Maliss sneered.

“Isn’t Vhel’s entire argument that Matoran were designed to be workers, to run this giant machine?”

“Exactly. So of course there’d be Matoran in the cities like Xia, Artakha, and Metru Nui. But what purpose do the settlements across the other continents serve? Where’s there’s nothing for them to build or maintain? The places where the Matoran just exist, like the villages we lived in?”

“I don’t claim to be all-knowing. But there has to be a purpose to-”

“There is no purpose. We made more of ourselves because we wanted to. We expanded for the sake of expanding.”

“So? It’s a big world. There’s room for-”

“This world doesn’t matter.”

“It does to me.”

“So, what? You’d abandon the Duty you were designed for because you think you’re better than our makers? When we find the Great Spirit and return him to power, you’ll see how he rewards those who stayed true to their Duties.”

“My Duty is to the Matoran. Theirs is to the Great Spirit. Repairing that shattered world is Mata Nui’s problem, not ours. But he’s gone, and he’s never coming back.”

“You can’t…” Maliss cocked his head to the side, eyes narrowing as he tried to make sense of Icthilos’ expression, “…you know something.”

“I know this world is enough for me. I know these people matter to me. I know-”

“-I’ve heard enough.”

Icthilos heard something splash behind him as Maliss made a beckoning gesture with his hand. As Icthilos whirled towards the noise, he saw a puddle of black protodermis slithering across the floor like a serpent, originating from one of the crates nearby. The liquid metal slipped into the cage and crawled up Maliss’ body before reshaping and solidifying onto his face in the familiar shape of his Kanohi.

“I’ll see you soon, Brother,” Maliss smiled, before vanishing into shadow.

“Don’t-”

He was already gone.

Maliss knew him too well.

But he didn’t know everything.

Icthilos needed to get back to Ko-Metru, to figure out for certain if his suspicion was correct.

[Nato G]

Chapter 24 – Reunion

From the notes of Chronicler Crisda.

Unity is an easy thing to hold up and talk about, but it’s a far harder thing to make manifest. The Matoran who now live in Metru Nui came from different lands, have endured different struggles, cling to different traditions, and are unified only by a common disdain for their oppressor.

But beneath the floor of that flimsy alliance are deep divides that I fear could reopen at any moment and swallow us all up.

Unified through their shared experiences on Xia, united in their cause to protect all Matoran, the Toa are free from these petty divisions.

But our Turaga are not.

* * *

Trina

“Icthilos, we’ve got-” Trina slowed her pace as she realised the stone cage now stood empty, “What happened? Where’s Mal?”

“He used his powers to get his Kanohi back,” Icthilos grumbled.

“No! I should’ve moved it further away. I’m sor-”

“It’s fine. If we left him there long enough he probably could’ve made himself a new mask anyway. It’s hard to keep a Fe-Toa contained.”

“Speaking of which, Ilton’s just arrived. With company.”

“Vhalem? Pira?”

The hope in his voice cut Trina to her heartstone.

“There’s still been no sign of them, I’m sorry. It’s a Turaga named Larone. Apparently he’s been leading something of a Matoran resistance.”

“Larone… he was something of a troublemaker, wasn’t he? Before we left, I mean.”

“He had a reputation for going against the grain. People liked to say he always disagreed with the rest of the council just for the sake of disagreeing.”

“If he was brave enough to keep being the voice of dissent after Vhel’s takeover, then he sounds like someone we’d want on our side. He might be able to help us with our Suva problem, too.” 

The problem he was referencing was that of the Suva that had once belonged to the Toa team of Xia, which the Vortixx had defaced and disabled sometime after killing its owners. The Toa army had recovered it relatively early on in the Xian campaign, but despite extensive efforts, they’d never been able to get it working again. Still, the Toa had taken it with them when they’d fled Xia; it was still in one of the ships on Le-Metru’s shore, being too big to easily relocate.

With the Suva in Ga-Metru’s Great Temple being firmly in enemy hands, the Xian Suva had suddenly become far more valuable.  

“Oh, I’d forgotten about that. Good idea.”

“Probably the only one I’ve had today,” he grumbled, gesturing for her to lead on.

As the two of them made their way across the Moto-Hub to the growing gathering of Toa and Turaga who had come to greet the newcomers, they were approached by a short female Onu-Toa clad in black and yellow. Behind her Mask Of Possibilities, her expression was a worried one, and the way she bee-lined straight for Icthilos made her intent all too clear.

“Sorry to bother you, I just… haven’t been able to get answers from anyone else.”

She was a Toa Trina recognised, though not one she knew personally. Still, she knew enough to guess what she was going to ask. She was Ithnen, another of the Xian Matoran transformed by Savnu’s scheming. More importantly, she was known to be a long-time friend of Vhalem’s, from well before they’d both been turned into Toa.

“I don’t know where he is, I’m sorry,” Icthilos said, reaching the same conclusion as Trina had. “Savnu was injured, and my focus was on getting her to the surface. Vhalem separated from us to search for Pira.”

“But you’re going back to look for him, right?” She said, though the question was scarcely asked before she hurriedly corrected her mistake. “Sorry, I mean look for them?”

“When we can, yes. Right now, Onu-Metru is crawling with Vahki and members of Vhel’s Hagah team. Going back there now will only end in violence.”

“I- very well,” she said, her expression settling into one of grim resolve as she started to turn away.

“Stop,” Icthilos said firmly, “I know that face. It’s the same expression Vhalem had when he decided to go after Pira.”

“Two missing Toa is two too many,” Trina said. “Please don’t become a third.”

For the first few seconds, Ithnen didn’t say anything. Her fists clenched at her sides, before gradually relaxing. “I understand.”

And then she continued on her way, leaving the two older Toa alone once more.

“She won’t be the only one,” Icthilos said, “And I’m not sure Savnu’s in any condition to talk down her brood if they try something stupid.”

“We weren’t all that different at their age,” Trina pointed out.

“But the universe is very different now. There’s no room for recklessness.”

“I’m going to pretend very hard that you of all people didn’t just say that.”

“I thought you two were coming to find me,” Ilton’s jovial voice cut into their conversation, “After how long you’ve already kept me waiting, it’s kind of rude to force me to come find you.”

“I’m sorry, Brother,” Icthilos bumped fists with him, “There’s been a lot going on.”

“So I’ve heard.”

“It’s great to see you, Ilton, but should you really be here?” Trina asked, giving voice to a question that was undoubtedly on the minds of many, “I’m sure you don’t need me to explain to you that Makuta and Fe-Toa haven’t historically had the best relationship.”

“And that makes me your best weapon to deal with this one, doesn’t it?”

“On the one hand, yes. On the other, your presence might… exacerbate things.”

“Inversely, he might make for an effective deterrent,” Icthilos said. “The enemy are obsessed with keeping the Matoran working, which means they might actually be even more reluctant to start a war than we are. Word of today’s fight probably never made it to the general populace, which means Rost and his cronies can get away with basically pretending it didn’t happen. I think they’ll wait to see what our next move is before they risk being publicly seen as the first to strike.”

He had a point, Trina realised. If Vhel and his followers were truly telling the truth about the importance of the Matoran’s work, stopping it could spell the end for everyone. They weren’t going to do anything to disrupt the workflow if they could avoid it. Of course, that then raised the troubling question of how much “liberating” the Toa could do. There was no disputing the fact that the Matoran were being overworked right now, but there was also no denying the fact that workers were needed to keep heat and electricity flowing through the city.

No matter how one looked at the situation, the Matoran were the key to their own freedom. In an ideal universe, a few simple worker strikes might have been enough to change things, but between the Vahki and Mesmers the occupying force had ample ways to force people to get back to work.

“We have to make sure that whatever we do next, we don’t miss,” Ilton said. “Do we have a plan?”

“I think I have part of an idea,” Trina spoke up. “We can discuss it later. I want to hear from this Turaga of yours.”

“And I’m eager to hear from all of you,” came a new, laboured voice, as the wizened figure of Turaga Larone approached them. “I take it that you two are the ones in charge?”

“We govern by consensus,” Trina answered quickly, cutting off what would likely have been a more lacklustre or uncertain response from her companions, “Though, yes, since most of our other elder Toa are incapacitated or absent, Icthilos and I are the main decision-makers.” 

“For better or worse,” Icthilos muttered.

“Incapacitated?” Larone asked. “I heard when I arrived that you attempted an incursion into Onu-Metru this morning. It didn’t go well?”

“One Toa injured, two missing,” Trina said, “But we have a prisoner.”

“Maliss, I was told,” Larone nodded approvingly, “A Doom Viper on two legs, that one. Best to dispose of him before he escapes.”

“He already did,” Trina replied, doing her best not to react to the Turaga’s unexpectedly grim suggestion, “Our prisoner is Bihriis, a Ce-Toa who switched sides.” 

“Dispose of him?” Icthilos didn’t share Trina’s reservations, raising his voice and taking a step towards the twisted Turaga, “Insult them all you wish, but you would be wise not to speak of murdering Toa in the presence of other Toa. They may have been led astray, but they are still our Brothers and Sisters.”

“Sentiment,” Larone scoffed, “But very well. I’m the one coming here to ask for your help, after all.”

“I’m told you’re the leader of a local resistance. What’s your group like?”

“A hundred or so Matoran who’ve evacuated from the city over the past few months. They’re living in caves on the Great Barrier. We have airships and weapons, but not enough numbers to make any meaningful impact.”

“I imagine you have sympathisers in the city as well?” Trina asked, “Forgive the insult, but in your condition I can’t picture you being personally involved in getting people out of the city.”

“Many are resentful of the Makuta’s rule. Less are willing to do something about it. Far too many Matoran have been willing to sit back and pray for someone else to come and save them… and now here you are.”

He sounded almost irritated.

Trina glanced at Ilton, trying to read his expression. He was usually a good judge of character, and he’d spent the most time with this Turaga. Right now, his face revealed only the barest hints of disapproval; his eyes slightly narrowed, his mouth curled into the beginnings of a frown.

“Yes, we are,” Icthilos stepped back, folding his arms across his chest, “You know more about the situation on the ground than we do, so what do we need to know?”

“As you’ve probably surmised by now, Makuta Vhel and his Odinans control the Coliseum and the generator beneath it. What you might not have realised yet is that Rost and the three Toa Hagah don’t operate out of the Coliseum most of the time. They serve as provincial governors of sorts, each controlling a Metru of their own.”

“Who oversees which Metru?”

“Dhozoh rules Onu-Metru, Turaga Rost Po-Metru, Tuxar Ga-Metru, and Maliss Ta-Metru. Each of them commands a protective force of Vahki, Odinans, and Matoran sympathisers.”

“They were working together this morning, but they had advance warning of our arrival,” Icthilos said thoughtfully, “Hypothetically, if we were to launch some kind of surprise attack in one Metru, how likely are we to face reinforcements from the others?”

“It depends on where you strike. Tuxar is overconfident and proud, and unlikely to call for aid. But Maliss is pragmatic and thorough; he wouldn’t hesitate to call in an overwhelming force of reinforcements just to be on the safe side.”

“That sounds like Mal,” disdain weighed down Icthilos’ words.

“What about Rost?” Trina asked.

The more she thought about the predicament of the Matoran, the more she came to feel that the key to victory was controlling the population. Of all the key resources the enemy was holding to ransom, workers were the one thing they needed above all else.

“The Regent is a Nui-Jaga among Bog Snakes. A formidable beast, to be sure, but one outnumbered by more like-minded predators. The Hagah may not all see eye-to-eye, but Rost is still an outsider amongst them. Though he rules over them, for now, they still view him as a lesser.”

“Good, we can use that.”

“You have a plan, Sister?”

“The beginnings of one. We can-” She broke off as cheers rose up from the group still gathered by the door.

She spotted a De-Toa running towards the door and waved him over, “What can you hear? What’s going on?”

“They’re back,” he said, beaming.

“Back? Who?”

“Pira and Vhalem.”

[Nato G]

Chapter 25 – Symbols

From the notes of Chronicler Crisda.

It’s easy to dismiss the Rahkshi as mindless monsters or ravening rahi. But as they grow in age and power, they change in ways our scholars still don’t completely understand.

They’re cunning enough to ambush and strategise, intelligent enough to speak and have a presence in the council. They’re an enigma, I suspect, even to their creators.

Their wants and needs are certainly a riddle to us, though in this case their mysterious machinations were not entirely unwelcome.  

* * *

Pira

“It was the weirdest thing,” Pira groaned, dropping a large bundle on the floor beside her as she slumped down on a bench, “It walked right up to us, told us to follow it, and led us all the way through the tunnels up to the surface here.”

After having had his own injuries seen to, Vhalem had rushed off to check up on Savnu, with Icthilos following up with a guard who’d briefly tried to follow the Rahkshi that had brought the two Toa to the door. That left Pira to play twenty questions with Trina, Ilton, and Larone, who had ushered her into one of the workshops for some meagre privacy.

“I’d never even seen a Rahkshi before yesterday, let alone one that can talk. It didn’t seem to have much problem moving around in daylight, either. Is that normal?”

“Rare, but not unheard of,” Larone said. “To my knowledge, there are only three in this city capable of speech. What colour was it?”

“Black and purple. But… weird. All of the Rahkshi we saw last night were grey, with one or two other colours. But with this one, all of the parts that would normally be grey were black.”

“Sounds familiar,” Trina replied thoughtfully, “Same colour as the one people said came to fetch Bihriis and Orane.”

She’d donned a Mask Of Healing, and was working on tending Pira’s wounds while Ilton mended her armour.

“Perception, it calls itself,” Larone said, “A Rahkshi of Mind Reading, who loves to meddle. Their armour is a gift from Makuta Vhel, imbued with elemental Shadow to allow them to walk freely in the daylight. Makuta Teridax was attempting to manufacture such suits for his entire army before he was destroyed. Only a few prototypes survived.”

“But why would a Rahkshi help us?” Pira asked, wincing as Trina took her injured hand in her own, the broken bones popping painfully back into place as the Mask Of Healing did its work, “We tried asking it, but it didn’t answer.”

“Strange as it sounds, the three intelligent Rahkshi have a similar duty of care towards as their kin as you Toa do to the Matoran,” Larone said. “After the mess you made on the beach the other night, I imagine Perception weighed the odds and decided returning you here safely would reduce the risk of more Rahkshi being harmed.”

“Makes sense,” Ilton said, “Killing you or taking you prisoner wouldn’t have stopped more Toa from coming into the tunnels to look for you. This does.”

“Would you have actually come looking for us?” Pira asked, glancing at Trina.

“Officially, no. Sorry,” Trina said, releasing Pira’s now-healed hand and turned her attention to a gash across her side, inflicted by a Rahkshi staff. “Unofficially, there are some here who probably would have tried, and there are more who wouldn’t have tried to stop them.”

Out the corner of her eye, Pira noted a disgusted look on Larone’s face, as if the talk of rescue was somehow repulsive to him. She’d only briefly spoken to the strange Turaga once before, when he’d approached her at the Coliseum the previous day, but even then he’d come across as strangely blunt and dismissive. Something about his demeanour was unpleasantly reminiscent of the Vortixx.

“Tell me you guys at least got something useful out of Vhalem and I almost sacrificing ourselves?”

She flexed her fingers, feeling twinges of pain as the still-raw organics extended, then relaxed.

“Not exactly.”

“Good thing you asked them to bring the scavenger along, then,” Pira said, bending down to unwrap the bundle she’d brought back with her from the tunnels. She lifted up the scrap of cloth and carefully emptied out its contents, before folding it up and setting it aside.

The objects that clattered quietly onto the floor were an assortment of Kanoka of all different hues, each one emblazed with the shape of a Kanohi. Toa Disks. Though some from the vault had been lost in the fall or were still scattered in the corridor where she’d fought Widrek, a decent number had made the trip down with Pira, and she’d managed to gather them up before the Rahkshi had arrived.

“We went back and grabbed these from the vault before we left. The Rahkshi waited for us, weirdly enough. I won’t pretend to be an expert on Kanohi crafting, but I believe you can use these to make elemental masks, right?” Pira asked, looking to Ilton, “And don’t any of you give me any Karz about it being disrespectful to the heroes these used to belong to. Not using them is disrespectful to everything I went through to get them.”

“She’s right,” Larone said.

“Most of them look to be in decent condition,” Ilton said, kneeling down to inspect the Kanoka, “I can definitely make masks out of these.”

“Then get started,” Trina said, “Between the equipment in the building and the Toa outside, you should have everything you need to rig a basic forge.”

“Agreed. I’ll get to it,” Ilton gathered up the disks and set off back outside. 

“I will depart as well,” Larone said. “The city’s enforcers already suspect my involvement with the resistance. I should leave here before my absence is noticed. I’ll return before nightfall, and we can discuss this plan you mentioned.”

“I’ll see you then.”

Pira waited until he was gone before speaking up, “I’m still not sure how to feel about him.”

“Same,” Trina said. “The info he gave you about Shadow Sickness seems like it was spot-on, but I get the impression he doesn’t care much for the way we do things. Life has made him cold.”

Trina’s hands moved up towards the back of Pira’s neck, and she felt the scratches and bruises left by Widrek’s clawed hands begin to fade away. The memory of what those hands had nearly done to her wouldn’t disappear as easily.

“Can you blame him?” Pira asked, trying to focus on the conversation to distract herself from her thoughts, “I’m not the most sociable person, either. I imagine a tour of Karzahni could have easily turned someone like me into someone a lot like him.”

“I don’t blame him, but I don’t trust him either,” finishing her work, Trina switched back to her usual mask and sat down across from Pira, “Which is why I lied earlier when I said we didn’t get anything useful from the Archives.”

She reached for where her weapons were sheathed on her back and pulled out a cloth-wrapped bundle of her own. Unfurling it revealed a tool Pira didn’t recognise, an ornate golden staff.

“Icthilos claims this is the Staff Of Artakha,” she tapped the head of the staff against Pira’s shoulder, and a wave of restorative energy washed over her, repairing the lingering damage to her armour that Ilton hadn’t already seen to, “And it certainly seems to work as advertised.”

“Fancy. What about the Mask Of Time?”

“Icthilos said they didn’t find it, but not much else. He didn’t say how he got the staff, either. I think- I don’t know. Vhalem said Icthilos was separated from you guys for a while. I think something happened to him down there.”

“I wouldn’t know, sorry. I was alone with Widrek for most of that.”

“Widrek’s the one who hurt you?”

“Him and the Rahkshi. But… I expect Rahkshi to try to kill me, you know? With Widrek, I wasn’t ready for it. I mean, I always knew he didn’t like me, and that’s justified. And I know he’s not himself. But-”

“-but they’re no longer the Brothers we knew,” Trina nodded, “Icthilos and I are facing the same thing with Maliss. I can’t tell if he’s stopped caring, or cares too much.”

“Same with Widrek,” Pira said. “He was so angry, but I felt like it was about something bigger… like he was taking it all out on me because he couldn’t lash out at whatever was really making him mad.” 

“We’ll find a way to fix this, I promise.”

“Well, while you’re figuring that out, I should probably admit that I lied as well. Or omitted, I guess,” she said. “I trust you, but I’m not sold on Larone.”

“Omitted what?”

“Those Kanoka weren’t the only things I found in that tunnel,” she reached for the bundle of cloth she’d used to carry the Kanoka, and unfolded it again, revealing a second, smaller bundle hidden amidst its furls. It made a sound like scraping stone as she lifted it up and unwrapped it. Inside were six squarish pieces of carved protodermis, each emblazoned with a different symbol, each warm to the touch, as if the stones were ever-so-slightly alive.

Trina’s eyes widened in surprised recognition as soon as she saw them.

“How did you get these?”

“I don’t really know. I was running from the Rahkshi, before I found Vhalem, and I felt… I don’t know how to describe it. I thought it was just an air current at first, but it was more than that. It wasn’t just air, it was Air, you know? Elemental energy. I followed it, and found these boxed up in another vault.”

She reached out towards the stones, feeling the same strange eddy of Air even now. It was like a vacuum pull, gently tugging her hand towards one of the six objects. She let her hand rest upon it, curious and confused in equal measure by the sheer amount of power she could feel roiling within it. 

“Who else knows you have these?” Trina asked urgently.

“Just you. I didn’t even tell Vhalem. Although, I suppose that Mind Reading Rahkshi might know about it as well.”

“But it didn’t take them away from you?” Trina’s brow furrowed.

“What are these things? I can feel they’re powerful just from touching them, and from the way you’re looking at them I can see they’re important. Having them on me seemed to… boost my powers, somehow. I couldn’t have saved Vhalem from his fall without it.”

“What do you know of the Toa Nuva?” Trina asked.

“I know it’s rude to answer a question with a question,” Pira grumbled, “But okay. They were the super powerful Toa, right? The ones who were destined to reawaken the Great Spirit?”

“I never got to meet them myself, but I’ve heard a lot about them since I got to Metru Nui. They were exceptionally powerful, changed by energised protodermis. Their mutation gave them new powers, but also new weaknesses. Their Elemental Energies weren’t contained by their bodies like ours are. Instead, their powers were tied to objects that the Matoran called Nuva Symbols. These symbols.”

“But the Nuva are dead, aren’t they?”

“They never returned from Karda Nui,” Trina sighed, “And even if they survived the Makuta and the energy storms, from what I hear they would have been powerless for as long as these stones were in enemy hands.”

“So probably no chance of these super Toa coming back to save us?”

“Probably not.”

“But if these stones still have power, maybe there’s a way we can access them? It sounds like I was already able to, to some extent.”

Pira sat up straighter, suddenly reinvigorated. Small thought it was, this discovery felt like a vindication of everything she’d ever had to do to survive. She’d been belittled and vilified more times than she could account for scavenging, and now she was being told she’d incidentally picked up a game-changing power boost for six of their members.

Trina stared at her for a few moments, searching for something in Pira’s excited eyes. Seemingly satisfied, she pushed the cluster of stones back towards Pira.

“Keep them safe, and only tell people you trust. I’ll tell Icthilos, but no one else.”

“You’re leaving them with me? I’m not sure that I’m the right person for something this import-”

“I’ve had a hard time believing in Destiny lately, but I do believe there was a reason that you were the one to find these,” Trina said, standing up and stepping away, “You make it sound like they called to you, so keep listening. Maybe they have something else to say.”

[Nato G]

Chapter 26 – Destiny’s Design

From the notes of Chronicler Crisda.

It’s easy to stand by and say that lying is bad. And to be sure, it often is.

But when a Toa tells a frightened Matoran that everything is going to be okay, when a Turaga tells his people that everything is under control, when one friend tells another that they’ll always look out for each other… these lies provide comfort, and prevent panic.

Unity requires us to protect each other, and sometimes lies offer the greatest protection. All of us have, at one time or another, falsified facts to conceal a terrible truth.

So that leaves me with the question: are all lies truly immoral?

* * *

Vhalem

“Glad to see you’re still with us, Brother,” Ithnen sat down beside Vhalem, throwing an arm over his shoulder, “I heard you and the grumpy girl made friends with a Rahkshi?”

“Pira’s not so bad. And I wouldn’t exactly say we made friends with it.”

“It certainly sounds like you made friends with someone. You took an airhead you barely know on two tours of Onu-Metru before your actual Onu-Toa friend?”

“Well, when you say it like that it almost sounds like I’m trying to replace you,” he chuckled, “Good thing you know me better.”

“How bad is it out there?”

“Very. We’re going to have to fight for this city. I don’t see any way around it.”

“We’re ready. Me, Erdo, Tivni. If you or Mother give the word, we’re with you. We can do this.”

“I know. I appreciate it.”

“How is Mother, by the way?”

“I just got out from checking up on her. She’s on the mend, they’re saying she should be back in fighting condition by tomorrow.”

“Good. The thought of losing either one of you…” Ithnen shook her head, “…after everything we went through, everyone we lost, we didn’t come this far to lose.”

“No, we didn’t,” he took one of her hands in his own, “I hate to ask this, but I need to know: how far are you willing to go?”

“What do you mean?”

“Widrek nearly killed Pira. Bihriis nearly killed Savnu. Both of them nearly killed me. So if it comes down to it, if there’s no other choice, if it’s us or them…”

“You are my Brother, Vhalem. You’re my Team,” Ithnen said. “If it comes down to a choice between our friends or theirs, it’s no choice at all.”

* * *

Trina

“There you are,” Icthilos said, running over to Trina.

“Any news on the Rahkshi?”

“Nothing useful. Pahlil only managed to follow it for a few blocks before it lost her. I imagine it’s hard to sneak up on someone who can read your mind.”

“Another unanswered question,” Trina sighed, having long since lost count of all the things she didn’t know, “If you’re not busy, there’s something I need to talk to you about.”

“I was about to say the same.”

With the possibility of Orane spying on them from the safety of spirit form, (hopefully he hadn’t been around to listen in on Pira’s conversation with Trina) they grabbed some Suletus from storage, then made their way upstairs, to the same balcony where they’d spoken the previous night. No one else was around, as they’d hoped, preoccupied as they were with their reunions and conversations.

“Do you want to go first, or should I?” He asked.

“You’ve got your earnest face on, so I suspect yours is going to be a longer conversation,” Trina said, “Mine’s quick, but crazy.”

“Let’s hear it, then.”

“The Archives mission wasn’t a complete bust. Pira managed to bring back some Toa Disks, which Ilton is going to forge into new Kanohi for us. And she found something else. The Nuva Symbols.”

She sensed a flurry of emotions and thoughts from Icthilos, half-formed ideas whirling wildly before he forced himself to refocus on the conversation at hand.

“The Disks are good. Can we actually do anything with the symbols?”

“Pira thinks she might have tapped into the Air one by accident already. I told her to hang on to them for now, and see if she can get them to work.”

“You trust her with that kind of power?”

“I trust her to try.”

“Who else knows?”

“Her. Me. Now you. Possibly the Mind Reading Rahkshi, and anyone Pira decides to tell.”

“Keep it quiet for now, if you can. Some Toa might consider it sacrilegious to mess with relics from the Nuva.”

“What about you?”

“I know we have more important concerns.”

“Like what?

“Like what happened to me in the Archives.”

Trina tried her best not to react. She’d been ready to question him about it herself; she was glad he’d chosen to open up without being asked, for once.

“Makuta Vhel. He ambushed me. He’s the one who gave me the staff. He said that after he defeated us he’d make me use it to fix everything, as penance.”

“But that’s not all he told you, is it?” Trina could read his face just as clearly as his thoughts. “He told you the Truth, didn’t he? The thing he told Widrek, the thing that drove everyone crazy?”

“He did.”

“Should I be worried?”

“No.”

“Are you going to tell me what it is?”

“Saying it doesn’t do it justice. I’d need to show you… the way he showed me,” he reached up to tap his mask, “If you’re willing?”

“It’s not going to… turn me evil or whatever, right?”

“It’s just information. It can’t do anything. And I trust you to make the right choice once you know.”

She nodded, withdrawing the limited mental defence the Sulteu provided and opening her mind. Icthilos leaned forward, resting his hands on her shoulders and pressing his forehead against hers. He closed his eyes, and she closed hers.

Images and information spilled into Trina’s mind. It began with Icthilos’ conversation with Makuta Vhel, and then became the story of another world, wracked by disunity and disaster. In the space of seconds, Trina witnessed eons of war and woe, the shattering of a planet and the creation of a universe, the making of the Makuta, the awakening of the universe, and the litany of misdeeds and mistakes that followed-

She shoved Icthilos away from her with a wordless cry, flinging the mask from her face.

“That- what was… what the Karz?”

“I know. It’s a lot to take in.”

“There’s no Destiny. No plan, no purpose,” Trina sputtered, “It’s all just… random chance?”

“No, Trina,” Icthilos picked up Trina’s other Kanohi and pushed it into her hands, “That kind of thinking is what turned Widrek and the others against us. They think it doesn’t matter, that everything we did is for nothing.”

“It is, though,” Trina snapped, pushing the mask onto her face. The rush of energy that came with it only invigorated her rage, and she shoved at Icthilos again, “You saw the same thing I did. We’ve lost our way.”

“No, we made our own way,” Icthilos said. “We became more than we were meant to be, more than those who made us.”

Trina stopped, weighing his words. “We don’t know what we’re doing.”

“Don’t we? Whether it was by malfunction or coincidence or Destiny’s design, our species gained the ability to think, and choose. We made mistakes along the way, sure, but every Toa in this building made a conscious choice to defend and serve those weaker than themselves. Our makers, whoever or whatever they were… they couldn’t manage that.” 

He was right. In the vision she’d seen, the Great Beings had chosen to unleash killing machines upon their own people instead of seeking a peaceful resolution to the war. They’d abandoned them to their fate, created a 100,000 year contingency plan to repair the damage, instead of preventing it from happening in the first place.

And there was something else, a detail so small yet so great in significance that it took her several moments to find the words for it.

“Energised Protodermis,” she said. “Back then it destroyed and transformed, just like it does now.”

“Exactly,” Icthilos nodded.

“But it was before our creators even knew what it was. Before they made Mata Nui to decide our Destinies for us.”

“Which means Destiny was never theirs to decide. Maybe they found a way to manipulate it to some extent, but clearly they didn’t create or control it.”

“But what does that mean, for us?”

“Maybe there’s no such thing as Destiny at all. Or maybe it’s everything.”

“What do you mean?”

“Our Destinies transform us. From Matoran, to Toa, to Turaga. Who’s to say that it isn’t Destiny what gave our race and all others the gift of sapience?”

“That’s what you think?”

“It’s what I choose to believe,” Icthilos said, “What I am, what I’ve done, it doesn’t feel like an accident or a mistake.”

“It feels like… it means something,” Trina nodded. “We saved lives. We helped people. It mattered.”

“But not everyone here feels the same way.”

With eight simple words, Icthilos brought the brunt of reality bearing back down on Trina. She understood why Widrek and Maliss and the others had changed so profoundly, maddened by despair and defiance, futility and fear.

“We can’t tell anyone,” She blurted out, the words escaping her before she’d even fully processed the severity of her suggestion, “We’d lose others. Even those that stayed would be… shaken.”

“It’s more than that. Maliss told me that Vhel’s followers are actively trying to find the Great Spirit and return him to power. If they succeed… if the Great Spirit completes his mission and the Great Beings restore their world…”

“…we wouldn’t be needed anymore,” Trina felt sick, “They were willing to kill their own people to try to save their world. They’d cast all of us aside without a second thought.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of.”

She knew where this was going, what he was trying to say without speaking the words aloud. This wasn’t simply about saving the city. Potentially, this was about saving their entire species.

“I don’t know what they know, but I might have a lead. Something they missed. I need to-”

“The less I know, the better. Go.”

“Thank you.”

“Don’t.” Trina shook her head, “I don’t know if this is the right thing to do. I don’t know if there is a right thing to do. I know we have the power to choose but I don’t know if we have the right to choose for everybody.”

“Then I think it would be best for everyone if no one else ever knows.”

[Nato G]

 Chapter 27 – Last Light

From the journal of Turaga Marik.

The more I think about it, the more I feel that our people have lost their way. We cling to a code that we bend and break as we see fit. We venerate vague virtues, and allow the light we believe in so deeply to blind us to the truths of our reality.

The Great Spirit punished me for my transgressions, stripped me of my power for taking a life. And yet it took me until now to learn the lesson. The others still haven’t learned.

But they will.

In time.

* * *

Pira

After her talk with Trina, Pira had headed out into one of the empty buildings outside to try to tap into the Nuva Symbols. She kept them in a pack on her back, not wanting anyone heading in or out of the Moto-Hub to see them, but even without being in physical contact with them she could feel their power. It felt like the pack was full of heatstones, radiating comforting warmth.

For two hours she experimented with different ways of channelling or drawing upon her powers. Simple channelling exercises, attacks against the walls of the empty buildings around her, even jumping off a low roof to try to loosely recreate the circumstances of Vhalem’s fall. But no matter what she tried, she didn’t feel the exhilarating rush of energy she’d experienced in her desperate attempt to save Vhalem in the Archives. She could sense the reserves of untapped energy just waiting to be unleashed, but they remained frustratingly out of reach.

Sighing, she leaned on the windowsill, looking out into the street. She’d seen a few figures coming and going while she’d been outside, scouts returning from their explorations, Toa who’d stayed the night elsewhere coming back to check up on their companions, Marik, Icthilos, Savnu, and a few others wandering off at different times. This time, she saw Larone passing by, heading back towards the Moto-Hub.

“Hey!” She called out, waving to him, “I thought you weren’t coming back until nightfall?”

“The situation has changed,” he said, hurrying over to her. The brief act of exertion left him breathless and wheezing, but he forced himself to continue speaking, “I need your help.”

“Mine?”

“And anyone else you can convince to help you without wasting time with talk.”

“What’s wrong?”

“The rogue Onu-Toa, Widrek, he’s hunting someone deeply important. Someone who could be the difference between life and death for all of us.”

“Who?”

The last free Av-Matoran in Metru Nui.”

* * *

Vhalem

“Pira, slow down. Are you sure about this?” Vhalem pleaded.

Pira had barely finished giving her rushed explanation of Larone’s request, and she already looked like she wanted to sprint back out the doors. 

“If you don’t want to help me, I’ll find someone else.”

“Shouldn’t we talk to Trina about this?”

Vhalem wasn’t normally one to go around seeking permission for every little thing he wanted to do. Training under Savnu had that effect on people. But he didn’t want to rush into another fight. He didn’t want Pira to rush into another fight. And even though he knew he couldn’t talk Pira out of this, he hoped that Trina could.

Hopes that were dashed almost instantly, as Pira skipped straight to the logical conclusion.

“You know she won’t let us.”

“She’s right,” Ithnen spoke up. She’d still been with Vhalem when Pira had shown up, and Pira hadn’t acknowledged or tried to shoo her off before bursting into her explanation. “After what happened to you two this morning, she’s not going to let you go after Widrek again.”

“I’m not going to let him hurt anyone else,” Pira insisted.

“He’s going to hurt you,” Vhalem protested, “We couldn’t beat him before, and we’re barely recovered from this morning. What makes you think this is going to be any different?”

“Because this time, you’ll have an Onu-Toa of your own with you,” Ithnen said, nudging his shoulder, “I’m not sitting on the sidelines while you and the airhead fight for your lives again.”

“Karzahni. Okay, fine. I’m in,” Vhalem grumbled. He didn’t want to rush headlong into another fight, but he wasn’t about to let the two of them go alone. “What about Erdo or Tivni?”

“As far as I know, Erdo hasn’t come back from Ga-Metru yet,” Ithnen said, “And I think Tivni got paired up with Pahlil for another scouting run, to try to pick up the trail of that purple Rahkshi.” 

“Just the three of us, then,” Pira said, glancing at Ithnen, “Time to find out what you’re made of.”

“I’m sure we’ll all find out, once Widrek’s done pulling us apart,” Vhalem grumbled, rising to his feet and readying his bow-blade. “Let’s go.”

The three of them slipped back outside and down the street, where Turaga Larone awaited beside a small Vahki transport, similar in size to the one that had taken the Toa team into Onu-Metru earlier that morning.

“Only three of you?” Larone asked.

“You asked for speed,” Pira said. “But Vhalem and I have a score to settle with Widrek, and Ithnen can give us a fighting chance against him. It’ll have to be enough.”

Vhalem didn’t say anything as he boarded the transport. Impulsive, reckless plans were a running theme among the company he’d been keeping of late, but even by those standards this felt like too much, too fast. Trina and Icthilos seemed set on calculating a very careful next move, and here he was potentially ruining their plans, putting everyone else at risk in the process.

But even beyond his Duty to defend the Matoran, he saw the strategic sense in saving what was quite possibly the last living Av-Matoran in existence. Not to mention the possibility of capturing Widrek… or killing him, if it came down to it.

Hopefully it wouldn’t.

“How has this Av-Matoran managed to stay safe for so long?” Ithnen asked, as she shuffled into the transport beside Vhalem. “I thought they were all rounded up?” Pira joined them a second later, while Larone clambered into the front and set the transport moving through the streets.

“I don’t know the full story,” Larone explained, as the transport began to trundle down the street in the direction of the border with Ta-Metru. “It seems that, sometime long ago, an unknown number of Av-Matoran were hidden throughout the universe, their memories of their true nature erased. When the other Av-Matoran came here from Karda Nui they were able to identify their kin hidden among the other tribes. But even after finding out her true nature, Charvara felt more comfortable remaining in the guise of a Ta-Matoran, and thus avoided being identified with the rest when the Odinans came calling. It wasn’t until she reached out to a resistance contact to ask for aid that we found out what she really was.”

“So what changed?” Ithnen asked.

“Widrek’s mask,” Vhalem was the one to offer an answer, “A Rode can see through illusions and disguises as easily as a spoken deception.”

“Indeed,” Larone said. “He spotted her in a crowd, at a distance. Just dumb luck.”

“Bad luck,” Pira muttered. “I know how that feels.”

“My people rushed her to one of our safe houses, and sent word to me,” Larone continued. “But last I heard he’s still searching for her.”

“Just him?”

“I’m told he activated some Vahki to help with the hunt.”

“Nothing we can’t handle, right?” Ithnen nodded to Vhalem.

“What about the other Hagah?” Vhalem asked, ignoring her for the moment, “Widrek’s not doing this alone, is he?”

“My sources say that Tuxar, Dhozoh, and Maliss are currently at the Coliseum, most likely planning their next move after this morning’s events. From what I can tell, Widrek is keeping this quiet and trying to sort it out himself.”

“Why?” Ithnen asked. “I thought he was the sensible one… before he switched sides, at least.”

“Widrek used to be at the top, when he was with us,” Pira pointed out, “Everyone looked up to him. Now he’s so unimportant they didn’t even let him in on their big meeting. I think he’s trying to win himself some favour.”

Vhalem nodded his agreement. Pira was certainly no stranger to trying to prove her worth; he saw no reason not to trust her judgement on that topic.

“So where are we going, exactly?” He asked Larone.

“We have a series of rendezvous points and safehouses in Ta-Metru. If my people are on the run, they’ll move from one to the next, working their way out. We’ll work our way in, and meet them somewhere in the middle.”

They soon left Le-Metru behind and entered the outskirts of Ta-Metru. Even here at its outermost edge there was a haze of heat and smoky smell to the air, and it only intensified as the transport moved further into the Metru. Structures of stone and steel rose high on all sides, adding to the choking sense of claustrophobia that came with being stuck in a city-sized kiln. Transports much like their own trundled around the area, transporting materials and fuel to or from the furnaces, while here and there Matoran used carts or baskets to carry around tools and Kanohi.

Larone brought the transport to a stop outside the blackened shell of a long-abandoned building, and leaned forward to look through its empty windows into the seared interior.

“Not here,” he said.

As the transport started moving forward once more, Vhalem caught a glimpse of movement out the corner of his eye, a flicker of white flitting between buildings off to one side. He glanced back at his companions; Ithnen was looking out the other side of the transport, and Pira’s eyes were firmly forward, with neither of them appearing to have noticed anything.

Vhalem pulled his bow-blade from his back and held it at the ready, plucking absently at the string. 

The transport inched its way past a foundry building, from which echoed the sharp clanging of metal. Scalding smoke and sizzling cinders spewed from its chimney, spilling a fine film of ash over the surrounding area. For a fleeting moment, Vhalem thought he saw another wraith-like figure hunched on the rooftop, its silver-white shape barely discernible through the dark smoke. It disappeared in the space of his next eyeblink.

Brief though it had been, he was certain now that he’d seen something. Once could have been a trick of his mind, but twice was too much of a coincidence to ignore. Still… he hadn’t seen any Mesmers in white armour while he’d been at the Coliseum, and though there was likely enough smog cover for a Rahkshi to get around, it didn’t fit with the habits the creatures had shown so far. 

“You said Widrek activated some Vahki to help with the search,” Vhalem spoke up, now inspecting the rooftops and alleyways passing them by, “Do you know what kind?”

“What? Why?” Larone brought the transport to a stop once more, this time leaning out to inspect an inconspicuous grate in a nearby alleyway.

“Did anyone else see that?” Ithnen suddenly asked, pointing to something off in the distance. She lowered her hand, frowning, “It’s gone. I thought-”

“I saw it,” Pira said softly.

“I’ve been seeing things as well,” Vhalem said, casting his eyes upwards as he heard something scrabbling across a rooftop above them. “Larone? The Vahki?”

“I don’t know. I was just told Vahki. I’d assume Nuurakh, with this being Ta-Metru.”

“But all Vahki types are manufactured here, right?” Vhalem pressed, wracking his brains for what little he’d been told of the mechanical menaces.

“The parts are made here. They’re usually taken to Po-Metru for assembly.”

“Usually,” Vhalem repeated, “Not always? So there could be other Vahki here?” 

“What’s your point?”

“The white Vahki. What’s their deal?”

“Keerakh. They were the strategic ones… stealthy, ambush hunters… I heard they had some kind of prescience or predictive programming.”

“That’s what I was worried about,” Vhalem grimaced, “We need to pick up the pace.”

“Oh,” Ithnen breathed, drawing her throwing blades as she found her way to the same conclusion as Vhalem had.

“What are you talking about?” Larone asked, speeding up the transport nonetheless.

“If those things out there are Keerakh, the fact that we’re seeing them here means they’ve already predicted what route your people are going to take out of this Metru. The next time this Av-Matoran sticks her head out, Widrek will be waiting for her.”

[Nato G]

Chapter 28 – Choices

From the records of Turaga Rost.

Every day while the Matoran toil, the Odinans delve through the chronicles of old, searching for understanding. We know Mata Nui was trapped within the Mask Of Life, and we know the Ignika was cast into the void beyond our universe, but the nature of this void eludes us.

How do we reach it? How can we traverse it? Will the Ignika find its way back to us of its own accord, or is there something we can do to aid it?

Without answers to these questions, our hopes and our efforts are all for naught.

* * *

Icthilos

“I know you’re here…” he muttered to himself as he rifled through the stacks of snow-sodden pages, “…you have to be here. Where are you?”

He’d delved through two more Knowledge Towers and was now exploring a third, though he didn’t have high hopes for this one. The windows had been left open when this building was abandoned, and it looked like snow had blown inside and melted at least once between then and his arrival.

Still, he had to try.

He needed to be sure.

He rifled through pulped pages and skimmed unfinished tablets, finding little but incomplete predictions and piecemeal prophecies. He was about to give up and move on to the next tower when he saw it: a small metal box marked with the symbol of the Red Star, tucked out of the way on a bottom shelf.

He leaned down and pried it open, immediately recognising the distinctive scrawl of the scholar whose research he sought. He flipped the box upside down and emptied it out, picking through the pages at the bottom; the notes closest to the top of the researcher’s desk would likely have been the first to go into the box when they’d been packed away.

And there it was, pinned beneath a stone tablet that looked to be a Toa’s journal.

The scrap of parchment he sought was covered in the barely-legible scribblings of a determined researcher whose telescope had been cast skywards even as Teridax proclaimed his dominion over the universe, whose eyes had remained fixated on a particular point in the sky even as the war against Teridax raged across Metru Nui and the wider universe. The words were simple, almost unremarkable, a mundane observation made on a mad day.

Unknown yellow-white light observed rising from Southward direction. Was drawn towards Red Star, converged with it, then disappeared.

So many of the Ko-Matoran scholars had spoken of strange sights and shifting lights during and after Teridax’s takeover. Icthilos had heard plenty of their stories when he’d arrived on the island and settled in Ko-Metru. None of them had meant much to him then, and most still didn’t now. But this… this suddenly made sense, just as he’d feared.

If the Mask Of Life truly had been flung out into the void, it would have come from the South, the direction of Karda Nui… and if Teridax had come under attack by Vhel while he’d been exiling the Kanohi, he might not have been unable to send it as far away as he’d planned… leaving it to be drawn towards the closest body of gravity in the void above.

The answer had been right here all along, in the very Metru Vhel had ordered its people to abandon. It was within sight, but out of reach… but perhaps not out of Vhel’s reach. There was a very real possibility that a Makuta could survive a voyage into the void beyond the skies.

Icthilos had no intention of giving him the opportunity.

He took the paper firmly in his hands, intent on ripping it apart, but found himself faltering as it began to tear. What he held in his hands was more than mere information. It was the future, the fate of countless beings.

The sound of scrabbling on the stairs tore his attention away from the page.

“Stop!” A frost-encrusted Keerakh blundered into the room, and though the voice came out tinny and artificial it was still one Icthilos recognised: Orane.

“Oh, this’ll be good,” with his free hand, Icthilos drew his flail, ready to swing at the first provocation, “You just don’t know when to quit, do you?”

“Just stop,” the Vahki lowered its arms to its sides, “I only want to talk, please.”

“Alright, spit it out.”

Icthilos didn’t intend to entertain the conversation for long; he could already hear more steps on the stairs, as something else shuffled its way up the tower.

“I was spying on you and Trina earlier. I heard what you said. About Destiny. About having the right to make our own choices.”

Icthilos narrowed his eyes at the machine. There was no expression to read on its face, no inflection in the voice to gauge emotion from. But considering Orane’s willingness to throw Reconstitution disks and collapse tunnels on people earlier in the day, Icthilos was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. If he’d come here simply to kill him, he wouldn’t have bothered with a conversation.

“I was wrong to give up,” Orane said. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe it does mean something.”

“Why follow me out here, then?” Icthilos asked. “You could’ve come straight to the Moto-Hub to say all of this.”

“Because I heard what you said to Trina. You know something, about… I don’t know what. Something important. I’m guessing that’s it,” the Vahki’s staff raised up to point at the paper in Icthilos’ hand, “And you want to destroy it.”

“Can you blame me?” Icthilos snapped, “What we have here isn’t perfect, but it’s a life. The Matoran can survive here, even thrive. But between your lot and our creators, I’m not convinced any of us will be allowed any life at all if we actually completed the mission we were made for.”

“Maybe you’re right, but you could just as easily be wrong,” Orane argued, “You can’t make that choice for all of us… and for all of them, out there, waiting for us to come save them.”

“Their world doesn’t matter. Ours does, and this city is all that’s left of it.”

“You don’t have the right to decide that for everyone.”

“Don’t I? Funny how you’re all happy for me to take all of the hate and blame and responsibility when it suits you,” Icthilos snarled. “And you of all people don’t get to lecture me on rights and choice. This morning you were willing to slay your own Sister.” 

“I… wasn’t in my right mind.”

“You sure weren’t,” came the unexpected voice of Savnu, as she finally reached the top of the stairs.

“You’re supposed to be resting,” Icthilos growled.

“I know,” she panted breathlessly, clutching her chest and leaning against the wall, “And if I’d known there were going to be stairs, I would’ve stayed in bed.”

“What are you doing here? With him?”

“He possessed a speaker near my bed, to talk to me. He told me he was sorry. He told me… things I’m not sure I completely believe.”

“And, what? You came here to help him stop me?”

“Yes,” Orane said.

“Nah,” Savnu smiled.

She waved her hand towards Icthilos, and a flicker of flame flitted to the page, evaporating it into ash before anyone could react.

“No!”

Orane started to move, a Kanoka teleporting into the Vahki’s mouthparts and its staffs raising to fire. For a moment, though, Orane hesitated, head flicking back and forth between the two Toa, and that moment of uncertainty cost him his chance to attack either of them. The Vahki was simultaneously engulfed in ice and flame, before its skull was shattered to fragments by a single decisive swing of Icthilos’ flail.

“Why?” Icthilos asked, shaking scraps of metal from his weapon. “Yesterday you were convinced there wasn’t even a Makuta. If you didn’t believe Orane, then why-”

“I believe you. And the fact that you’re here means you believe it,” Savnu said. “So I came to help.”

“Thank you,” Icthilos put away his weapon and moved to help Savnu, letting her lean on his shoulder as they started working their way back downstairs. “Should we expect company down there?”

“I doubt it. I thawed out that Vahki for him, and I don’t think he would have told anyone else we were coming here.”

“What will he do now, do you think?” Icthilos asked, “For a moment there, I thought he might have been willing to return to our side.”

“But I just pushed him further away than ever,” Savnu nodded grimly, “I know. I hope it was for the right reasons.”

“As do I,” Icthilos sighed.

They reached the ground floor, and started trekking back across the snow towards the border with Le-Metru. As they walked, Icthilos glanced down at the ashen dust still smeared on his hand, strangely grateful that someone else had taken the choice out of his hands. 

“What of the things Orane told you?” He asked absently, brushing his hand against his leg to scrape away the ash, “Our origins, our purpose? You didn’t feel motivated to switch sides?”

“100,000 years is a long time, Icthilos. Too long. Whoever made us, and whatever they made us for, doesn’t matter to me,” Savnu said. “I take responsibility for what I’ve done, and everything I’ve done has been for the Matoran, for the future of our people. Abandoning all of that over ancient history is just taking the easy way out. Maybe my faith is false… but it’s still mine.”

Despite the cold, Icthilos felt a strange sense of warmth well within him. It wasn’t coming from Savnu, but it was certainly because of her.

Though he’d kept his judgement to himself – at least until his outburst yesterday – he’d often dismissed Savnu as thoughtless and rash, acting only on rebellious impulse. But he saw the truth of her now. It wasn’t that she didn’t care about the consequences. She just didn’t care what others thought of her. Like Icthilos, she was willing to take the anger and blame if it meant the best outcome for the Matoran.

“I’ve underestimated you,” he admitted.

“I wish Ilton had been here to hear you say that,” she smiled for a moment, but it quickly faded to a frown, “Actually, no. I’m not sure he’d feel the same as we do about… all of this.”

“It wouldn’t be easy for him,” Icthilos agreed. “Same for Orane and the others. Whatever they think, whatever they’re going through… it can’t be easy for them, either.”

“What comes next isn’t going to be any easier for us.”

[Nato G]

Chapter 29 – Down To Earth

From the notes of Chronicler Crisda.

In my research, I often find myself wondering what the true limits are to a Toa’s power. It’s easy to believe that the elements of our world are clear-cut and firmly defined, but that’s far from the truth.

Over the years, I’ve read of rare Toa capable of performing feats that are seemingly beyond what their element should allow. Toa of Stone who can control crystals, Toa of Earth who manipulate sand, Toa of Fire who were able to freeze water, Toa of Electricity skilled in summoning illusions, and many other tales even stranger still. The Fa-Toa Pahlil, from my own homeland, spent much of her life convincingly posing as a Po-Toa, manipulating rocks by controlling the trace metals within them. 

Setting aside my own personal anecdote, the question remains: are these stories fantasy or fact? Is it only a rare few Toa destined to perform such displays of power, or do all Toa have such untapped abilities within them? Is it a matter of skill and experience, or random chance?

Time and turmoil have changed our Toa, war and woe pushing them to limits they’d never before endured. What are they capable of, now that they’ve stopped holding back?

* * *

Pira

“I don’t like this,” she muttered, spotting yet another Keerakh flitting out of sight over a nearby rooftop. “How many more spots do we have left to check?”

They were getting uncomfortably close to the heart of the Metru, and they were still seeing the wraith-like white Vahki scuttling around in the shadows. Given how fast and fleeting their appearances were, it was impossible to tell if it was the same few individuals appearing in multiple places, or if there were dozens of the enforcers deployed throughout the Metru.

“Only two,” Larone said. “But the fact that we’re still seeing Vahki should be cause for hope. It means they haven’t found Chavara yet.”

“That’s assuming this Av-Matoran of yours is even still at one of the safe houses. If your people saw the Keerakh, maybe they went somewhere else to try to be unpredictable?” Ithnen suggested, “Is that how it works?”

“I have no idea how it works,” Larone grumbled.

“Someone once told me about a pair of Toa who tricked the Keerakh into leading them to one of the Great Disks,” Ithnen said. “The Vahki somehow knew where the Toa were trying to get to… despite the fact that even the Toa themselves didn’t know where to look… and the Vahki didn’t actually know what the Toa were looking for.”

“That explained nothing,” Pira grumbled. “If anything I think it made me even more confused about how this predictive thing works.”

“Yeah, I realised halfway through saying it that it wasn’t going to be as helpful as I thought.”

“Here,” Larone suddenly said, bringing the transport to a stop. They were outside what looked to have once been a Mask Maker’s forge, now derelict and deserted. The windows were completely caked in dust, save for one, which looked to have very recently had some of the dust wiped away to form the shape of the Matoran symbol for Courage. Evidently that was the sign that had caught Larone’s eye.

“How have the Vahki not found this place yet?” Pira wondered aloud as she clambered out of the transport, eyes sweeping her surroundings. “If they’re everywhere else why aren’t they here?”

One of her hands subconsciously reached for the staff she normally kept slung across her back, but of course it was gone now, lost in her previous bout with Widrek.

“Maybe they are?” Vhalem suggested, “Maybe they’ve predicted the route, and are just waiting for someone to make a break from one of the buildings? It might explain why we’ve seen them at nearly every stop along the way.”

“It also might explain why Larone’s people haven’t moved to another safe house,” Ithnen said, “They spotted the Vahki watching and decided to hunker down.”

“It would also mean we’ve just advertised to any Vahki watching that this is the right place,” Pira pointed out.

“Then let’s not waste time,” Vhalem moved to knock on the door, “Hello? We’re here with Larone.”

Something moved inside the building, obscured by the grimy windows, and then the door burst open and two Matoran ran out. One was a Po-Matoran with large clawed hands, while the other looked to be a Ta-Matoran clad in grey and yellow.

From the way the Po-Matoran was placing himself in front of the other, blocking her body as best he could, this could only be the Av-Matoran Chavara.

The instant the trio were out in the open, Pira caught a glimpse of a silvery flicker flashing from atop a nearby roof. A blast of air sent the incoming Kanoka careening off course, while Vhalem used gravity to deflect another disk fired from another direction, and Ithnen summoned a barrier of earth to block a third and fourth. Pira deflected a fifth a moment later with another elemental blast. Cries of fear and surprise rang out from Matoran passing by in the street, who ran for cover or hunkered in place.

And then the two rebel Matoran were on board the transport, and Larone was turning it around. Ithnen managed to clamber aboard as well, while Pira grabbed a handhold on the side to cling onto as the vehicle lurched into motion. She glanced back towards Vhalem, already reaching out her other hand to help him only to find that he hadn’t followed.

He was instead holding his ground, weapon at the ready. He crushed one Vahki apart with gravity, loosed an arrow into the head of a second… only for the remaining three to run right past him.

The transport rounded a corner and Pira lost sight of Vhalem, but not the Keerakh, which had dropped to all fours for more speed. More Kanoka lashed towards the transport, and Pira once again swatted them away with waves of wailing wind. She directed a more concentrated blast towards the Vahki themselves, managing to trip up the one at the front, only for the other two to swerve around or leap over it as it scrambled to right itself.

Before she could loose another blast Pira was suddenly slammed against the transport as it came to a jarring halt, its front legs bracing while its back swung out to slam into the side of a nearby warehouse. Pira’s arm was wrenched painfully as she tumbled off the side of the vehicle, falling awkwardly between the side of the transport and the warehouse wall.

For those panicked moments she spent scrambling to right herself, she thought she was done for. But just as with Vhalem, the Vahki took no interest in her, instead leaping at the transport and attempting to tear its doors open. Pira didn’t give them a chance to break through, lashing out with her powers and flinging the machines away once more.

As they started to pick themselves up off the ground, Pira took a moment to peer past the transport to figure out what had brought it to a halt. What she saw was a cracked crater in the street, caused by something breaking its way up from below. A something that revealed itself to be a burly figure clad in black and silver, his clawed hands tearing up through the dirt and rock. It was Widrek, with more Keerakh climbing up after him. As he climbed out, Pira noticed that he had her staff slung across his back.

For the briefest of moments, Pira wondered if he’d taken it as a reminder, out of remorse. But then his gaze settled on her and he barked an order, “Kill them all!”

The earth suddenly shifted beneath his feet, collapsing away to plunge him and his new Vahki right back into whatever Archives tunnel they’d just climbed up out of. Ithnen bounded out of the transport, joining Pira in the street while Larone tried to turn the vehicle around to find a new route.

Torn between their old orders to specifically pursue the Matoran rebels, and their new orders to kill everyone, the three remaining Vahki spread out, one approaching the transport and the others sizing up a Toa each. Pira summoned another blast of air, trying to fling her foe into the one targeting the transport, but this time the Vahki were ready for it, digging their staffs into the ground. Pira kept up the blustery breeze, resolving to at least force the Vahki to stay in place if she couldn’t push them away.

Ithnen, meanwhile, darted deftly towards her attacker, relying on her smaller size and greater agility – as well as the probability-bending powers of her mask – to evade the stun blasts being loosed towards her. She quickly closed the distance, ducking a swing of the Vahki’s staff and popping up behind the machine to sink one of her own blades into its head. Before it had even finished falling she was turning her attention to the other two, starting to redirect the dislodged dirt on the ground towards the two Vahki struggling in Pira’s breeze. The earth rose up, then shuddered to a stop as Widrek clambered back out of the hole once more, counteracting Ithnen’s powers with his own.

“I see you came prepared this time,” Widrek growled, his words barely audible over the wind.

The transport finished turning, and started advancing back down the street towards the nearest intersection. Pira caught a brief glance of Larone in the pilot’s seat, flashing a grateful smile towards the two Toa.

Once the transport was past her, Pira let her breeze abate and snatched up one of the staves of the Keerakh Ithnen had destroyed, brandishing it towards Widrek. She could feel her elemental energy reserves dwindling; she hadn’t had much of a chance to recharge after the morning’s events, and this bout was taking its toll. The only response the Onu-Toa offered was a nod towards his Vahki, which began to charge towards the two Toa.

This time it was gravity that halted their advance as Vhalem finally caught up with the group and brought his own powers to bear.

“You started without me,” he joked, falling into line beside his companions. 

“Better late than never, Brother,” Ithnen replied.

Pira didn’t join in on the banter. Her focus was on Widrek, who had been driven to his knees by the force of increased gravity pressing down on his body. His teeth were gritted, his face contorted, but not by pain. Instead his expression was one of exertion and focus.

Pira could feel the ground rumbling underfoot.

“What’s he doing?” She asked, glancing at Ithnen.

As she spoke, she fumbled with the staff in her hand, searching for a trigger or mechanism to make it fire but finding none. The Vahki had to fire these things somehow…

“I don’t know,” Ithnen replied, frowning. “I don’t understand. There’s not enough earth here for him to-”

“Yes, there is,” Widrek grinned.

Behind the three Toa the transport was flung on its side as the ground exploded in front of it. But instead of a burst of solid dirt, it was lava that came spilling from the crater in the pavement. Sizzling spatters of slag rained down over the street, sizzling against brick and armour and flesh.

Vhalem recoiled with a cry and swatted blindly at his back, losing his focus on his powers in the process. Pira too felt the sting of the searing spray, while Ithnen once again twisted probability to avoid being struck.

“You have heart, little one,” Widrek sneered at Ithnen, “But I’ve been a Toa longer than you’ve been alive. I know things even the oldest and wisest of Turaga couldn’t teach you.”

“Get them out!” Pira barked to Vhalem, before battering Widrek with another blast of air.

It was a split-second decision, one motivated as much by her selfish desire to get even with Widrek as it was by some semblance of strategy. On the three of them, Vhalem was the best suited to getting Larone and the Matoran out of the flipped transport, or levitating the whole transport out of the path of the lava. Pira and Ithnen would be more useful trying to break Widrek’s focus and keep him and the Vahki occupied. 

As Pira’s airblast sent Widrek stumbling, Ithnen manipulated the earth again, widening the hole Widrek had made in the street and sending him tumbling into the tunnel once more. This time his hands caught the edge, and he immediately began pulling himself back out.

The Vahki that were still intact were now scrambling to their feet, and the two Toa assailed them with another volley of elements blasts, managing to disable a few of them.

“We’ve got more incoming!”

At Vhalem’s shout, Pira glanced back towards him. Larone and the two Matoran were safely out of the transport, none of them appearing too seriously injured, and the four of them were in the process of backing away from the bubbling puddle of lava that was swiftly beginning to spread across the street and swallow the transport.

But it wasn’t the lava that Vhalem was pointing out. He was gesturing towards the sky overhead, where the crimson figures of Ta-Metru’s native Vahki were descending towards the street.

Pira and Ithnen ceased their attacks on the Keerakh and readied themselves to face their new foes, only for the Nuurakh to ignore them completely and instead attack the Keerakh, descending upon the fallen machines and rending them asunder with their clawed staffs.

“No! What are you doing?” Widrek roared, seizing one of the red Vahki and effortlessly wrenching its head from its body in a move that chilled Pira to her core. The memory of him trying to do the very same thing to her was all too fresh.

“They’re maintaining order,” came the hoarse voice of another Toa in half-black armour who’d abruptly appeared on the scene, stepping out of the shadow of a nearby building as casually as if he were walking through a doorway, “An order that you have disrupted.”

“Maliss, I-” Widrek stammered, sounding genuinely afraid for the first time since Pira had met him.

“You thought I wouldn’t notice you blowing holes in my Metru?” Maliss snarled, “I know you’re used to doing whatever you please, but this isn’t a lawless battlefield.”

“She’s an Av-Matoran!” Widrek protested, pointing past Pira towards Chavara, “A threat, living unnoticed in your Metru.”

“I was well aware of her presence, you fool,” Maliss snapped, “You think your fancy Kanohi is the only way to see through an illusion?”

“If you knew, why not kill me?” It was Chavara herself who asked the question.

“I’m a Fe-Toa, little one. I know all too well the pain of being persecuted simply for existing. You weren’t a threat, so I allowed you to live your life,” what little sympathy was discernible in his voice was swiftly replaced by a far more threatening tone, “You can choose to continue not to be a threat.”

“I think that choice has already been made for me.”

“Very well,” Maliss sighed.

For the first time, he turned his attention to the rest of the group, his gaze lingering only briefly on the Toa and Matoran, before focusing on Larone.

“On the subject of choices, I see you’ve chosen to take a more active role.”

“I wouldn’t say I had much of a choice, either,” Larone grumbled.

He and the others were being forced to move closer to the two fallen Toa, as the lava continued to languidly spread across the street. A nearby awning had burst into flame, and the bricks of neighbouring buildings were beginning to crack and crumble.

“So be it,” Maliss shrugged, waving his hand and summoning a low wall of metal across the road to stem the spread of the lava. “Leave, all of you, while I still allow it.”

“No!” Widrek roared, ripping the staff from his back and flinging it like a spear.

Pira wasn’t sure who it was actually aimed at. Herself? Chavara? Regardless of who the intended target was, it didn’t make it anywhere close, clattering to the ground in a cloud of whirling dust. Vhalem, Pira, and even Maliss all had a hand raised, each having used their own powers on the projectile. Even Ithnen had a look of focus on her face that usually accompanied Kanohi usage.

“Leave,” Maliss repeated, redirecting his upraised hand towards Widrek and wrenching control of the Onu-Toa’s armour to hold him in place, “You didn’t start this, so you won’t bear the consequences for it. But consider this my final act of tolerance and goodwill. When next we meet, you’ll be begging for my forgiveness… or begging for your lives.”

He reached out to place his hand on Widrek’s shoulder, and then the two Toa were gone, vanishing into shadow. The Nuurakh remained where they were, picking at the remains of the Keerakh or moving to send gawking onlookers back to work, paying no heed to the presence of the Toa and Matoran rebels.

“You heard the lunatic,” Vhalem said, “Let’s go.”

As the others started to set off down the street, Pira leaned down to pick up her staff. It was a little bent out of shape, either from being dropped in the Archives or being struck with so many powers now, but it could be repaired easily enough.

The same couldn’t be said of Widrek.

She’d been afraid of him before… now she was afraid for him.

[Nato G]

Chapter 30 – First Strike

From the notes of Chronicler Crisda.

How does a war begin? It’s easy to look at a history book and see whatever act of aggression has been credited with commencing a conflict… but I know now it’s more complex than that.

Wars aren’t spontaneous. Like a tsunami rising up and crashing down, they build and break, long before the first battle begins. Wars are born of resentments left unsettled, injustices left unchecked, transgressions unforgiven, crossed lines unforgotten.

Do the skirmishes that occurred today mark the beginning of war? Did the war begin months ago, when Makuta Vhel seized our city? Is the true war yet to begin? Or can it still be avoided?

Such things are not for me to decide.

I can only chronicle whatever is to come.

* * *

Ilton

“Where the Karz have you been?”

It was Keidal’s angry shout that drew Ilton’s attention to the door where Savnu was making her way inside, supported by Icthilos. They’d both been absent for quite some time, and it looked like they’d been walking for a while.

“I needed some air,” Savnu replied as Ilton approached, in a tone he recognised as her characteristic ‘I’m lying and I’m not going to elaborate on what really happened’ voice.

Now wasn’t the time or place to make a scene, so Ilton instead moved to support Savnu. “Thank you for bringing my sister home,” he said, giving Icthilos a stern look. Whatever he and Savnu had been doing together, it had almost certainly been some combination of reckless and dangerous.

He noticed then that Trina had joined them… and she wasn’t asking Icthilos where he’d been.

It was hard not to be disappointed, but harder still to feel surprised. Even united in their common cause on Xia, they’d still kept secrets from each other, still acted without keeping each other informed. Despite Ilton’s hopes to the contrary, nothing had changed here.

He and Keidal brought Savnu back to the makeshift medbay and returned her to her bed, giving stern instructions to the healers to make sure she stayed there this time. Then they made their way back to Icthilos and Trina, who were deep in the midst of a conversation that they broke off as soon as Ilton approached them.

“No lies this time,” Ilton snapped, “Where were you two?”

“I was in Ko-Metru, looking through old prophecies for anything that might be able to help us,” Icthilos answered, his stoic expression giving away nothing. “Orane followed me there. Savnu followed him.”

“Where is he now?” Ilton asked. “You didn’t hurt him, did you?”

He hadn’t wanted to believe it when he’d been told that Orane had turned against them, let alone Bihriis and Widrek as well. But he’d heard it from too many people, seen the injuries Pira and Savnu had suffered at the hands of their fellow Toa. There was no denying it… but equally, there was no understanding it.

“Relax, he was just possessing a Vahki again. His real body is probably in the Coliseum, or somewhere else secure. For all I know, his spirit could be spying on us right now.”

“I hope he is,” Ilton said, addressing the empty air. “If you’re listening, Brother, know that I forgive you. You will always have a place at our side.”

“Speak for yourself,” Keidal spat, staring at Ilton like he was insane, before storming away.

“I should go as well,” Icthilos said; Ilton noticed then that he now had a Kanohi Komau in his hands, likely collected from their stockpile of spare masks, “I need to have a word with our prisoner.”

“What are you planning to do with that?” Ilton asked, pointing to the mask.

“Not take no for an answer.”

“Icthilos-” Trina started, but whatever else she was about to say was stopped short by Icthilos’ upraised hand.

“Spare me the lecture, Trina. You know the stakes. Like you said before, the less you know, the better.” 

Her gaze lowered to the floor as she nodded glumly.

“What stakes?” Ilton rounded on Trina as Icthilos departed. “What are you better off not knowing about?”

“It’s complicated.”

“Then uncomplicate it,” Ilton demanded, “You, me, Icthilos, I thought we were on the same page. What could have possibly happened in just two days to change that?”

“Everything! Everything has changed,” Trina’s voice cracked, “An evil we thought extinct now rules our city. Our Brothers and Sisters stand against us. We can’t-”

“All the more reason for the rest of us to stand together,” Ilton interjected, “There’s no place for secrets now.”

“Yes, there is.”

“Why?”

“Because there’s a secret in this city that would shatter us if it were ever to be told. Keeping it keeps us together.”

“Is that what you think, or just what Icthilos told you?”

“It’s what I know.”

“So you know this secret, then?”

“I do. I wish I didn’t. You would too, if you knew.”

“Don’t speak for me. Tell me, and I’ll decide how I feel about it.”

“I won’t. I can’t. I only know of nine, maybe ten Toa who learned this truth, and six of them stand with the enemy. It’s not a risk I can take.”

It took a moment for Ilton to finish the mental math. The six were obviously Maliss, Tuxar, Dhozoh, Bihriis, Orane, and Widrek. But the other four… Icthilos had to be one, Trina made two… but who were the others?

“You and Icthilos know. Who else?” He asked.

“If the other three know, then Yayle probably did too,” Trina said, “But since no one’s seen him, we can’t ask him. And Icthilos just told me that Orane told Savnu.”

“Fine. If you won’t tell me, she will.”

“She might.”

“She will.”

There was no question about it, as far as he was concerned. He’d let Savnu’s secrets and scheming slide too many times in the past. But not this time, not with their team coming apart at the seams and the city on the brink of war. She would see reason, he was sure.

He never got the chance to find out if he was right.

A panicked Po-Toa – Behjen, instantly recognisable by his red-and-brown colourscheme and mechanical arm – suddenly burst in through the front door, looking back over his shoulder as he ran.

“Incoming! The Makuta!”

And then a blistering beam of violet violence burst through the building behind him, carving first across the floor, then rising up to cleave through the far wall and across the ceiling. Ilton was sent flying one way, and Trina another, as concussive waves reverberated from the blast sites. Those Toa and Turaga unfortunate enough to be caught in the beam’s path were killed instantly, reduced to pieces so small and misshapen that there was no way to discern what had been who.

As the beam abated and Ilton found his footing, he saw that Behjen himself was still alive, his Hau shield activated just in time, though it hadn’t saved him from becoming partially buried in the waist-deep furrow across the floor.

He saw no sign of Trina now… intact or otherwise.

The entire Moto-Hub shuddered, rubble and sparks raining down from the ragged wound carved across the structure. The air was heavy with dust and despair, the only thing louder than the rumbling rock being the screams of the scared and scarred. And then it was drowned out by a colossal thunderclap overhead, as a section of the weakened ceiling collapsed under a brutal barrage of lashing lightning. Some of the bolts blasted clean through the ceiling to crater the floor below, too sudden for any Vo-Toa in the vicinity to even attempt to redirect. 

Ilton scrambled to Behjen’s side, combining powers with him to try to shove away the mass of stone and metal falling from above, propelling the tumbling chunks towards the sides of the building in an effort to spare those still caught out in the open.

And as the ceiling fully fell away, Ilton at last caught his first glimpse of their foe. A jagged shadow of black and silver, flying high overhead with a staff in its hands. A green glow emanated from the head of the weapon, and it was this tool from which the Makuta seemed to be firing his attacks.

“We welcomed you. We offered acceptance… lenience… freedom from the Duty that has brought you so much suffering and despair. But you dared to reject my generosity?” 

A new sound echoed through the building, the sloshing of chute systems sputtering back to life. In the corners of the building furthest from the initial devastation, Ilton could see a scattered few Toa and Turaga scrambling towards the chute stations, flinging themselves blindly into the tubes towards destinations unknown.

Other Toa were firing beams of elemental energy up towards the Makuta in a desperate attempt to form a Toa Seal, but nothing was getting close, whirled up into a gravity well the Makuta had summoned below him.

And then the Makuta vanished, teleporting down to the centre of the building and unleashing a withering wave of sonic energy that shredded the structure to its foundations, causing the walls to fall and the rest of the ceiling to come crashing down.

Cutting through the screaming sound was an even louder noise, the voice of Makuta Vhel as he passed judgement down on them all, “My tolerance is at an end, and so too is your legend.”

Ilton and Behjen combined their powers once more, redirecting enough of the rubble to avoid being buried, though there was little they could do for everyone else.

Ears ringing from the sonic blast, eyes all but blinded by the dust, Ilton stumbled away from Behjen, across the uneven debris, searching desperately for any sign of other survivors. What he saw instead was the silhouette of Makuta Vhel stalking through the swirling dust, his staff casting a sickly green light across the rubble. He waved the weapon towards a struggling Toa pinned in the rubble, loosing a disintegration blast that left the Toa’s remains indistinguishable from the rest of the dust already kicked up by the explosions.

Ilton had no words of defiance or anger to offer. The time for talk was past. He extended his hand towards the distant figure of the Makuta, reaching out with his powers to fulfil the fear that had led Vhel’s species to persecute Fe-Toa across the universe.

Baleful red eyes turned Ilton’s way, and widened in surprise as they spotted him.

Ilton closed his hand, and in response Vhel’s armour crumpled inwards like a crushed can as it succumbed to the strength of elemental Iron. Ilton pulled his clenched fist back towards him, rupturing and peeling the Makuta’s armour apart in mirror with his motions. A howl of profound agony rung across the rubble at the Makuta’s form unfolded, his green-black antidermis essence spilling out into the air like an oil slick.

Ilton saw fear in those red eyes now.

And then the Makuta was gone, his ragged remains teleporting away, leaving behind a pathetic plume of his smokey soul that sputtered for a few seconds before dissipating entirely.

Ilton felt a metal hand settle on his shoulder. “We need to leave,” Behjen said softly.

“There could still be survivors under all this,” Ilton coughed, his voice croaky from breathing dust, “We can’t abandon them.”

“We have to,” Behjen pointed upwards, where Vahki were beginning to circle, “We can’t dig and fight, and this place will be swarming with Rahkshi as well in an hour or two.”

Letting out a shuddering sign, Ilton nodded. With tears brimming in the corners of his eyes, he joined Behjen in sprinting off into the lengthening shadows of the afternoon.

 

Epilogue – Exodus

From the ravings of The Recorder.

Xia is dead, the shining city of steel and smog reduced to a shattered shell.

What wasn’t obliterated in battle has been stripped and scavenged, drained and desecrated. Every item of interest, every weapon of worth, every resource and recruit.

There are no more corporations. No more warbands. No more Dark Hunters.

Only an alliance of those that are left.

The Last League.

We can’t stay here any longer. The seas are growing shallow, and the followers of the First Flesh draw near. The order has been given. Preparations are being made for our exodus.

In a few hours, we set sail for Metru Nui, to face our Toa foes once more.