Chapter 12

As morning broke on a new day, the ancient temple hummed with anticipation. Sun-bleached columns were draped in colorful fabrics and intricate weaves, surrounded by a bustling crowd of Matoran. They sat patiently as they had so many times before on the steps of Kini Nui in loose rows before the wide glistening platform, behind which hung an elaborate curtain. They didn’t know the purpose of the gathering, nor could they explain the curious absence of the Toa Nuva from the festivities, but they could see the seven Turaga, five of the Toa Hagah, and the missing Toa Mahri gathered before the archway.

Signaling that the ceremony was about to commence, the guardsmen of Ta-Koro and musicians of Le-Wahi stood to attention and blew into their grand horns. Turaga Nuju, Dume and a wounded Toa in emerald armor stood to the side. Five of the Toa Hagah stood proudly as honor-guards with their spears and shields drawn.

Vakama ascended the steps and the Turaga took their positions, ready for the next great story.

“Gathered friends… listen now to the legend of the Toa Mahri.”

As the elder spoke, the crowd quietened down to an expectant hush. The five Toa positioned themselves in the sand beneath the platform, at the base of each column. They faced the Matoran and raised their arms, connecting their fists to form an unbroken line. They gazed out to the new world, finally seeing Spherus Magna together for the first time. At the end of the row, Kongu raised an extra arm for their missing brother, as though he stood with them.

“You have heard the great chronicles of the Toa Nuva, the adventures of heroes in the time before time - champions of Unity and Duty. Now is the time for new legends to rise from the Matoran - now is the era of Destiny!”

“In the past, you may have known these Toa differently. They were athletes, inventors, guard captains, chroniclers and aides… your friends and neighbors. With destiny awaiting it was not Toa, but six Matoran who answered the call. When we Turaga failed to foresee the coming threat, when the Toa Nuva lay defeated by the rising forces of darkness, these heroes heard Mata Nui’s command. They ventured to the universe beyond - through desolate realms where no Toa could tread, braved the fires of Mount Valmai so intense that they would have given Lhii the lavasurfer cause to turn back, fought monstrous and abyssal Rahi in the forsaken ocean depths, all in search of a legendary Mask of Power. They did this not for glory or gratitude, not even because it was asked of them, but because the great flame of heroism burned in each of their chests!”

“Of course, the journey of our shared lifetimes is not one without sacrifice, and so too must all journeys end. It is with solemn and grateful hearts we honor brave Matoro, our fallen brother. Though Matoro walks among the honored dead, let us look to the Great Spirit for guidance, who has himself taught us that death is far from the end.”

As Vakama spoke, Turaga Dume signaled to Kopeke, Taipu, Macku, and Tamaru. On cue, the four Matoran pulled on ropes and the curtain behind the arch parted. They revealed an immense commemorative sculpture of a Toa suspended in mid-air, Turaga Onewa’s finest handiwork. Although few in attendance had seen him, the statue bore the unmistakable and heroic likeness of the late Matoro Mahri, crafted from pearly white stone and shining in the daylight. His Twin Cutter raised triumphantly to the sky above, as though he were holding up the very heavens. The expression on his mask was one of serene vigilance, betraying no fear in the moment of his demise.

Slotted into the base of the sculpture sat a gentle blue Kanohi Akaku, Matoro’s mask.

As the crowd gasped and clapped in admiration, Whenua, Onewa, Nokama and Matau each stepped forth and held colorful Kanohi masks above their heads, presenting them to each Toa Mahri. Nuparu received an orange Pakari, Hahli a sapphire Kaukau, Hewkii an ochre Kakama, and Kongu a turquoise Miru.

Norik recognized these masks well. Recovering them from the wreckage of Karzahni and delivering them to Dume had been the reason he’d remained in the Matoran universe as long as he had.

Then, at last, Vakama himself stepped forward and raised the yellow Hau that had once belonged to Turaga Lhikan into the air, presenting the most sacred mask to Jaller. At a loss for words, the Toa accepted.

Just like the Toa Hagah who had rescued him from the jaws of despair, he now carried a mask in honor of heroes passed.

They all did.

“From Matoran into Inika. From Inika into Mahri. From Mahri into… who knows? You have always been legends. So long as our story lives in the hearts of the righteous, so too does the memory of Matoro endure. In his name, in Mata Nui’s name, and in the name of all those who have come before, we celebrate this story and the return of our champions: the Toa Mahri!”

Vakama raised his Firestaff into the air and was met with thunderous applause from the crowd. At long last, the missing heroes of Mata Nui were restored and the Turaga could enjoy the peace they had so rightly earned. Onewa embraced Hewkii in a rare display of affection, thumping the Toa proudly on the back.

Not all of the elders shared in the festivities though. On the fringes stood Turaga Nuju. With no Toa at his side, the elder of Ko-Koro watched the celebrations with glassy eyes. Sensing a lull, he stepped forward and cleared his throat, drawing attention from the gathered crowd.

“Click, tweep, twi-lurp, twi-waddle clack, charoooo charoooo… Briaa-briaa! Braka braka, chur nok, twee kak kak ka karr! Clack-da, dri-dri kakaw.… Taka taka clack-twi… ko ko!”

At the end of his song, Nuju handed his Icepick to Kopeke and connected his two thumbs together, flapping his fingers in imitation of a Proto-Drake’s wings, soaring into the great beyond.

Unfamiliar with the language of the flyers, the others turned to Kualus for translation and found his eyes were moist.

“Nuju says… that Matoro will always be with you, riding on the wind behind you and keeping the sun on your backs. Though these Toa are missing one of their flock, they will never fly alone.”

The Turaga of Ice swelled with pride and nodded profoundly, his eyes lingering on Jaller in particular. If there had been any blame, it was clear that he held no resentment in his heart.

The Toa Mahri of Fire lowered his gaze in unspoken gratitude, feeling Hahli’s hand on his shoulder.

After that, the demands of the occasion took over and the Turaga were whisked away. The Matoran moved to congratulate and admire their heroes. The Toa Hagah lowered their spears and joined the celebration.

There was talk of Nuparu repairing Iruini’s Cyclone Spear, with modifications of course.

Hewkii knelt down before Macku, who looped a wreath of flowers over his mask.

Kualus and Nuju trilled and clacked, nattering like old Kewa.

Gaaki and Vakama discussed a bright future of unification and rebuilding.

Jaller and Hahli were reunited with Pewku, introducing her to Jaller’s Hahnah crab companion while Turaga Whenua watched with fascination.

Matau and Kongu proposed that they dance the Great Takara and were met with gentle protests and laughter.

Pouks and Bomonga congratulated Onewa on his handiwork, agreeing that the carving of Matoro at last made a suitable substitute for the sculptures he had promised them so long ago.

As smaller conversations took hold, Norik found Iruini approaching him. He was shaky on his feet. Even with the combined healing powers of Nokama, Hahli and Gaaki, there was only so much that could be done after their adventure.

“So that’s why you were picking through the pieces of Karzahni’s realm,” he murmured. “I thought you were wasting everyone’s time… You should’ve said.”

Norik looked at Iruini’s emerald form, noticing now that he had removed his ornate Hagah armor.

“Perhaps,” he said, recalling the lengths he had gone to in search of all five masks. “It was a favor to an old friend, and there was no guarantee I could find them all. I didn’t want to get anyone’s hopes up if I couldn’t follow through.”

Iruini grunted in acknowledgement. There was such gravity between them, and a lot of failed decision making. He was struck by the sensation they were meeting to settle some unpleasant and unavoidable argument.

As if they had been waiting, Norik saw the other four Toa Hagah return to stand with them. Gaaki’s gaze fell on him expectantly. It seemed the moment of her vision had finally come rushing up to meet them.

“For all the stories we’ve shared, we never spoke much of the time before we became Hagah,” mused Norik after a short silence, looking at each of the Toa standing around him. “I suppose I’d found a new team in you five: in Bomonga I had a deputy and strategist, in Gaaki a translator and prophet, in Pouks a warrior and comrade, and in Kualus a scholar and teacher. But in you Iruini, I suppose I saw something else… I saw in you the memory of a friend I lost, an old teammate. She was swift but daring, valiant but impulsive, cunning but reckless…”

The Toa of Fire trailed off, losing himself for a moment in a tender memory.

“You lost her,” said Iruini, intuiting the rest. “You never said… but we always knew.”

“She was taken from me and I feared the same fate would befall you so I held you back,” said Norik. “I kept you in reserve and shackled you with caution because I couldn’t bear to lose another. Even now, all these years later, I see so much of her in you…”

The emerald Toa considered the words.

“You wanted to keep me safe,” he murmured, finally understanding.

“Of course I did,” said Norik, gazing sadly at his teammate as though he were something more. “But somewhere along the way I made a cage of your freedom… I don’t know what the future will hold for you, brother, whatever great legacy you forge for yourself in this strange new world of fruit-slingers, golden tyrants and red stars. But know that you will always have a place here. Should you ever wish to return, ever find yourself in need… we’ll be here.”

Iruini grinned, receiving a thump on the back from Pouks, who was careful to avoid his injuries.

“Go in peace, brother,” said Bomonga proudly. “Chase the wind for as long as you need and see where it takes you.”

“And as you do, use this,” said Kualus, handing him an object bound in cloth. “Wear it well and remember where you came from. Remember your team, forever and always.”

Iruini unwrapped the bindings and found a green mask of power resting in his hands. It glinted with promise in the midday sun, fresh from the forge.

“What… is this?” he stammered, turning the mask over in his hands.

“We can’t have you walking around with cracked armor and a broken Kanohi!” chuckled Pouks. “Besides, this is the first mask Vakama’s crafted in 1000 years, made especially for the occasion.”

“As is tradition, it’s carved in the shape of a past hero,” beamed Gaaki. “The greatest hero of all…”

The emerald Toa grinned.

It was a Kualsi… in the shape of a Kualsi.

“Toa Iruini.”