Prologue

Deep in the jungle of Bota Magna, the silence of the wooded grove had been disrupted by the sound of hurried footsteps. Over roots and dirt, three former prisoners raced through, with no real destination in mind.

In the lead, the Skakdi warlord known as Nektann marched forward, his clawed feet digging into the grassy turf. “Hurry up!” he shouted to his two companions, “I’m not afraid to leave you both behind.”

“How awful it would be to be rid of you,” Roodaka said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “And to think we’ve gotten along so well.”

“Quiet,” Nektann shot back, “or you can exit the jungle with fewer limbs than you entered with.” As he spoke, he brushed some dust off of the dagger he had mounted on his hip.

Roodaka laughed as she trod along uneven ground. “Or I could have you leave with more,” she mused as she gripped a Rhotuka launcher in her right hand.

Nektann stopped in his tracks, and turned to face her. Drawing his blade, he aimed square at her neck, keeping her at arm’s reach away from him. “Fire that spinner, witch,” he growled, “and I will use whatever mutation you give me to rip you to pieces.”

“Enough, both of you!” A red armored warrior aimed a blaster at Roodaka, and pointed his clawed hand at Nektann. “Like it or not, destiny has chosen to group us together. Surely, there must be a reason why.”

Nektann scoffed. “If I had a widget for every time I heard about destiny, I’d be swimming in them. I’ll tell you why we’re here, Tyrant. It is so anyone attacking us will have to pick you two off first.” He chuckled to himself, and turned his dagger on the crimson warrior. “The only ‘destiny’ here is my own, and you two exist to serve it.”

Before any of Nektann’s two companions could react, the warlord was struck with a blast of energy. Blue electricity crackled as it ran throughout his armor, and Nektann was paralyzed, collapsing to the ground in an instant.

Roodaka and Tyrant jumped back almost in unison, standing back to back with weapons drawn. Footsteps slowly grew louder and louder, though their point of origin remained a mystery to the two criminals.

Suddenly, a dozen of the trees that surrounded them glowed bright red, only to crumble into dust. As they settled, a bronze figure suddenly came into view, carrying a glowing staff in his right hand.

Tyrant scoffed. “Shokdon. I should have known.” He raised his blaster, standing atop two stones. “Have you come to finish me off? Leaving me for dead didn’t quite work.”

The bronze figure laughed. “It’s ‘Conjurer’, actually. Though you never were much for the codenames our employer gave us.”

Tyrant stifled a laugh. “You still serve that fool? He’s a maniac, gone mad with power. Are you really content to be just a servant in his empire?”

Conjurer took a step closer. “You don’t believe that, ‘Tyrant.’ You only want his throne, his power. Were it you in his place, it’d be a much different story.”

“That’s rich, coming from the one who lost his tail for insubordination,” Roodaka sneered, aiming her launcher at the newcomer. “Your recovery seems to have gone well, by the way. Learned a lesson about picking fights with Makuta?”

Conjurer tilted his head. “Ah, Roodaka… I’m going to enjoy this quite a bit.”

“Like Karzahni you will,” she hissed. “I was just on my way to return to the Shadowed One. I’m sure he’s been waiting eagerly for my return.”

“No… I had special instructions for you and Tyrant here,” Conjurer growled. “You won’t be leaving his domain anytime soon.”

Roodaka growled, but before she could act, twin beams shot from the bronze warrior’s eyes, sending the ebon armored female flying, and colliding with a nearby tree. Tyrant leapt forward, aiming his blaster at Conjurer, only to meet the blunt end of the hunter’s weapon. He quickly fell to the dirt.

Nektann at last managed to return to his feet, and glared at the bronze hunter. He attempted to shoot a blast at him, but much to his confusion, nothing happened. “My… powers…” he said weakly.

“They belong to me,” Conjurer smiled, “at least, for now.”

Nektann roared as he charged towards the hunter, but just as quickly found himself plummeting to the ground, as yet another blast of energy struck him in the back. Across the wooded jungle, a gray armored figure with twin blades stood, and nodded to Conjurer.

Tyrant groaned, rising to his feet once more. Turning to the newcomer, he pulled the trigger on his blaster and fired, but the blast only struck a tree. Growling, his gaze shot back to Conjurer. “For what?” he asked in desperation. “What could he possibly want with me?”

Conjurer grinned. “More than you could know.” With that, another blast shot from the hunter’s eyes, and the crimson armored warrior was sent flying.

Digging his fingers into the dirt, Nektann slowly rose to his feet once more. Groaning in pain, he at last stood tall, and assessed his situation. His two potential allies had fallen, and he found himself surrounded by the Dark Hunters. Even he, stronger and larger than the average Skakdi, knew the odds were against him.

Nevertheless, he gritted his teeth, and locked eyes with the bronze armored Dark Hunter.

“Let’s end this,” he spat.

✴        ✴        ✴

Roodaka awoke, having been briefly knocked out by her collision with the tree. Regaining her composure, she saw the battle unfolding in the center of the jungle, and turned in the opposite direction. She began to run, but her heel caught on an exposed root, and she collapsed to the ground once more.

Before she could rise again, she felt a knife gently press against her back.

“I wouldn’t go that way, if I were you.” The voice was familiar to Roodaka. Turning her head slowly, she found herself staring into the deep red eyes of a former Barraki warlord.

“Takadox,” she spat. “So this is where you slinked off to.”

“Correct,” he replied as his mouth curved into a sickening smile, “though the leader refers to me as ‘Hypnotic’. I believe you’ll come with me now.”

Roodaka groaned. She had two perfectly willing targets to place in front of her just a moment ago, perhaps they could have bought her time. But of course, Takadox had caught her alone. Though she’d never say it aloud, she was woefully out of her depth without someone to command.

“Perhaps we can…” she began, but before she could continue, she found her mind clouded, and any ability to form coherent thought impeded. All she could picture in her mind's eye was a simple command: ‘follow Takadox.’ As all emotion left her, she couldn’t help but to obey.

✴        ✴        ✴

As his dagger dug deep into his opponent’s armor, Nektann grinned as he listened to the cries of the hunter he had slain. With one last shove, he buried the blade in the hunter’s flesh, and watched as his enemy’s heartlight faded to black.

Rising to his feet once more, he stared down Conjurer, and gritted his teeth.

“That’s enough,” Conjurer said sternly, and aimed his staff at the Skakdi warlord. “This staff can disintegrate you at my will. I was ordered to bring you in alive, but I’m sure the Shadowed One will understand any… occupational hazards.”

Nektann paused for just a moment. “I’ve heard tales of you,” he uttered, “you’re known to lie about these grandiose powers you possess. How can I be sure you speak the truth?”

“You want to take the chance?” The bronze armored hunter pressed the tip of his staff on the Skakdi’s chest as he spoke. “It would only take a moment. You’d be reduced to atoms.”

The warlord gave pause, seemingly considering the threat, before he flashed a wicked smile and pulled the enemy’s staff closer. The tip almost pierced his armor as he locked eyes with the Dark Hunter. “Try me.”

“There’ll be no need for that,” a voice echoed through the trees. The two combatants turned in unison and watched as the former Barraki Takadox approached, accompanied by the two other escaped prisoners. “No need at all. Lay your weapons down.”

With a huff, Conjurer dropped his staff to the ground.

Snarling, Nektann turned to Takadox. “What business do you have here?” he demanded.

“The business of my master,” Takadox answered. “The Shadowed One has requested your presence at his fortress.”

Nektann growled. “I served under Teridax for far too long. I will not bow to another.”

Takadox shrugged. “Shame. I don’t think you’ll like the alternative.” As he spoke, his eyes began glowing red, and before long, Nektann found himself entranced. His mind slowed, his vision became groggy, and before long, he had drifted into a state of unconsciousness.

The former Barraki made his way over to the bronze armored Dark Hunter, and extended a hand. Conjurer smacked it away, rising to his feet on his own. “I would have liked to have killed him,” he remarked.

“I know,” Takadox replied nonchalantly. “But the Shadowed One’s wishes outweigh yours, do they not?”

Conjurer frowned. “Mind your ego. You were lucky to have earned his good will, but you still have much time until you will ever gain his trust. Much less his respect.”

Takadox stopped in his tracks. Turning to him once more, he frowned, and carefully unsheathed a dagger.

“I ruled the universe, once,” he said calmly. “It is my birthright. Whether you like it or not, I will end up on that throne.” He held the dagger up. “You would be wise to stay in my good graces.”

Conjurer’s face bore no expression. “Shut up, Takadox.”

As Conjurer strode forward, Takadox weighed the possibility of striking down Conjurer, but when he considered the numbers that the Dark Hunters brought to the table, he decided against it.

“Are three prisoners really worth all this?” he asked, trying to change the subject.

Conjurer chuckled. “‘Three prisoners’? These are not just any escapees. Roodaka and Tyrant both betrayed the Shadowed One, and have been left alone for far too long. His use for them in his ranks has expired, now the time has come to tie up loose ends.”

“Yet he leaves them alive.”

“For now. Their survival will be of interest to those who oppose us, and our leader seeks to take advantage of any possible profit.”

Takadox sighed deeply. “And the Skakdi?”

Conjurer eyed his three entranced captives, and grinned. “Oh, he will prove to be very valuable. I’m sure of it.”

✴        ✴        ✴

Nektann returned to consciousness. His eyes covered, his mind flooded with questions, and movement of his arms restricted by binding, he immediately began jerking violently as much as he could, attempting to free himself of his constraints. Thrashing back and forth, he suddenly gasped in pain as he felt a blunt weapon strike him in the chest. At once, he collapsed forward to the ground.

As he fell, his blindfold was removed from his eyes, and he was suddenly overwhelmed. Adjusting his eyes, he took in an ornate throne room, the walls draped with scarlet flags and gold decorum. Kanohi masks lined the doorways, some still attached to the heads that wore them. The room held at least fifty warriors, by Nektann’s count. Most of them were members of the Dark Hunters, he reasoned, but he also spotted some disparate Skrall soldiers, an Ice Glatorian, and even some Agori. An army had gathered here, one of misfits and outcasts from both worlds.

Where am I? He wondered to himself, unsure of what to make of his surroundings. Where did they find all of them?

At last, he turned his attention to the center of the room. A massive throne was constructed, situated atop a platform that towered above all. Slowly, the platform descended, giving Nektann a better view of the two figures that stood atop it. The guard that stood next to the throne, he did not recognize, but there was no doubt about who sat upon it.

The figure had piercing red eyes, a gaze that made even the massive Nektann feel small. He was old, the Skakdi could tell, but still seemed ready for battle, tightly clutching a spear in his right hand. His clawed fingers rapped against the armrest of the chair, as though impatient to attend to business. Even on the island of Zakaz, Nektann had heard stories of the harrowing figure. Now, he had a sickening feeling that all of the legends were coming true before his eyes, as the platform at last reached the floor.

The Shadowed One sat before him.

“You have been disgraced,” the elderly ruler said in a raspy voice that surprised Nektann. He had imagined the enigmatic figure to have a much deeper inflection, but the voice was that of an old man’s. And yet, it was no less intimidating.

“Join me,” the Shadowed One continued, “join the ranks of the Dark Hunters, and take your rightful place in this new world. Be a part of my grand design.”

Nektann snarled. “I knelt before Teridax. Never again.”

The Shadowed One scoffed. “You took a gamble siding with Teridax,” he said, “it ended poorly. The Skakdi rebuked you, Piraka, and now you won’t be able to return to them.” He chuckled, drawing in a deep breath between each laugh. “Your army is gone. You have no one to return to. You are a warlord of nothing.”

“Then what do you want with me?” Nektann demanded. “If I am so low, why do I still live?”

The dark ruler rose to his feet, leaning on his spear for support. With a few heavy steps, he made his way over to the bound warlord. “We too, have been disgraced. You may look upon us and see an army, but what we are is a band of outcasts. Fallen Toa. Mutated Matoran, overgrown Rahi, warriors without honor. For years, this organization has hired scum and lowlives looking for profit, and sold them to the highest bidder. We survived, thriving on the outskirts of society, living outside the law.”

The Shadowed One’s clawed finger ran under Nektann’s chin, and forced him to lock eyes with him. “But now, the society we fled from is gone. The rulers who would oppress us find themselves powerless. Look around, Nektann. We stand on the precipice of a new world, ripe for the taking. One where we will be outcasts no longer. One where we will decide who lives and dies. One that will serve us, and name us its rightful rulers.”

Nektann growled in defiance. “I am a warrior with honor. I am not the same as you.”

The Shadowed One lowered his hand, and extended it to the Skakdi. At once, his bindings were released.

“And yet, you find yourself here.”

Nektann lowered his head, finding the situation all too familiar. When Teridax had taken over the Matoran Universe, he had recognized the insurmountable power he faced, and instead chose to ally with the Makuta. He had thrown away his principles to survive, and in exchange, he lost everything.

For a brief moment, he thought to avoid making the same mistake twice, resisting the call to join. But as his eyes panned the room, watching legions of hunters and warriors stand at attention, he knew that it was hopeless. There would be no escape from such a powerful force.

“I don’t have a choice, do I?” Nektann sighed, his eyes fixated on the ground.

The Shadowed One smiled. “Not if you value your life.”

Nektann groaned, shutting his eyes. “Then… I accept.”

With that, the Shadowed One turned his back on the Skakdi as he returned to his throne. “Wise choice,” he uttered as his platform rose once more into the air.

As Nektann rose to his feet, he found himself lost in the crowd of Dark Hunters. No one spoke a word of welcome, no one acknowledged his presence.

But he knew, deep down, that something had just changed forever. With two words, his soul had been signed away.