Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

One, two. One, two. One, two. One, two. The Rahkshi led a swift march, almost too swift for Macku to handle. Still, she kept up her pace. To drop behind and disrupt the column of Matoran would bring punishment that she might not be able to endure. Better to march to Ga-Metru for forced labor than to be beaten past the point of ever working again.

As she marched, Macku turned her thoughts to the events of the past few hours. It had all happened so quickly, she barely remembered how she had gotten here.

Makuta’s takeover had thrown the Coliseum into a panic. Thankfully, the Turaga had kept order, and carefully, quickly, shepherded the Matoran into the Archives. From there, Turaga Whenua led them to a series of vaults far beneath the surface, deep in the sublevels of the city. The Toa fortified their defenses and launched rescue missions to find stragglers. The experience was harrowing, but after the work was done, at least they had enough shelter to feel safe.

It was an illusion. Makuta toyed with them for a few days, but soon dropped the act, and devoted all of his resources to reclaiming his labor. Using his powers, he tore open the earth, guiding a swarm of Rahkshi into the chambers. Confusion and panic seized hold of the crowd. Some, mostly Ta-Matoran, tried to fight, but they were quickly subdued. Others tried to run, but they didn’t get far. Most of the Matoran huddled together, trying to protect one another and wait for the Toa to save them. But the Toa never came.

It was only later, through whispers and rumors, that the Matoran would learn what had happened. The Toa Mahri had tried to beat back the Rahkshi, but there were too many at once. Outwitted and outmatched, Jaller had made a difficult decision, and decided to retreat. Fighting and dying there would have accomplished nothing for the Matoran’s liberation. Before he left, however, he had told Hafu where they were planning to hide. If any Matoran were in dire danger, they would know where to go.

For now, though, Macku knew not where the Toa were, or even if they were still alive. She knew that the Turaga had been led away in chains, bereft of their masks and badges of office. With their leaders imprisoned and their heroes gone, the future looked bleak for the Matoran.

“Wait - look!” Kai gasped. She nudged Macku, who looked and saw two tall, armored figures striding down the street. “Toa! We’re saved!”

Macku glanced around. The nearest Rahkshi were several paces away on either side. There was a window. If she went now…

Risking it all, she broke away from the line. “Toa Norik! Toa Iruini!” she cried, waving her arms wildly. “Help us! They’ll work the Matoran to death!”

The Toa Hagah looked down at her with surprise. “Macku, what’s gotten into you?” Norik asked. “You know as well as I do that your labors are for the Great Spirit Mata Nui himself. It is your duty to sustain him.”

A new fear crept into Macku’s heart. She looked into Iruini’s eyes and saw none of his usual mischief in them, only bewilderment.

“No,” she said. “He can’t have… Not you, too…”

Norik shook his head. “This is no time for you to be playing games, Macku. There’s important work to be done, and shame on you for neglecting it,” he said, even as a Rahkshi’s staff beat Macku to the ground.

“Go on, now,” Iruini said, chuckling. He waved as Macku was dragged, half-conscious, back into the line. “Get back to your work. Maybe we’ll join you for some games during breaktime, eh?”

But Macku knew there would be no break for some time... perhaps not ever.

From within the darkest chambers of the Coliseum, the thumping sound of a hand striking a thick metal door echoed again and again, accompanied by exclamations of an increasingly vile nature. “You had better watch out, you shadow-slime Rahkshi, you!” bellowed a particularly irate Turaga. “You aren’t just watch-guarding any old dissenters – you’re guarding true Toa-heroes! Older and age-wiser, maybe, but still not the weakest trees in the forest!”

“Matau! Calm yourself,” said Nokama. “We need to wait and think, not strike out immediately.”

Onewa scoffed. “We may not be the Toa we once were, but we can’t just sit here, waiting for Makuta to run the universe into ruin.”

“And what would you propose we do? Nothing like this has ever happened before,” said Whenua. “And nothing like it is likely to happen again.”

The Turaga turned to Vakama, but he shifted on the cell bench and held his head in his hands. “My visions show me nothing. Perhaps they vanished with the Great Spirit when Makuta exiled him.” He sighed. “We are helpless.”

“Well... that is not entirely true,” said Dume. As one, the other six Turaga turned to share his gaze. “There is one path left for us to follow… one prophecy left to fulfill. But the time has not yet come.”

He stepped forwards and placed a hand on Nuju’s shoulder. “Look to the stars, my brother. They will tell us when to act. Until then… we wait.”

“Turaga Ahkmou.” A strange title to bear, thought Ahkmou as he looked out over the city’s skyline from his Coliseum office.

He’d never had much respect for the village elders on the island. Makuta had warned Ahkmou of their lies early on, which allowed him to see through their duplicitous acts. When it came time to explain themselves, the Turaga merely lied further: they smeared Ahkmou as a weak-willed pawn of the Dark Hunters, and even described wiping the Matoran’s memories and raising them with false legends as if it had been Makuta’s plan, not theirs.

But the worst part, Ahkmou sighed, is that I almost… believed them.

In those days when Makuta was thought dead and his world was overturned, Ahkmou had craved nothing but certainty and safety. The Matoran’s hatred for him was comforting, in a way; it made sense. But the Turaga had surprised him. They had every reason to leave him on the island, but instead, they brought him back to Metru Nui, and Onewa had even encouraged him to climb and carve to his heart’s content. For a few strange months, the Sculpture Fields had felt like… home.

Only when Makuta returned, and claimed his rightful dominion over the universe, did things begin to make sense again. The Turaga had taken advantage of his absence to deceive Ahkmou, trying to fool him into serving Makuta’s treacherous brother. “It seems there is no honor among Turaga,” Makuta had said. “They have besmirched the office, Ahkmou, and you are tasked with redeeming it.”

Yes, Ahkmou would be a better Turaga, despite never having been a Toa - though not for Makuta’s lack of trying. Takanuva had taken that destiny from him, just as he’d ruined so many schemes before. Some small part of Ahkmou could not help but wonder: if he had become a Toa of Shadow, would he still be ruling over Metru Nui now, or would Makuta have given him an even greater duty?

He pushed the thought from his mind. I have no right to be ungrateful, he reminded himself. He turned and picked up Dume’s confiscated staff, which held the key to many of the city’s mechanisms. Makuta has given me everything. It’s time for me to repay my debts.

The earth shuddered. The air trembled. And the world shook with the voice of Makuta, announcing his triumph. His presence now eclipsed the Great Spirit, hanging like a shadow over the near and far reaches of the world - even in the deepest corners of the Pit.

Sarda, Lesovikk, and Hydraxon listened to the announcement with trepidation. Many of the prisoners clamored at the bars and jeered, mocking the Order of Mata Nui for its great failure. Hydraxon was quick to remind them that so long as the Pit’s wardens drew breath, they would keep their oath to imprison the worst of the world. But Sarda could tell from Hydraxon’s pacing and Lesovikk’s wary eyes that both expected trouble.

Yet trouble never came. The dark thunder of Makuta’s reign rolled on, leaving the Pit untouched. Slowly, the prisoners' eager jeers faded as they realized no one was coming to release them.

In the wardens’ chamber, Hydraxon sneered. “Makuta must have learned from his time in the Black Water. He’d be a fool to trust those who sinned against the power he now embodies.”

“Meet the new Great Spirit, same as the old Great Spirit,” Lesovikk muttered.

In the darkness of her cell, Roodaka dug her claws into the stone and seethed.

Islands. Seas. Continents. Domes. Makuta felt his power ripple through and pervade all. He felt the ripples of life ebb and flow through the civilizations within his body, and he felt the incredible strength of a god in physical form. Truly, I am the Great Spirit, he mused. The greatest spirit of all.

He called on his motor mechanisms. Beneath the Silver Sea of Metru Nui, massive cogs ground past one another, craning his neck upwards. Beyond the upper atmosphere, he could see a shining mosaic of gleaming, glittering stars. Each of those stars has its own set of worlds, he marveled. I can see them all, contained within Mata Nui’s vast memory. So many different worlds… worlds of rock, worlds of ice, worlds of fire, worlds of gas… and worlds of water. Worlds where life exists only in a brutal, primal competition, and worlds where none have lifted a weapon in eons. Worlds where life is just beginning, and worlds where time ran out. Worlds that have lived, and worlds that have died, and worlds that can see no end.

“Marvelous, isn’t it?” he remarked, his voice echoing through the Core Processor.

Toa Helryx opened her eyes from her meditative stance. It had been several days since she had been imprisoned here, and still she saw no escape. She had tried, several times, just when she thought Makuta was distracted. Once, she had gotten as far as thirty steps away. But his thoughts always came back to her, and the lethal traps of the dungeon blocked her path. And the pain… the pain of punishment still lingered, fresh in her aging body and mind.

“What nonsense is this now, Makuta?” she growled. “It had better not be another Toa you killed in some ironic fashion. I am getting quite tired of your cruel jests.”

“Are you familiar with planets, Helryx?” asked Makuta. “I imagine so. Mata Nui’s records indicate that you predate the construction of his body by some years. Somewhere in that battered old head of yours are memories of a world long gone… a world from which we were all born, and one which we were meant to save.” There was a rapture in his voice. “How very tantalizing.”

A wave of horror washed over Helryx. She had thought Makuta would be content to lord over the Matoran Universe, to focus on tormenting his old allies and enemies alike. She had never considered that his ambition could grow any larger. Let him live, and she would doom the planets and all the stars to an unrelenting conquest of darkness. And he would make her watch it all, just as he had for the deaths of her agents, the destruction of her fortress, and the razing of countless villages and towns.

I can’t put the lives of this universe over the lives of all those outside, she decided. Sacrifices must be made. And as it happens… I have the chance to make the biggest sacrifice of all.

Helryx sat quietly, as Makuta admired the galaxy beyond, and began to gather up her energy to strike.

Chapter Text

From a rocky crag, six Matoran looked out on the wide plains of the Southern Continent. A small swarm of Visorak was crawling to the east, blotting out the grass and dirt. Darkness hung over the great wilds, seemingly billowing from the spire of Mount Valmai. On the horizon, points of light showed the nearest Matoran cities; above them flew the sinister shapes of Rahkshi.

“This is bad,” said Piruk, scraping his claws against one another. “This is very, very bad.”

“Is it any worse than the Piraka?” asked Balta, holding Dalu close to him.

Kazi snorted. “I don’t think anything could be worse than the Piraka.”

“To the protodite, the pebble and the boulder are of equal weight,” said Velika.

Garan turned to stop Kazi from lashing out at the esoteric Po-Matoran, and noticed something highly interesting. While the other five Matoran looked out at the darkened cities, Velika, from his perch atop a skinny boulder, was staring in a separate direction entirely: towards the Green Belt, where the Toa Inika and Piraka had sought the Mask of Life. “Velika,” he said, “do you know something?”

Velika kept his gaze trained on the Green Belt, but Garan saw a small smile creep across the Matoran’s face. He knew that smile. It was Velika’s age-old signal for “wait and see”.

“We can’t fight them. Not this time,” said Dalu. “There are just too many.”

“What do we do?” Balta said softly.

Garan put a comforting hand on the Ta-Matoran’s shoulder. “We do what we do best,” he said. “Survive... and wait.”

Nektann trudged through the desert of Po-Metru, and hated it. As a creature of water, he didn’t take well to dry heat, and he hated sand. Better to have something firm to stand on, something you could plant your feet in and stand steady. But he didn’t have much of a choice. Makuta had ordered him to find the Toa Mahri, and all evidence showed they were here, in the miserable desert. At least that’s one good thing about today, thought Nektann. I get to fight some Toa.

He could feel the eyes of the Rahkshi troops on him. They wore gleaming yellow armor, the color of Heat Vision Rahkshi… Makuta’s personal favorite. Nektann had been told they were just ordinary troops sent to follow his command, but he knew better than that. These Rahkshi were here to keep an eye on Nektann, and to kill him if he ever betrayed Makuta.

They had reached a village. Throughout the scattered expanse of huts, Po-Matoran were hard at work, diligently carving slabs of rock into statues and sculptures. Nektann caught a glimpse of Makuta’s mask here, and “Turaga Ahkmou” there. Most of the Po-Matoran kept their heads down; they had learned to stay focused on their work. But he noticed one carver pause and stare up at Nektann. Was this an act of resistance, or was he simply shocked by the sight of a Skakdi? Nektann didn’t care. Either way, he would make excellent bait.

“You there!” Nektann barked, pointing to the carver. “You should keep your eyes on your work, Matoran.”

“I - I’m sorry, sir,” said the carver, “it won’t happen again.”

“It certainly won’t,” said Nektann, and grabbed the carver by his neck, lifting him from his work bench. “Listen up, you little runts! This one dared to look me in the eye, instead of concentrating on his work.” He waited for his words to echo through the canyon. “For this, he will be put to death!”

Some of the Po-Matoran flinched. The rest simply stared ahead, not looking at the panicking carver. “No, wait!” he squealed. “I, I’ll do my best from now on, sir! It won’t - ”

“Silence, whelp!” Nektann roared, and threw the carver down onto the rocky ground. He stepped forwards, drawing his Crescent Scythe, and raising it to strike. “The rest of you - take this as a lesson!”

A cordak missile whistled through the air, striking Nektann’s scythe and blasting it from his grasp. The carver gasped in relief and scurried away, towards the being who had fired it. “Toa Hewkii!”

“Get behind me, Kamen,” said Hewkii, keeping his blaster trained on Nektann. “I didn’t know there was another Piraka in town. Get out of my metru… before I make you.”

Nektann grinned, and picked up his scythe. “One move, and my Rahkshi will melt you to slag. Unless you have teammates here to help you, there’s no way you’ll make it out of here alive.”

“As a matter of fact…” said Hewkii. An earth tremor rippled through the ground, knocking Nektann’s Rahkshi to the ground. Nektann turned to see a Toa of Earth moving towards him, bearing a blaster and shield. “Give up, Skakdi, and leave these Matoran in peace.”

“No, thanks,” said Nektann, and swung his Crescent Scythe. From its blade, water sliced through the air towards the Toa, leaving him no room to dodge. Nektann watched as the water moved closer… and then abruptly changed course, falling and splashing on the parched ground. Nektann looked to see a Toa of Water hovering in the air, evidently under her mask’s power. “Make one move against these Matoran, Skakdi, and you’ll wish I’d killed you.”

“Is this it?” said Nektann. “Or are there more of you, lying in wait?”

“We don’t need more Toa to beat you,” said Nuparu. “Frankly, even three is overkill.”

Nektann grinned. “Overkill? You don't know the meaning of the word.”

His Rahkshi's eyes flashed red, and Hahli cried out in pain. Nektann ducked towards her, dodging Nuparu’s and Hewkii’s missiles, and leapt onto a metallic shelter hanging over the village. Below him, his Rahkshi rose from the ground and charged the Toa, firing heat beams. “Go, go!” Hewkii yelled, raising walls of stone to cover the Matoran’s escape. Once they had gone, he raised his warblade and grimaced at the Rahkshi. “Okay, who wants to play?”

Hahli cleared her head, and looked up to see another Rahkshi’s heat beams headed for her. A splash of water took care of that, and her protosteel talons made short work of its armor. She spotted Nektann watching from above, and fluttered her fins. She had borrowed the power of the Shore Turtle, and she intended to use it. “I’m going up there. Cover me!”

Mask glowing, she rose into the sky and rocketed towards Nektann… followed by several Rahkshi. “Oh, no you don’t,” said Hewkii. His mask gleamed with power, and the Rahkshi plummeted to the ground, shattering their armor against the ground. “Come on, Nuparu,” he called. “Can’t let Hahli have all the fun, can we?”

“Way ahead of you, brother,” said Nuparu, and vanished from sight. The Rahkshi attacking him paused, then turned and flew towards Hahli. Before they could reach her, Hewkii had leapt onto the overhang, and tossed a mess of chains at the both of them. Tangled together, they tried to free themselves... until the chains erupted with lightning, frying the kraata within.

Nektann turned to his right. “Nice try, Toa,” he said, as Nuparu faded into view, “but it’s going to take more than that to sneak up on me.” He snapped his fingers, and two Rahkshi landed in front of him, glaring at Nuparu. “Call me when you’re done with those two.”

Nearby, Hewkii broke a Rahkshi’s staff in two and hurled it from the overhang. Nektann prepared to strike him from behind, but heard cordak missiles whistling towards him. He ducked to the left, and Hahli’s barrage struck the metal behind him, shaking the entire structure.

“Careful where you’re pointing that, Toa,” said Nektann. “I’d hate to see your friends come crashing down with my Rahkshi.”

“Too late for that - they’re already gone,” said Hewkii, tossing a Rahkshi off of the overhang. To the right, Nuparu staggered his opponents with a shockwave, then sliced through their armor with his protosteel-tipped shield. All three Toa aimed their blasters at Nektann. “Surrender, Piraka. It’s over.”

“Watch your language,” Nektann snapped. “I am not some mere criminal; I am Lord Nektann. You should learn some respect for your betters.”

“Betters?” said Hewkii. “You couldn’t even defeat three of us. Try five!”

“You've already lost,” said Nektann. “All Makuta wanted was to flush you out of hiding. I've already summoned reinforcements, so my work here is done. More important duties await me on Zakaz.”

Hahli glared down at Nektann. “Go to Karzahni.”

“I’ve already been,” said Nektann. “It was quite dull.”

The Toa fired their missiles. Nektann grinned, and leapt backwards off of the overhang. When the Toa rushed forward and looked over the edge, they saw only an empty village below.

“I’m going after him,” Hewkii growled, but Hahli held him back.

“We don’t know what powers he has,” she said. “He could have turned invisible, or shapeshifted, or teleported halfway across the island. What we need to do is get out of here, and warn Jaller and Kongu that Makuta is looking for us.”

Hewkii stared at the deserted village. “What about the Matoran? We have to protect them from the Rahkshi!”

“I don’t think we can,” Hahli said. “Nektann only came here because of us. Wherever we are, we’re a danger to the Matoran nearby.”

“What are you suggesting?” asked Nuparu.

“I’m ‘suggesting’ that we get out of Metru Nui,” said Hahli. “And hopefully, Jaller will understand why.”

The three Toa looked sadly over the village. Hewkii lowered the stone walls, and the Matoran began to return to their stations. Then the Toa Mahri leapt from the overhang, and hurried to get out of Po-Metru.

Chapter Text

The Southern Continent village had settled into a reliable routine. Wake up at the screech of the Rahkshi, grab the tools and head outside. Work under the curtain of darkness for a dozen hours or more, and try not to attract any attention. Stay away from the unauthorized areas, and don’t provoke the Rahkshi. Return to bed and get what sleep was possible, before doing it all over again.

The first few days had been rough. When the Rahkshi arrived, there were those who resisted, and fought back against the will of Makuta. Those people were dead now, and their remains were displayed high in the village square for all to see. After that, most villagers had been happy to adapt to the new routine. They feared deviating from the routine. Taking a break, eating or drinking outside mealtimes, or even looking up from the task at hand - these were dangerous things. Sooner or later, the Rahkshi found out, and then there was no routine, not anymore. There wasn’t anything left when the Rahkshi found out.

So when the sound of marching boots and the cries of war-Rahi rumbled from the edge of the village, no one looked up to greet them. No one set down their tool or craned their neck to get a better view. Not one even wondered who or what had come to the village; probably it was just a battalion of Makuta’s soldiers coming through, in which case it was even more important to stick to the routine.

People only started to notice when the sounds of battle rang out, and the Rahkshi began to screech in anger and excitement. One laborer was the first to look up, and watch the white-armored warrior leap from his steed to meet the Rahkshi in battle. He drew his blades, jagged and sharp like giant teeth, and rushed towards the strongest Rahkshi. While his allies mobbed the other Rahkshi, the white warrior slammed into the overseer, roaring from behind his watery helm. The Rahkshi raised its staff to defend itself, but the warrior’s toothy blades cleaved through the metal, breaking the Rahkshi’s power and leaving it defenseless. Screaming, it burst open its faceplate and tried to eject its kraata. The slug wriggled out, right into the claws of its adversary. Snatching up the kraata, the warrior held it high as a trophy - then closed his fist and crushed it into a splatter of antidermis. Moments later, the other Rahkshi had gone the same way.

One by one, the villagers stopped working and looked around. Warriors of all shapes and sizes had occupied the town, standing over the ruined shells of the Rahkshi they’d defeated. Sheathing their weapons, they now turned and bowed to the white-armored warrior, stepping into the village square with all the confidence of a born leader.

Pridak surveyed the villagers through his breathing helmet. Dejected as they were, he could see that they were a resilient bunch, strong and dutiful. They would make good soldiers.

“People of the Great Spirit, hear me!”

He had their attention; now it was time to put that attention to use. “A pretender to power has banished our leader, and now misuses our lands. The Toa have gone into hiding. The Order of Mata Nui has vanished. In these times of trial, who has the courage to stand up and fight for what is theirs? To fight for the Great Spirit?”

Pridak gave the signal. Behind him, the flag-bearers hoisted his banner, the banner of the Six Kingdoms, high into the air. “Your elders may recognize this symbol. In ages past, it stood for unity! For order! For devotion to the Great Spirit, and to his appointed rulers - the Barraki!

“Yes, you know of them: the leaders chosen by the Great Spirit, who joined the separate kingdoms into one League,” Pridak explained, looking out at the captivated crowd. “For a time, they ruled over a unified empire of the Great Spirit, in an age of peace and prosperity for all. But that era was cut short when the Barraki vanished. Confused and leaderless, the kingdoms fell apart, and returned to their squalid state of turmoil and warfare.

“For 80,000 years, the world has been ignorant of the Barraki’s fates - until today!” Pridak yelled. “Now, I have come to tell you what befell those divine rulers. They were sabotaged... undone... captured and imprisoned, ruined by an envious fool, the very same conniving creature that now calls himself your ruler: the Makuta!”

A gasp of shock and outrage rushed through the crowd. Behind his helm, Pridak grinned. He had them now. “Yes!” he cried. “Makuta ambushed them in the night, and condemned them to an eternity of punishment in the Pit! But the Barraki, chosen of the Great Spirit, were not so easily constrained. They survived... they persevered... and now...”

Pridak raised his claws to his head and undid the clasps. Gasping through his gills, he removed his helmet and bared his fanged, yet regal countenance to the crowd.

“I am Barraki Pridak,” he proclaimed. “I am one of those chosen few, the appointed leaders of the free people of the Great Spirit. I saw Makuta’s treachery firsthand... I endured the hardships of 80,000 years... and now I have returned, to claim vengeance for the Great Spirit!”

Quickly, Pridak buckled the helmet and drew a deep breath of water. “It was Makuta himself who murdered that age of unity and elegance, and damned this world to millennia of wretched war! And now he - that plotting, treacherous, power-hungry monster - has exiled your Great Spirit! He has claimed your lands and territories! He has even demanded your service and worship!

“This despicable creature has schemed against the Great Spirit and his chosen for all of eternity, and now he sits upon his throne and thinks himself our ruler. Who will allow him to do so? Will you? Will you cower like the Toa, and let Makuta make mockeries of your courage and fortitude? Or will you rise to meet the challenge? Will you take up arms? Will you fight for what you know is right - for the Great Spirit! For Mata Nui! ”

There was a moment of powerful, resonant silence. Then, with the weight of a thousand words, one crafter threw down her hammer into the dust. The sound echoed through the town.

Another hammer hit the ground. Then another tool, and another, and another and another and another. Smiths abandoned their forges, and drivers disembarked. Crafters stepped away from their unfinished projects and exchanged their tools for weapons.

“Rise, soldiers of the Great Spirit!” Pridak exhorted. “Take up your arms and fall into line. Ready your fighting arm and let divine vengeance grow within you!”

His officers were among the crowd, directing them, herding them into lines and columns. In a matter of minutes, a town of workers had become an armed, angry, and dangerous regiment. From his perch atop the platform, Pridak gave a hungry grin, and thrust his blade into the air.

“We march!”

Ehlek felt a simple joy as he swam further into the depths of the Silver Sea. This was his true home, here in these warm, bountiful waters, not the cold, black waters of the Pit. Here were his comrades, his creatures… and his armies. The Matoran, the Makuta, and all the other land-dwellers thought themselves Mata Nui’s chosen… but the sea was larger than the land, and home to more powerful beings by far.

He had already traveled to the hidden enclaves beneath Zakaz, and the sunken palaces of the other oceans. All who lived there had agreed to join him. Not all would survive the trials of war, of course... but they were many, they were strong, and few enemies expected an attack from underwater. When all was said and done, Pridak might no longer be the leader of the Barraki.

His army stood waiting off the shores of Karzahni, but Ehlek had one last summons to make. His search was based on apocryphal records and half-remembered stories, but recent rumors from Metru Nui had convinced him his quarry still lurked in the dark parts of the ocean. He only needed to find them, and call them to action.

Through the eyeholes of a Kanohi Zatth, pillaged from his latest raid, Ehlek saw the kelp-tangled shrine he sought. His tri-talons made short work of the barrier, and then he stood in the ancient spot as the prophecies had said. The equipment was there, ready and waiting for the Zatth. Almost reverently, he placed the mask on the idol’s weathered face.

The mask glowed, and Ehlek felt a shudder emanate through his body and the shrine. As the shrine’s mechanisms echoed and amplified the mask’s power, a wave of unseen energy rippled through the ocean. The signal raced through the waters, racing to find its recipients.

Somewhere, in the furthest corners of the ocean, something stirred. Something huge.

Even as his skiff’s speed sent white spray surging into the air around him, Kopaka kept a keen eye pointed ahead, using his mask to pierce the chilling fog. The air around him was far colder than that of Stelt or Metru Nui. Except for the hum of the boat’s engine, silence reigned over the water. On the open sea, he was utterly and completely alone. Despite the circumstances, he felt a gentle comfort in his solitude.

It couldn’t last. Kopaka was jolted out of his reverie by a shudder in the water, and barely kept a hand on his controls. Steadying his skiff, he looked starboard and saw an enormous shape rumbling through the water, headed straight for him.

Thinking quickly, Kopaka swerved the skiff into the path of the water. Shooting under the crest of the great wave, he raised his weapon and released a pulse of elemental ice, freezing the water in its tracks and buying himself just enough time to dart out of its path. His skiff moved out of the wave’s shadow just as it toppled and fell into the ocean with a crash .

To Kopaka’s surprise, that was the end of it. The waters did not turn on him, but the disturbance simply kept moving, headed due northeast. That... wasn’t Makuta’s doing, he realized.

He activated his mask and peered through the waters, then quickly wished he hadn’t. Something huge, something unbelievably vast, was moving through the ocean, headed inexorably towards the lands of the Matoran.

Kopaka felt torn. His instincts told him this monster had to be stopped, before it could harm any of the Matoran. But he had a job to do here, and logic told him that if the creature disrupted Matoran labor, Makuta would put a stop to it. Still, it hardly felt right to leave protecting the Matoran to Makuta.

With a heavy heart, Kopaka turned and steered the boat onwards, into the icy waters of the south.

Chapter Text

Artidax was a perfect prison. Makuta Krika had altered the island’s flora, fauna, and landscape itself to keep Makuta Miserix imprisoned within its volcanic core. He had done an excellent job, as his prison had kept Miserix confined for well over 60,000 years, until several Order of Mata Nui prisoners had risked life and limb to free him.

No one knew this better than Brutaka, who now found himself trapped on the very island he had ventured to months before. The Makuta essence bonded to him would be no help in escaping; in fact, it was a hindrance. Outside this chamber were swarms of insectoid Rahi who thirsted for antidermis, and if he ventured to the beach, the black sands would swallow him whole. The dark clouds swirling around the island blocked all attempts at teleportation.

Over his many millennia of existence, Brutaka had fought a lot of beings. He’d fought Toa. He’d fought Piraka. He’d fought the Barraki’s monsters and Makuta himself. He’d even fought his best friend Axonn, and he’d done his best to win. But none of them could compare to the battle he was waging now, the toughest fight he’d ever had - where the opponent was his own mind.

Leave this place! the antidermis howled, its energies surging through Brutaka’s mind. We must return to Teridax! He must be made to see!

No. Brutaka strained, and pushed his mental strength further than he ever had before. We are - not - leaving - here - without - Axonn.

The warrior is not our concern! roared the antidermis. What does one life matter when the very universe is at stake? Leave him! We must help Teridax complete his destiny!

Forget destiny! Brutaka seethed. We will not - leave - Axonn - behind!

His body bent double, screaming in pain, as the battle raged in his mind. We would go against destiny? the antidermis snarled. We would doom the universe, and let worlds beyond fall to ruin, for a… friend?!

Yes, Brutaka said. He thought of Axonn’s unwavering resolve… even when all seemed lost… and found strength in the thought. He pushed, and he felt the antidermis’ hold slip. Yes. We would doom the universe - for our friend. Do you know why? He pushed again, driving the antidermis back. Because we have already been down this road. We have already forsaken destiny, and accepted the world’s doom. That part is easy. His power surged, and the antidermis shrank from his thoughts. But that time… that time, we went alone. we lost our friend. And that - is - something - we will - NOT - risk - again!

The antidermis had pulled its energies back, cowering in the corners of his mind. He could still feel it there, its greenish-black essence oozing through his body.

We will go to Makuta, but not yet. We’re going to stay in the southern islands, and we are going to look for Axonn - for as long as it takes. We are NOT leaving without him.

The antidermis hissed malcontent as it slithered through his mind, but it did not challenge him. We will find Axonn... and then we will set things right.

Seven islands away, Axonn trudged through a dense jungle, cutting away the vegetation in his path. One swing of his axe uncovered a stone block, all but swallowed by the rich earth. He knelt down and brushed away the soil, revealing a line of carvings. The letters had been weathered and worn over thousands of years, but he could still make out the familiar words: CITADEL GATE. His memory had not failed him.

Axonn hacked away a curtain of vines and continued. It had taken him some time to get his bearings, but once he had, navigating through the southern islands was no trouble. True, the buildings were old and ruined, and the jungles were greatly overgrown… but he could still recognize the sites of his long-ago conquest.

He saw the stone walls up ahead, and cut through four trees at once to reach the clearing. Above him stood his ancient citadel - overgrown, weathered, and slowly sinking into the earth, but still standing, and still towering over the trees. And, apparently, still inhabited!

Axonn watched the signs of movement within the citadel. Here and there, he caught flashes of the natives’ colorful armor, moving between the pillars and stairs. They were a proud species, built for climbing, with four clawed limbs and a prehensile tail. Several were standing guard, but they had left obvious gaps in their perimeter. If Brutaka were here, he would have simply slipped through the gaps in their defenses, crept up on their chieftain, and coerced them into cooperating. But since Brutaka isn’t here to object, Axonn decided, I’m going to do things my way.

He scraped the jungle grime off his armor, and strode proudly into the clearing, planting his feet on the steps to the citadel’s entrance. “People of the Citadel Tribe!” he called, his voice shaking dust from the crumbling blocks. “I, Axonn the Conqueror, have returned, and seek an audience with your chieftain!”

The guards stared blankly down at him. No recognition flared in their eyes. One turned and moved slowly into the citadel, while the others drew their spears and moved warily towards him. As they circled him, keeping their spears pointed at his body, Axonn made no move against them. Evidently, this tribe no longer remembered him. I can hardly blame them, he mused. After all, it’s been nearly 100,000 years since I was here last.

Up above, the first guard had returned. “The chieftain will see you,” she announced calmly. The guards gestured with their spears, and began herding Axonn up the stairs. They kept their spears close, even brushing against his armor once or twice. “Have no fear,” he reassured them. “I come in peace.”

He let the guards lead him into the darkened hallways, down crumbling corridors he had last walked long ago. Once, he recalled, these halls were decorated with the flags of the tribes he ruled. But all that was in the past now. The flags had rotted away, and the Swamp Tribe, the Spider Tribe, all of them had returned to their home isles. Only the symbols of the Citadel Tribe remained, carved into the crumbling walls and ceilings.

The throne room’s only light came from the holes in the ceiling where stone used to be, dimly illuminating the gloom of the cavernous hall. The guards pushed Axonn forward and shut the door. Above him towered the massive throne he had carved from an island mountain. Its occupant, high above him, was shrouded in shadows. Somewhere in the room, he could hear water bubbling.

“Chieftain of the Citadel Tribe,” said Axonn, “I come seeking peaceful counsel. A friend of mine is lost in these isles, and I must find him. I ask if you have seen or heard–”

“Halt,” said the chieftain. Axonn squinted at the figure. His accent was out of place, and his voice seemed… garbled, slightly, as if he were speaking through an apparatus. “Who is this friend of yours, and why do you seek him?”

“He has been my closest friend for millennia,” Axonn explained. “His name is Brutaka.”

The chieftain was silent for some time. In the darkness, Axonn saw him clasp his fingers. “You know of him?”

“Oh, I do,” said the chieftain. “But I never expected to hear of him again.” He spoke to the guards. “Seize him!”

Axonn let the guards grab him, and bring him before the throne. Above him, the chieftain leaned forward, into the light. To his horror, Axonn saw no ordinary biomech sitting there. The creature on the throne was bulbous, gangly, and insectile, with sickly blue flesh and large, bulging red eyes. He recognized its helmet: a breathing apparatus, worn by water-breathers like Brutaka.

“You are not of this tribe!” Axonn growled, hand on his axe. “Who, or what, are you?”

“Who am I?” The creature laughed through its watery helm. “I am Barraki Takadox. The people of this tribe live to serve me...” His eyes began to glow with a crimson light. “And now, so do you. Tell me what you know of Brutaka, and how he escaped from Artidax.”

Axonn stared up at Takadox’s gleaming eyes… and laughed. “Your hypnosis cannot control a member of the Order of Mata Nui,” he said. “Go back to the Pit, Barraki, or I’ll escort you there myself.”

Takadox’s face paled. “Restrain him!” he yelped, and scuttled down the throne, running for the door. Immediately, the guards broke their spears on Axonn’s armor, then piled onto him with their bodies, pulling him towards the ground.

Axonn looked down at them and sighed. “This tribe used to be much better fighters, you know.”

Electricity coursed through the pile of guards, instantly knocking them unconscious. Axonn peeled them off his body and stepped out of the room. I’ll apologize later.

Up ahead, he saw Takadox disappear around a corner, and gave chase. A group of thralls was waiting for him around the corner, but a quick stasis field took them out of the fight. Up ahead, Takadox ducked into a corridor, and the stone door slammed shut behind him. Axonn smiled. I know where that staircase leads… after all, I built it myself.

Axonn ran to the citadel’s perimeter and leapt off the edge, landing on the floor below. Dodging the guards’ arrows and javelins, he dashed into the corridors, and positioned himself at the end of a great hall. At the far end, the door slid open, and Takadox raced into the hall - then froze in terror when he saw Axonn. He turned to run, but Axonn merely fired an energy bolt at the ruined ceiling ahead. Takadox saw the bolt strike and skidded to a halt just in time. With a thunderous crash, the floor above collapsed, and a shower of stones blocked his path completely.

“Wait!” Takadox cried, as Axonn strode towards him. “The tribe obeys me. I can make them find Brutaka for you! You won’t need to - urrk! ”

Axonn lifted Takadox into the air and glared into his eyes. “Listen to me, Barraki,” he growled. “You will be made to answer for your depravity. But first, I…”

With surprising speed, Takadox plunged his dagger into Axonn’s upper arm. Axonn felt his arm go limp, and it dropped to his side, hanging uselessly. Takadox had already wriggled free of his grasp, and now made a break for the other entrance. Despite the pain, Axonn grabbed his axe in his other hand and charged. Snarling with rage, he raised his axe and launched an energy bolt straight at Takadox, blasting him head over heels. He stomped over to the Barraki and pinned him beneath his foot.

“Your reign over the Citadel Tribe is over,” Axonn proclaimed. “You will not threaten them again. They are under my protection. As for you...”

He reached down, ripped the breathing helmet from Takadox’s face, and crushed it between his fingers. As Takadox gasped and coughed for water, Axonn stepped back and let him crawl to his feet. “There is a small beach to the west of here,” he said. “If the Great Spirit wishes, you will find it. Pray that he is feeling merciful.”

Takadox staggered from the hall, clutching at his gills. From a balcony, Axonn watched him run, gasping, out of the citadel. None of the tribe stopped to help him. He did not look away until Takadox had disappeared into the jungle.

Holding his ruined arm, Axonn ascended the citadel. He released the guards from his stasis field and staggered into the throne room, where he healed those he had struck with his electricity power. With a one-armed effort, he climbed the mountain stone, and sat in his throne one last time. Memories came flooding back, and he smiled.

When they had awoken, the Citadel Tribe came to find him. All bowed, and the foremost among them knelt in his honor. “Great Axonn,” she announced, “I am the true chieftain of this tribe. We do remember you from the legends, but the foul one forbade us help you. I ask your forgiveness.”

“I don’t blame you for his crimes, chieftain,” said Axonn. “He is gone now. I guarantee it.”

“On behalf of the tribe, I give you my thanks,” said the chieftain. “Have you come to restore your old kingdom?”

“Certainly not,” said Axonn. He rose, and stepped down, leaving the throne to the rightful chieftain. “You, and the other tribes, are the masters of your own destinies. I have only come to ask your help.”

“I am honored to lend my tribe’s resources,” said the chieftain. “What do you ask of us?”

“I am seeking a friend, by the name of Brutaka. Have any of your tribe seen him?”

“No,” said the chieftain. “But by the will of the Great Spirit, he will be found!”

Chapter Text

Monsoon rains lashed the island of Artidax, echoing through the volcanic caves. Brutaka paid the noise little heed - until he heard a cacophony of insects buzzing furiously. They were xenophobic creatures, who ripped apart anything foreign to them, and they had detected an intruder.

That will be Axonn, thought Brutaka - or was it the Makuta essence? He hovered eagerly across a wooden bridge, over the crushed remains of dozens of insect Rahi. He emerged into the rain-soaked plain to look for his rescuer.

He didn’t have to look far. Towering above Brutaka was a Tahtorak, scratching at insect bites all over its hide. Glancing down, he could see the rest of its herd climbing out of the sea onto Artidax’s shores.

Not Axonn, then, Brutaka thought. But even better - these Rahi walk between islands. They will carry us from this land.

Some part of him twinged with dull disappointment. Stay!

We will not find better transport than this, he thought to himself. Axonn can wait. The destiny of the Makuta must be corrected.

No! a voice howled in his mind, but he paid it no heed. Brutaka hovered towards the Tahtorak. “We bid you halt, Rahi. You will be our steed,” he announced, calling on the power of Rahi control.

He paused. The Tahtorak was staring at him with a strange look of familiarity. In the next moment, a massive emerald claw slammed into him, knocking him across half the island. Brutaka hit the side of the volcano and lay there for some time, the world swimming in front of him. The Tahtorak roared.

From deep within his merged consciousness, memories of Brutaka’s past life surfaced. Of course. We once stole a Tahtorak from this herd and deposited it in the middle of Onu-Metru... during the Archives Massacre, he recalled. As a joke.

The Tahtorak reared up and unleashed a bellowing cry that shook the volcano. On the black sands below, the rest of its herd looked up and narrowed their eyes. Brutaka watched the herd of Tahtorak barreling up the mountain and spoke aloud:

“Oh no.”

It is said that a Tahtorak never forgets… and a Tahtorak never forgives.

The roar of the Protodermis Falls hid the sound of Macku’s footsteps. Gingerly, she peeked around the corner of a Ga-Metru laboratory. The street was deserted, save for two Exo-Toa at the far end. Quickly, the small Ga-Matoran scurried across the street and into the shadows of an alleyway. Left, right, no one there. A Rahkshi swooped low on its patrol route, but Macku had already hidden herself among crates of test tubes. As it soared away, she hurried from the alleyway, past a half-finished fountain to Makuta, and dove into the pools of the Protodermis Falls.

The water was cold, but soothing. She kept an eye out for Rahi as she swam, but saw none, dangerous or not. Apparently, the Rahkshi had frightened them away… or worse. She worried about the fate of the dermis turtles, then pushed the thought from her mind. Holding her breath, she passed under the spray of the Protodermis Falls, and into a small, hollowed-out cave. She broke the surface and climbed into the dry cavern inside. “You called?”

“Macku!” cried Hewkii, nearly crushing her in his mighty grip. “They haven’t hurt you, have they?”

“No, I’m fine,” said Macku. Her laughter died away when she saw the scratches on his armor. “Hewkii, who did this to you?”

“Rahkshi,” Hewkii spat. “Led by one of the Piraka’s friends. One of these days, I’d like to meet a Skakdi who doesn’t try to kill me.” He sighed, and set Macku down on the rocks next to him. “That’s why I called you here,” he explained. “Macku, the Toa Mahri have to go. I have to go.”

He saw the look on Macku’s face, and spoke quickly, while he still could. “We’re putting you in danger. Makuta has his agents out to find us, and they’ll hurt or kill any Matoran who tries to shelter us. I know what you’re going to say, but I can’t stay here. I won’t risk your life, too.”

“I could come with you,” Macku hoped. “I can take care of myself... I can help you on your mission! You know I could do it!”

“That’s why you have to stay,” he said. “Once we leave, the Matoran will have no Toa to protect them. You have to take up that duty. You’re smart, you’re strong… You can keep this city safe. Better than we can, anymore.”

Macku choked back tears. “I… I will.”

“Be strong, Macku,” he said, and hoped he would be, too. “You’ll be with me, wherever I go.”

Macku gave him one last hug. “Stay safe,” she said. “And d-don’t do anything s-stupid, okay?”

“I’ll leave that to Nuparu,” he said, but neither of them laughed.

Hewkii and Macku stayed for a long time. Macku stared at the gently lapping waters, watching their reflections ripple and shudder. But by the end of the night, only her own mask stared back at her.

“Did I mishear you?” said the island chieftain, clutching her ship’s wheel. “You want us to sail towards the herd of angry Tahtorak?”

Axonn nodded, watching the island of Artidax shake and rumble with the roars of Tahtorak. “There’s no doubt about it. Brutaka’s there.”

On the other side of the volcano, Brutaka swept his blade across one Tahtorak’s leg, then darted out of the path of another. A shadow passed over him, and he raised his blade just in time to block the two front claws of another Tahtorak. Fractures began to spread in the glassy rock beneath his feet.

A roar echoed across the island, and Brutaka sighed in weariness. Were there even more? He’d been lucky to bring down two or three of the Tahtorak, and the remaining ones had boxed him in against a volcanic wall. His quick healing power had allowed him to withstand a pummeling that could have leveled mountains, but he was still taking hits faster than he could repair his body.

It took Brutaka a few seconds to realize what he was hearing was not a Tahtorak. It was the bellow of an ancient war cry, not heard in the southern islands for many long eons… but quite familiar to Brutaka. And it was getting closer.

The Tahtorak gripping Brutaka’s blade pushed harder, and might have crushed him - if not for a sudden lightning strike, which lanced through its scales and shattered the rock beneath it. The Tahtorak staggered back and howled as Brutaka repositioned and glanced up. A red and silver titan was barreling down the volcano’s slope, wielding a giant axe with just one arm. He leapt off a small incline, hurtling through the rain, and brought it down on a Tahtorak’s head with a crack of thunder.

As the Tahtorak turned to face the newcomer, Brutaka seized the moment to blast the nearest one back and reposition. The axe-wielding warrior landed next to him. “Brutaka!” he cried, and glanced around at the Tahtorak. “I told you that Archives prank was in poor taste.”

“Axonn,” said Brutaka, with a stiff, formal smile. “We are glad to see you.”

“I’m glad to see you, too,” said Axonn, looking for any sign of his old friend in the glowing warrior before him. “You never were any good at hiding from me, you dumb brute.”

Brutaka’s smile tugged at its ends. “We recall the ‘dumb brute’ is usually your role, Axonn.” In the next moment, his smile vanished, and his countenance was grim. “We must return to show Teridax his true destiny, but this island blocks our power. We must be gone.”

“We’ll go together,” said Axonn. “Don’t forget, you had another ‘us’ before this destiny quest of yours.”

Brutaka nodded. “Together.”

The Tahtorak roared and regrouped. With a grin, Axonn and Brutaka stood back to back, and prepared to fight.

Far to the south, shrouded in fog and mist, a single skiff stood on the icy banks of a long, thin coastline. Tracks in the ice led to a solitary Toa Nuva standing before a yawning tunnel at the edge of the universe.

Kopaka looked up at the Great Barrier and admired its majesty for a brief moment, before focusing on the task at hand. His mission, as determined on Stelt, was to investigate possible routes out of the universe that Makuta now controlled. He had come to this abandoned stretch of the southern islands to try and evade even Makuta’s notice. No Exo-Toa patrolled here, and no Rahkshi flew in the skies above. Only ice, rock, and water dominated the area as far as the eye could see.

His mask had confirmed that a network of tunnels stretched through this section of the Great Barrier, some of which surely led outside the world of the Matoran. Now he could see the entrance to those tunnels yawning before him. Kopaka pulled a lightstone from his pack and let its feeble glow illumine some of the tunnel’s vast gloom. A glimmer of metal caught his eye, and he knelt down to find a scarred Kanohi Volitak on the tunnel floor. The sight was hardly encouraging, but he had come too far to turn back now. Kopaka placed the Volitak in his satchel, lifted the lightstone, and descended into the darkness.

Chapter Text

Ahkmou’s footsteps echoed quickly through the Coliseum’s empty halls. With the Toa Mahri gone, he could finally get the Matoran in line. Even though he’d walled off the districts from one another, someone was somehow coordinating strikes, protests, and other acts of defiance all over the city. They weren't enough to warrant the attention of Makuta, they were too small for that, but Ahkmou could not suffer them to continue under his watch.They weren’t harming Makuta, they were too small for that, but they were certainly making Ahkmou’s life a living nightmare.

Really, I don’t understand all the fuss, he muttered. I just need them to get to work. I thought Matoran loved work! To be honest, if you told me to get back to the Sculpture Fields, I’d jump at the chance.

An Exo-Toa crossed his path. “Report!” he barked. “I sent a Panrahk to pacify the Moto-Hub hours ago. It should be back by now. I can’t have it running around smashing every bit of stone it sees. Where is it?”

“Gone,” the Exo-Toa reported.

Ahkmou blinked. “Yes, I’m aware. But where did it go? ”

“Panrahk unit was destroyed.”

“What? ” Ahkmou snapped. “You can’t be serious.”

Silently, the Exo-Toa opened its claw to reveal scraps of mottled brown armor. “Matoran can’t do that,” Ahkmou spluttered in disbelief. “So who–?”

At that moment, a whining alarm emanated from the blue crystal on Dume’s staff - “A civilian requests your attention at Gate Four.”

“Gate Four? I didn’t even know we had four gates.” Ahkmou raced back to the Turaga’s office, then dusted off the ancient console under the desk, eventually finding the slot marked Gate Four. He tapped Dume’s staff to the console, activating the transmission system and lighting up a screen on the wall.

A single Matoran stood before the gate, carrying curved blades and wearing a noble Mask of Water Breathing. Briefly, Ahkmou wondered what had happened to the guards stationed there - then he saw the scraps of Rahkshi armor strewn behind the Matoran. Was this his culprit?

He pressed another button, and his voice resonated through the gate’s speakers. “This rebellion against Makuta will be the last foolish act of your life. I have already dispatched Exo-Toa; I estimate you have thirty seconds to say your last words.”

To Ahkmou’s great surprise, the Matoran knelt reverently. As he watched, her armor faded, turning to shades of black and crimson. “Much to my chagrin, I am a Matoran of Light, but I am loyal to the Makuta,” she said. “My brethren have been playing at being Toa, ambushing your Rahkshi. I’m here to put an end to their little games.”

Ahkmou smiled, pressing buttons rapidly. “Finally, another Matoran who sees things my way. I am Ahkmou, Turaga of Metru Nui; and you are?”

Gate Four slid open. The Av-Matoran sprang to her feet, beaming. “My name is Gavla,” she said. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Turaga Ahkmou.”

Under the cover of night, a small ship slipped through the waters around Daxia, carrying six passengers. Rahkshi circled overhead, but none saw the slim, dark vessel slip as it crept around the southern shoreline and docked on a rocky beach.

Tahu Nuva was first out of the boat, followed by Onua, Johmak, Krahka, Lariska, and Kopeke the Chronicler. Hardly the standard six-Toa team, he muttered to himself. But desperate times call for desperate measures.

“Home sweet home,” said Onua Nuva, “or so I have been told. I must say, it’s not as beautiful as I had imagined.”

“It’s seen better days,” said Johmak. Next to her, Krahka prodded the ground nervously, watching plumes of smoke billow from further inland.

“So where’s this all-important protodermis pool?” Tahu asked. “And how do we get to it?”

“The first answer is easy,” said Johmak. “The pool is located beneath the fortress… or what remains of it, rather. That’s to the northeast. We’ll have to cross much of the open wilderness to get there, but the Rahkshi won’t see us coming.”

“And this terrain is… volcanic, you say?” Tahu said, grinning. “Leave that to Onua and me.”

“Happy to do so,” said Lariska, twirling a knife. “Call me when you find someone to kill.”

Kopeke mumbled something. “I’m sorry?” asked Onua, leaning down to hear it.

“...over there,” said Kopeke, pointing up the beach. Some distance away, a sleek Rahi panther was prowling along the water, its eyes gleaming in the darkness.

“A shallows cat,” said Johmak. “But that’s not right… shallows cats don’t move that rigidly.” She drew her shield. “Something is wrong.”

“Rahkshi,” Krahka hissed, taking the form of a snarling Muaka. “They are controlling it. Making its mind follow theirs.”

“If that’s so, then the Rahkshi must be somewhere around here,” said Tahu. “Stay sharp. It only takes one of them to sound the alarm.”

Weapons at the ready, the motley crew moved up the beach and into the wilds. Their most dangerous mission had just begun.

Lightstone in hand, Kopaka climbed through a large tunnel, leading to an even larger chamber. He again activated his mask, looking through the walls to see where the tunnels led next. Upon seeing what lay beyond the next wall, however, he stopped in his tracks. A chill ran down his spine, and it wasn’t from the cold.

The walls of the next chamber were filled with hundreds upon thousands of cylindrical cells.

It is the mark of a truly brave Toa that when every one of his instincts tells him to run, to flee, he continues on for the sake of his mission. Steeling himself against the revulsion wriggling through his body, Kopaka drew his blade and continued into the chamber.

It was everything he had feared. The huge, six-sided chamber was lined with eerie, glowing stasis cells, the signature home of one kind of creature:

Bohrok!

Kopaka cast his gaze about, using his mask to gauge the numbers of his enemy. He stopped when he saw that each and every one of the cells was empty. His heart sank as he confronted the one thing that could be worse than an enormous hidden nest of Bohrok: an enormous hidden nest of active Bohrok.

Proceeding through the nest, Kopaka caught a glimpse of a carving illuminated by his lightstone. He came closer to see a curious diagram. Within a large circle, a line of beings were depicted. He recognized the Bohrok, the Bohrok Va, and the krana that sustained them. What shocked him were the images presented parallel to the creatures of the swarm. Adjacent to the krana was an image of a Kanohi mask. Beyond that, a Matoran... Toa... and Turaga.

In Karda Nui, we learned that certain Av-Matoran become Bohrok as part of their destiny, Kopaka recalled. But this… this means something more. Is it possible that all Matoran could become Bohrok?

“You’re very clever, aren’t you?” Coming out of the silence of the nest, the sharp, nasal voice seemed as thunderous as the bellow of the Rahi Nui. “You will make an excellent addition to the swarms.”

Kopaka whirled to see who had spoken. In the silent gloom of a hidden Bohrok nest, two Toa faced each other, both tensed for battle. One wore a Kanohi Akaku Nuva, but the other’s face was hidden behind a warm, glowing krana. Blue and white armor meant a Toa of Lightning. She carried no weapons, but Kopaka recognized the Krana Vu on her face. The flight krana, he recalled.

“Who are you?” Kopaka asked, though he knew he wouldn’t get much of an answer from a krana’s thrall.

“Who I was doesn’t matter,” said the Toa. “What matters is who we are - the Bohrok swarm. Your brothers and sisters.” She spread her arms wide, and bright white sparks illuminated the empty nest.

“I deny that,” said Kopaka. He had heard from Onua how he defeated the krana controlling Lewa, and he hoped this strange Toa had the same willpower as his brother. “I deny you, krana, and I deny the swarm. I am speaking to the Toa before me. Who are you?”

The Toa gave a robotic laugh. “Here, I am the Krana Vu,” she explained. “I hear their orders and dispense them to my brothers and sisters, and to you.”

“I will not hear the orders of the Bahrag,” Kopaka growled. “They have served their purpose.”

“Oh, but our purpose is never done,” replied the Toa. “Always, always so much to clean. Not just the island, but everywhere. We must clean the shell of the Great Spirit. Then we sleep, and it is dirtied once more, and it must be cleaned anew.” The Toa tightened its gaze. “And no other must be an obstacle,” she said. “All obstacles will be removed. You are an obstacle. You will be removed.”

In the darkness, Kopaka heard the skittering sound of Bohrok Va. No doubt they had come with a krana for him. They will be sorely disappointed . “I don’t want to hurt you, sister Toa,” he said. “I want to save you. But I will need your help.”

“There is no Toa in this body!” hissed the Toa. “Only the Krana Vu, and the will of the Bahrag!”

“Then we’ll do this the hard way,” Kopaka said, raising his weapon. “Krana Vu, you will vacate this Toa’s body, or I will tear you from her face myself.”

Chapter Text

Some islands had adjusted to Makuta’s reign better than others. Stelt, Toa Jaller decided, as he watched beings of all shapes and sizes trading and bartering throughout its markets, was taking it in stride.

Making use of their amphibious nature, he and his fellow Toa Mahri had evaded detection as they traveled from Metru Nui to this bustling trade center. According to the Toa Nuva, the resistance had made its secret headquarters here, in the basement of a trader’s shop. Now they just had to find that shop, before Makuta’s enforcers found them.

“Ugh, look at the vehicle that merchant is selling,” said Nuparu. “Cheap materials, cheap construction. It’ll fall apart in a day! Forget Makuta, that’s the guy we should really be going after.”

“Calm your inventor’s pride, Nuparu,” said Jaller. “Tahu Nuva said that the shop was on this block. You need to use your mask and go find it. Got all that?”

He turned and found that Nuparu had already left. “I guess he did,” said Kongu.

“Okay, then, all we need to do is sit tight in this alleyway,” said Jaller. “Hewkii, put that rock down. This is a bad time to practice Kolhii.”

“It’s never a bad time to practice Kolhii,” said Hewkii with a cheeky grin. “Got to stay in shape. You never know when Makuta might challenge you to a Kolhii game, right?”

“For the last time, Hewkii, that was a ruse,” said Hahli. “He intentionally lost that game.”

“Oh, right, you were there, huh?” asked Hewkii. “Tell me, how did Makuta play? Did he focus on the offense, or was he more of a defensive player? Got any special techniques?”

“The glory-great team of Le-Koro would have ever-quickly beat him,” said Kongu. “Together, Tamaru and I are unbeatable!”

“Except by Ga-Koro,” said Hahli, smiling.

“You dark-cheated!” Kongu hissed. “I’m sure of it.”

Jaller sighed. “Funny. I could have sworn I was on a team of Toa , not bickering Matoran.”

“Well, you obviously remembered wrong,” said Nuparu, appearing out of the shadows. Jaller nearly jumped out of the alleyway in surprise. “The shop is three doors down, to the left. And that crook of a ship merchant is now short several hundred widgets.” He held up a bag of coins.

“Wonderful. I’m sure the good people of Stelt applaud your heroism,” said Jaller. “Do they know we’re coming?”

“Yep. They’ve opened the back entrance,” said Nuparu. “Follow me, team.”

The Toa Mahri crept down the alleyway to the designated shop. Inside, they found a peculiar gathering of rebels. Matoran, Toa, and Turaga of all elements were resting and talking with Vortixx, Skakdi, and even Dark Hunters. In one corner, a Toa was tending to a wounded Dark Hunter, and in another, a Vortixx was repairing a Skakdi’s weapon, free of charge. The sight was bizarre, but marvelous. “Who’d have thought it would take Makuta to bring so many people together?” said Hahli.

Trinuma stood near the back of the crowd, reading over a report from the Southern Continent. Jaller approached and set down the bag of widgets on his desk. “Toa Mahri, reporting for duty.”

“Ah, Toa Nuparu,” said Trinuma. “Toa Takanuva has requested your help on Destral. You should rendezvous with him immediately.”

“Got it,” said Nuparu, and vanished into the crowd before Jaller could stop him.

“Now, Toa Jaller,” said Trinuma. “How dire is the situation in Metru Nui?”

“Dire enough that we couldn’t stay,” said Jaller. “Turns out Makuta has a new friend.”

Trinuma looked at him carefully. “And who is this ‘friend’ of Makuta’s?”

“Nektann,” said Jaller. “A Skakdi warlord. He flushed us out of hiding with Makuta’s Rahkshi, and he said he was coming for Zakaz next.”

“That’s an unsettling development,” said Trinuma. “Nektann is one of the most influential warlords on Zakaz. If he’s been swayed by Makuta, other Skakdi may follow.”

“When Nuparu’s mission is done, my team will be ready for action. What do you want us to do?”

“Go to Zakaz,” said Trinuma, “now. I’ll send Nuparu to join you later. You need to investigate the other warlords, and if any of them are planning to ally with Makuta, you need to take them down. When Nektann arrives, I want him to find no friends among his people.”

“Excellent,” said Jaller. “I look forward to showing Nektann the full strength of the Toa Mahri.”

“Great Spirit guide you on your mission,” said Trinuma. “The Skakdi may look and act like brutes, but they can be deceptively clever… and dangerous.”

“No one knows that better than we do,” said Jaller. “Come on, team. We’re going to Zakaz.”

Deep in the darkness of a far-flung Bohrok nest, Kopaka Nuva withstood a blast of lightning with his Hau Nuva. Above him, the Krana Vu’s possessed Toa hovered in the air, fingertips still crackling with energy. “Submit, Toa,” she called in the nasal voice of the swarm. “We are your brothers and sisters. Join us and your destiny will be made clear.”

“My destiny is already complete,” said Kopaka. “But yours is still ahead of you. Fight the krana, sister Toa! You can break its hold!”

“No,” the Toa said, hovering before Kopaka. “She has submitted to the will of the swarms. Her transformation nears completion.”

This was going nowhere. “Where are the rest of your ‘kind’? The Bohrok?”

“Our work is never done,” replied the Toa. “The surface must be cleaned. All obstacles will be removed. Join us, and you will see the truth.”

“I have a better idea,” said Kopaka, and dropped the shield.

Immediately, the Toa fired a bolt of lightning. Kopaka interposed a sheen of ice, buying himself time to duck out of the way. Where the lightning struck, ice turned instantly to water vapor, dispersing into the chamber.

The Toa whirled, unleashing more lightning at Kopaka. He replied with more shields of ice, which turned instantly to steam and vapor. “Give up,” the Krana Vu said. “Your ice cannot stand against the raw power of lightning.”

Of course it can’t, smiled Kopaka. That’s the plan.

Kopaka kept up the game for several minutes. The Toa rained lightning down upon him, but he countered with only walls and shields of ice, never going on the offensive. As the fight went on, he felt the moisture building in the room, and saw water condense on his armor. The Krana Vu continued its attack, growing more and more relentless.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were getting agitated,” he said.

“You are only delaying the inevitable,” growled the Toa, breathing heavily. “Join your sister Toa, and submit to the will of the swarms!”

“I think not,” said Kopaka, and formed a sphere of ice around the Toa. Immediately, he saw lightning flash from inside, eating through the ice like nothing. In just a few moments, the Toa had turned his sphere of ice to a cloud of steam.

That was when he struck. With a fraction of his elemental power, he plunged the temperature of the chamber far below zero, freezing the moist air completely. The Toa stopped in mid-air, frozen inside a wall of solid ice.

“Typical Bohrok,” said Kopaka. “All the raw power of the elements, with no thought or creativity behind them. Just pure, destructive force.” He climbed up to the frozen Toa, and peeled the Krana Vu from her face. Keeping the krana pinned firmly in his hand, he carefully melted the ice around the Toa and lowered her to the ground.

“Wh…” the Toa mumbled, her eyes beginning to flicker open.

“Don’t worry,” said Kopaka, in as soothing a tone as he could muster. “You’re safe now.” He pulled the Kanohi Volitak from his satchel. “Here. Wear this.”

“My mask,” the Toa groaned, and reached feebly for the Kanohi. Kopaka gingerly clasped it to her face. Sparks shuddered through her form as her power returned to her. Kopaka stepped back, and gave her space to stand.

“It… it took my mind…” she stammered.

“But I defeated it,” said Kopaka, and held up the Krana Vu. “No need to worry.”

The Toa knocked the krana from his grasp. Before Kopaka could react, she blasted it with a powerful bolt of lightning, sending him staggering. She hurled another, and another, until the krana was nothing more than a smoldering mass of flesh. She glared at it until the last of the smoke had died out.

Kopaka waited for a long moment, then gingerly placed a hand on the Toa’s shoulder. “I’m sorry. My brother faced the krana as well. But he survived, and overcame the krana. You can do the same.”

Kopaka waited. Finally, the Toa gave a long, shuddering sigh, and turned away from the ruined krana. Kopaka patted her on the shoulder. “My name is Kopaka Nuva,” he said. “What’s yours?”

Still breathing shakily, the Toa answered. “Chiara. Toa of Lightning.”

“Do you have a team?” Kopaka asked. “Or a koro? Did the swarms take them, too?”

“No. No team, no koro,” said Chiara. “I work alone.”

Kopaka smiled. “I like you already.” He turned to venture down the tunnel. “Come with me, Chiara. My work here is almost done.”

Chapter Text

A stream of sunlight meant Kopaka and Chiara had reached the far edge of the Bohrok nests. “Wait here. Watch for Bohrok,” Kopaka said, and stepped around the corner onto a massive stone ledge. Looking up, he was heartened to see the same sun that had looked down on the island of Mata Nui. Looking down, he was crestfallen to see an endless expanse of ocean far, far below.

He had found the Bohrok, too. All along the rusted iron hull of the robot, the insectile creatures were hard at work, chipping away at the rust, barnacles, seaweed, and other debris that had accumulated over 1,000 years in the endless ocean. They cleaned the hull with the same mindless diligence and ruthless efficiency that Kopaka had seen before, but the sight brought with it a new kind of sickening realization.

When we first encountered Makuta, he told us that the Matoran were a people of creators. But he promised that they also had the potential to destroy. Is this what he was referring to? Matoran turning into Bohrok?

Kopaka looked around, and had to face the facts. There was no way out of this universe. True, the southernmost parts of the world would be closer to the surface, but they would still lead to nothing but endless ocean. The Toa Mahri would do all right, but the Matoran couldn’t entertain any thought of escape, so long as Makuta remained in this world of water.

He saw a Bohrok Va notice him and give the alarm. Before the Bohrok could come running with their krana, Kopaka ducked back into the tunnels of the Great Barrier.

“Find anything?” asked Chiara.

“No,” said Kopaka. “Take my hand.”

“What? Why?” Chiara asked. “What is this - whooooooooa!”

Kopaka had activated his Kakama Nuva, sending them both hurtling through the tunnels of the Bohrok nest. After a scant few seconds, they had exited onto the coasts of the Silver Sea, with Kopaka’s empty skiff bobbing before them.

“This mission was a dead end, but that means we can turn our attention to helping the Matoran and the resistance,” said Kopaka.

“Resistance? What resistance?” asked Chiara. “Who are you resisting?”

“I’ll explain on the way,” said Kopaka, loading his equipment into his skiff. “Though, be warned; Toa Lewa says I am a terrible storyteller.”

With Chiara safely on board, Kopaka cast off from the Great Barrier, and set a course for the continents. This mission was done, but his journey was far from over.

From the mouth of a long-dead lava tunnel, Tahu and his group of rebels looked down on the space where the Daxia fortress had been. Makuta had destroyed it utterly and completely; there wasn’t even any rubble left, just a vast expanse of scorched earth. And, of course, several hundred Rahkshi, Exo-Toa, and Visorak.

“That’s a lot of guards,” said Lariska.

“I promised there would be,” said Onua. “And I always deliver on my promises.”

“I’m simply overjoyed,” Lariska muttered, and turned to Tahu. “So, fearless leader, what’s the plan?”

“Glad you asked,” said Tahu. “That army is too big for us to engage directly, so we’ll have to be subtle. Onua, Krahka, Lariska, you stay at the outskirts of the battlefield and pick off enemy soldiers with your powers. Make sure the rest of them notice you, then duck away and attack from somewhere else. I want all their attention focused on you. Meanwhile, Johmak and I will sneak into the complex, and I’ll destroy the energized protodermis. While Makuta’s forces pick themselves off the ground, we make our escape. Everyone got that?”

“...”

“Don’t worry, Kopeke, I haven’t forgotten about you,” said Tahu. “While Onua and company are bombarding the the enemy, you stay hidden and keep a lookout for any reinforcements. Do you have the flags? Good. If you see reinforcements approaching, wave the flag to alert Onua, and then take cover somewhere else. Staying safe is your top priority.”

Kopeke nodded, and the preparations began. Onua knelt with his palms on the ground, summoning the power of the earth. Lariska sharpened her daggers, and Krahka cycled through a collection of forms, testing their powers. Tahu and Johmak wished them well, then descended into the lava tunnels.

Brimming with elemental energy, Onua stood and reached out to the mountain with his power. “Let’s move,” he said to the group. “In two minutes, this mountain will collapse, and then we’ll attack from the other direction.” He called on the Kakama Nuva, and then he and the rest were gone from the mountain, zipping across the island. Behind them, the mountain shuddered, and began to crack. Rahkshi and Visorak looked up uneasily, and began to move away - before the mountain came crashing down, burying two hundred Exo-Toa and assorted troops beneath a billion tons of rock and earth.

Tahu and Johmak heard the crash, and hurried through the tunnels. They emerged on the surface to see Makuta’s forces charging towards the fallen mountain, firing weapons at an enemy that wasn’t there. A pack of Rahkshi nearby took to the sky and soared towards the crumbling mountain, leaving the path to the underground complex wide open. “Now!”

Moving quickly, they descended into the underground corridors of the former fortress. “This way,” said Johmak, and whisked Tahu down a long hallway ending in stairs. An Exo-Toa stood guard at the bottom, but Tahu’s magma swords made short work of it, and they continued. Johmak led him through a maze of hallways and hidden stairs, until she wrenched open a door to reveal a huge, circular chamber.

“By the Great Beings,” Tahu whispered, looking around at the cavern. The giant space was all but empty, save for several Exo-Toa stationed around the walls. In its center sat an enormous pool of energized protodermis, its sparkling energies dimly lighting the room.

“This ends now,” Tahu said, and stepped into the chamber, followed by Johmak. He raised his blades, flaring with the energies of flame, and prepared for the Exo-Toa to fire… but none did. All simply stood motionless, watching him and Johmak.

Tahu paused and looked around the empty chamber. “This… isn’t right.”

“On the contrary,” said the Exo-Toa. “Everything is going exactly as planned.”

Around the room, spidery shapes shimmered into existence. Tahu looked around to see several dozen Roporak appear, clinging to the walls and ceiling, training their rhotuka spinners on him and Johmak. “Concealment,” said Makuta. “A useful ability, is it not?”

“You didn’t seem to think so when you fought Vakama,” replied Tahu. “Or have you chosen to forget that little duel?”

“I have not,” said Makuta. “But I must warn you, Vakama’s tales of my defeat are a little… embellished. It must be that Fire Toa ego doing the talking. You should know, of all beings.”

“Oh, shut it!” Johmak snapped. Tahu froze, and even Makuta seemed taken aback by her words. “If you plan to kill me here, I will gladly go down fighting - but there’s no need to waste my final moments with your insipid commentary.”

“Such spirit,” Makuta chuckled. “Why, Johmak, if I were going to kill you, I would have done so already. I’m afraid I have something very different planned.” His next words echoed through every Exo-Toa in the room, but they were not addressed to the rebels. “Drive them to the edge of the pool,” he commanded, “and throw them in!”

Chapter Text

Onua slammed his quake breakers into the ground and brought down a seventh mountain on Makuta’s army. Hundreds of troops were buried, but before the dust had even settled, he could already see Rahkshi and Visorak crawling out of the rubble. The landfalls had crushed many of Makuta’s troops, but failed to scatter them. The survivors were still massed in tight defensive formations. A glance to the sky wasn’t promising, either: hundreds of Rahkshi had taken flight, and were now combing the collapsed mountains for any sign of the rebels. Kopeke had taken cover several minutes ago, but if they kept up their search, there might be nowhere left to hide.

Krahka, in the form of Toa Nokama, looked down at Makuta’s troops and snarled. “These ambushes tire me,” she announced. “I will crush the enemy myself.”

“That’s suicide,” said Onua. “We have to stick together, or else they’ll overwhelm us. Right, Lariska? ...Lariska?”

He looked to his left, but Lariska was long gone. Probably fled the scene when she realized the odds we’re up against, Onua mused. Can’t say I blame her.

“With or without you, I am going,” said Krahka, hovering with the powerful wings of a Nui-Rama. Onua looked around at the shattered mountains, teeming with Rahkshi, and the ruined fortress below, filled with Exo-Toa and Visorak. Kopeke and Lariska had fled, and Tahu and Johmak had not emerged from the tunnels. If he ran now, he could certainly survive to fight another day. That would be the logical thing to do. But he would be leaving Tahu, Johmak, and Krahka to certain death, or worse. Onua looked up at Krahka and made his choice.

A few moments later, flying furiously down the mountain in the claws of a Nui-Rama, Onua began to regret his decision. He had flown in Karda Nui, but that was under his own power, and he’d mostly stayed in the swamp. He’d never gotten used to the ground being so very, very far away, and having only air beneath his feet. They took another dive, and he fought the urge to scream.

Krahka, who seemed to be quite enjoying herself, let out a primal war cry and swooped over a legion of Exo-Toa. Onua aimed his weapon, now a Nynrah Ghost Blaster, and fired down at several of them. Where he struck, the Exo-Toa shuddered and turned on their allies, shooting their electro-rockets on his command. The other Exo-Toa responded in kind. The confusion within the ranks cost dozens of units and threw the legion into disarray.

Onua looked ahead, and saw a squadron of Rahkshi flying straight at them. “Incoming!” Krahka swerved to avoid them, but the Rahkshi maneuvered just as quickly, and stayed on her tail. Visorak massed below, and filled the air with rhotuka spinners. Onua’s body swung wildly as Krahka ducked and weaved through the crossfire, passing dangerously close to several spinners. “Careful where you’re going!”

Krahka ignored his protestations and continued to fly in loops, zigzags, and maneuvers for which Onua had no names. After just a few moments, he felt as if every part of his body was upside down, or at least not where it was supposed to be. “Put me down!” he yelled over the rushing wind. “I would rather take the whole army than this!”

Krahka made a buzzing noise that sounded like laughter. She went into one last spiral, hurtling down towards the ground. Onua shut his eyes, preparing himself to be dashed against the rocks - but as Krahka swooped low, she slowed down and tossed Onua to the ground, where he rolled for a dozen meters before stopping.

Groaning, Onua opened his eyes and watched the rocks oscillate around him. Eventually, he cleared his head enough to remember: I’m in the middle of a warzone. Hurriedly, he forced himself to his feet, only to start his whole frame of vision spinning uncontrollably. By the time he had steadied himself enough to see, he was surrounded by a swarm of Visorak.

“Well, that’s not exactly ideal,” he muttered, preparing to die honorably.

Then a shadow passed over him, and a tremendous claw slammed down into the horde, crushing dozens of Visorak beneath its bulk. Onua staggered back, and stared up at the enormous form of the Zivon, snapping its mandibles and roaring.

“My thanks!” he shouted up at the monstrosity, though he doubted Krahka could hear him. As she tore into the horde of Visorak with claws, stingers, and jaws, Onua turned and surveyed the enemy. It didn’t look good: six legions of Exo-Toa, hordes of all kinds of Visorak, and a sky swarming with Rahkshi. He would put up the best fight he could, but he knew this was not a battle he could win. I can only hope Tahu succeeds. And by the Great Spirit, he will!

From the window of a factory tower, the Shadowed One looked over the city of Xia, and saw potential... immense potential. True, the city had seen better days. Most of it was leveled, and the place was crawling with displaced Vortixx and roaming Dark Hunters. But the city was still choked in the smog of a thousand factories, and the Vortixx had been kept alive, along with all their knowledge and blueprints of weapons and war. True, Helryx had bid him occupy Xia, and halt any and all production on the island. But Helryx was not here, and her precious Order of Mata Nui was as good as dead. He would put Xia back to work, on his orders.

Makuta’s reign was a temporary annoyance. With the viruses he held, the Shadowed One could strike down even the Great Spirit. And once Pridak had shown him how to do so, and his armies had finished their conquest, the Barraki would no longer be of use to him. When all is said and done, he mused, the Dark Hunters will be the last left standing. And then… then the universe itself will be mine.

He became aware of his breathing. It was coming slowly, and the air felt thin and weak. He had grown accustomed to the heavy smog of Xia, but this was something different - this was no air at all.

Makuta is pulling the air from the room, he realized. How… amusing.

The Shadowed One raised his staff and shattered the window before him. Smog and soot rushed in to fill the void, and he took a deep, long breath of it. The Shadowed One raised his eyes to the heavens, and laughed.

“A pitiful attempt,” he sneered. “You have all the power of the Great Spirit, and you use a simple vacuum?”

There was silence before the sound of Makuta’s voice. “I need not indulge in catastrophe to dispose of you, Shadowed One. You are vastly overestimating your importance to my schemes.”

“Hardly,” said the Shadowed One. An idea had occurred to him, an idea that he found tantalizing and, should it be true, gloriously amusing. “You know what I possess, Makuta… what I could use against you.”

“Xia?” replied Makuta, laughter in his tone. “Xia is a worthless rock. Half of it was leveled by the Kanohi Dragon, and the other half by your Dark Hunters. It poses no threat to me.”

“You know I do not speak of Xia!” the Shadowed One snapped. His heart-light was flashing rapidly. If his calculations were correct, then his next words would deliver him divine immunity - but if he was mistaken, they would surely lead to his death. “I speak of the viruses of Makuta Kojol!”

When he spoke, Makuta’s voice was laced with danger. “You know that I could destroy you right now,” he rumbled. “One earthquake, one flood, one lightning storm. I could obliterate you in a single instant.”

“You could indeed,” the Shadowed One acknowledged. “But you won’t.”

“Your old age has made you mad,” said Makuta. His voice boomed through the skyscrapers and factories of Xia. “Do not test my wrath!”

“You’re afraid , Makuta!” the Shadowed One cried. He opened the box, and removed a single vial. “Afraid of these! Certainly, you could destroy me… but doing so would risk destroying these vials, and releasing their contents into your body. You would never allow that… and so you will never move against me.”

“You underestimate me,” said Makuta, and the smog of Xia curled into coils of smoke, poisonous to the touch. Dark, toxic smoke slithered towards the Central Factory, reaching out its tendrils. “Your last gamble will end in death.”

The Shadowed One watched the dark clouds approach, and held the vial high. “This is your last chance, Makuta!” he called. “Back off, or I will destroy Xia!”

The clouds came closer… and closer… and closer. The Shadowed One tensed his arm, and waited… until the clouds stopped a meter from the window, slithering uncomfortably against an invisible barrier.

“I knew it,” the Shadowed One hissed.

“Very clever,” Makuta growled. “But you cannot keep this act up forever. Surrender that box, and I will spare your life… perhaps even reward you with a title of rulership. Surely you can see reason.”

“I see… opportunity,” replied the Shadowed One. With that, he threw the vial from the window, to shatter on the streets far below.

“No!” Makuta roared, but the green gas of the virus was already spreading through the island. It first touched a Vortixx peddler scavenging the ruins. She had barely taken a single breath before her body cracked and shattered into fragments. Across the city, more Vortixx followed after her, pulverized into ebony shards. Makuta was silent, but Xia’s atmosphere trembled with rage.

The Shadowed One stood, laughing, at the edge of the balcony. “It is you who have underestimated me, Makuta,” he said to the emptied streets. “Now you must fear my wrath.”

He made haste from the factory and moved swiftly through the ravaged districts, Sentrakh following closely. Here and there, crystalline fragments drifted on the wind behind.

Chapter Text

Tahu and Johmak stood at the edge of a pool of energized protodermis, with only the Hau Nuva’s shield between them and a horde of Roporak. They had been here for some time; long enough, apparently, for Makuta to become bored and turn his attention elsewhere. Even the Rahkshi had left, no doubt sent to do some great evil by Makuta. Still, there was no chance of escape; the moment Tahu dropped the shield, they would be forced into the pool, there to be destroyed or mutated into something unimaginable.

“Toa Tahu, it’s been an honor serving with you,” said Johmak.

“Same to you, Johmak,” said Tahu. “I only wish I could have led you better.”

“You did the best you could,” said Johmak. “The best anyone could.”

The Roporak closed in, spinners at the ready. Several clicked their mandibles eagerly. And several near the doorway reared up, then dropped to the ground with knives in their backs. Briefly, Tahu saw a lithe figure dash into the room, before another several Visorak died swiftly. 

“Lariska?” he cried.

“Who else?” she replied, and leapt back to retrieve her knives from those she had slain. “I knew you’d make a mess of this infiltration without me. Frankly, I’m a little offended you didn’t invite me in the first place.”

All around, the Roporak turned their spinners away from Tahu and Johmak and towards Lariska. “A little help here, Toa?”

Tahu unleashed a blast of heat and flame, knocking the Roporak back. Johmak rushed through the gap, bashing one Visorak to the ground with her shield, then smashing into two more that charged her. At the front of the room, Lariska stabbed and sliced every Visorak that came near, keeping the pathway clear. Rhotuka zipped through the room from every direction.

Tahu called on his elemental power, and a mote of fire floated into the center of the protodermis pool. “In a few minutes, that fireball will go off, and the whole place will explode,” he called. “We need to get out of here before that happens!”

Wasting no time, Lariska turned and ran. Johmak crushed one Visorak and moved to strike another, until Tahu pulled her away and dashed from the room. Roporak poured out of the room as well, but in panic rather than pursuit. Only the Exo-Toa remained in the room, obediently watching over the pool.

Tahu, Johmak, and Lariska leapt from the tunnels just as the explosion hit. A pillar of flame burst from the tunnel entrance behind them, flaring into the sky above. A moment later, the shockwave hit, rippling through the battleground and tossing Rahkshi and Exo-Toa like leaves in the wind. Only the Hau Nuva protected Tahu and his teammates from going the same way.

When the ground stopped shaking, Tahu dropped the shield, and the three warriors surveyed the devastation they had wrought. The ground was bent and buckled, and strewn with the bodies of Makuta’s forces. Tahu spotted some creatures moving near the mountains, but they suddenly vanished… then reappeared next to him, led by Onua and his Kakama Nuva. “Good work, brother!” he cried, embracing Tahu and lifting him off the ground. Krahka and Kopeke stood beside him, both bearing only a few scrapes and dents from the battle.

“I can’t believe we survived that,” said Johmak.

“You’re welcome,” replied Lariska.

“...”

Tahu looked around, fully expecting Makuta to attack with the ground or sky itself. After all, they had just destroyed his only source of energized protodermis; surely that would invite his wrath. Yet the island did not move. Daxia was quiet, even peaceful, in the battle’s aftermath.

“Time to leave,” said Tahu. “Evidently, Makuta’s attention is elsewhere, but he’ll look back eventually. And when he does, I want to be far, far away from here.”

No one disagreed. Calling on the Kakama Nuva, the group vanished from the rubble of the fortress, leaving only the broken bodies of Makuta’s servants behind.

Makuta scanned his body tirelessly, but could not find where the Shadowed One had gone. This body’s powers operated on a scale far beyond individual beings, but that power had its weaknesses: he could no better distinguish the Shadowed One than a drop of water in the Silver Sea. If the Shadowed One was to be found, he would have to do this the old-fashioned way.

Makuta turned his thoughts to Daxia. A quick look told him all there was to know: Tahu and Onua had succeeded, and the island’s energized protodermis was long gone. This was not as much of a setback as the Toa seemed to think. I still have the isle of energized protodermis to the south, he recalled, that same isle from which Helryx came to the core. And that, he said to himself, may solve my other problem... 

“Helryx,” he muttered, “how best might one hunt a Dark Hunter?”

The Toa of Water glanced at the machines around her. “Don’t tell me,” she said dryly, “you were outwitted by a being who declares war on every creature that dares cross his gaze?”

“For the first and only time, his insistence on defying the basic realities of power has worked to his advantage,” said Makuta. “Now the Shadowed One has done what he does best: run and hide. But I know your Order had its claws in his little band of bandits - so tell me where he has fled, and we can destroy our longtime mutual annoyance together.”

“I wish it were so easy,” said Helryx, “but he killed Ancient, and you destroyed Odina. I know no more of his movements than I do those of a common criminal. I’m not a tracker Rahi, Teridax.”

“Rahi - what an appropriate selection, Helryx,” said Makuta. “The Rahi Nui would be my classic option, but it has lost all its battles of late, and owes its training to the Dark Hunters. But you remind me… your Order has its own secret breed, does it not? I became quite attached to one during my visit to the Pit.”

Behind her mask, Helryx smiled. Makuta had taken the bait.

“No retort? Ah, I see. Spinax is too loyal, and would bring Hydraxon on his tail. And that can’t be risked: the warden who once tried to destroy the Mask of Life would never hesitate to use any weapon granted to him, least of all Makuta viruses.” Makuta’s laughter echoed through the room from every direction. “How clever, Helryx - for a Toa! You almost had me fooled.”

“I have to keep my mind sharp somehow,” Helryx sighed. “How will you find him, then? Rahkshi are too destructive, and Exo-Toa too mindless. Perhaps you could hire an ex-Dark Hunter with a grudge - half the organization has vowed to kill their master, after all.” And half again have vowed to kill you.

“Ah - once again, Helryx, your deceit has led me to the solution,” said Makuta. “I need not find the Shadowed One to stop him from using his viruses against me. Only Pridak can give him that knowledge… and that can be easily prevented.”

Around the island of Karzahni, the sea rose, forming an enormous wall of water through which no boat could travel. “After millennia in the Pit, the Barraki still cannot imagine anything greater than picking up where they left off - trying to dethrone the Great Spirit with sticks and stones. What were you thinking, Helryx, releasing them on an unsuspecting universe?”

“I had expected,” Helryx said sharply, “that Mata Nui would wake in his own body. It seemed like a reasonable assumption at the time.”

“And yet, I am left in the position of cleaning up your mess. But it should be no challenge. Their only escape is towards Metru Nui, and that is no escape at all. The Barraki will be slaughtered as my Brotherhood was by your Order - a service for which I must thank you, truly. ”

“My Order had Metru Nui under martial law, with the full cooperation of its leaders,” Helryx snapped. “You have a Matoran stone-carver in a robe.”

“A fair point. Let us see what that Matoran stone-carver has wrought.”

In the darkness of his Coliseum office, Ahkmou was perusing reports when his Exo-Toa bodyguard suddenly spoke. “Report. How fares the city of legends, Ahkmou?”

Ahkmou hurriedly picked up the tablets he’d dropped. “Very well, dark one! Everything is under control.”

Exo-Toa couldn’t frown, but Ahkmou swore that this one did. “I gave you my favorite Vorahk as guards. Why do I sense none in the Coliseum?”

“A temporary shortage, sir - I dispatched them on patrols - urrk!”

Makuta slammed the Exo-Toa’s claw around Ahkmou’s torso, lifting him into the air. “I cannot sense them anywhere! How, ‘Turaga’ Ahkmou, did you lose my spawn?”

Ahkmou pushed against the claw, hoping it would not begin to squeeze. “The Av-Matoran!” he squawked. “They have light powers, Makuta, and tools with which to use them! They’re like a small army of Takanuva!”

“An army of Takanuva, you say…” Dimly, he recalled something Tridax had raved about, a plan that had been shot down at every Brotherhood meeting. But if I turned my gaze to Destral, what might I find in its deepest sublevels?

“Yes, that’s the phrasing I used,” said Ahkmou. “Should I not have?”

“It matters not,” said Makuta. Slowly, the Exo-Toa lowered Ahkmou to the floor. “You are right, Ahkmou. The Av-Matoran pose a unique threat to my spawn, but I gave you no support to oppose them.” He strode to the window, surveying the city hard at work. “I will send you reinforcements momentarily. When I do, you will use those reinforcements to snuff out the Av-Matoran’s resistance. Do I make myself clear?”

“Crystal,” said Ahkmou. “You won’t be disappointed, Makuta. I work quickly.”

The Exo-Toa nodded. “Work faster.”

With that, Makuta’s thoughts drifted below. “You truly are indispensable in this role, Helryx. Your wisdom has saved me many miscalculations. Are you sure the Great Beings did not mean to create you as a Turaga?”

“Are you sure they didn’t mean you to be a stone rat with delusions of grandeur?” said Helryx.

“I’m quite confident, despite the sharp, critical voice in my head. You know, our situation is not unlike absorbing someone with my shadow hand. I wonder when we will cease to be able to tell the difference?”

Helryx rolled her eyes. “If that day comes, Teridax, we’ll both wish for death. I promise you that.”

Ah, poor, proud little Helryx, Makuta mused. No doubt she would eventually call on her elemental power to prepare a nova blast. He would let her try… but how to prevent her from using it, without losing his favorite puppet?

He smiled, a dark wisp on the wind. Perhaps, once the energy was too strong to withhold, he would teleport her to the largest gathering of rebels he could find, and wipe them out with her own power. That will teach her, Makuta murmured, not to hope.

Quietly, Makuta and Helryx returned to those thoughts which they could call their own… for now.

Chapter Text

Takanuva kicked a rock and watched it bounce down the ruined halls of Destral. Nuparu had been and gone within the hour, and his visit hadn’t exactly improved Takanuva’s morale. “In my expert opinion,” he had said, “this teleportation machine is well and truly busted.” He’d apologized for not being able to help, of course. Takanuva forgave him, and wished him luck on his mission to Zakaz. It wasn’t his fault, and Takanuva knew it. That was why he was so disappointed.

“I guess that plan’s a no-go,” he said to the broken console. “Won’t be getting any help from other universes today. Or possibly ever.”

Thump. Crash.

Slowly, Takanuva looked around for a flash of brown armor. “Pohatu?” he called, to no response. The Toa Nuva of Stone had gone back to the rocky surface, hoping to find something that could be used against Makuta in the battlefield left over from the war. So that means… someone else is down here.

Takanuva formed an orb of light in his palm, illuminating the shattered ruins of the fortress, and ventured out of the console room. The corridor outside was just as empty as before: nothing but scraps of Rahkshi armor, smears of kraata grease, and chunks of rubble from the walls and ceiling. If he hadn’t imagined it, the sound had come from somewhere down the hall, to the right… and it sounded distant, as if it had floated up from far below.

Orb in one hand, lance in the other, Takanuva moved down the hall. I need a new weapon, he thought, not for the first time. The lance is strong, but it’s terribly hard to wield in close quarters. I need something smaller and easier to use. I can save the lance for mounted combat or something. He smiled. Imagine riding Pewku into battle! We’d put Onepu’s Ussalry to shame.

He put the thoughts out of his mind, reminding himself of the task at hand. At the end of the hall, his light revealed something interesting: the outline of a door, hidden in the wall. He pushed; it wasn’t locked. As the door slid open, he moved inside and saw what remained of the locking mechanism. Another casualty of the Order’s siege, he muttered. Thanks, Order. You left the place in tip-top condition. Especially that teleportation console.

Hiding behind the secret door was a long, winding staircase, descending a hundred feet or more. No torches or sconces lit the walls, but his own power showed the way. He continued down, checking the walls for traps at every turn, but finding nothing. Probably they had all been destroyed in the attack, but he couldn’t shake the nagging feeling at the back of his mind: Something wants me to come down here.

The staircase ended in a vast, metal door. Evidently, it was the only thing that had survived the assault intact. Pohatu could surely have helped, but Takanuva had come too far not to indulge his curiosity. He raised his power lance and pointed it at the door, and then the staircase ignited with light.

When the light cleared, Takanuva stepped through the sizzling hole in the door and into a massive, underground vault. The room was at least a hundred feet long, with walls forty feet on all sides. The size of the room wasn’t what staggered him, though; its contents were far more frightening.

Stasis tubes. The vault was filled with them. They lined the walls, covering them floor to ceiling. All were shattered to pieces, broken by the earthquake that had crushed the fortress. Their contents had spilled out below: Toa, lying bent and broken on the ground, the remnants of their masks wreathed around their heads.

“No,” Takanuva gasped. He stepped forwards, heading for the broken bodies, even though he knew he shouldn’t. “No, no, no, no, no! ”

He knelt down by one Toa, lying face-down on the ground in white and grey armor. Its limbs were bent at odd angles, and he moved them back in place. Then, gingerly, hands shaking, he turned over the body.

His own maskless face stared back at him.

Takanuva stepped back and looked around. His own dead body lay before him. And behind him. More of them over there, to the left. In a corner, several were piled together. All him. And all very, very dead.

He heard screaming. A sharp, keening wail, building in the back of his mind and rising until it drowned his thoughts. He took a feeble step back, and stumbled over his own cold, dead arm. He shrieked, and turned to run - just before something slammed into him, knocking him to the ground, pinning his arms behind his back.

“Hey, brothers,” said a familiar voice behind him, “looks like we missed one!”

Takanuva craned his neck up, and saw black-armored figures standing over him. Vaguely, he could make out the angular, pointed shapes of their masks. He stifled a cry of horror as he realized what had happened to them.

“We didn’t miss any of them,” said one of the dark figures, and knelt down to inspect Takanuva’s mask and armor. “This one’s new. Pure of heart, dressed in shining armor… Absolutely disgusting. He’s giving us a bad name.”

“Look at that hole he made in the door,” said another. “We couldn’t do that, even with all three of us trying together.” He picked up Takanuva’s power lance and weighed it in his hands. “This weapon must be something special.” He swung the weapon around, muttering whooshing noises as he went.

“Put that down. You’ll take off my head,” said the one holding him down.

“And would that really be such a bad thing?”

“Shut up.” Takanuva heard his captor draw out a sharp piece of glass. “I have to thank you, you know. We’ve been trapped down here for days, killing the weaker ones to pass the time. We thought we’d die down here, but you just blasted us a readymade exit.” He chuckled. “Of course, now that you’ve opened the way, you’re no longer of any use to us. Just an embarrassment, really.”

Takanuva saw the jagged piece of glass hovering near his neck. “Sure, it’d be easier to kill you with that giant lance,” said his captor, “but this is more personal. After all, we’re not just going to kill you. Oh, no. Once we get out of this dump, we’re going to become you.”

He pulled Takanuva’s head up, angling him to face the beings who had captured him. “Meet the new you… Takanuva.”

Takanuva stared up at himself. Three of him, their armor as black as night. On their faces, his mask looked different… sharper, somehow. Harsher. Ready and willing to kill.

“You don’t have to do this,” he said. “There’s a hole in your heart, and you think violence will fill it… but it won’t. Killing will only - ”

“Shut up!” His counterpart delivered a brutal punch to the face, knocking his mask askew. “Did I say you could talk to me?”

The two other Takanuvas stepped forwards, curling their fingers into fists. “This is going to be fun ,” said one. “Won’t it be nice to have this loose end all tied up?” said the other.

Takanuva tried to struggle, but the screaming was still in his mind, tearing his head apart. Even closing his eyes, he could still see flashes of memory: the shadow leech, the Makuta, the Olmak. And he could feel the flashes of white hot rage… and the cold, unrelenting urge to kill. They’re going to kill me, he realized. And I can’t do anything to stop it.

“Hey, brakas!”

All four Takanuvas turned to see a brown-armored figure stepping into the room, holding his Midak Skyblaster at the ready. “I don’t know who you are, or what’s going on,” said Pohatu, “but whatever this is ends now .”

“Pohatu Nuva,” snarled a Takanuva. “We finally meet again. I’ve been looking forward to killing you for a long, long time.”

A torrent of shadow blasted from the power lance, and obliterated the wall behind Pohatu. But Pohatu wasn’t there anymore. A blur of brown zipped through the room - then that Takanuva dropped like a rock, and the power lance was in Pohatu’s hands. “I hear this weapon amplifies elemental power,” he said. “Wanna find out what it does with stone?”

The other Takanuva roared, and plunged the room into shadow. Somewhere in the darkness, Takanuva heard the sound of blows connecting. “You’ve got a mean left hook,” came Pohatu’s voice. “My turn.”

Another blow. The darkness vanished, and Takanuva watched his other self fly half the length of the vault, before slamming into the wall and dropping to the ground. The first Takanuva rose to his feet, but Pohatu - wearing his Pakari Nuva - swung the lance and sent him sprawling. “Takanuva!” he called. “The real one, I mean! Fight back! You’re stronger than them!”

“He’s lying,” hissed the dark Takanuva in his ear. “You’re weak. You aren’t even willing to kill us. What kind of a warrior are you?”

Takanuva watched Pohatu pummel his alternate selves. He fought with all the raw power of a Toa Nuva, but kept himself in check, and never aimed to kill. Watching him fight brought back the memories of everything he believed in… everything he stood for.

Takanuva’s mask shimmered, and then released a burst of light. His double cried out in pain, and his grip slackened. “You’re right,” he said. “I won’t kill you. I’m going to do worse.” He looked into his alternate self’s eyes not with fury, but with mercy and compassion. “I’m going to help you.”

The dark Takanuva laughed ruefully. “There’s no going back for me. You really don’t understand anything, do you?”

Takanuva shook his head. “Takanuva, listen to me. I might be the only being who can understand.” He reached out a hand. “Your light can still be returned.”

Bathed in the light of the Avohkii, the dark Takanuva’s expression began to soften. He balled a fist, but didn't swing it. “How?”

Then a bolt of shadow hit the dark Takanuva from behind, blasting him into the ground. Across the room, another double was sneering at them, shadow still curling from his fingertips. “Time to go, brothers,” he called, even as his body began to dematerialize. “Makuta has greater plans for us!”

“No!” Takanuva cried. He lunged for the downed Takanuva, but it was too late - as he watched, his three doubles vanished under Makuta’s teleportation power. In moments, all that remained around Takanuva and Pohatu were broken glass and broken bodies.

“Back on the island," Pohatu said slowly, "we fought dark versions of ourselves. Of course, that was just an illusion, just like this one.” He looked to Takanuva. “Please tell me it’s an illusion.”

Takanuva shook his head. “They’re all real, and all me. Dozens of me, all drained of light,” he explained. “Alternate universes… I thought they could be used for good. I never imagined they could be used for such evil.”

“Who in their right mind would have?” said Pohatu. He looked around and shuddered.

“There are more empty cells than bodies,” said Takanuva, counting. “There’s more of them out there, serving the darkness because they think it’ll fill their hollow spirits. I have to save them. Lend me your mask power - we need to go, fast!”

“And what about the Matoran?” Pohatu said firmly. “They belong to our world, and they’re in danger, right now.”

“So are they,” Takanuva retorted. “Every second that Makuta has his claws in them, they’re closer to–”

“Dying?” said Pohatu. “Like the Ta-Koro squadron?”

“We don’t know that,” Takanuva stammered.

“No, but we shouldn’t lie to ourselves,” said Pohatu. “Your copies can take care of themselves - they’re under Makuta’s protection. But he’s killing and torturing Matoran every single day, and saving them has to be our top priority.”

“You’re… right,” Takanuva said. “We can worry about saving ourselves later.”

Pohatu nodded, but Takanuva could see the hurt in his eyes. “I’m sorry. I hate having to think like this,” said Pohatu. “But I guess that’s the world we live in.”

Takanuva attempted a smile. “For now, Pohatu.” He opened the door, and beckoned to go. “Let’s see if we can’t change that.”

Chapter Text

Silence reigned in the shadow of the Knowledge Towers, as dozens of grey and black Rahkshi advanced down the snowy streets. Ahkmou had heard rumors that this sector’s scholars were secretly preserving the records and prophecies of Mata Nui, and requested a platoon of Rahkshi to establish full control.

As the Rahkshi advanced, none of them noticed brief stirrings of motion among the frosty buildings. None imagined there might be several dozen Av-Matoran lying camouflaged on the roofs. None of them realized they were in their last moments until Tanma had already given the signal.

Beams of light crisscrossed the city block, spearing Rahkshi armor and hemming them in on all sides. Kraata screamed as they desiccated and dissolved in the light. In a matter of moments, a small army of Rahkshi was reduced to black scraps in the snow.

Tanma walked among the carnage, accompanied by Radiak. “All clear!” he called. The Av-Matoran activated their jetpacks and shot into the clouds of Ko-Metru for cover. From there, they would disperse to different districts and prepare for the next strike, just as they had done before.

Or rather, that was what the Av-Matoran would have done, if they had not each been snatched out of the sky by Gukko. As Tanma watched in horrified shock, the flying Rahi carried his people into the frosty skies with single-minded purpose.

“Behind you!” Radiak shouted. He fired a beam of light over Tanma’s shoulder, but it glanced off the shield of the approaching figure. In response, a wheel of energy rocketed from the shield towards Radiak. He ducked to the street, only for the figure to point his spear and conjure rings of stone around Radiak’s limbs. Tanma was struck from above by a beam of ice, freezing him in place.

As the Av-Matoran struggled against their bonds, the craggy-armored Toa Pouks stepped out of the mist, a furious expression on his mask. “An entire squadron of Vahki, destroyed! What is the meaning of this, Matoran? The Great Spirit has finally returned, and you attack the keepers of the peace?”

“While you’ve given up and retreated into fantasies, we’ve had to do the work of true Toa!” Tanma snarled. “How can you turn your backs on us in our darkest hour?”

A shadow swooped low, and Toa Kualus dropped from the sky, scarf whipping in the wind. “My Gukko Force has the rest of the miscreants.” He sighed. “It’s disappointing that the lost tribe of light would stoop to such petty terrorism. Are we truly certain that the Toa Nuva cured them of the shadow’s affliction?”

“It’s you who’s afflicted!” Radiak howled. “Look around! They’re Rahkshi, all of them! Makuta reigns!”

Kualus grimaced. “It’s as I feared. They’re quite delusional.”

“You’ve lost sight of the Three Virtues,” Pouks said sternly. “Seems too many Matoran have lately.” He hefted Radiak over his shoulder, while Kualus carried Tanma. “Thankfully, the Turaga has established a safe environment for you to reacquaint yourself with the Great Spirit’s ways.”

The Toa Hagah loaded their quarry onto Kualus’ steed. “Take us to Ga-Metru.”

“It’s done.”

Ahkmou leaned back in his chair and sighed with relief. “All of them?” he said giddily. “All of them, at once!” He looked across the table. “Gavla, I could hug you. If it weren’t highly improper, of course.”

“Of course,” said Gavla, smiling. “It’s the least I could do to help.”

“Nothing about this is ‘least’,” Ahkmou said. “So now that’s sorted, and-”

“You’re not done yet,” came a familiar, but strangely stern voice. A shadow fell across the table, and both Matoran turned to see a tall, jagged figure looming over them - wearing the unmistakable visage of Toa Takanuva.

“You’re… a Toa of Shadow!” Gavla gasped. “They finally caught you! You understand now, don’t you? The way it feels?”

Takanuva blinked. “Do I know you?”

“He’s not… our Takanuva,” said Ahkmou. “I don’t fully understand how it works, but he’s a… copy they made during the war, I think.” Ahkmou narrowed his eyes at the dark Takanuva. “What I really don’t understand is what he’s doing in Metru Nui.”

“I’m here to check in,” said the dark Takanuva, grinning wickedly. Ahkmou tried not to think about how alien the expression looked on Takanuva’s mask. “Makuta wants everything under control here, before some ‘old friends’ pay a visit. You’ve done a good job getting the rebels off the streets - now it’s time to make sure they don’t go back to their old ways, ever again.”

Gavla leapt from her chair. “You’re going to do it, aren’t you? Take the light from them, turn them into Shadow Matoran?”

“The shadow leeches are all destroyed,” said the dark Takanuva, “but Makuta’s got the next best thing in mind.” He passed a tablet to Ahkmou. “Change the supply lines in Ta-Metru. We’re adding an extra step to the process.”

Ahkmou glanced at the tablet and scowled. “I could have done that on my own.”

“Really? It seems Makuta disagrees.”

Why, you cheeky little… Ahkmou fumed. Maybe you’re not so different from our Takanuva, after all.

The dark Takanuva turned to go, but Gavla grabbed his arm. “Wait! Makuta Vamprah had a mask - it could drain the light from any being, sure as a shadow leech. The Kanohi Avsa, it’s called. We just need to find one, or forge one, and then…”

“Don’t touch me,” the dark Takanuva growled. Dark tendrils shoved Gavla aside, casting his jagged mask in eerie shadows.

“No, you don’t touch her!” Ahkmou protested.

Gavla spoke breathlessly, ignoring both. “Then… drain the light from me!”

Ahkmou and the dark Takanuva both froze. “What?”

“I’ve been a Shadow Matoran before, and it’s the only time my life made sense,” Gavla insisted. “Please - it’s all I’ll ask of you!”

Ahkmou blinked. Was that her plan, all along?

Dimly, he realized it had been his plan, too, not long ago. He’d wanted Makuta’s power, to stand alongside him as the Toa Mata stood alongside Mata Nui. Yet as he looked at the Toa of Shadow above him, he didn’t see strength - just another minion, his personality twisted into obedience. In the eyes of Makuta, this Takanuva was little more than a Rahkshi or Exo-Toa, to be deployed appropriately.

The dark Takanuva looked at Gavla curiously, and Ahkmou saw an eerie hunger in his blackened eyes - nothing else beyond that. “Makuta will transport me from here soon. Come with me, and we’ll find that mask you described.”

Gavla nodded eagerly, but Ahkmou said, “No.”

Both rounded on Ahkmou as he drew up a map of the city. “The Av-Matoran are in custody, but the other Matoran are still syncing up resistance across districts. That means someone is running communications between them. Gavla’s light powers allow her to change her armor color, blending in with Matoran of any element - the perfect spy. If we drain her light, we lose that advantage.”

Gavla’s eyes flared with betrayal. “I helped you capture the Av-Matoran, and this is how you repay me?”

“We need this city under full control to fulfill Makuta’s plan,” said Ahkmou. “You did a good job, Gavla. Now I need you to do it again.”

The dark Takanuva gave Ahkmou a steely gaze - then shrugged. “That’s the spirit.” He waved lazily and left the room, Gavla already forgotten. “Get this place in order by week’s end.”

Gavla glared at Ahkmou. “I won’t forgive you for this.”

“I won’t ask you to,” said Ahkmou, then looked down at the tablet with Makuta’s orders. I won’t forgive myself, either. “Now get to work.”

Balta settled down on a small boulder and cradled his mask in his hands. The optimist in him tried to reassure him that everything was not so horrible. The skies might be dark, the Green Belt might be drying up without the mask buried beneath it, and Rahkshi might be circling around the horizon like leering vultures - but at least none of those Rahkshi had actually come to Voya Nui. Matoran weren’t supposed to be here, so why would Makuta bother making them work? Their only job was to survive.

He tried not to think about what would happen if Rahkshi did land here and decide to sate their appetite for destruction. Garan’s team had put up a good fight against the Piraka, but could they stand against an army of shadows? With Axonn gone, the Matoran would make easy targets for bored Rahkshi.

“Balta! I thought I might find you here,” said a familiar voice. Balta looked up to see Garan walking towards him with his characteristic limp.

The Onu-Matoran reached the boulder and held up his weapons. “Low on charge,” he explained. “You’ve still got a few power cells hidden away somewhere, don’t you? I’m going to need some repairs.”

“What’s the use?” Balta sighed. “The skies are dark. The Green Belt is drying up. We’re all going to starve, if the volcano doesn’t get us first.”

“You’ve been saying that for centuries,” Garan replied, “and it hasn’t come true yet.” He gestured to the village on the cliff above. “Look at us. We’re the Matoran of Voya Nui. Through droughts, hurricanes, and Piraka, we survive.”

“Maybe you’re right,” Balta said, “but either way, I don’t have any power cells. You’ll need to talk to Velika.”

“I would,” said Garan, “but he’s disappeared. You wouldn’t happen to know where he is, would you?”

Balta shrugged. “Half the time, the Great Spirit himself doesn’t know where Velika is.”

Deep beneath the two Matoran, quiet footsteps echoed in an ancient, winding stairway. Behind his mask, Velika smiled and began to hum.

Chapter Text

For months now, she had been searching. She had started in the deepest sublevels of the Archives, and then… kept digging, into tunnels so old that no Matoran could have carved them. She had learned to check thoroughly for traps: only the Masks of Vision and Speed had kept her from being magnetized to a wall and doused with molten protodermis. She had discovered things Matoran were not meant to know - and yet, after all of this searching, Gali Nuva had come no closer to finding any way to call upon the Great Beings.

Tahu or Kopaka might have given in to frustration, and Lewa or Pohatu might have lost interest, but Gali would not be swayed. She did not let her emotions rule her, but worked to steady them and navigate their ebbs and flows.

So Gali sat in her temporary outpost, once the Krahka’s nest, and meditated. She did not wonder or worry how much time had passed, or what else she might have done in the meantime; but she sat, and thought, and waited, bringing her emotions into balance. When her head was cleared, she would begin her search anew, perhaps try some areas a second time - it was possible that she had missed something...

Her meditations came to an abrupt end, however, when a ceiling hatch gave way and a small blue shape tumbled onto the ground, sending up a cloud of dust. She waved it away and saw a familiar mask on the Matoran now groaning on the floor.

“Macku?”

The Ga-Matoran coughed out dust that had lain still for thousands of years. Gali knelt to comfort her, but Macku cleared her throat and pulled herself to her feet. “Toa Gali, I beg your forgiveness for disturbing your mission-”

“No need to beg,” said Gali swiftly. “If you have come to summon me, matters must be dire indeed. What is Makuta planning?”

“Not Makuta. Ahkmou ,” said Macku, as if his name were a dirty word. “He’s taken the Av-Matoran to the Great Temple, to make an example out of them. I’ve been rallying protests, but they’re the ones who were ambushing Rahkshi. They’re a symbol of hope - if he bends them to Makuta’s will, it could mean the end of the resistance in Metru Nui.”

Gali grimaced. To think that a Matoran could fall so far from grace.

“Thank you for summoning me, Macku,” she said. “Ahkmou will not win this battle - this, I swear.”

Steeling himself, Ahkmou hurried with his guards across the bridge to the Great Temple. No, not the Great Temple, he reminded himself, not anymore.

Ahkmou had personally ordered the conversion of the facilities, but he was still a little stunned by the changes. All the carvings and artifacts dedicated to the Toa had been torn down, replaced with depictions of Makuta’s various forms. The Toa Suva was gone, although that was not Ahkmou’s doing; just a few days after Makuta’s takeover, it had vanished without a trace. Ahkmou suspected the Toa had moved it into the Archives, but his troops had so far failed to locate it.

Harsh crimson lightstones were set into the walls, pulsing gently but menacingly. Turahk loomed in each corner of the room, their wicked staffs ready for use at a moment’s notice. Filling the worship hall were the Av-Matoran, chained and bound but still glaring in defiance.

Ahkmou cleared his throat, like he had seen Turaga Onewa do before every speech. “Welcome to the Reeducation Center,” he began. “I’ve brought you here to ensure a more peaceful future for the City of Legends.”

Gali and Macku broke the surface quietly, slipping onto the water-slicked rim of the temple. A Rahkshi hovered overhead, but they stayed quiet and still, and it veered away. Gali led Macku along the outside of the building to a trail of water trickling down the wall. “These were the Sacred Tears,” Macku realized, running her hand through them. “The tears that reach the sky.”

“They also reach an entrance to the temple,” said Gali, pointing to the tears’ source: a small grate halfway up the temple. With the help of the Miru Nuva and the strength of elemental water, they removed the grate and slipped inside.

As it turned out, the Sacred Tears came from a pool of accumulated rainwater hidden in the temple’s rafters. They slipped through the attic with the power of the Kakama Nuva, moving faster than Rahkshi could see. Up here, a storage level had been converted into a row of cells holding Matoran.

“No Av-Matoran here,” Macku reported, “but I recognize my fellow rebels.” She moved to release them, only to see the putrid, rot-like color of their masks.

“Infected masks!” Gali hissed, pulling Macku back. “But that… doesn’t make sense. Others could simply remove the masks, as we did. He must know that, so why-?”

“You haven’t learned to think like Ahkmou. Regrettably, I have,” said Macku. “The masks can’t be removed without putting them to sleep. We don’t have any masks to replace them, and we can’t carry dozens of comatose Matoran out of the temple… which means we can’t rescue them.”

“And only the combined energies of Toa can purify an infected mask.” Gali frowned. “Diabolical. Of all places, to subject the Great Temple to this horrible treatment, for no reason other than spite…”

“Wait,” Macku realized. “There might be another reason. The temple’s not just for worship; it’s also for science.” She looked urgently at Gali. “The laboratories!”

Tanma struggled against his bonds. “Ta-Metru made; they’re brand-new. Still, I might be able to make a dent in them. Keep Ahkmou talking, and-”

“What’s the use?” Radiak muttered bleakly. “Even if you break free, they took our power swords and packs. Without those, the most we can do is color our armor.”

“The Toa will save us,” Solek insisted. “Kopaka Nuva once defeated Makuta’s six strongest Rahkshi on his own-”

“The Toa are gone. They fled the city,” said Photok, “and I’m starting to think they had the right idea.”

“Hush,” Kirop urged. “We survived without Toa before, and we’ll do it again. Ahkmou is no Makuta, and his heart is not of shadow. I may be able to negotiate.”

“Negotiate-?” Tanma gave Kirop a dirty look, then realized Ahkmou’s voice had trailed off. He looked up to see the Po-Matoran staring daggers at his group.

“How disrespectful, to chatter like gukko birds during a service to the Great Spirit,” Ahkmou said snidely. “Care to share with the class?”

“Turaga Ahkmou,” Kirop said, his voice low. “We are both leaders of our people, and want the best for them. Your goal is to keep this city running; ours is to live in peace and comfort. We need not be at odds-”

Tanma strained against his chains. “You’ll never break us!” he spat, glaring at Ahkmou and then Kirop. “We’ve never bowed to Makuta before, and we won’t bow now. We destroyed the shadow leeches and the Makuta who made them. You can’t make us obey.”

“Can’t I?” Ahkmou chuckled wearily. He reached inside the podium and drew out a glass sphere, filled with an acrid, green liquid. The Av-Matoran stirred in horror - those who had been Shadow Matoran recognized this substance as antidermis, the essence of the Makuta.

“Infected masks’ control is fragile,” Ahkmou explained, “but exposing a Matoran to this substance robs them of their spirit and will completely, turning them into an obedient slave. I’m told it’s a horrible thing… a living death. At least as a Shadow Matoran, you could still think . And thanks to the Order and Toa destroying all known sources of energized protodermis… there’s no cure. Not anymore.”

Ahkmou loaded the sphere into a zamor launcher, and turned to the Av-Matoran. “But I’m not without mercy. There’s only one Matoran who needs this treatment; the rest of you, I’m sure, are capable of seeing reason.” He walked slowly towards Kirop, noting the fear in the Av-Matoran leader’s eyes. “I’ll spare your people from this, if you can answer one question. If not…” He pointed the launcher squarely at Kirop. “Who is the leader of the resistance in Metru Nui?”

“We’ll never tell,” Tanma protested, but fearful murmurs were already spreading through the crowd.

“I’m sorry, Tanma.” Kirop looked at Ahkmou. “She’s—”

CRASH.

Ahkmou whirled to see a segment of pipe burst from the wall - and a Ga-Matoran crawl out. “Let these Matoran go, Ahkmou. None of them are the one who’s been taking your ‘city of legends’ apart, brick by brick.” Macku grinned. “The leader of the resistance… is me."

“Oh, of course,” Ahkmou scowled. “Hewkii’s little ‘friend’.” He aimed the zamor launcher at her, as Kirop breathed a sigh of relief. “He abandoned you, didn’t he? How do you think he’ll feel when he sees you rendered a mindless slave?”

“Proud,” Macku spat, “that I stood up to scum like you.” She looked at the zamor launcher with disgust. “I knew you were a snake, Ahkmou, but this? This is monstrous. How can you want this?”

At that, Ahkmou laughed. “I don't want this! Nobody wants this.” He gestured to the reeducation center around them. “That’s why this exists. All I need is a city at work - you’re the one who defied that. I’ve tried everything to bring you in line, but you’ve refused to see reason. Now you’ve gotten Makuta’s attention… and his orders are unyielding.”

“Unyielding?” Macku scoffed. “You could stop doing his dirty work at any time. We would welcome you for it, shelter you from his reprisal. But that would take courage, and I suppose I shouldn’t expect that from a coward.”

“I could defy Makuta, but what comes next? Do you think he can't replace me?” Ahkmou cried. “I've seen the followers he has in the rest of the world: butchers, the lot of them.” The zamor launcher trembled in his hands. “My appointment here is a mercy, and you are squandering it.”

“This is your idea of mercy?” said Macku, staring down the zamor launcher. “So afraid to do the right thing, you're willing to subject me to a living death.” She stood defiant. “Let's see if you’re bold enough to pull the trigger.”

Ahkmou grimaced. “You chose this.”

The launcher recoiled as he fired the sphere. He didn’t realize he’d looked away until he heard the sound - a strange sizzle, instead of a dull thud. Looking up, he saw Macku standing proud… surrounded by a shimmering, blue shield of energy. “Now!” Macku cried, and the shield rapidly enveloped the crowd of Av-Matoran.

Realizing what was about to happen, Ahkmou stepped into the shield - only for Macku to block his path, venom in her eyes. “You chose this,” she hissed, and shoved him out.

Then the pipes burst. Water filled the worship hall as Gali Nuva emerged from the flood, her Hau Nuva aglow. Rahkshi and Exo-Toa were swept from their posts. Ahkmou clung to the podium, glaring at the Matoran sheltered from the storm... then he sighed, and let go.

Under the Hau Nuva’s shield, Macku and Gali cut the Av-Matoran free. “Follow Gali through the flood,” Macku urged. “We’ll sweep the holding cells. Warriors, knock off their infected masks; the rest, carry the unconscious Matoran.”

Tanma nodded as she broke his bonds. “Gali Nuva! Pair with Solek,” he commanded. “He can create light barriers to keep the Rahkshi back.” Kirop narrowed his eyes, but said nothing.

Gali nodded, and let Solek climb onto her back. She shifted back to her Kaukau Nuva, sharing its power with the crowd as the waters collapsed onto them. “Go!”

Ahkmou opened his eyes. A Noble Mask of Water Breathing glared down at him.

“They’re gone,” said Gavla. “Gali took them out of Metru Nui.”

Ahkmou said nothing, merely coughed out water. So, he had failed. Makuta had given him one task, and he’d failed. This is the end for me. It’s all over. Somehow, that thought felt like… a relief.

“Why did you save me?” he asked hoarsely.

“I didn’t,” said Gavla. “It’s by Makuta’s grace that you survived.”

Ahkmou blinked. “Why…?”

“The Av-Matoran aren’t in the city anymore,” said Gavla, impatiently. “Technically, that’s our problem solved.” She gave him a sharp kick in the side. “Now let’s go. The city’s not going to run itself.”

Ahkmou groaned, pushing himself to his feet. Gavla shoved Dume’s staff into his hands, then walked briskly towards the Coliseum. He looked around, considering his options. Then, with a heavy sigh, he followed.

“That’s everyone,” Macku reported. Hewkii had told her of an underwater chute his team used; now she, Tanma, and Gali shepherded Av-Matoran and captured rebels into it, one after the other.

“I will shepherd them to safer lands,” said Gali. “I can bring you, too.”

“No,” said Macku, stepping back. “The city needs me.” She took a deep breath. “I’ll find my own way back.”

Gali frowned. “Very well. Great Spirit guide your path.”

“And yours,” said Macku. Tanma bumped her fist and nodded solemnly. Then he took Gali’s hand, and they stepped through the chute’s walls. Macku watched them disappear, then scurried into the hidden places of the city.

Now Metru Nui has no Toa at all, she thought to herself. Save for the Toa Hagah, who aren’t living in this reality. We’ve made it this far with Matoran alone, but still… what I wouldn’t give for one Toa, just one, to lend their power to the resistance…

Deep in the Archives below, a spark flickered in the musty air of an empty room. A portal began to appear, pulled open by one hand of a blue-armored figure… as their other hand clutched the piecework shards of a glowing red stone.

Chapter Text

“Where are we going?” Chiara asked, not for the first time.

Kopaka kept his mask pointed straight ahead, peering into the thick fog hovering over the ocean. There was no sound but the hum of the engine and the spray of the sea.

Chiara sighed. She’d only been adventuring with Kopaka for a week or two, but she’d learned that he didn’t enjoy speaking unless it was absolutely necessary. Which was fine by her; unlike most of her tribe, she wasn’t one for mindless chatter and talking long into the night. She did, however, appreciate knowing where she was going and why. They’d been driving for hours now, and Kopaka had said nothing since he stepped into the skiff and set sail.

Chiara lay back in the skiff, resting her head on a seat and staring up into the foggy darkness. The stars were hidden from her; she could see only faint glimmers of light behind shifting clouds. She lay there for another few minutes, until something in the southern sky caught her attention. A bank of fog briefly parted to reveal a different light, not from the stars. This was a golden light, a beacon of sorts, shining bright above the dark and heavy fog. She barely saw it for more than a moment before a heavy wall of fog rolled in and swallowed it whole.

“You’re following that light,” Chiara said. “What for?”

“Quiet!” Kopaka murmured, his voice sharp. “Makuta’s servants could be anywhere. The less we talk, the better.”

Chiara frowned. He’d told her very little, but at least she knew something of what was going on. She lay back in the boat and watched the sky, waiting for another peek at that beacon.

After another few hours, she felt the engine’s hum die down as Kopaka piloted it into a cove. He drove to a secluded spot between two large boulders, then froze the water around the skiff, freezing it in place. Silently, he disembarked and offered his hand to Chiara. She took a deep breath and prepared for the rapid, dizzying sensation of the Kakama Nuva.

When the world stopped shaking around her, they were standing deep in an uncharted jungle, before a ruined stone that could have once been an altar. Chiara looked up - there was no fog here - to see the beacon shining directly above that altar. While she looked, Kopaka stepped forward, his hand hovering near his blade, and stood before the altar. Quietly, he spoke. What he said, Chiara could not make out… but she could certainly see the light around the altar shimmer, and a white and gold Toa appear, wearing a wide grin.

“Takanuva,” Kopaka said. “It’s good to see you. Where are the others?”

There was a slight breeze, and a brown blur zipped across the ground. Kopaka dropped like a stone - as the blur faded, Chiara saw a brown-armored Toa hugging Kopaka tightly. “Brother! It’s been so long, I thought you might have gone off and become a hermit,” he said in a booming voice. The Toa of Ice attempted to look uncomfortable, but Chiara saw the hint of a smile behind his mask. “It’s good to see you, too, Pohatu.”

“Well, that’s awfully touching. Don’t you think so, Onua?” said a tall, red-armored Toa, who stepped into the clearing with a burly Toa of Earth by his side. Both were covered in battle scars. The Toa of Fire stepped forward and looked around, nodding slowly. “Four of the Toa Nuva and Takanuva, together again. Makuta won’t know what hit him.”

“Make that five,” said a female voice. A sleek, powerful Toa of Water pushed through the branches, dripping seawater onto the undergrowth. The others looked taken aback by her presence. “Never fear,” she said calmly. “Metru Nui is in capable hands. I sensed my duty call me elsewhere.”

“Then we're all here... except Lewa,” said the Toa of Fire.

“He’ll turn up eventually,” said Pohatu, letting Kopaka go. “And if not, well, I’m sure you can track him down, brother Onua. How many times have you done it before?”

Chiara blinked slowly. Meeting one of the fabled Toa Nuva had been quite enough. Meeting five of them, and the prophesied Toa of Light? This was almost too much. She gave herself a quick shock to test that she was awake.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t see you there,” said the Toa of Fire, and stepped over to her, offering a fist bump. “I am Tahu Nuva. And who are you, sister Toa?”

“Toa Chiara.” Anxiously, she touched her fist to his, forgetting to curb her elemental power. Tahu shuddered as a mild shock ran up his arm. “A Toa of Lightning, then?” he said, more to the group than to her. “I look forward to seeing that power used against Makuta’s beasts.”

“It’s… it’s an honor to fight with you, sir,” Chiara said haltingly. Kopaka gave her a small smile of encouragement.

“Well, then,” said Tahu, turning back to the assembled Toa Nuva. “Thank you for calling us here, Takanuva. It’s time for a new mission, one we can’t do alone. Makuta is moving his Rahkshi to the south - every last one of them. We don’t yet know why, but the Order has scouts tracking them as best they can. We need to trail them, learn their mission, and before they can manage it, we need to shut them down, hard. So we need help, and lots of it.”

“Trinuma is sending messages to every Toa known to the rebellion, asking them to meet us here,” said Takanuva. “We’re talking about an army of Toa - a gathering larger than anything since the Dark Hunter war. I’ll be channeling my power to keep this beacon lit, but Makuta’s doing his best to hide it. We might need some of us to meet up with new Toa as they come along.”

Gali smiled. “It seems you’ve finally learned the value of unity, brother Tahu.”

“We all have,” said Kopaka. “We’re in this together.”

“That’s right, bring it in!” said Pohatu, clapping his arms around Kopaka and Onua. He glanced over and gestured to Chiara. “Come on, you’re in this, too, sister.”

“Through unity, we will do our duty, and achieve our destiny,” said Tahu. “To beat this enemy, all Toa will need to fight as one. So let’s go out and get ready - ready to take this universe back from Makuta!”

Cheers echoed around the island. Far above, Takanuva’s beacon shimmered in the night, rising above an ever higher tide of shadow.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Within a deep and cold cavern, far beneath the wartorn surface of Zakaz, undying hatred seethed beneath dark, rippling waters. The Skakdi standing nearby saw nothing but an underground lake, but within that body of water moved the scattered remnants of a being long since broken beyond recognition.

Impossibly, unbelievably, and much to his chagrin, Zaktan was alive.

Dimly, vaguely, Zaktan sensed the nearby Skakdi’s energy, and felt rage. I was once like you, he hissed. I had limbs, and a body, and a face... but all of that is gone now.

He could still remember the echoes of the pain that Makuta had dealt him: the sonic waves that had ripped his body apart and would surely have killed him, if not for his sordid power. Instead of dying, he had been broken into smaller pieces yet. At first, he was merely molecules, strewn amidst the dust of the chamber. After a few days, he had been able to gather enough particles together to achieve a semblance of unity, but his control was tenuous. Even now, it took nearly all of his concentration just to keep his matter from drifting apart.

I am cursed to survive, Zaktan realized. No matter what misfortune or punishment befalls me, I will live. Even if something were to kill me now, I would somehow survive, in an even more wretched state. I am cursed... but is this truly a curse, or a blessing?

He had spent weeks in that chamber, gathering the strength to draw his disparate particles together - but that chamber was no ordinary room. It was a mind... the mind of Makuta, and the mind of this universe. Nestled within Makuta’s brain, Zaktan saw what he saw... thought what he thought... felt what he felt. He had waited, he had watched, and he had learned.

Zaktan did not recall how or when the idea had come to Makuta, only that it had. Hidden within the coded formulae and properties of protodermis was a tantalizing concept: a being more powerful than any other in history, formed by fusion in energized protodermis. Zaktan had watched as Makuta researched the destinies of his subjects, and he had seen his opportunity.

That the six Piraka were destined to fuse did not surprise Zaktan. In fact, it made sense of many things. It was no accident that we joined together under the Shadowed One, Zaktan mused, and it was not through luck alone that we survived our quest to Voya Nui. Destiny itself brought and kept us together... all for this day.

Through the rippling waters, Zaktan felt the Skakdi’s cheers. So, they have brought out the snakes, then. I almost pity them... poor little fools who thought they might have control of their own lives. But they never did. Only I will have control.

Zaktan willed his particles to rise from the lake. He knew what he must do. His destiny was to join with these fools to create a better whole, to enter a combination of different minds and become one. But destiny had overlooked one crucial, critical fact:

Zaktan had long since learned how to control a composite mind.

He rose from the lake and slithered through the air, far over the heads of the assembled Skakdi. In moments, I will have a body again... and power nearly unlimited...

Particles quivering with anticipation, Zaktan hovered over the vat of energized protodermis... and dove in.

Chapter Text

Tahu stood on the black sands of a far-flung island, flanked by Takanuva, with a fleet of Toa and Order agents at his heels. It was hard to believe that just weeks earlier, he’d been fighting for his life on Daxia. Now he was leading a battalion of almost every known Toa in the universe as they tracked Makuta’s Rahkshi further and further south. Where they were going, no one knew, but Makuta couldn’t be planning anything good for their destination.

As flying creatures, Rahkshi were notoriously difficult to track. Tahu had assigned every Toa capable of flight or similar abilities to search the skies, looking for sites where they might have landed. He was placing his bets, however, on this island. It was one of the volcanoes that he and Kopaka had quelled a few months ago, but more importantly, it was the site of an old Brotherhood ruin. If the Rahkshi had passed through here, they were likely moving down the eastern island chain, and the Toa could save valuable time by narrowing down their search.

“I see them!” Takanuva called out, just before two blurs of motion came speeding towards them. On a dune up ahead, they stopped, revealing two figures: Kopaka Nuva and his new recruit, Chiara.

“Well? What did you see?” asked Tahu.

Chiara stepped down off the dune and handed Tahu a scrap of scorched armor. “They didn’t just pass through,” she said. “They left a rear guard. Course, they didn’t last long against me and a Toa Nuva.”

Kopaka chuckled. “She did all the real work.”

“Excellent!” said Tahu. “Then we know where to start looking. I’ll call back the eastern scouts immediately.”

“No,” said Kopaka. “That’s what Makuta wants.”

“What? That’s impossible,” said Tahu. “Trinuma did the numbers. That army is nearly all of Makuta’s forces - it’s too big to be some kind of distraction.”

“It’s also too big to require a rear guard,” said Kopaka. “They have us outnumbered; they don’t need to worry about an attack from behind. And there were only two dozen Rahkshi stationed in that ruin, barely enough to pose a threat to more than a few Toa.”

“You don’t mean…” said Tahu, putting the pieces together.

“It’s a false lead,” said Kopaka. “Makuta wants us to waste our time looking for Rahkshi in the eastern chain, but they’re not there. They came here to throw us off the trail, and have been moving down the western chain this whole time.”

“I’ve been in his head. That’s just the kind of trick Makuta would pull,” said Takanuva.

Tahu frowned. All signs pointed to the eastern chain… but wasn’t that the hallmark of Makuta’s plans? You do what you think is right, and then find out you’ve been playing into his hands the whole time. “All right,” he said, “I trust your judgment. Onua, relay these orders to the fleet: all ships in the eastern chain pull back, and travel to the western chain. We’ll reconvene off the shores of Artidax.”

He turned to Kopaka. “Are you sure you eliminated all the Rahkshi on the island?”

“We cleared out the ruin. I can’t speak for the island.”

“Another order, then. Onua, keep one ship docked on this island, until Kopaka gives the send-off. Takanuva, you’ll stay here with him. I want you to sweep the island. Make sure no Rahkshi escape to warn the army we’re coming.”

He looked to the southwest and grimaced. "This will be Makuta's last scheme."

Lariska’s last dagger arced gently across the room and sank effortlessly into the wall. With a mighty sigh, she dropped her throwing stance and stalked over to retrieve her daggers. Trinuma had failed to give her a new mission for weeks now. If this keeps up, I’ll start using civilians as target practice. Maybe then I can stop listening to all their useless gossip.

There was an old saying about Stelt: “A Nui-Rama doesn’t buzz on the Tren Krom Peninsula without Stelt hearing about it.” Even under Makuta’s reign, that saying held true. She had heard them whispering behind her back since she arrived. Haven’t you heard? The Shadowed One is dead, they cried. Makuta finally got him. Took out half of Xia to kill him; the whole island’s a wasteland.

Everyone seemed to expect Lariska to have some sort of reaction to this “news”. They must have been terribly disappointed when she simply nodded and returned to her room to practice her aim. If he’s dead - which I very much doubt - then what’s it to me? she murmured. Makuta’s reign has changed things. It’s every Dark Hunter for themselves now, and I was never going to be weighed down by any kind of “loyalty” anyway. She yanked a dagger out of the wall, then whirled around and buried it up to its hilt, as if the wood were her enemy’s flesh. If he’s dead, then Makuta’s only saved me the trouble of killing him!

That was enough practice for the night; time to go up and see what miserable food the shopkeep had been able to smuggle down to the rebels. Lariska sheathed her daggers and darted up the stairs, looking for Trinuma. If there had been a food shipment, he’d be the first to know.

Something moved in the corner of her eye. She whirled, a dagger already in her fingers, and a terrified Fa-Matoran screamed and ducked. Behind him, there were only the shadows behind the weapon racks, stretched and distorted by the base’s dim light. Lariska scowled at the Matoran and turned away, stalking through the base.

Again! This time, Lariska caught a glimpse: there was a figure moving in the shadows, hugging the wall, moving towards the staircase and the hidden door to the street. As she watched, the silhouette slithered up the stairs and disappeared through the closed door.

Trinuma had forbidden anyone to use that door without clearance, but he was a fool if he thought Lariska was bound by his orders. She slipped it open and crept into the alleys of Stelt, shutting it tight behind her. There - the figure was at the alley’s end, drifting around the corner. Quickly, quietly, Lariska followed, trailing the shadow through the midnight streets.

No small part of her was enjoying this. She hadn’t had such an elusive quarry since that night in Metru Nui… She put that memory out of her mind and darted behind an empty vendor stand, even as the shadow slipped up the street, towards the hill district.

She followed the shadow to one of Stelt’s great mansions. Not a single lightstone was lit; the house was a looming silhouette. The building towered over the garden of stones in its lawn, looking over the market district down below.

Standing on its lawn was the shadow. Now that he stood still, Lariska recognized him, and realized she had known all along. “You could have just spoken to me,” she growled, sheathing her daggers and following Darkness into the mansion. “He ordered you to toy with me, didn’t he? Another one of his little games.”

They moved up a long, sprawling staircase, along a cold, empty hallway, and through a heavy door into a darkened room; a study, perhaps. Darkness melted away as soon as she entered. Though she saw nothing, Lariska could feel a thick carpet beneath her feet, a wooden desk a few steps before her… and the calm, quiet breathing of a figure behind that desk.

“Welcome back, Lariska,” came the Shadowed One’s voice. “I’m sure my return comes as no surprise to you.”

“No pleasure, either,” said Lariska, pacing, as she always did, across the carpet. She stopped when she stepped in a pile of ash. “Why drag me out here in the dead of night? ”

“I have a mission for you,” said the Shadowed One. “Perhaps your most difficult yet - a mission that will test you more than ever before.”

“I’ll manage,” said Lariska. Her pacing had taken her to the side of the room. There was a shelf there, hard and long, filled with stone tablets. “I’ve managed everything you’ve thrown at me so far. What’s one more mission?”

The Shadowed One laughed softly. “Let me give you a history lesson, Lariska. When Makuta Teridax struck down Mata Nui, he did so from a specific location… someplace close to the Great Spirit, from which a single virus could throw him into a deep slumber. But he didn’t find that place himself.”

Lariska criscrossed the carpet, avoiding the pile of ash, as the Shadowed One continued. “He sought the counsel of Makuta Mutran, who told him where to go, and how to poison the Great Spirit.” Somehow, she could sense the Shadowed One grinning. “Do you know how Makuta Mutran came by that information?”

“If I had to guess,” said Lariska, stretching her arms, “I’d say he tortured one of his subjects who’d found it before. But that seems too simple for one of your tales.” She had finished stretching, and now paced up to the front of the desk. “So go ahead… how did Mutran know where it was?”

“Two words,” said the Shadowed One. “Tren Krom.”

Lariska froze. “No.” The darkness seemed to close in around her as she realized what the Shadowed One wanted. “No! You’re not going to get any help from me,” she said, backing away.

“Why, Lariska,” said the Shadowed One, “I’m not asking for much. I just want you to think back, and remember.”

“Find Brutaka. He was there… He saw - He’ll know where you need to go.”

“But Brutaka isn’t here,” came the Shadowed One’s voice, echoing through the gloom. “For a precious few moments, Lariska, you had access to all the secrets of the universe.”

Images, feelings, memories were coming back, memories that she had locked away the moment she was off that island.

“He saw into your mind, and you saw into his.”

Now she could feel the stinging slime where the tendril had grabbed her, and the feeling - the feeling as if the edges of her mind were being burned away -

“I can’t imagine why you would let all of that go to waste,” he insisted, as conversationally as ever. “What are you afraid of, Lariska?”

Lariska cried out and lunged, slamming her dagger into the desk. “You don’t know what I went through!” she hissed. “I don’t think about that island. I don’t think about… I’ll go mad. I’ll go mad if I do.” She took a deep breath, then stared down the gloom where the Shadowed One sat. “You wouldn’t risk your best operative for a fleeting chance of knowledge. You need me. We both know that.”

The Shadowed One was quiet for some time. “You’re right,” he said. “I do need you.”

When he spoke again, his voice was deathly soft. “Seize her.”

Four strong arms appeared out of the darkness and grabbed her. She whirled, yanking her good arm free and plunging a dagger into the creature behind her, and again, and again. Three lethal strikes to the torso - but still he only grabbed her harder, almost crushing her within his arms. Even now, she couldn’t hear him breathing.

“Your daggers won’t do much against Sentrakh, my dear,” said the Shadowed One. His chair scraped the floorboards as he rose. Somewhere in the shadows, there was the sound of crackling energy. “You’re not familiar with my rhotuka power, are you, Lariska? I do prefer not to use it, but sometimes, circumstances force my hand.”

She struggled, thrashing and kicking with enough force to topple most giants, but Sentrakh held her tight. She felt him dragging her forwards, and latched her foot onto the shelf, trying to resist, but to no avail. Desperately, she sank her teeth into his arm, but he didn’t even flinch.

“You’ve made it quite clear that you won’t willingly call on those memories,” said the Shadowed One. “Perhaps you’ll be more forthcoming in an… altered… state of mind.”

The rhotuka spinner let off a flickering orange glow, just enough to see the Shadowed One stepping towards her. Strange shadows danced across his face as he grinned down at her. “Lights out,” he hissed, and the rhotuka struck.

Chapter Text

Pridak stood at the bow of his flagship, staring ahead as the Silver Sea rushed below. Flanking him were Kalmah and Mantax’s flagships. Behind him, he knew, their combined fleet sailed in formation, nearly filling the narrow strait through which they sailed. Each warship was packed with armed and ready soldiers, all tense, eager to put their combat training to use.

Slowly, dimly, the skyline of Metru Nui appeared through the fog. Pridak’s army gave a cheer, a furious and terrifying noise that echoed through the dome of the Silver Sea. Behind him, he could hear the thunderous sound of a battle cry a dozen ships strong.

The city lay ahead, virtually undefended. No ships floated around its perimeter, and no weaponry was visible on the armaments. The only visible defense was a large wall of earth, metal, and stone. Yet Makuta would never leave his prize city defenseless, said Pridak. There must be some trick to all of this.

As if summoned by his thoughts, the voice of Makuta echoed across the ocean like a peal of thunder. “This is what you bring to face me, Barraki? A smattering of savages, petty criminals, and failed Dark Hunters… pathetic. Turn back now, submit to my authority, and I will spare your lives. If you impress me, I may reward you with a ruling title in my empire. If you continue…”

Makuta’s voice shuddered through the bones of every being in the fleet. “You will die.”

Pridak’s lieutenants staggered, dazed by the booming voice. Pridak himself remained where he was, staring covetously at the city on the sea.

“Barraki Pridak,” said the lieutenant to the left, trembling, “is it really wise to con-”

In a single movement, Pridak drew his blade and sliced the lieutenant’s head from her body. His other lieutenants quickly stepped back, stumbling over one another in their haste.

“Imbeciles,” Pridak said, his voice deathly soft. “We continue.”

The fleet sailed on, in deathly silence. No battle cries echoed from behind. As Metru Nui drew near, Makuta spoke again. “Very well, Barraki. Every being in your fleet will perish.”

The Silver Sea erupted. Waves the height of Metru Nui exploded from beneath, scattering the ships like leaves in a hurricane. Pridak watched as entire ships vanished beneath the waves, and others were dashed against the Great Barrier itself. Yet the flagships survived the deluge, and carried on, trailing a scattered few ships behind them. The waves settled, and the fleet continued. From several of the ships came cries of relief, and cheers… which died out when the voice came once more.

“I wasn’t finished.”

The Silver Sea rippled and shook, tossing the ships up and down on massive swells and waves. In the waters around Metru Nui, dozens of Makuta’s warships appeared from thin air, transported from every corner of the universe. The sky darkened as a swarm of Rakhshi soared over the city’s wall, heading directly for the fleet. As Pridak watched, crystalline pillars rose from beneath the sea, crushing unsuspecting ships against their might.

“Evasive maneuvers!” Pridak shouted, and the ships ducked and weaved around the rising pillars. Several fired their cannons, blowing the vast columns to pieces.

“Sir! Those columns, where did they come from?” asked one of his lieutenants.

“This is the Sea of Protodermis,” said Pridak. “Makuta’s hidden ace. Get back to your post, and prepare the soldiers for combat.”

The lieutenant scurried away, struggling to keep his balance on the wildly tilting ship. Pridak watched as a nearby pillar shattered to pieces, and quickly sidestepped the shower of debris. Makuta thinks he has outsmarted us, he mused. But we Barraki have our tricks, too.

He raised his arm and shot a flare directly into the waters ahead. He watched as its scarlet glow sank into the water and disappeared.

“Barraki Pridak! The Makuta’s ships have come within range!” cried a lieutenant. “Shall I give the order to fire?”

“Hold,” said Pridak.

“But sir, the enemy is already-”

“I said hold ,” said Pridak. “Have patience.”

He and the lieutenant watched as the dark ships drew near. On the decks, Skakdi and Exo-Toa armed the plasma cannons, training them on the Barraki’s flagships. “ Sir...! ”

A spray of water erupted from beneath the sea. As the water fell away, it revealed a tremendous, scaled creature, clutching one of Makuta’s warships in its jaws. The Barraki fleet watched as the gigantic Rahi chomped the ship to splinters, then turned and crushed two more against its side.

All around, the Silver Sea exploded with prehistoric Rahi, great and terrifying in their size and strength. A tentacled creature slithered out on the port side, snatching three enemy ships in its coils. A humongous whale arose and charged another ship, gouging a hole in its hull. An enormous jellyfish floated out of the waters and wracked four ships with chain lightning. In the midst of the chaos, a long, green sea serpent reared its head above the battle, and knocked countless Rahkshi from the sky with its roar. Atop its spined back, a familiar clawed figure rode the serpent, directing the giant Rahi from behind a Kanohi Zatth.

“Barraki Ehlek has come through,” Pridak informed his lieutenants. “Makuta’s warships are no longer a concern. Direct the fleet to steer through the pillars, and tell the soldiers to prepare for ground combat. We are winning this war today .”

“Click, click! Too-whoot, too-whoot!”

“What is it, Nuju?” asked Nokama, moving to join him at the cell’s narrow window. “Is it time?”

Above them, the night sky of Metru Nui was ablaze with movement. Stars rushed through the sky, shining and dimming with remarkable speed. New stars appeared, burned bright, and winked out in an instant. It was as if the sky itself had gone haywire.

Dume stepped back, breathing heavily. “The prophecy is coming true.”

“What prophecy? I don’t quick-know any prophecy about the stars going dance-mad,” said Matau. “Have you been keeping more dark-tales from us, old fire-spitter?”

“Forgive me,” said Dume. “Keeping secrets has long been my policy. What you did not know, Makuta could not learn from you.”

“I doubt he’s listening now. So what is it?” asked Onewa. “Spit it out.”

“Ancient records state that when the stars dance with madness, the world nears its end,” said Dume. “When it does, the Toa will be called away to a greater duty, and protecting the Matoran shall fall to the Turaga.”

“Well, isn’t that a cheerful prospect,” said Whenua. “How are we to complete that duty when we can’t even get out of this cell?”

“Patience, Whenua,” said Dume. “I wasn’t finished. To save the Matoran, the prophecies say, the Turaga must join together… and become one.”

“You don’t mean…” said Nokama.

“Yes,” said Vakama, stepping forwards. “I once had a vision of this day, although I did not yet understand it. Now, the time has come. Come, brothers and sister. We must concentrate on our unity.”

Dume stepped back, and the six Turaga of Mata Nui joined hands. Each bowed their head and focused their mind. Memories of past battles came flooding back: the Morbuzakh… the Krahka… the Rahi Nui… even Makuta himself. As they focused, and concentrated, and remembered, their bodies began to glow, until…

The light cleared, and Dume opened his eyes. Standing in front of him was a tall, robed figure, bearing the emblems of all six Turaga. Its eyes gleamed with the wisdom of their combined years.

“We are the Turaga Nui,” it proclaimed. “The time has come to leave this cell.”

With its mighty fist, the Turaga Nui smashed open the cell door, sending it careening down the corridor. Dume hurried out. “Quickly! I must have my staff.”

Shortly afterwards, Ahkmou heard the office’s iron door crumple, and nearly jumped out of his robe. He turned to face the doorway, quivering as the Turaga Nui towered above him.

“Ahkmou,” the Turaga Nui boomed, and raised their hand. The Po-Matoran flinched - then looked up in surprise as the Turaga Nui extended their open palm. “Come with us. A new world is upon us, where all Matoran will be free.”

Ahkmou stared up at the behemoth, noting Onewa’s mask and tools. His hand rose shakily - then he pulled back.

“That sounds nice,” he said flatly. He tossed Dume’s staff to the ground, then turned to go.

“Wait,” the Turaga Nui urged, but Ahkmou kept walking, disappearing into the Coliseum. The Turaga Nui frowned. “Why can we not reach him?”

“Only the Great Spirit can say. As for me, I am quite tired of pretenders and cowards claiming my title,” Dume said, picking up his staff. “Come. It is time to shepherd the Matoran from Makuta’s domain.”

The Turaga Nui and Dume stood on the balcony of the Coliseum, staring down at the city. No Rahkshi, Exo-Toa, or Visorak patrolled the streets; all had vacated their positions to battle the Barraki. Yet the Matoran still labored. Some were the products of his reeducation efforts; others had simply come to expect swift and terrible punishment for idling. “My beautiful city, enslaved,” Dume growled. “Well, no more.”

“Matoran of Metru Nui!” called the Turaga Nui. “Put down your tools and leave your stations. No more work will be done for Makuta!”

Throughout the city, Matoran looked up to the Coliseum. The most diligent and fearful of them continued to work, but the rest set down their tools and watched. Macku stepped out of her hiding place and looked joyously to the Coliseum. “They’ve done it! The Turaga have done it!”

“Makuta’s reign has come to an end,” the Turaga Nui announced. “We must take shelter. Leave your stations, and enter the Archives. We will meet you there.”

“It can’t be,” said Kai worriedly. “It’s some trick of the Makuta.”

“Come on,” said Macku, pulling Kai away from her station. “It’s time to go.”

From above, the Turaga Nui watched the mass exodus of the Matoran. Dume kept his gaze trained on the battle raging outside the wall. “Mavrah’s Rahi have returned… Incredible. To think that Metru Nui would face its end like this!”

“The Matoran will be safe within the Archives,” said the Turaga Nui. “Let us go with them.”

“Indeed,” said Dume. “All we can do now is wait out the storm.”

Kazi rummaged through a thorny scrub, hoping to find some remnant of fruit. Nothing. Piruk was right. Without the mask, the Green Belt’s turned just as dry as the rest of Voya Nui.

Suddenly, the forest trembled, knocking Kazi to the ground. I suppose the best cure for hunger is a distraction, he reasoned. Well, besides food. Against his better instincts, Kazi drew his Echo Forks and moved towards the source of the tremor.

After several minutes, he entered a clearing where the dust was beginning to settle. A vast doorway had been blasted open in a rock wall. Behind it was an ancient stone staircase leading down into the depths, and coming up those steps was...

Kazi’s mouth dropped open. A tall, armored giant, glowing with radiant energy, was striding from the staircase onto Voya Nui. And behind him was none other than…

“Velika? What are you - who is - how-?” Kazi spluttered.

“When the oasis appears, the traveler asks no questions,” replied Velika.

Kazi was almost ready to strike Velika in anger, but the gleaming giant stepped before him. “I am Umbra,” he said. He glared at the Rahkshi above with unbridled disgust, drawing his lance. “Shelter the Matoran in the Nui Caves. This battle is for me alone.”

Bara Magna was a planet-wide battleground. Legions of Rahkshi, Skakdi, Toa, and Glatorian stretched from the mountains in the north to the canyons in the east. In the midst of the southern front, Chiara glanced up at the enormous shapes of Mata Nui and Makuta, and wondered what the battle looked like from their eyes.

She couldn’t wonder for much longer. A light purple Rahkshi leapt over the pile of armored bodies nearby and charged, eagerly snarling at her.

Chiara ducked to the left and fired to the right – but the Rahkshi moved with her, striking her with the end of its staff and sending her sprawling. Too late, she realized: It can read my thoughts. When I think about my next attack, I’m just giving it a heads-up.

The Rahkshi raised its staff, preparing to spear her. Chiara prepared to roll to the side, but if the Rahkshi knew where she was going to be, did it even matter?

Suddenly, the decision was made for her: a blade erupted from the Rahkshi’s torso, smeared with the innards of its kraata. The Rahkshi let out a dying squeal, then collapsed to the ground, revealing a blue and gold Toa behind it.

“My thanks,” said Chiara. Within the past few weeks, she’d met more Toa than she ever knew existed, but this one didn’t look familiar. “Who-”

“The name’s Orde,” said the Toa, already turning to face the oncoming horde. “And you’re Chiara. Charmed.”

A Toa of Psionics, then. That explained how this Toa was able to fend off a telepathic Rahkshi. But there were already more enemies crawling over the corpses of their brethren. Chiara picked off foes with bolts of lightning, but Orde gave no help whatsoever. “Hey!” she called, elbowing the Toa. “They’re nearly on top of us!”

Orde blinked, then glared at Chiara. “I was concentrating. There’s another mind-”

A wave of energy ripped across the sand, sending both Toa to their knees. Too late, Orde saw a blue and yellow Rahkshi circling above, pointing its staff at them. Both Toa found their movements slowed, like they were passing through thick mud, while Makuta’s troops were drawing ever closer, still at full speed. Desperately, Orde began to prepare a mental blast, hoping it would be ready before their enemies cut them down, and knowing it would not.

Suddenly, the Rahkshi hit the ground with a crash. Both Toa felt their speed return to them. Chiara wasted no time in electrifying half the enemy squadron, while Orde pulverized the rest with a mental blast. The Rahkshi struggled to get to its feet - yet its body didn’t obey it. As both Toa watched, its limbs twisted inwards, and dents appeared in the Rahkshi’s armor as its armor began to buckle. There was a glint of fear in its eyes - just before its armor imploded, showering Chiara and Orde with kraata juices.

Chiara saw a lone figure standing atop a nearby ridge, wearing the colors of a Toa of Iron - Zaria.

“Glad you’re on our side!” Chiara called up to him. “A shame you can’t do that to Makuta up there, huh?”

Zaria scowled and turned away. A few mio off, there was a massive plume of mud, followed by an explosion that shook the sand dunes apart. That must have been Gali and Pohatu’s Tiro maneuver, Chiara thought. We need to press the advantage.

She turned to inform Orde, but the Toa of Psionics was already running in that direction. Zaria, too, had abandoned her. Apparently, not all Toa were as polite as the Toa Nuva.

Not that it matters, Chiara reminded herself. We just have to get through this war, and then I never have to speak to either of them ever again.

Makuta sidestepped a swing of Mata Nui’s fist, crushing an entire canyon beneath his heel. Although he had dodged Mata Nui’s attack, he staggered, and felt weakness rippling through him. Mata Nui seized his chance, and smashed into Makuta’s torso.

“Two thousand Matoran just died,” Makuta growled, as he felt tsunamis wash across the northern continent. “They died watching the sky fall and the oceans rise, cursing their Great Spirit’s name.”

“Then they have given their lives for the good of the universe,” said Mata Nui, and attacked again. Makuta saw the attack coming, and prepared to dodge, only to feel another stab of weakness. The Barraki are gaining ground, he realized. It was tempting to unleash another earthquake, to rain fire and destruction on their armies - but doing so would devastate Metru Nui and weaken his own body. Sparing only a thought, he teleported more troops to Metru Nui, then pulled away from Mata Nui’s assault.

I must finish this quickly. Steeling himself, Makuta went on the offensive, blasting Mata Nui with a torrent of flames. He struck again, knocking Mata Nui back, and again. But Mata Nui would not fall, and pressed back, pushing him towards the north. Makuta blocked out the noises from within his body, blocked out the sight of planets moving above, and concentrated on Mata Nui. He will die. He has to die - now!

Chapter Text

The second siege of Metru Nui was well under way. Ehlek’s Rahi had devastated Makuta’s fleet, and now the Barraki’s warships drew near the coast of the island city. Pridak looked ahead at the massive wall around Metru Nui, thousands of meters high, and bristling with Rahkshi, Exo-Toa, and Visorak. This will be a challenge… but I wouldn’t have it any other way.

With a final burst of speed, Pridak’s flagship evaded the city’s plasma cannons and landed on the beach. Below, the hold doors opened and his troops rushed out, screaming their various battle cries, to meet Makuta’s ground troops. Pridak drew his blades and leapt from the bow, landing at the head of his troops. “ Attack! ”

From his flagship several leagues behind, Kalmah cursed Pridak’s name. As usual, Pridak had charged ahead of the other Barraki, and now his legions were left to face the full might of Makuta’s ground forces on their own. Not to mention, Makuta’s forces had successfully slain several of Ehlek’s Rahi, meaning that the rest of the fleet was facing increased resistance from Makuta’s sea and air troops, and couldn’t spare their artillery to aid Pridak. If the warships didn’t push through, Pridak’s forces would be trapped between attackers on two fronts.

Astride a prehistoric sea serpent, Ehlek watched the tentacled whale sink below the waves, staining the water with blood. He spat a sailor’s curse and directed the surviving creatures to pull back and regroup. With a flare, he gave the second signal, and members of his aquatic race immediately boarded Makuta’s remaining ships, slicing through dozens of Rahkshi with their talons. Then he steered the serpent to the west, urging the Rahi to follow and attack the city wall. The others can handle Makuta’s troops, he grumbled. I have a score to settle with the Matoran.

Mantax watched the battle unfold before him. This is a disaster. Pridak has trapped himself on the coast, Kalmah is studying his charts rather than reinforcing him, and Ehlek has decided this is a good time for a Matoran hunt. Idiots, the lot of them. It would take a miracle to win this battle now.

Just as he had finished the thought, he noticed a disturbance on the city wall. Several of Makuta’s troops had either jumped or been thrown from the wall, and now it seemed like the wall itself was moving. He focused his telescope on the scene and watched carefully. What new attack is this?

Kalmah looked up from his tactical diagrams. Are those… cracks… in the wall?

“Halt!” Ehlek bid his serpent, and turned his attention to the middle wall. From his vantage point, he could see figures moving behind the wall - one of them over twenty feet tall, and still growing.

Pridak drew his sword out of a squirming Rahkshi and slashed through an approaching Exo-Toa. Up ahead, he could see the wall beginning to shake and crumble. Shards of earth and stone toppled from the wall, crushing Exo-Toa and Rahkshi beneath their weight. “Forward!” he cried. “The Great Spirit smiles on us!”

With a thunderous crash, the wall came tumbling down, burying hundreds of Makuta’s troops. The Barraki’s soldiers cheered and pushed through Makuta’s forces with renewed vigor. Climbing over the rubble of the wall, six armored figures surveyed the battle.

“It’s as I foresaw,” Gaaki murmured. “‘In the last battle, the Toa will throw open the gates of Metru Nui to its rescuers.’ Though, these certainly aren’t the rescuers I was expecting.”

“But they’re the rescuers we have,” Bomonga boomed from above, and raised his seismic spear high into the stormy skies. “Toa Hagah - attack!”

“Are you sure this is the place?” asked the Shadowed One.

“As sure as I can be of anything,” Lariska snapped. She was doing her best to keep it together, to resist the madness clawing at her mind, but he could see her eyes jumping back and forth at things that were not there, and her fingers shuddering where her daggers used to be.

“I see madness has not improved your wit,” he muttered, and turned to the room ahead of them. Lariska had led him to a forgotten island, into a ruin built by no known civilization. Deep beneath the surface, Sentrakh had torn open a pair of stone doors to reveal a small chamber, with what appeared to be a well in its center.

“The mouth of Makuta,” Lariska hissed. “Can’t you hear him whispering? He’s right behind you… all around us… above and below, swallowing us whole.”

The Shadowed One ignored her and peered into the well. There was no water to be seen, only a long, dark shaft, reaching deep into the earth. He picked off a chunk of stone and dropped it into the shaft, and never heard it land.

“This is where he came, the shadow-spawn, slithering into the crevices,” said Lariska. When she looked at the Shadowed One, she saw Makuta, too, standing in the same body. Briefly, the walls flashed red and squirmed, while voices shuddered in the back of her mind. “This is where he breathed poison into the world and struck down Mata Nui.”

“And so, history repeats itself,” said the Shadowed One. “Isn’t the irony delicious - that Makuta should be felled by the same weapon he used against his brother?”

He opened Kojol’s box and drew out a glass vial. “This is a momentous occasion, Lariska. Today, I strike down my greatest enemy… the last obstacle to my conquest. My only regret is that he will never see it coming.”

Lariska grabbed his arm. “You must be more insane than I am. How many times do I have to explain it? The Great Spirit is our world. You're nothing, Shadowed One, neither am I - we're insects, less than insects, next to him. Makuta struck him down to replace him, but you would kill him and leave nothing in his place. Without a Great Spirit, our world will die a long, cold death, and it will be your fault!”

Crystal formed over Lariska’s arm. With a burst of strength, the Shadowed One broke her grip and struck her with his staff, knocking her to the floor. “I have lived a long, cold life, Lariska. I will create a new world, one of shadows and ice, where Dark Hunters thrive.” He grinned. “You should be thanking me!”

His fingers trembled; then he took a deep breath and let the vial go. It plunged down, down, into the darkness of the shaft, turning end over end, until it vanished from sight. They never heard it shatter.

“Almost disappointing, really,” said the Shadowed One. He turned to go - and then Lariska slammed into him, wrestling him to the ground with raving madness in her eyes and crystal shards slaking from her armor.

“I’m not letting you win,” she hissed. “You don’t deserve to, not after everything you’ve done to me!”

“Calm yourself,” he said, struggling against her, but she was younger and stronger. “You don’t want to do anything you’ll regret.”

“I could say the same to you!” Lariska snarled. “You put these images in my mind… you’ve tortured… mutilated me, taken things from me… humiliated me, nearly broken me. But you’ve used me for the last time!” Her mechanical fingers dug into his armor. “I kept myself from killing you every day, waiting for the right time, because it wasn’t logical or wise to do it. But now this world is going to end, by your own hand. Makuta will die, and we’ll all die with him. And all that logic and wisdom doesn’t matter in the end, when I could just kill you now and be done with it… finally be done with you, and everything else, forever.” Lariska barked a laugh as she grabbed his throat, ready to tear it out. “And I don’t need a dagger to kill you!”

The Shadowed One choked out a signal. Four arms grabbed Lariska and slammed her into the wall, instantly knocking her unconscious. Sentrakh held her there, ready to slam again, until the Shadowed One rose and dismissed him. His bodyguard dropped her limp body to the ground.

The Shadowed One stared down at Lariska and frowned. “That is the danger with my rhotuka power, of course,” he muttered to himself. “You never know exactly how they’ll respond.”

He rubbed the scratch marks she’d left on him. “Standard procedure,” he bid Sentrakh. “Wipe her memory of these events, and place her in an illusion that explains what ‘really’ happened.” He turned to go, an eager gleam in his eyes. “The final blow has already been struck. Now we need only wait for Makuta to slumber, and then the universe will be mine.”

Velika stood in the Chamber of Life. Without the mask on its pedestal, the chamber felt empty; rather than a final challenge, it was merely a vast, volcanic cavern. Here and there, Rahi bats fluttered through the smoke. Velika strolled through the chamber and up to the empty pedestal, where he knelt down… and wrenched open a concealed panel, containing an ancient, rusted switch.

With the switch pulled, the pedestal shuddered into motion, rotating as it rose, revealing a spiral staircase. Below was a vast expanse of gloom. Velika smiled, and descended.

At the bottom, the darkness was broken only by the dim glow of several consoles. Velika spoke a single word, and columns of light flared into existence, illuminating the entire chamber. In the center of the floor was a huge, metallic seal, with the emblem of the Great Beings burned into it. Gathered all around were machines and consoles, blinking with readings and energy signatures. Massive tubes and wires snaked from the machinery down long, dark tunnels in the stone, heading to every corner of the universe. Carved into the wall was the name of this place: KARDA NUI CONTROL VALVE.

Velika moved over to a video screen and examined it. The Energy Storms were hard at work; in fact, their energy was being channeled at an alarmingly high rate. He inspected the universal systems. Makuta was taking heavy damage from an outside source, and his weapons systems were running at full capacity.

The movement of a single pebble can bring down a storm of rock.

Velika unlocked the master switch for the chamber’s power, and shut it off.

The loss of his Rahkshi staggered Makuta’s mind, even as something sapped the last of his strength. He felt suddenly lethargic. As he stepped back, reeling from the blow, he turned his attention inside. Metru Nui was vacant, and the last of its power was dwindling. Across the various lands of his empire, his subjects were fighting back, disrupting his systems. Somewhere near Karda Nui, he felt a key power conduit shut down from the inside. Dread rippled through his mind, and Makuta realized he was dying.

He looked outside. Mata Nui towered over him, but his eyes were not focused on the Makuta robot; they were looking up. Too late, Makuta saw his doom bearing down on him.

Impact.

Chapter Text

The last of Kalmah’s and Mantax’s troops landed, and joined Pridak’s charge. Makuta’s forces had massed to defend the breach in the wall, but they could not stand against the combined might of the Toa Hagah and the Barraki. Pridak’s legions crushed the opposition, and he and his troops leapt over the rubble of the wall to stand in Metru Nui. “At last!” he cried, and planted his sword in the ground. “The City of Legends belongs to the Barraki!”

That was when the world ended. Pridak felt himself lifted into the air, and began to fall towards the sky, as if the world had turned on its axis. He saw the Silver Sea become a wall of water and rush towards him, blowing the city wall to pieces and slamming into Metru Nui. The flood hurled him down the streets of Le-Metru and smashed him into the Moto-Hub. Pridak felt his breathing helmet shatter, just before he was dashed against another building, and carried away by the tides. He watched as the scattered remnants of his ships and soldiers floated by him, and lost consciousness.

“Barraki…!”

Pridak felt his body moving through the ocean. He opened his eyes to see a Vortixx, one of his lieutenants, had pulled him from the waters… onto dry land!

“You idiot!” he cried, giving a hacking cough. “I can’t… breathe…”

He trailed away as he realized the impossible: he could breathe. His breathing helmet was so much shrapnel and glass, and his body was still monstrous and finned… but he was breathing air.

“What is this?” he murmured.

“I don’t know, sir,” said the Vortixx, “but since the universe turned upside down, I don’t know a lot of things.”

Pridak looked around. He and his rescuer were perched on the side of the Coliseum, where he had been pulled from a flooded room. Far above them was the leveled City of Legends, most of its buildings smashed to pieces. Below them, the waters of the Silver Sea had pooled over the darkened sky. The remains of buildings and warships floated idly through the dark waters. Some distance away, he could see the corpse of a giant sea serpent, its body battered and broken by impact with the skyscrapers.

“I don’t think there’s anything to be done, sir,” said the Vortixx. Pridak realized that several of his other soldiers were standing behind her. “The world is ending.”

“No,” Pridak coughed. His mind turned to the writing he had uncovered in the Makuta fortress, so many months ago. “There is… more… beyond the Great Barrier. We must leave this universe to die.”

His soldiers shared nervous glances. “Sir,” said one of them, “the legends say there is only the void outside our walls! You’ll lead us to our deaths!”

Pridak glared at the soldier. In an instant, the Barraki was on his feet, clutching the offending soldier by the throat. “No,” he growled, “I will lead my soldiers to salvation… except for you.”

Pridak hurled the soldier off the balcony, and let her fall from the Coliseum. His soldiers watched as she fell, screaming, into the darkened waters. The flooded dome seemed to swallow her whole.

“Does anyone else question my knowledge?” Pridak asked.

No one did.

“Another subject, sir,” said the Vortixx tentatively. She gestured to a building nearby, where Pridak could see several shapes moving. “Many of the survivors were injured, and cannot walk. How shall we transport them?”

“Are you a fool?” said Pridak. “We leave them. An injured soldier is no use to anyone.” He strode towards the Coliseum’s elevator, and wrenched open its doors. “There is a network of tunnels beneath here,” he explained. “They will lead us outside. Follow me if you wish to live.”

Behind him, the Vortixx and the soldiers murmured amongst themselves. “We don’t know what’s out there. We could be walking to our doom.” “Perhaps Barraki Pridak knows more than we do.” “Leaving is unknown, but staying here is certain death. I’ll take my chances.”

Eventually, the Vortixx made her decision. Silently, she climbed into the elevator, and joined Pridak. The rest of the soldiers mumbled incoherently, and followed. They rode, and then walked, in silence.

Pridak led his soldiers through the tunnels of the Coliseum, recalling the directions to the core. Makuta’s records had said this place was lined with traps, but as he continued, nothing else moved in the tunnels. Perhaps the traps had perished with the universe itself.

He never made it to the core. Halfway there, he found a tunnel opening blown apart, and climbed up into alien sunlight. Pridak and his soldiers stood in the middle of a gaping wound, amidst a slab of rock and metal. He knew not what could have devastated the Great Spirit so drastically, but he knew there was no life left within that thick hull.

“Barraki Pridak!” The cries came from behind his soldiers, as they gasped in surprise. Pridak looked to them, and then down at his body. A wave of light washed over his claws, his scales, and fins, which began to glow and change. When the light had cleared, he looked down at his old body: strong, lithe, and supple, the most perfectly forged body in all creation. He was beautiful once more.

His soldiers stared in dumbstruck wonder, until the Vortixx knelt and bowed her head in reverence. Still dazed, the other soldiers followed suit. Pridak looked down upon them through his bright and shining eyes, and gave a smile.

“There can be no doubt,” he declared. “We are favored by the Great Spirit, Mata Nui. Follow me, and you will share in the greatness of my kingdom on this new world!”

His soldiers cheered. Pridak looked down at the rolling hills and green forests below him, admiring the bounty of this rich new paradise. “Oh, yes,” he murmured. “This will make an excellent kingdom.”

A cliff hawk soared over the plains of Spherus Magna, its red and yellow feathers radiant in the sun. Its screech echoed through the sky, down into the rolling grasses and plentiful trees… and the massive wall of metal and stone that lay across the hills. The titanic corpse sprawled across mountains and fields, silent and still. Except…

Steam rose from a large, round panel in the wall. A tremendous noise echoed from within, the sound of tools meeting metal and stone, and forcing them to yield. A crackling energy sent sparks flying from the seal, and then the panel exploded outwards, crushing an acre of grass and earth beneath it.

The Turaga Nui stepped out of the hatch and onto the cool, soft grass. Its tools were still blazing with energy, but they were rapidly cooling, and the light was fading from its eyes. “Our destiny… is done,” it declared. Then the Turaga Nui shimmered and vanished, leaving six Turaga in its place.

“That was… amazing,” said Nokama, giddy with the rush of power. “Imagine what good we could do with this power!”

“I already have,” said Matau, grinning wildly. “Mind-picture it now: not Toa-heroes, but Turaga-heroes, saving the Matoran from dark-troubles!”

“We certainly could have used that in the past,” said Whenua, and playfully glared at Nuju. “Why didn’t you tell us sooner, huh?”

Nuju did not reply, but instead watched a red and yellow bird flying above, and mimicked its call. Onewa nodded solemnly. “I think you may be overlooking something rather important, brothers: we are standing outside the known universe.” He turned. “Vakama, what can we expect from this new world?”

Vakama shook his head, and smiled. “My visions have shown me nothing. But I feel hope… hope for a better and brighter future than before.”

Two Onu-Matoran helped Turaga Dume from the tunnel, and he smiled as he looked at his fellow Turaga. “Well done, my brethren,” he said. “You have fulfilled the prophecy, and brought our people to Paradise. Now,” he said, and gestured to the tunnel behind him, “the true task begins.”

From deep within the tunnels of the Great Barrier, thousands of Matoran stepped, blinking, into the light of a new world. The Matoran of Metru Nui… of Karzahni… and of Karda Nui itself, all dazed and breathless as they wondered what the universe would ask of them. Macku led the crowd, and was the first to jump down and touch her feet to the foreign grass and the cool, dark dirt.

Vakama watched, smiling, as the Matoran spilled out into the meadow. When most had emerged, he bid them gather round. The other Turaga nodded. Whenua laid his drill on the ground, and carved a circle of earth, while Onewa stepped forth with a collection of stones: some large, some small, and one jagged and black. Vakama took them in his hands and smiled at them.

“In the time,” he began, “before time...”

Vira woke with a gasping breath. His last memory was running through the streets of Le-Metru, trying to find the rest of the Matoran. He had seen the wall come crashing down, and run for shelter. Then something blotted out the sun, and...

He realized he was screaming. No sooner had he realized this than a hand was clamped over his mouth and a dark mask appeared in his vision. “Shhh. Shhh. Quiet. Calm. You’re in our care now,” said a voice, without even making an attempt to sound soothing. “You’re alive now, and that’s all that matters, isn’t it?”

Vaguely, Vira became aware of his surroundings. He was lying on a cold slab of metal, and someone was standing over him, someone wearing a mask he had never seen before. His whole body felt like pins and needles, and he swore he could feel something pressing against, crushing, his windpipe. The entire scene was tinted with a red glow.

“Greetings,” said the dark figure. “Welcome back. Took a nasty blow there. Well, several nasty blows. Actually, I’ve never seen an impact death quite so drastic as that one. And all the sharp little bits, those were an absolute pain to remove. Probably more of a pain when they were going in, though, wouldn’t you agree?” The figure gave a dark chuckle.

Vira’s heartlight was flashing. Everything felt very wrong. “I don’t - I’m not - ”

“Shhh. Shhh! You’ll be fine. You’re all patched up, good as new, or mostly so, anyway,” said his demented caretaker. “Now, I don’t want to rush you, since I know it can be a disconcerting experience. But we’ve only got so many work tables, you know, and the workload is preposterously huge right now. So if you could, I don’t know, maybe get moving...?”

Vira felt the figure not-so-gently drawing him off the slab. When he set his feet on the ground, he cried out and nearly collapsed. As the figure helped him back up, he found that he couldn’t stand upright. His feet didn't stand evenly apart.

“Sorry about that. They took some nasty twists in the incident,” said the figure. “Normally we’d have our best team on that, but we’re swamped as-is. It’s all right, though. Wait times for the transport beam are at a record high, so even when we get through this batch of bodies, you’ll probably still be around for a fix-up. You good on that?”

With the figure supporting half of his body, Vira hobbled forwards, away from the slab. In his peripheral vision, he saw another body appear on the table in a glow of light. It was when he looked ahead that all the trouble started.

His figure was guiding him towards a metal hatch in the wall. Vira saw something moving in the reflection, but that wasn’t him. It couldn’t be him. That was an aberration - a mistake. Its arms were twisted and bent, its body was plated with mismatched armor, and it was missing almost a third of its mask. That was a monster.

“You see? A decent repair job, given the parts shortage and all,” said the figure holding him - grabbing him - not letting him go. “One fixed-up Le-Matoran, coming through!”

Vira felt his broken body move, felt the mismatched parts jostle and clash, felt both his legs bend the wrong way. He felt his mask hang loosely from his face, and he felt something snap in his gearbox.

Something else snapped as well. Shaking his loosely tethered mask as he did so, Vira began to laugh. A hoarse, garbled noise began to echo off the walls, and didn’t stop. After a moment, his caretaker began to laugh, too.

The hatch squealed open, joining their laughter to a chorus of noises. Dozens of sobbing voices rang out, accompanied by a howling moan and punctuated by piercing screams. Shrill cackling and gravelly gasping joined the chorus, building in volume, echoing along the corridors of the Red Star.

To be continued in “The Powers That Be”.