Chapter 4

When Nuparu opened his eyes, he stood in the confines of a cluttered Matoran workshop, instruments and components strewn across the stone tiling. A jumbled array of gears, pulleys and circuitry filled the room as furniture might decorate a home.

Inspecting a piece of metal with concern, he turned to Velika, the eccentric Po-Matoran crafter he had been working with. Together, the two inventors had labored through the night, drawing up schematics for modified launchers and chemical equations for a new substance to counteract the Zamor Spheres. While he initially had reservations constructing yet more weapons, he knew that these tools would win the Matoran their freedom from the Piraka.

As Velika chirped an idiom about Colony Drones and Visorak while he welded, the Toa Inika of Earth gazed at the Matoran with unseeing eyes. Suddenly feeling very much like the assistant in the partnership, he attempted to shake off the fog that hung over his thoughts. He had lived through this experience once before - in fact he often returned to it in his quieter moments. Just hours ago, he had been a Matoran himself, escaping the twisted realm of Karzahni in a stolen Toa Canister wearing a Kanohi that was not his own. Now, he had the power to rescue the Toa Nuva and the chance to do something more.

Nuparu worked for many hours, applying his keen mind as though he were trapped in that flooded cave in Onu-Koro all over again. Pressure had been an effective motivator in the past, but he toiled now with the dedication of a Toa entirely consumed in the dignity of his craft. When at last he resurfaced, his armor peppered with oil and metal filings, he felt the proud gaze of his patron from the doorway of the hut.

“You do not share in the same hesitations as your fellow Toa,” murmured the golden being, admiring his disciple at work. “Perhaps it is your wild imaginings - your willingness to build - that holds the key to forging this new world, brave Nuparu.”

The Toa of Earth smiled in response, though there was a sadness in his expression. In his life, he had built a great many things in service of the Matoran, but recent revelations had come to trouble his guilty conscience. A lifetime ago on Metru Nui, his Vahki and Kranua had adapted beyond their programming, abducting and indoctrinating Matoran to Makuta’s grand scheme. Although he did not remember his unfortunate role, Turaga Vakama’s tales of rogue automation in Metru Nui inspired a deep shame.

Next he had created the Boxors, sturdy battle machines constructed from the components of fallen Bohrok to allow the Matoran a fighting chance against the swarms invading their island. He had built the first from a damaged Gahlok trapped in a cave with Onepu and Taipu, constructing many more in the weeks that followed and turning the tide of the Bohrok War in their favor. Despite their triumph, the recent discovery that the Bohrok had begun life as Av-Matoran had tainted this memory too, for it was a victory built on the bodies of Matoran.

“If you refer to my past inventions, Gilded One, Spherus Magna would be a lot better off without such dark designs,” murmured the Toa earnestly. “Besides, there are a great many other inventors more deserving of this honor.”

“It is true, you have been the architect of devastating machines in the past,” intuited the golden entity, reaching his clawed fingers down to admire a completed prototype with tender curiosity. “But you need not limit your talents to weaponcraft. Consider this most curious contraption: a weapon designed to heal. Just imagine what other instruments you would have me create - what wonders a city pulled from the imaginings of this same crafter could offer the world…”

Nuparu held the Zamor Launcher in his hands, examining it now with indifference before his gaze shifted to the open doorway. In the distance, he could see the sheer cliffs of Voya Nui Bay and the outline of the Canyon Fortress. He saw Garan and Jaller watching the sunrise with trepidation, unsure what fresh horrors the morning would bring. He could smell thick volcanic ash riding the wind as the Piraka continued to drain Mount Valmai of its molten core.

“Many Toa of Earth before me have looked to the past for their answers,” lamented Nuparu, returning to his labor with grim obligation. “I can’t dwell too deeply on events that have already come to pass. I can hope only to be remembered for some distant act of heroism rather than the atrocities born of my designs. Perhaps then I’ll know well enough not to build that which should never be.”

The golden entity’s features did not change though it was clear this had not been the answer he had desired. He sensed a sinister coil of tragedy within Nuparu and the other Toa Mahri. Perhaps they had become too tangled in the weight of their own shared regret to serve as the architects of his new age.

“Your creations could not have saved him,” he murmured in a tone close to compassion. “All the weapons in the world would not have changed the outcome of that battle, but this is no cause to abandon your craft.”

Nuparu thumbled a component with fondness then slotted it into the Zamor Launcher. To his immense irritation, the device still wasn’t working to Velika’s specifications and he couldn’t discern why. The Matoran of Voya Nui would continue to slave away, silently screaming for him to achieve the means of their liberation from the Piraka. Something continued to escape him…

“Would your fallen brother want grief to stand in the way of innovation?” continued his golden patron, gliding closer into the dream as though he were wading through water. “Or would he have wanted you to strive for new heights as the inventor of the new world he gave his life for? Was that not his final wish in the end?”

“I doubt he’d planned that far ahead,” lamented the Toa, breaking the casing of the Zamor Launcher apart to investigate the clumsy circuitry again. “I’ve relived that battle a thousand times and I’ll suffer it a thousand more. It will cling to me long after I’ve run out of inventions and my hands have become gnarled and jittery with age. I just wish…”

The golden skinned being hung with bated breath as the Toa teetered on the cusp of voicing his desires. After a moment passed, the Toa only sighed.

“It was his sacrifice to make,” he muttered to himself with a sad and distant smile. “No invention would ever have changed the outcome. After all, there are enough weapons in this world already, and not enough left to wield them…”

✴        ✴        ✴

Swinging his shield upwards, Kualus deflected Ackar’s Flame Sword as it arced down, metal striking metal. Twirling the hilt of the blade in his wrist, the Glatorian readied his weapon once more.

“Your swordplay is remarkable,” marveled the Toa of Ice, fixing his Rhotuka shield to his arm and hefting his Sub-Zero Spear with both hands. “You work that blade as though it’s an extension of yourself.”

“And you have expert coordination,” observed Ackar as Kualus swung the tip of his spear in retaliation. “But you won’t be fighting for Vulcanus anytime soon - not with those moves.”

The Toa considered the challenge as he parried another blow. Some distance away, Iruini and Kiina were engaged in a fast-paced contest of speed and agility that appeared evenly matched.

At Norik’s behest, the two Toa had entered into an arena tournament to keep their wits sharp. Kualus had never been the strongest of warriors even before his mutation into a Rahaga. After his tussle with the Rahi Nui, he welcomed the practice. In Iruini’s case, Norik had hoped the experience would teach him a lesson in humility — the Toa of Air had become dangerously overconfident of late.

Feinting a jab with his spear, the Toa of Ice instead swung his shield, ramming Ackar in the chest with a heavy clank that forced him back on the defense. As they fought and dodged and blocked, their movements became like words in a familiar language and Kualus soon found himself falling into a rhythm. It was easy to mistake Ackar for a teacher, but things were rarely as they seemed and many Glatorian had underestimated him in the arena.

Delivering a sweeping blow to his opponent’s legs, Kualus watched as Ackar vaulted over the spear. Reflexively, the Toa of Ice sidestepped to cover his right side, slipping behind the arena champion and striking again with his shield.

“A shield is only as strong as the arm that wields it,” continued the Glatorian, leaping into the air and slamming his armored heel down hard, forcing Kualus to block at an uncomfortable angle. From his new position, Ackar fired a Thornax fruit at a nearby rock, which rebounded to strike the Toa in the back of the head, knocking his Mask of Rahi Control clean from his face and sending him stumbling forward into the sand.

A decisive finishing move.

Two referees - an Agori named Kirbold and an Onu-Matoran named Taipu - bounded forward to call the match in Ackar’s favor while a smattering of spectators cheered around the makeshift arena. Panting for breath, the Toa of Ice scooped his Kanohi back up and turned to congratulate his opponent.

“You must have a hard time finding worthy opponents,” he conceded. “How does a Glatorian learn to fight like that?”

“By picking himself up after every defeat and molding his experiences into wisdom,” answered the crimson warrior, proudly clanking the Toa of Ice’s fist. “You fought well, Toa. You possess great skill with that spear, but you are not yet ready to wield it with your full strength. It will be an honor to defend Spherus Magna alongside you.”

Kualus considered the words with a distant smile, only then feeling the overwhelming desert heat begin to set in. It was true, returning to his old body after so many years spent at the height of a Rahaga had left him uncoordinated. Although he had been restored to his old body for some time now, many of his old techniques still felt cumbersome and he lacked the grace he had once possessed when wielding his Sub-Zero Spear. On occasion, he harbored doubts he had become too rusty to wear such polished armor, though Gaaki and Bomonga were always quick to remind him that his skills lay elsewhere.

His thoughts were abruptly brought back to the arena when a spray of sand struck him, kicked up by one of Iruini’s bursts of elemental energy. As Kiina ducked and swung with her Vapor Trident, the Toa of Air blinked in and out of existence, reappearing only to strike. Constant cyclones and tendrils of moisture ravaged the makeshift arena. Anxiously, Taipu and Kirbold looked at each other with expressions of resignation.

“Let us see how your brother in arms fares against a Glatorian of Tajun,” wagered Ackar in something close to pride. “Kiina is one of the most accomplished warriors this side of Tesara, a true child of the arena—”

“I’m gonna squish you like a Scarabax!” yelled the Water Glatorian, hurling a hardened sphere of moisture at the emerald Toa that blew a hole in the sand. As a volley of curses escaped the warrior’s mouth, Ackar’s expression grew hard.

Taking the bait, Iruini reappeared to deliver a swipe with his Rhotuka shield.

“Spend less time trash-stomping and more quick-dodging and you might last another round!” he jeered, dipping into Le-Matoran Chutespeak for added effect.

Bracing, Kiina stiffened her joints to receive the next impact, which glanced off the aerodynamic grooves crafted into her armor. Resisting the full force of the attack, she readied herself to respond. Discerning footprints in sand she had spent her entire life fighting in, she staked her Vapor Trident into the ground a moment before Iruini blinked back into existence. Tripping over the hilt of the weapon, Iruini stumbled and fell.

“How… how could you possibly have predicted that?” wheezed the Toa of Air, staggering back to his feet. “I barely gave you an opening!”

“An opening is all it takes,” answered Kiina, using the momentum of her Vapor Trident to knock Iruini off his feet once more. “In the arena, you make every blow count.”

But Iruini had not entered the ring with the intention of losing. Kualus caught a dangerous twinkle in his eye that told him the Toa of Air would not relent until he had achieved something.

Mustering a second wind, the emerald Toa stowed his Rhotuka shield and gripped his Cyclone Spear in both hands, his eyes never leaving Kiina’s. He darted forward, conjuring Air currents to propel himself closer only to find his opponent keeping pace.

“Stay in your lane,” challenged Iruini, taking a firm swipe with the tip of his weapon. “Don’t try to out-dash a Toa of Air!”

Rather than spar with words, Kiina caught the shaft of the spear with the prongs of her trident and twisted it free of Iruini’s grip. Stunned by the sudden loss of his tool, the green Toa chose instead to make the most of his free hands and teleported closer, delivering a sharp blow to the empty space his opponent had been standing an instant before. By the time his feet returned to the ground, Kiina was wielding both her Vapor Trident and his Cyclone Spear.

“All that energy but no rhythm,” observed Kiina with a triumphant smile.

Raising both weapons, the Glatorian conjured walls of solid Air and Water that struck Iruini like an avalanche. The Toa rocketed some distance beyond the arena and crashed in a heap, the force of his impact carving a crater in the terrain and spraying sand across nearby laborers.

“Iruini!”

Kualus surged forward and dropped to his knees as the emerald Toa stirred. The fight knocked out of him, he glared at a distant speck as Kiina planted his Cyclone Spear in the sand.

“Nothing but wounded pride, I suspect,” murmured Ackar, moving closer to investigate as the Agori match officials urged Iruini back to his feet.

“Though the truest measure of a warrior is how he copes with defeat,” broached Kiina with a warning glare at her opponent, extending a hand for him to take.

For a long moment Iruini remained in the sand, unwilling to meet her gaze until at last he allowed her to hoist him upright again.

“Well fought,” he conceded before snatching up his weapons and vanishing in a blip of desert air. Kualus closed his eyes in silent agony.

“Don’t judge him harshly,” he sighed, feeling the familiar ache in his temple that so often came with apologizing for Iruini’s rougher edges. “My brother can be a sore loser - especially in a contest of speed. After all we have experienced under Makuta’s rule - well, I had hoped training might have given him a place to focus his frustrations.”

The two Glatorian exchanged knowing glances.

“A little dramatic for my liking,” said Kiina with a shrug. “But there’s no harm done.”

Ackar’s expression remained grave.

“He reminds me all too well of a warrior I once called brother,” he lamented with a sharp edge in his tone. “Anger is no substitute for discipline, and victory is nothing if won without honor. This is a lesson Iruini must learn, lest he walk the path of the exile and cross a line he cannot return from.”

The Glatorian’s gaze lingered on the open desert as he spoke, a great many words left unspoken. When at last he turned to leave with Kiina at his side, Kualus was left wondering exactly how his intentions had so spectacularly backfired.

✴        ✴        ✴

In the jungle depths that had once been Tesara village, Bomonga was grappling with a conundrum of a very different variety.

He had always harbored a special fondness for nocturnal and insect Rahi. In fact, he’d spent many long nights watching the creatures and reading whatever documentation the Makuta had bothered to retain from their experiments. Each Toa Hagah had a specialist area of Rahi knowledge and now it had come time to pass that knowledge on to a new generation of handlers and Archivists, who would care for and relocate the creatures they had rescued while they were gone.

Where the Toa Hagah were going, or indeed how long their quest to liberate the Toa Mahri from their captivity would take, was something Bomonga did not know yet. In preparation for their journey, he and Norik had spent the morning demonstrating what they did know: the different techniques for wrangling, riding and nurturing as many Rahi as could be named under the sun. He hoped that their quest would be a straightforward one, but there was no guarantee that he or his teammates would be returning from the mysterious Skakdi Fortress Gaaki had described. If any of them were to be lost in battle, so too would all the knowledge they possessed be lost forever.

“Toa Bomonga!” exclaimed an eager Agori of the jungle tribe, who had taken a particular interest in Rahi and their settling habits across the new landscape. “Reports are coming in of some bird-creatures taking up residence in the cliffs of Tajun’s shoreline. Sounds like they’ve established a stable colony on the cliffs, near the eastern ocean.”

The Agori was Tarduk, a keen explorer who knew a great deal about the geography of Bara Magna. He listened with great interest and took in everything he could about Rahi and the Matoran universe with fascination. In his eyes, a mythical world of crystalline skyscrapers interspersed with ancient temples and vast tropics was taking shape.

“What kind of bird-creatures?”

“They’re flightless and seem to have blasters on their wings. Most unusual. Are they a threat?”

The Toa of Earth smiled at the thought. Kualus would be most pleased to hear this.

“Thank you, Tarduk,” he said. “The Manutri will do well in Tajun. Now come closer, I have something special to show you.”

Tentatively, the jungle Agori approached the Toa and peered down into the makeshift holding pen that had been dug into the earth beneath them. In the depths below, Bomonga watched the occupants of the pen stir, their shadows obscuring the sunlight. Three Rahi could be seen in the murky depths. The closest snapped its jurassic jaws and growled at them from deep within its throat, splashing water at the walls of its enclosure with its talons.

“Your world has spawned a great many predators,” observed the Agori, instinctively recoiling. “What’s this one called? The Pit Dweller? The Cave Chomper? The Jungle Slizer?”

“Close,” conceded the Toa with a chuckle, for it was a well-established fact that the Makuta had never had any aptitude for naming their creations. “These creatures are the Swamp Stalkers, a lesser-known freshwater reptile that thrive in marshes and rivers.”

He paused, allowing the Agori a moment to situate the Rahi into an ecosystem he was familiar with. Tarduk scribbled his words down on a scroll of parchment in a bewildered fervor. In truth, he knew very little about the Swamp Stalker. Reptiles were more Norik’s area of unhealthy obsession. It had been spawned by a Makuta long-since slain in some historic Brotherhood conflict and had never established itself in the wider universe, like the Takea or Nui-Jaga.

“I don’t suppose they’re anything like a Sand Stalker?” asked Tarduk, considering the strange creatures in terms he could understand.

The Toa of Earth took another look at the Rahi, trying to imagine them thriving in a desert and finding the notion too alien to entertain.

“I don’t know what that is,” he admitted. “Are those the red dinosaurs your bone bandits ride?”

The Agori shook his head. “They remind me a great deal of the Spikit. Perhaps they have shared ancestry?”

“Not likely, I’m afraid,” said the Toa, making a mental note to explain how Rahi were created in more detail when or indeed if he returned. “With their armored, lizard-bodies, muscular tails, and powerful jaws, it’s obvious that they are envoys from a distant past - perhaps even one of the earliest examples of a predator from our universe. But the creatures of Spherus Magna are far older than even the First Rahi. Such magnificent beasts… we never did find an ecosystem for them to inhabit. They just ended up settling in swamps across the southern universe.”

“Can’t imagine why,” said Tarduk, pulling a sour expression as the reptile thrashed about, teeth glinting through its hungry smile. “Let’s talk diet. I’m guessing they’re omnivores based on the… well, everything about them.”

Bomonga scratched his chin in thought. He remembered a great deal from the Archives, but the Swamp Stalkers were a rare specimen only sighted in small pockets around the world. Whatever partial record the Archives had held of them was lost to time now. That said, he’d done his share of rotations in the Destral Rahi Pens…

“If I recall correctly, they have an especially low metabolic rate,” he said, gesturing to an uneaten fish that had been thrown into the enclosure some time ago. “They don’t need to eat as much or as frequently as other predators, but they will eat anything.”

“Fascinating,” marveled the Agori, finding new confidence to gaze into the pit and watch the Rahi basking in the mud. “The swamps are starting to get crowded, but we have lots of space in this new world to choose release sites. These Swamp Stalkers will fit right in with all the Night Creepers and Mud Crawlers.”

With silent pride, the Toa of Earth watched a sapphire-armored Agori calm a Burnak with a Bula berry then mount it, almost exactly as he had demonstrated to the Ussalry and Gukko Force earlier. Perhaps there was hope for the Rahi on Spherus Magna after all.

Bidding farewell to Tarduk, Bomonga turned in search of his teammate. After some investigating, he found the Toa of Fire in a heated discussion with some Rahi wranglers, one a Vortixx, the other a Steltian noble. From the expression on his Kanohi, they could only be discussing one Rahi.

“They lived on Stelt, they are ours to conserve!” challenged the Steltian, daring the Toa to disagree with her. “They practically lived on the Scrap Coast for thousands of years. How dare you move them without our say!”

“Watch yourself,” snapped Norik with a frosty edge to his voice. “It was your kind who endangered them in the first place.”

“That may be, but don’t think we’ve forgotten about the last time you tried to resettle them, ignorant Toa!” she countered, raising her arms in exasperation. “Those crabs are a vital component of Steltian ecology! Without them–”

“—There is no Stelt anymore,” said the Toa of Fire, cutting the noble short. “We’re on a new world with a vastly more complex ecosystem to balance. You would do well to remember that.”

They were, of course, speaking of the Hahnah crab, a specimen of deep ocean crustacean-Rahi that Bomonga and his teammates had lost many sleepless nights over in the past. Rarely did they venture close to the surface but a whole cluster had been drawn to aquatic heat sources around Stelt 4,000 years ago and were captured in trawling nets. With no game left to hunt on the surface, the Steltian nobles had taken to the seas and harvested the Rahi relentlessly, prizing their durable crimson shells as grotesque trophies.

With such high demand for the species in such a precarious habitat, marine biologists in Ga-Metru had begun predicting the species' early extinction. At a time when the Brotherhood was no longer willing to create Rahi, it had become the unfortunate charge of the Toa Hagah to end the poaching trade. Although they had apprehended the poachers and relocated the crab-Rahi further south, the intrusion into Steltian affairs had served only to hurt relations between Toa and Steltians. Scars that lingered still to this day. Norik had even purposefully omitted all mention of the Hahnah from his own Rahi guides, for they were a dark reminder of a time when the Toa Hagah had been agents of the Brotherhood’s dirty work.

The Steltian opened her mouth to retort only for her Vortixx colleague to hold her arm in caution.

“The past transgressions of our Steltian brethren notwithstanding, we have further concerns about the future of our wildlife on this planet,” said the Vortixx coolly. “It’s no secret that Rahi can’t reproduce using the same biological processes as these Spherus Magna species and without the Makuta… can there be any hope of creating more Rahi?”

Norik looked the pair over with suspicion before deciding the question warranted a response.

“Short answer: no,” he conceded. “Not much we can do about that, I’m afraid. Whatever secrets the Makuta kept followed them to the grave.”

“Then perhaps the great Toa Hagah will continue their legacy?” asked the Vortixx, something about his silky tone suggesting he had no interest in conservationism. “I heard that your team worked closely with the Makuta. Surely you know better than most how to create more Rahi? If not, then what hope is there for creatures like the Hahnah?”

Norik’s features hardened as he fixed the Vortixx with a steely glare.

“Perhaps you overestimate our involvement… and our expertise,” he said frostily. “The Toa Hagah served the Brotherhood as a protective detail, not as laboratory assistants. True, we often handled Rahi, but this does not entitle us to any say in their genesis, nor does it equip us with the knowledge or resources needed to create more. It is not the place of Toa to dictate such things.”

“But without the Makuta, there can be no new Rahi,” observed the Vortixx, uncurling his fingers in gesture to the field of Rahi pens. “Give it 1000 years, give it 10 years, without intervention we would see the extinction of hundreds of species in our lifetimes. Is there nothing that you Toa Hagah will do to prevent this? Or does moral obligation only extend to relocating crabs?”

Now more than ever, Bomonga wished he could retreat into the Archives. Instead he could only stare from a safe distance at Norik’s thunderous expression.

“I have no doubt that Rahi populations will dwindle in the years to come, but there’s no shortage of Rahi in the wild today. We may not understand it yet, but the science of the Makuta will be known to us in years to come. Someday we may be able to breed more Rahi.”

“Someday,” repeated the Steltian, spitting at his feet. “A responsibility for another time, then. How very much like a Toa to find a short-term fix instead of dealing with the larger problem. I suppose you can’t be faulted for that, though. You’ll probably be living a comfortable life as a Turaga by that point.”

Norik said nothing.

“I suppose there’s nothing to do but enjoy your golden years, wise one,” purred the Vortixx, turning to leave. “Perhaps when those years have come, you will wonder if you could have done more…”

As the pair made their exit, Bomonga inched closer to his teammate. It was a rare sight to see the Toa of Fire subdued to silence. He wondered if he should have approached sooner. He wondered if it could have made a difference.

But Norik didn’t dwell too deeply. He smiled at his brother-Toa in greeting as though nothing had happened.

“Ignore them,” he chuckled. “They only wanted to find some new means to monopolize the Rahi-creation game. We don’t have time for that.”

Bomonga gazed into the distance, watching the Vortixx and Steltian arguing near an enclosure of Dagger Spiders.

“Seemed pretty personal.”

“I suppose it was…”

The Toa of Fire shrugged his mighty shoulders and smiled earnestly at his deputy, as though the accusations had not stung him. Bomonga supposed that was what it meant to be Norik. He was protective of others to a fault; Rahi, Matoran, his fellow Toa. When so many looked to you for answers and protection, weakness was a dangerous trait to show.

“They raise some valid points though,” said Bomonga begrudgingly. “We Toa Hagah are different from other Toa. I wonder what destiny holds for us… maybe taking over where the Makuta left off isn’t such a bad idea?”

Norik’s smile remained but his eyes dulled at the thought.

“Only time will tell our purpose, brother,” he said. “But when that day comes, it should be the Matoran and Agori who determine what creatures inhabit their world. Not the Makuta, not the Vortixx, not the Steltians, not even us…”

✴        ✴        ✴

“Another vision, Gaaki?” sighed Pouks, hurling a pebble into the stream and watching it bounce across the surface. “We need to fix you up with a different mask.”

The Toa of Water shot her teammate a barbed look.

“We are not having this debate again,” she cautioned. “My visions have helped us out of many a tight spot in the past. Not even you can discount the usefulness of glimpsing the future - predicting traps and battles we would otherwise blunder into.”

“Which we blunder into anyway trying to avoid whatever it is you’ve seen in the first place!” protested the Toa of Stone, shaking his head. “You once warned Kualus he would fall from a great height. For weeks he was afraid to leave Destral and stayed far away from the cliffs. And where did he end up? Strolling into one of Makuta Vamprah’s Rahi traps not ten paces from our barracks! I tell you, no good comes from knowing the future.”

Gaaki scowled and glared at the shimmering river, its surface reflecting golden ripples across her mask. She had ventured off with Pouks to map the source of a large lake, hoping to confide her doubts in him. But the Toa of Stone had not moved on from his frustrations and time spent as a Rahaga had not softened his opinions on prophecy.

After a long moment, Pouks looked beside her, somewhere in the space next to her Kanohi.

“Alright, fine,” he brooded. “Whatever you’ve seen this time obviously has you rattled. So what are we dealing with? Will war grip Spherus Magna? The return of Makuta? Will Onewa finally carve us those statues he promised?”

The Toa of Water smiled at the final suggestion. For a moment she allowed the question to hang while she savored the memory, taking in the river carved into the landscape before it became trafficked by boats and bridges spawned across it.

“I should really wait for Norik,” she groused, finally flinging the pebble she’d been rolling over in her hands for some time now. It made a modest bounce before joining the riverbed.

“If it affects my team it affects me,” insisted the Toa of Stone, fixing her with a glare. Something about his tone left little room for flexibility.

So Gaaki relented, sharing a full account of her vision. She described the gilded armor and the battle she and her fellow Toa were locked in, their triumph and glory, the absence of Iruini and the strange Toa who would come to stand in his place. Pouks listened with grim focus.

“Unsettling to say the least,” he confessed, using his powers to conjure another handful of stones. “There’s not much specific to go on there. This could take place in 1000 years or tomorrow.”

“I can’t imagine it’s too far off,” murmured Gaaki, tossing another pebble only for it to disappear straight beneath the water’s surface. “Perhaps I’m interpreting it incorrectly? Perhaps it is a warning only that another Toa will join our ranks in a battle where Iruini cannot.”

Pouks pulled a sour expression.

“Your visions rarely take the shape you predict, but this one seems pretty clear,” he said, narrowing his eyes in the sunlight. “Sister… you never come to me unless you want someone to cast doubt on your predictions. You already know what the vision means. I think you’re telling me to confirm suspicions you don’t wish to voice.”

Pulling his arm back, he flung another pebble into the stream, only for a tentacle of water to rise up and snatch it out of the air. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught only the slightest movement of Gaaki’s hand before a grin spread across her features.

“Surely Iruini can’t still be having the same doubts as last time?” he asked, dark thoughts now creeping into his mind. “He quit the team before. He wanted us to do more to protect the Matoran than we were doing with the Makuta. Then we rescued a whole island of Matoran from the clutches of the Visorak. Why would he leave us now that the war for the future of all Matoran is finally won?”

“Disobeying Norik, challenging The Shadowed One and the Rahi-Nui alone…” reflected the Toa of Water. “Perhaps our progress moves too slowly. Perhaps there are simply too many personalities at play, wrestling for control.”

“All we can do is watch over our brother-Toa,” shrugged Pouks, his tone one of simple resignation. “And trust that Iruini will make the right choices… whatever they may be.”

Gaaki considered this for some time. She watched as a Waikiru lumbered its way onto the opposite river bank as Pouks walked on, all the while wondering why the forces of destiny now saw fit to fracture another Toa team around her.