Chapter 4

There are those even within the Order of Mata Nui that would swear that the magnificence of the Destral fortress eclipsed even that of Artakha and Daxia. For himself, Mazeka had never spent enough time in Destral to definitively say one way or the other, and everything he’d heard of Artakha was thirdhand. In spite of this, however, a case could probably be made that the austere glory of the ancient architecture and the vanity of Makuta renovation projects in the time since had brought about a fortress unparalleled in its intimidating magnificence.

But there would be no determining the truth of these claims. The pounding Destral had sustained in the “Destiny war,” as the Order had titled it—coupled with what some were considering a second Great Cataclysm—had left the structure completely uninhabitable. Large sections of the floor had completely caved in—and as dark as the interior was, the bottom of these pits often could not be seen. In other places, the structural integrity was so weak that Mazeka’s foot had fallen clean through on two occasions already. Some whole rooms were sealed off by mounds of masonry and rubble.

“So, the thousand year period of the Dark Times ends as it began.” mused Makuta as he slowly moved through the ruins. “A millennium marked by turbulence started by the Great Cataclysm ended with a second great cataclysm.”

“We have a few cases in our history like that. But this is certainly the most notable of them.”

“Tell me, Mazeka,” Makuta said abruptly. “When we spoke earlier of your first mission—of your first kill in the land of the Valmai Falls—you told me that your De-Matoran companion did not share your sentiment on the necessity of murder. But if the Order is as true to its doctrine as you say, if it is unafraid to do what is truly necessary to preserve the peace… then why did it see fit to enroll him?”

“If Krakua had been left free, the Brotherhood would have gone after him again.”

“The universe is vast, and the Order acts in secrecy. It would have been no difficult task to make him disappear.”

“Well, the Order needed Krakua as an emissary to the Toa. A go-between of sorts.”

“You have made the point repeatedly that the Toa were useless in this fight against Makuta,” Teridax emphasized. “A point I quite agree with. Prior to the arrival of the Toa Mata and others in Metru Nui, there were only twenty Toa active in the south. Twenty. Less than that if you take away Order members like Krakua and Helryx. So what is there to go between?”

“The Toa were a symbol,” Mazeka insisted. “Everyone knows what they represented.”

“They represented failure.”

The Ko-Matoran frowned and crossed his arms. The Order was not prone to mistakes, and this was certainly not one of them. The problem was that Mazeka couldn’t identify why it wasn’t.

Makuta continued. “Your Order held consistently to its views, which raises another question… Why did Krakua see fit to remain with it when they are the opposite of everything the Toa represented?”

“He clearly recognized the importance of working with them for success.”

Makuta ran his hand over a cracked iron vat. “What is it that the Toa say? That they don’t kill because it would make them as bad as their enemies? That it would make them as bad as Makuta?”

“The Order was different.”

“Why?”

“We served Mata Nui’s will. We followed the initiatives handed to us by the Great Beings themselves. We had existed from the beginning of the universe and did anything to see our mission through.”

“Couldn’t the same thing have been said of the Brotherhood until very recently?”

Mazeka’s frown deepened. His unflinching loyalty lay with the Order, and he despised seeing it questioned like this.

“But the Brotherhood fell. The Order never did.”

“All it takes is an inflated sense of self-interest. Take it from a Makuta,” Teridax laughed. “And take it from one who, like your precious Order, hasn’t fallen… yet. Everything you, your Order, and I believe, is the same. You came to me for a reason. I’d fit right in with you lot.”

✴        ✴        ✴

“Mazeka, get over here.”

It had been an hour. After storming off irritably, the Ko-Matoran had found himself staring at a collapsed circular staircase. He told himself that he was pondering the best method of spelunking down, although he was also mentally trying to fit the square Krakua into the round Order. Perhaps it was true that the Order had seen some necessity for traditional Toa, but why? What could they possibly contribute, after they had failed so badly? They had fallen into Makuta’s scheme time and again, and it was Mazeka’s understanding that even by the end, it was Mata Nui, not the Toa, who had been responsible for Makuta’s downfall.

“Mazeka!”

The Ko-Matoran sighed and started back.

“What is it?” he snapped, as he stepped through the door into the room the voice was coming from.

Makuta Teridax seemed to have found some sort of hangar, for he was surrounded by a complement of vehicles, ranging in style, size, and complexity. Of all of them, the most eye-catching by far was the sleek, azure motorcycle Teridax now stood beside. Emblazoned on the side-plating was the name “Destral Cycle.” Beneath the name was what appeared to have once been a curvey signature spelling “Avak,” but it had been scratched out and replaced by the name “Antroz.” Mazeka snorted at the sight.

“Antroz always did have an eye for beauties,” Teridax remarked. “The front is well reinforced. It will serve our purposes well.”

“You don’t mean to use that thing, do you?!”

“Unless you have a better plan…” Teridax chuckled, throwing a leg over the seat. “With my powers, I could descend quickly, but it would take you time we can’t afford. Especially now that we have this… Hop on.”

Mazeka snorted as he climbed on. “What are you going to do, ride down the walls?”

Teridax scanned the bike for an ignition, or any sort of pedal. Unable to find much of anything, he frustratedly slammed his hand against the bike, causing a loud, ringing bang to resound through the fortress.

At once, the bike lit up and shot forward, nearly flying right from under both of them. Narrowly able to catch a hold of the vehicle before it was lost, Mazeka caught a hold of Makuta, and Makuta of the bike, before the Destral Cycle battered clean through a wall and shot out above the broken staircase Mazeka had been observing. Although its momentum carried it forward, the weight of the vehicle won out, and it, along with its two passengers, entered a freefall, smashing through layer upon layer of stairway.

Landing at the very bottom, the wheels at once gained traction, and the bike lurched forward again, smashing through the stairwell wall - through several walls. Makuta was able to assert himself over the bike, directing it toward a giant pit in the towering hall they found themselves in. Flinging themselves over the pit, they again entered freefall, until they reached the bottom. The bike was about to shoot forward again, but the bottom tripped on the ruins of a towering metal door, and both Mazeka and Teridax were hurled head-over-heel into the chamber.

Thankfully, the powers and experience of one and the training of the other ensured they landed with relative grace.

But as Mazeka looked up, his heart skipped a beat.

“We’re here,” he murmured.

It was almost as he remembered. The table situated in the center of the room that had once held the Kanohi Olmak was now empty. The walls were forty feet tall, lined with columns of almost a hundred stasis tubes, with thin catwalks providing access to each row. A few of them had been cracked in the earthquake, their resident Toa spilling out onto the ground dead. Three were altogether empty. But most of the tubes still contained their prisoners.

“Toa.” Mazeka whispered.

Teridax took a few steps forward into the room, and the Ko-Matoran realized he would never forget the sight: the glowing white Makuta against the backdrop of the rows and rows of stasis tubes. The Matoran stepped forward to join him.

“We will kill them in their sleep,” Teridax said. “It will be efficient… and merciful.”

“Agreed,” Mazeka said with a shudder.

A noise from the shadows of the far room caused the Matoran to jump slightly. Out of the darkness, a single Toa emerged.

“You can no longer hide in the light,” the Toa said with a soft menace. In one of his hands, he held a Staff of Darkness, recovered by Icarax from Mangaia. “For I am no longer blinded by it.”

“Mata Nui has been awakened,” Makuta growled. “There is no place for you. Run along, Toa, or accept your doom.”

“I have travelled between many universes,” Takanuva continued, ignoring him. “This is just one more. Still, the one thing that I find constant in my travels, is that every dimension draws up the line between good and evil differently. But what has this world come to if Matoran and a Makuta of Light conspire to kill my brothers in their sleep?”

“I wouldn’t pay him any heed,” said Mazeka evasively. “The suspended animation and the leeches have disoriented him.”

“Disoriented?” chuckled the Toa, repeating the word as though it bore a delicious irony. “Perhaps you’ve been reading the wrong Wall of History, Matoran. I serve the Makuta by choice.”

Mazeka frowned. His Makuta companion said nothing, his vacuous silence inviting the Toa to continue.

“The Order of Mata Nui sent me on a shortcut to save the Toa Nuva, as were a great many of my alternate selves,” murmured Takanuva, his eyes glazing over. “I saw vast and terrifying realities on my journey, but I never found my way back to my own universe. I wonder, perhaps, if my old teammates are still waiting for me to awaken Mata Nui and make my grand entrance—or if they have died in the energy storms I was meant to save them from. Who can say? Without their jostling egos to contend with, I learnt a great deal about my own destiny. You could say I saw the light… by looking into the shadow.

Takanuva hesitated before adding, “This was as much my project as Tridax’s. Without my help, he could not have tracked down so many of me so fast.”

“He is beyond redemption,” Mazeka said, gazing in abject horror at the sight.

“In this world, Mata Nui has been awakened. Now your master is dead,” Makuta Teridax snarled, for the Toa was drawing ever closer. “You may look like a Toa of Shadow. But at your heart, what are you?”

“Perhaps we can settle this another way,” the Toa smiled. He raised the Staff of Darkness. “A simple game of Kolhii?”

“Get back, Mazeka.”

“I will not.”

Takanuva laughed. “Oh, but Kolhii is a team sport, isn’t it?”

“Mazeka!”

“And what is a Toa,” Takanuva said, raising his arms, “If not a team player?”

One by one, the stasis tubes unsealed with a hiss. The doors slid open… and their prisoners stepped forward, onto the catwalk. Even more came out from the shadows behind the lone Toa. Now against the bright Makuta stood arrayed almost a hundred Shadow Toa.

“Haven’t you heard?” the Toa spoke in unison. “You wake one, you wake them all…”