Chapter Three

Blistering waves of heat radiated up from the desert sands as the light of the sun beat down upon Po-Wahi. Many kio from the nearest village, a lone totem stood as a symbol of Mata Nui in the harsh desert. Many travelers lost in the sands would look to it and know that they were on the right path.

But it would not stand.

Dark soot-filled clouds rolled across the sky far above, blotting out the desert sun. Embers flew through the air, and an abrupt, sweltering wave of heat melted the totem in fiery blast. The creature responsible regarded its handiwork coldly before continuing on its path.

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From the village of Po-Koro, the large billows of smoke could be seen from kios away as the fires edged closer and closer to the Path of Prophecies. Hafu’s mighty statues were mere minutes from being consumed by the ash and flame.

Turaga Onewa gazed sadly from atop the village’s citadel wall. To his sides Huki and Hafu tooked on in horror. In all their many years on Mata Nui, even the Rahi had never brought about anything like this.

“We cannot resist them,” the Turaga said finally. “They are too many and too powerful.” He hung his head. “We must abandon Po-Koro.”

The two Po-Matoran looked at him and then each other, stunned. “But how?” Huki asked. “If we leave town we have to go straight through them—the main gate is the only way out!”

“It’s also the only way in,” Onewa replied. “If we could find a way to block it…”

His eyes widened, and Huki inhaled sharply. They exchanged glances, realizing they’d thought of the same thing.

The Turaga turned to Hafu. “I’m sorry, Hafu, but there is no other way.”

Hafu scratched his head. Why were they apologizing to him?

The sculptor glanced at Onewa, then Huki, then Onewa, then at the path, and then back to them.

He jolted.

“I cannot topple my own creations!” he cried. “There must be another way!”

“There is none,” Onewa shook his head. “And you are the only one with the skill to do it.” He gestured back to the valley. “The Tahnok will be at the main gate soon…I will gather a company to escort you.”

With that, the stone elder turned and left.

As Hafu watched him go, his shock gave way to despair. He turned to the other Matoran pleadingly. “Huki…” he begged.

The athlete met his gaze, then looked away. “I’m sorry about this, Hafu. I will tell Onewa that I will lead the company.” As he started toward the village, he glanced over his shoulder. “Don’t worry, I won’t let anything happen to you.”

Overwhelmed with grief, Hafu turned back to admire his creations one more time. There they stood, the finest of sculptures of the craft, proudly welcoming travelers to the gates of Po-Koro. Already the villagers had fought hard and successfully defended them against waves of Pahrak and Lehvak. Hafu had forged them in the heat of creative passion over decades, finely crafting them without imperfections. They were monuments to the land, to history, to culture. They had stood for a thousand years, and now, at the hands of the invaders, his “originals” would be no more.

With a sigh of utter resignation, he knew it had to be done.

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In the village, bags were thrown over the assembled Mahi steeds, and villagers were gathering the last of their most precious belongings. Not far from the gate, Huki conferred with members of the Po-Koro Guard, preparing them for the mission. Ally and Piatra would accompany him while Pekka would go with the exodus.

Someone shouted from above. “A sneak attack!” exclaimed the Po-Koro sentinel from the citadel wall. He sounded the village alarm. “They’re at the gates NOW!”

The Matoran looked to the gate of the village, which glowed red hot before exploding open from the outside. Huki and his guard members prepared their disks and weapons, but his heart sank in his chest.

“No! We’re too late!” he realized.

Huki squinted through the bright colors of heated stone and awaited the inevitable waves of invaders. One round silhouettes rolled to a halt before the gates, then another. For a moment he thought they were Bohrok. But they lay still.

He blinked in surprise, confused.

“It’s Hafu!” he gasped. “He made it out!”

Huki flew up the staircase and ran into the watchtower. “He’s knocking down the statues!” the guard said.

He was right. From far above, Huki watched helplessly as Hafu felled yet another statue, hitting it just right to send it toppling over.

“But—he’s trapped! He can’t get back in!” the guard added breathlessly.

“Hafu!” came Huki’s anguished cry, as he reached in vain to his comrade. “Noooo!”

Far below, Hafu paused, taking a few deep breaths and looking grimly at his work. Hearing the athlete’s cry, Hafu looked up at him, before realizing Huki wasn’t looking at him.

He was looking at something behind him.