Chapter Seven

For the Rahkshi of Gravity, delving far into the collapsed ruins of Onu-Metru had proven difficult. The district had taken the brunt of the damage in the crash, leaving much of the floor below destroyed. In the few areas that were still left intact, buildings had toppled upon other buildings, caving in and creating a labyrinth of rubble and fractured structures.

Nonetheless, it dove between the cracks and fissures in the wreckage, winding down into the underground. The shattered ruins of the Archives awaited it, with abandoned relics lost in the remains of the once great city.

Passing through a system of tunnels, it watched as three Nuhvok chipped away at the metal walls, slowly boring their way through. Ordinarily loyal to the Bahrag Queens, these Bohrok had found their Krana forcibly removed, now rendered simple machines to be directed towards the goal of whichever master controlled them.

At last, it had reached its destination. Breaking through the floor, the Rahkshi entered a small chamber at the lowest level of the city. The floor was barely intact, with the night sky shining through the holes. But at the center of the room, in a place surrounded by broken machinery, was a shimmering pool of liquid. Many tunnels stretched into it, like many rivers flowing out from the sea, and reached out throughout the underbelly of Metru Nui.

Once, this substance had been the very life of this mechanical universe. Now, this small system was some of the last of it in existence.

Gathered around the pool, Barahk’s fellow Rahkshi were licking their wounds. Lerahk sat atop a rock, examining its scorched armor. Kuhrak and Tuhrak were adjusting to their new armors, stretching out their newly repaired mechanical limbs. Guurahk and Panrahk were worse for wear, tracking in dust and sand particles from the Kranua they had spent hours disintegrating down to the last atom.

Of the six, only Vorahk was still unscathed, but seemed infuriated, pacing back and forth in frustration. Barahk walked up to its fellow Rahkshi, and placed a hand on its mechanical shoulder.

“Do not worry,” it chittered in the Kraata’s tongue. “You will have your chance to fight.”

A rippling sound echoed through the room, alerting all seven Rahkshi to its presence. The pool of silvery liquid in the center of the room bubbled, slowly boiling over in intensity. As it did, a liquid arm reached out from the depths, followed by another. Slowly, they began pulling upwards, revealing a vague and featureless figure made of liquid. Then, the waters began melting off of it, shaping the figure like clay.

Before long, the silver waters draped over the figure’s head in the shape of the Mask of Shadows, as it slowly took on an armored shape made of crystallized protodermis. Spindly, liquid limbs drizzled from the being’s torso, as two glowing eyes looked down on the Rahkshi with a pensive glare.

“It has been some time since my last setback, but I have recomposed myself at last,” the liquid being announced. “I am sorry to see that the city’s old defenses have given you trouble. Like the Bohrok, reactivating their fallen nest was meant to be a chance for them to show their worth. But they were mere automatons, with no duty or loyalty. I shouldn’t have expected them to succeed at a task so great.”

The Rahkshi of Gravity shook its head. The Kranua fell to the Rahkshi, in time. If the Vahki showed their faces again, the Rahkshi would be ready.

“Regardless, the preparations for my return are nearly complete,” the being continued. “Tell me, what has become of the intruders?”

Barahk scraped and snarled, inferring that scouts had been sent. While it tried to hide the fact that their delay troubled him, the liquid being saw through its facade.

It hummed, a strange, bubbling sound. “Your fear is not without reason. They are capable warriors, no doubt. Perhaps even a match for a son of Makuta.”

Barahk rose to its feet, and shook its head with a snarl. Whether or not it would be able to defeat these intruders, the Rahkshi knew it did not matter. The great shadow’s fall would seal every Matoran’s fate.

The liquid sizzled in satisfaction, understanding the Rahkshi’s meaning. “Perhaps. But perhaps they have been brought here for a reason. After all, what point is there in my return, if no one is there to herald it?” It outstretched its arm, like a wave crashing onto the metal surface. “Recover with your brothers. If you encounter the intruders while you are out there, lure them to the Coliseum. There, they will bear witness to my resurrection.”

A loud crash resounded through the room, and Barahk darted its head over. Peering through the window, he watched as the flames of the Great Furnace tore through Ta-Metru, as another building collapsed into the magma.

“It would seem that the intruders have caused more trouble than I had foreseen,” the shimmering being mused. “Much of Ta-Metru has been destroyed by their actions. But this will not stop us. It will only… expedite our plan.”

Barahk turned on a heel, and looked at the liquid being with steely determination. This would not become an obstacle in the master’s plan. It turned its head to its fellow Rahkshi, and slowly nodded to each of them.

“Go, my sons,” a voice gargled from within the substance. “Fulfill our destiny.”

Barahk nodded. “At once, Makuta.”

✴        ✴        ✴

The maze of tunnels beneath (or, at the moment, above) Metru Nui were silent, save for the sound of Pewku’s claws scuttling across the metal floor. As Vhisola and Kiina rode atop the Ussal, they had said few words to one another. Adrenaline was a main factor in this, as they were both still recovering from the exhilarating experience of being flung through the air. But for Vhisola in particular, doubts were beginning to weigh on her mind. The primary one, of course, was wondering if she could possibly be wrong.

It wasn’t her fault that she had landed Kiina and herself in this mess, of course. None of the Matoran had spotted the wild Rahkshi beforehand, there was no reason to believe that they would be an issue. But now that they were in the equation, she was much less confident in her ability to preserve the city of legends.

Pewku slowed to a halt, bringing Vhisola back to the present. The Matoran looked up, only to meet the stone eyes of a large statue head, blocking the path forward through the tunnels.

“It must have fallen from above,” she remarked plainly, walking up to examine the anomaly. “We made a wrong turn somewhere. This is Po-Metru.”

“What makes you say that?” asked Kiina, slowly dismounting Pewku’s saddle.

Vhisola turned to her and smirked. “Po-Matoran love their carving.”

Kiina cautiously moved around the statue head, observing it with curiosity. “Who is this meant to be?”

“I believe it’s Toa Lhikan,” Vhisola replied, placing a hand on the stone mask. “I never got the chance to meet him in person, of course, but his reputation precedes him. His mask is all over Metru Nui, and for a good reason.”

“Why’s that?” Kiina asked.

“Well, aside from leading the cause in the war against the Dark Hunters, Lhikan was the one to assemble the Toa Metru.” She paused, realizing she needed to clarify. “That’s Vakama’s team.”

“Vakama was a Toa?”

Vhisola’s eyes widened. “You should really brush up on the Wall of History.” She cleared her throat. “That’s the–”

“I know about it,” Kiina nodded. “They’re building a new one out there, close to–” She caught herself, but too late. Not wanting to upset Vhisola, she had done her best to avoid talking about the outside world, but this had slipped out.

“I see,” Vhisola replied.

Kiina opened her mouth, hoping to change the subject, but came up short. With nothing more to say, the two resumed their awkward silence, as they assessed the situation with the statue head. Aside from Pewku and Click’s respective noises, the only sound throughout the tunnel was the slow, methodical dripping, like a leaking faucet. It droned on and on, very quickly driving Kiina to frustration.

“Here,” the Glatorian said, eager to get moving. From her waist, she procured her thornax launcher, with a fruit still loaded in the barrel. “Stand clear. If I can blow this thing up, I can clear a path.”

Vhisola balked. “Are you crazy? You could destroy the entire tunnel!”

Kiina groaned, dropping the launcher to the ground. “Well, do you have any better ideas?”

“Let’s go back the way we came,” Vhisola said. “If we can get back within Ga-Metru’s borders, we can get underneath the Great Temple.” Vhisola looked back to the statue, and stopped in her tracks. While the statue had been intact when she first looked at it, cracks were now growing through the surface. As they did, a rumbling sound slowly grew louder.

She took a step back, just in time for the statue head to burst into pieces, sending rubble and dust flying everywhere.

Kiina coughed, squinting as she searched through the dust to find Vhisola. “Are you okay?” she called out.

Vhisola waved her arms through the dust, hoping to see Kiina once it had cleared away. But the first thing she saw wasn’t the Glatorian, but three pairs of emerald eyes, behind a mechanical faceplate. It was an uncomfortably familiar sight, one she hadn’t seen since Ga-Koro, and it bore a name she hadn’t uttered in months.

“Bohrok?!” she cried, more confused than frightened.

The dust cleared away as Kiina leapt forward through it, holding up her scarab shield. “Are they dangerous?”

“Very,” Vhisola answered. “But they’re not supposed to be here, not at all.”

Just as quickly as they had arrived, the three insectoid machines curled up into their ball forms in unison, and proceeded to roll forward, zooming past the group. Vhisola watched them go, her mind full of questions. What were the Bohrok doing here, in Metru Nui? And why didn’t they attack?

“Something’s wrong,” she whispered, staring at Kiina with a haunted look in her eyes. “Something is very, very wrong.”

Soon, the Glatorian and Matoran pair became aware of another sound, slowly rising in intensity. It sounded like an ocean, water rushing and crashing, and it was becoming louder by the second.

Abruptly, it halted.

And then, there came the voice.

“What master do you serve?” echoed a disembodied voice. It spoke as though it were a choir, made up of hundreds of the same voice.

Kiina raised an eyebrow. “Who are you?”

“Are you agents of creation, or destruction?” the voice demanded.

She looked over to Vhisola. The Matoran was quivering with fear, looking as though she had seen a ghost. Beside her, even Pewku seemed frightened.

“We seek neither,” Kiina answered, doing her best to stand strong against the invisible threat. “I just want to escort this Matoran to safety.”

The silence that followed was haunting. The voice did not speak for some time.

“What are you?” Vhisola asked, uncertainly.

“You could not possibly know what I am,” the voice finally replied. “By the time you were created, my nature had already been abused and perverted.” The voice seemed to hiss, as though it had the tongue of a serpent. “This child of the Magna, on the other hand… she knows what I am.”

Vhisola’s gaze turned to Kiina, who seemed equally clueless. “I don’t know what you are,” the Glatorian answered. “But if you’re going to harm us, I will fight.”

“Fight, yes. For generations, that has been all your world has known how to do. Have you so quickly forgotten the history of what came before the Core War?”

Kiina frowned. “What do you mean?”

“You have heard the stories of the old kings of Tajun, praying to the powers that be to bring them prosperity,” the disembodied voice continued. “These were the days when I was worshiped, before my true form became known. Before the Great Beings robbed me of the reverence I deserved.”

Vhisola frowned. “What do you know of the Great Beings?”

“I know that your friend is wise to distrust them. She and her fellow children of the Magna share a mission to find your creators, but I suspect that she knows that her journey’s end is much different than theirs. So tell me, which will prevail in the end? Your loyalty to your friends, or your anger against the Great Beings?”

Kiina’s fists clenched tightly around her trident and shield. “What are you?”

There was no answer at first, save for the sound of rushing water growing prevalent once more. It grew louder and louder, until eventually, a wave of silvery liquid burst through the newly opened entrance. It filled the tunnels within moments, crashing violently through.

As they watched the waters rush forth like a flood, the pair’s eyes widened in unison, both of them frozen with fright. While Vhisola and Kiina each knew this substance by a different name, they both knew the danger it posed to them.

“Foolish child,” the voice boomed, as a wave of energized protodermis rushed forward. “I am life.”

✴        ✴        ✴

Nuhrii and Ackar sat beside each other in silence, gazing upon the sparkling silver sea below them. Nuhrii placed a hand on his new mask, and sighed. The two had taken a moment to rest since he woke up, and few words had been exchanged.

“Look,” Ackar said, breaking the silence, “I know this is hard, but-”

“Please,” Nuhrii interjected. “I appreciate that you want to help, and I’m grateful for the rescue back there. But you don’t understand our situation.”

Ackar met his gaze, thinking of another he had once failed to understand. “Then help me understand.”

Nuhrii chuckled breathlessly. “For most of us, our earliest memory was waking up on a beach, on an island named after Mata Nui. Makuta took away all of our life before that.” He grimaced. “We have no memory of this place, yet the Turaga told us it was home. I’ve left home behind once. I’m not doing it again.”

Ackar sighed, and stretched his back. While he knew that he didn’t have the energy for battles that he used to, the impact of being flung up and down had worn him out even more than usual. “I had my home torn away from me during the Core War. Now, all these years later, it's been put back together.”

Nuhrii sighed. “You must be happy, then. Your old world is back.”

“I should be, shouldn’t I?” Ackar laughed. “But I’m not the same person I was all those years ago. No one is. It doesn’t feel like home, no more than this place feels like home to you.”

Nuhrii’s gaze wandered back to the silver sea, then traveled upwards to gaze upon the upside down city that hung over them. “In all of Vakama’s tales of Metru Nui, I was always stuck in his shadow,” he admitted. “Just a mask maker who couldn’t live up to his protege’s potential.

“He only told me this, of course, after Ta-Koro was destroyed. My home, my place in the Guard, all of it was gone in an instant. Worst of all, I was just supposed to accept this version of me that I didn’t recognize.”

“I imagine it felt strange, coming back to a place you never called home,” Ackar said.

“You have no idea,” Nuhrii concurred. “Every time I tried to make it feel like home, something stopped me. Jaller took off, leaving the Guard without a leader. Turaga Dume tried to keep us in line, get us back to our Metru Nui selves, and not who we were on the island. I tried to do what I could, tried to do my part and protect my people, but I was useless to stop Makuta’s reign. I couldn’t help anyone.”

The Glatorian sighed. “You don’t want the time you spent trying to make this city a home to go to waste,” he realized.

Nuhrii chuckled breathlessly. “You get it.”

“I do,” Ackar nodded. “But… this place is just a memory now. The life of the city isn’t the buildings, or the chutes. It’s the Matoran.”

Nuhrii exhaled slowly, his eyes not leaving the still waters below him. His gaze was fixated on his own reflection, one that bore a different mask than it had in the morning. Once again, everything as he knew it was going to change.

But maybe, that wasn’t so bad.

Still, one problem remained on the Matoran’s mind. If this had been a lesson coming from Tahu, or maybe even Vakama, he would’ve understood it better. But why this Glatorian? Why had destiny brought him Ackar, of all people?

“Why… do you want to help so badly, anyways?” he asked. “And don’t use the word ‘duty’.”

A long sigh escaped Ackar. He looked up for a moment, doing his best to formulate what he was about to say.

“I’m sure you’ve already heard some of what happened to my world,” he said at last. “There was a war over a substance that sprung up from underneath the planet, that turned us all against each other. I was different back then. I was angry, vicious, greedy.”

“What changed?” Nuhrii asked.

“The world did,” Ackar answered. “The planet split into pieces, leaving us in a desert wasteland. My home was left in ruins, my loved ones were killed or injured. Friends, family… I didn’t even get to say goodbye.” His head sank down. “I couldn’t protect any of them.”

Nuhrii placed a hand on his shoulder. “You’re like me. You don’t want to fail your people again. Like how I failed Ta-Koro.”

Ackar nodded. “Exactly. I see a bit of myself in you. You’re scared to move forward, because you might lose everything all over again. I’ve been there. But you can’t just hide in the past. You have to press on, for the future. Metru Nui may be gone, sure. But the Matoran are alive. Its heart is still alive.”

“The Matoran–” Nuhrii stopped so suddenly, he nearly choked on his own words. “The heart of Metru Nui,” he whispered, and his eyes widened with realization.

“What’s that?” Ackar asked.

But Nuhrii didn’t reply, only staring straight ahead. A thousand thoughts were running through his mind, as though the puzzle pieces of the Turaga’s riddles were only now being pieced together.

“A lot of things are starting to make sense,” he said softly. “Maybe too many to explain right now.” He pointed up at the city. “My friends are up there, and so are yours. If the Rahkshi don’t get to them first, the lava from Ta-Metru will. We need to find them, and find a way out of the city.”

Nuhrii rose up to his feet, reaching upwards for a hatch in the ceiling. Once he opened the hatch, a mound of Kanoka disks suddenly crashed down, burying him underneath.

“Woah,” said Ackar, stepping carefully over the scattered disks that now littered the floor. Looking up, he could see where they had fallen out of, a cargo hold stocked full of Kanoka disks.

As Nuhrii resurfaced, he stared down at the Kanoka flooding the room, and came to a realization. “The Vahki,” he said aloud. “They had to be summoning the disks from somewhere. This must have been their stockpile.”

Ackar flashed him a smile. “Well, I don’t think they’ll be missing them anymore.”

Nuhrii smiled, and moved to start grabbing as many disks as he could. But as he did, he became attuned to the sound of something moving through the water. Turning his head, he spotted a crew of familiar faces. Berix had manned a makeshift craft, paddling across the waters with Whenua, Ehrye, Tehutti, and a strange machine in tow.

He smiled to himself. This would be a great rescue worthy of the city’s legacy.