Co-Written by Doctor Bob, Rising Moon, and Nuile: Crazy Writer for the Library Summer Olympics at BZPower

Notes by Imatron:

This story has been modified from it’s original layout, mostly due to it’s conversion from the forum coding to the coding our front page uses. I have tweaked a few things hear and there in hopes of making it easier for readers to mark their place, and I’ve edited spots that make less sense on one single page than they do broken up between several forum posts. Otherswise I did my best to preserve the original format. The story does have a darker tone, and quite a bit of death happens, so I would like to caution our readers about this beforehand.

Synopsis:
One Toa team. One Chronicler. An expedition gone horribly wrong.

When the Toa Mangai accept Turaga Dume’s request to do a pioneering mission to a pocket dimension, Lhikan, Nidhiki, and Naho think nothing of it. Escorted by Metru-Nui’s chronicler, Mavrah, the motley quartet get much more than they bargained for when they arrive in a perfect replica of their own city, except something is wrong… very wrong.

Amidst the city’s towering, crumbling skyscrapers that appear to have been abandoned for hundreds of years, fleshless, dried husks of Toa and Matoran armor lay littered throughout the streets. Here, death lurks, and the adventurers soon find themselves relentlessly pursued by dark forces with horrifying and malicious intents.

Chapter I:
(Written by Doctor Bob; edited by Nuile: Crazy Writer and Rising Moon)

Raw, primal fear exploded within Toa Naho’s, her feet slamming violently into the dusty ground of Metru-Nui’s residential district. The long-forsaken place resembled a demon’s twisted, demented dream. Colossal buildings that had once been homes for thousands sat empty, ripped of life under the cruel rays of sun, rusting and crumbling. Empty husks of armor that were once Toa and Matoran zipped past Naho’s vision as she continued her panic-driven sprint. She needed to be somewhere–anywhere but here.

Nidhiki.…

The Toa of water abruptly stopped just short of an intersection, sensing something strange about her surroundings; to her left was an all-but-demolished eatery, the shattered timbers of the roof jutting out from the caved-in structure. To her right was a row of gutted Matoran dwellings. No, no, she thought desperately, whirling around to face the direction from which she came. This is impossible…I couldn’t have…

Her worst fears were confirmed as she slowly, cautiously, approached the eatery, uttering a small yelp of revulsion upon seeing it.

Nidhiki.

Or what once was.

A fleshless pile of steel lie against the building’s dilapidated wall. The body was utterly mutilated. An expression of horror crept over her face, a cold shudder running through her. Whispers echoed hauntingly from the dead heap, rising up from below and forcing their way into her mind. She heard his screams, his cries, his desperation. She felt him…She felt death…

Oh, Beings Above…just been running in circles…

If that creature caught her alone, her doom would be imminent.

Her doom was imminent.

But it did not matter, not if Lhikan was still alive. He’d managed to flee from the beast, somehow–the beast that had taken their Brother…

Tears were shed.

Naho inhaled sharply, pulling herself back to reality, whatever malicious reality this was. Nearby, a low rumble emanated from an adjoining street comparable to the growl of a savage Rock Lion with malevolent intentions.

Behind her mask, Naho’s bright eyes flicked back and forth within their sockets, analyzing any possible movement that could have generated the frightening sound. Almost immediately, an all-too-familiar sound of quick footfalls reached her ears.

“Lhikan!” All fear drained–if only for the moment–she spun and embraced her Brother. The golden-armored Toa rounded a corner in the street, a wide smile etched across his face. He cluthced his blade tightly, but his grip loosened as he wrapped his arms around Naho.

“I’m not sure if luck was the deciding factor,” Lhikan said slowly, with seemingly labored breaths. “But I think I’ve slain it. I destroyed it with a Nova Blast just as it was about to take me.”

Naho stood stone-still and stone-silent, the realization dawning upon her. The tears flooded forth from her eyes like rain after the famine, pouring down in a torrent.

Centuries the monster had wreaked terror upon Metru-Nui, devouring relentlessly any being that held life in its path…

…And now they were free. “Lhikan!” she sobbed. She held him tighter, bringing him in close, if only to let go the overflowing feeling of joy.

She stopped.

This was…wrong.

Her arms loosed for a brief, brief moment.

Toa did not kill…

The world slowed. Time crawled. Lhikan raised his blade, and made a swift slice through the air with his sword.

Naho felt an absolute cold chill pass her. She felt herself flipping through the air, unable to breathe. The world collapsed around her, falling prey to an overcoming explosion of color. Noise, sight, life, everything drained from her in a single interminable moment.

As death’s black hand grasped her and cackled, she thought naught but one word.

Why?

Stoic, the Toa sidestepped the falling headless corpse, taking an unprecedented pleasure in the soft thud it made on impact.

Turning away, Lhikan took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. Innumerable black particles rushed from his lips, gathering in a swirling cloud in front of him. The death-black cloud darted from the Toa to his fallen comrade, closing its shape around the fallen; seconds later, the veil of blackness lifted from the corpse to reveal a pile of empty armor, devoid of an ounce of flesh. It moved on to her head.

Lhikan blinked, recovering from a daze. His eyes fell upon the shapeless black mass that writhed madly in front of him…and Naho’s hollow-eyed mask lying not ten feet behind the creature. The word ‘no’ was the only thing he could process in his mind while intelligent thought gave way to a burning hatred that threatened to literally ignite his body.

He thought not, only spoke, poisonous words dripping from quivering lips. He found not where he had the strength to form them, and they hung menacingly in the air.

“You…”

He raised a condemning finger to the swirling mass.

“You made me do this,” he whispered, barely audibly, gazing in horror at the blade of his own sword. His own weapon. His. Slowly, he let the weapon’s handle slip from his trembling fingers, and it clattered to the sun-heated ground with a distinct metallic ring.

“You made me do this.”

In response, the creature rearranged itself into a crudely copied version of Lhikan’s mask without a sound, the sides of its mouth curled up into an evil smile.

“Burn in Karzahni, shadow-spawn!”

Lhikan roared, summoning a giant jet of flame that erupted from his open hands. The monster made no attempt to move as the giant wall of fire swept uselessly through it; when the flames ceased, the creature charged through the air at the Toa of fire.

Before he could activate his Hau to defend himself, the black mass enveloped him, and the leader of the now-dead Toa Mangai team felt himself being slowly raised off the ground. A laugh echoed throughout his being and throughout the lifeless city, Lhikan’s body spinning faster and faster, propelled by the execrable creature. In the swirling black funnel, the Toa felt his limbs crack and his endurance rapidly failing; struggling for breath, Lhikan could not know how much longer his body could hold itself together in the merciless death spiral, how long his mind could remain intact. His soul was already broken.

“I win…Toa.”

Retreating deep into his mind, the deaths of Naho, Nidhiki, and Mavrah replayed themselves in his thoughts as the force of the funnel tore him to pieces.

Bright, narrow shafts of light pierced the cloudy skies of the metropolis of Metru-Nui, reflecting off the city’s many towering spires that stood out proudly against the industrial landscape. Down below in a smoky aerosol fog, hundreds of Matoran workers pushed carts filled with various goods and appliances towards their assigned destinations.

However, while most were well into their day, Mavrah’s was just beginning as he fell out of his bed, rudely awakened by the droning ring of his alarm clock. With his brain in a fog similar to the industrial district’s infamous aerosol cloud on the opposite side of the city, the Onu-Matoran lazily peeled himself from his tiled floor and proceeded to his pantry in search of something to eat; then the thought hit him. Today was the day when he would join the Toa Mangai in the first planned expedition to planet! The fact that Turaga Dume had refused to explain their means of traveling to their final destination made it all the more fascinating for him.

With the feeling of excitement erasing the fog from his head, he abandoned the thought of food and quickly skipped over to his closet, haphazardly scrounging together all of his equipment: five chronicling tablets, some writing utensils, his Chronicler’s Staff, and of course, a satchel to put the items in. With his items packed, Mavrah threw a quick glance at a clock mounted on the far wall; everyone was supposed to meet at the entrance of the Great Coliseum in an hour’s time, where they would be seen off by the Turaga, and most likely, a large crowd. Double-checking everything to make sure that all his supplies were in place, the Onu-Matoran prepared to leave.

It was then that his communication com in the next room began to ring when he was halfway out the front door. Letting out an exasperated sigh, Mavrah ran through his apartment and grabbed a round, crimson-colored object linked to the wall by a slender cord. Bringing the device to the side of his head, he asked, “Hello?”

“Ah, good morning, Mavrah!” the voice at the other end replied enthusiastically. In the background, various conversations and incomprehensible words were being spoken, nearly muting out the voice.

Lifting a hand to scratch an itchy spot under his mask, he said, “’Morning, Naho. Where are you, in public square or something?”

“No, but I’m pretty close. I decided to come to the Great Coliseum a bit early to talk things out with Turaga Dume about the expedition; I’m not the only one who came early, though. There’s got to be at least a crowd of five hundred right now, just standing there and waiting for something to happen.” After a brief pause, Naho continued. “You better get your rear down here quick, or else I don’t know how you’re going to manage to squeeze trhough the crowd! Lhikan and Nidhiki will probably be showing up pretty soon, so you’d better hurry up.”

“I still haven’t left my apartment yet, and I’ve got to take a tram,” Mavrah muttered. “And I thought we weren’t supposed to meet for another hour.”

She laughed at his remark. “Come on, Mavrah—you’ve always got to be early for occasions like this. But don’t worry about it, I’ll be there in a minute.”

Before he could ask what she meant, Naho hung up her com link. “I don’t like being early,” the Matoran said to himself as somebody sharply knocked on his front door. “Oh, one thing after another….” He sighed and called, “Come in!” before leaving the room to approach the entrance to his home.

Before he could open the door, it creaked open to reveal none other than Toa Naho, crouched over to avoid hitting her head on the low ceiling that obviously wasn’t built to house anything other than Matoran nearly half her size. In place of her trademark transparent Noble Ruru was a teal-colored Great Kakama, the mask of speed.

Smiling broadly, Mavrah said, “That’s some really fanciful headwear that you’ve got there. Can I have one?”

Naho’s facial expression instantly turned sour, unappreciative of his sarcasm; though he was right—the teal mask did stand out like a sore thumb against her dark blue body. “Hello to you, too,” she grumbled, picking him up.

“Uh, what are you doooo—IIIIIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNGGGGGGG?!” he screamed while the entire world became a blur, as fierce winds threatened to rip the mask from his face. Blues and yellows and browns and reds combined in a swirling tunnel of twisting and turning colors, and before Mavrah could tell what happened, he was in front of the Great Coliseum, clutched in the grip of Toa Naho.

“What am I doing? Well, I’m bringing you here with the help of that oh-so-ugly Kakama that you were talking about,” Naho answered, dropping him to the ground. Producing her transparent Ruru from a knapsack that was secured to her back, she threw the teal Kakama into the bustling crowd and slid the Ruru over her head. Seconds later, a victorious cry of joy was heard from the lucky Matoran who had caught the accessory.

Pulling himself up, the first thing that caught Mavrah’s attention was the Great Coliseum, a glistening silver ring in the morning sun. The structure was massive: approximately two-hundred bios tall and almost a mile across, the colossal engineering feat was able to seat the entire population of Metru-Nui and then some.

“Hey, Gukko brain.”

Recovering from his dazed state, he turned around to face Naho. “Wha—“

Good naturedly, she bend over and slapped him on the back of the head. “Come on, we’ve got to meet up with Lhikan and Nidhiki before Turaga Dume begins his speech.”

Following Naho as she pushed her way through the crowd, Mavrah muttered, “Quite frankly, I’m surprised that I don’t have a permanent headache from the thousands of times that you’ve smacked me back there.”

“Remember when we were both Matoran and you dragged me into the Archives to help you with your Rahi research? If I hadn’t forced you to leave when that Manas threw a fit, the smelly thing would have eaten you alive,” Naho shot back. “So it’s not like I don’t have my reasons.”

“Fair enough,” he said, “but you’re the Toa now, so at this point I think that you have an obligation to protect poor, defenseless losers like me.” Even with her head turned away from him, Mavrah could see Naho mimicking his words, making exaggerated hand motions with every mimicked phrase. He smiled smugly.

“Toa Naho! Chronicler Mavrah!”

Looking up, the Matoran saw his Toa companion stand on the tips of her feet, waving to whoever had just called out. “Lhikan and Nidhiki?” he asked.

“Yeah, they’re at the front entrance with Turaga Dume. Come on, let’s go.”

—

To say the least, Naho was feeling incredibly awkward. Seated to her left was Toa Lhikan, who looked over and gave her a reassuring smile, and to her right was Nidhiki, who fiddled with his air scythe nervously. All were seated in wooden chairs underneath Turaga Dume’s speaking podium located directly in the center of the Coliseum, where thousands of Matoran looked on in eager silence, awaiting Dume’s speech.

“Hey, look up there,” Nidhiki said, pointing a finger.

Following his dictation, Naho saw Dume emerge from underneath a marble archway with a terrified-looking Mavrah at his side. Steadily, the aging being slowly approached a microphone system with the aid of the Chronicler; taking a deep breath, he began to speak.

“Welcome, friends. I am especially overjoyed that so many could attend this very special event that will be sure to make history with the help and dedication of the Toa Mangai!”

A deafening roar exploded from the seating areas of the structure as the enormous crowd whooped and cheered, some even throwing confetti while others blew air horns. Naho shrunk back in her seat in embarrassment, trying in vain to cover the fierce blush that dominated her mask. Beside her, Lhikan chuckled.

“For centuries, Toa and Matoran alike looked to the stars and wondered, ‘What is out there?’ Now, my friends, we have a chance to do what many thought to be impossible: to journey to another world entirely,” Dume said excitedly when the cheers gradually stopped. “With the help of a newly retrieved Kanohi Olmak, the Toa Mangai—Lhikan, Naho, and Nidhiki—along with our Chronicler, Mavrah, will be making a journey into the unknown for the purpose of further expanding our knowledge on what waits on the other side of the portal. Now let us give a cheer of encouragement for our brave Toa and their companion!”

Two bright spotlights suddenly illuminated the Toa and Mavrah. Down below, Naho closed her eyes and tried to look happy and excited while Lhikan and Nidhiki waved to the crowd. Next to Turaga Dume, Mavrah stood rigid.

“Now, let us begin!” Dume cried, leaving the podium to retrieve the Olmak. The Chronicler scuttled after him, to avoid the crippling cheering of the onlookers.

Down below, Lhikan leaned over to Naho and asked, “Hey, is everything alright? You look like you just crawled out of a Tarakava pit.”

“Yeah,” she replied, “it’s not like we’re being sent off to a different planet or anything.”

“Actually, we’re not—the Olmak doesn’t work that way. Basically, we’ll be transported to the same exact place as we are now inside the Coliseum, except things may be a bit different than they appear at the moment,” the Mangai leader explained to the best of his ability.

Naho shook her head. “And what is that supposed to mean?”

“I don’t know. That’s all I could piece together with the research that I did; Turaga Dume seems like he doesn’t want to tell us what exactly is going on with this whole charade.”

Before Naho could reply, she felt Nidhiki roughly tap her on the shoulder. “Sorry to break up the chat,” he said, “but I think that it’s almost time for us to get going.” He motioned towards Turaga Dume carrying the large, golden mask entering the central ground floor and walking towards them. Behind the Turaga, Mavrah nervously followed, twiddling his thumbs.

All three Toa stood, and Lhikan strode forwards to meet the city leader. As they met, Dume weakly held up the mask in offering, and the Toa of Fire gently took it from his grasp. Preparing to turn back to his group, the ancient Turaga grabbed his leg and motioned for him to bend over; not wanting to disobey, Lhikan did as he was asked.

Looking from side to side, Dume whispered, “I’m sorry I have withheld information regarding the mask’s power in the past, but I do have my reasons.” Looking over suspiciously at Mavrah, he whispered in an even more hushed tone, “We don’t want this mask to get into the wrong hands: it has the potential to wreak havoc beyond imagination, even though it may not directly affect us.”

Lhikan crossed his arms. “So you’re not going to give me the whole story, are you?”

“I believe you’ll understand how it works once you put it on,” the Turaga said with a smile, “but just make sure that everybody is linking hands when you activate it.”

“Alright,” he replied. “Let’s go, Mavrah.”

Mavrah nodded vigorously and made sure the straps on his backpack were secure. “Right behind you, Toa Lhikan.”

Standing awkwardly next to Nidhiki, Naho watched as Mavrah and Lhikan hastily returned to them, the latter of the two clutching a large golden mask. “So, is that the Olmak?” she asked, watching their leader come to a stop at the front of the small group.

“Yes. Though Dume still seemed extremely reluctant to tell us how we’re supposed to make it work,” Lhikan replied, slipping off his Hau, “but I think we’re about to find out, one way or another.”

“Fantastic. The old man’s sending us off to who-knows-where and doesn’t even want to tell us how to work the pile of Makuta bones,” Nidhiki cursed.

With a look of disapproval on his face, Lhikan hissed, “Hold your tongue, brother; he has his reasons.…Now, I need all of you to link hands.”

“Link hands?” Mavrah asked, his face askew.

“That’s right, Mavrah. Try not to go crazy or anything,” Naho sighed, nearly hauling him off of the ground as she grabbed his hand. She then offered her free hand to Nidhiki, who took it after some hesitation. “Ok, Lhikan—grab Mavrah and Nidhiki’s hands so we can get this Muaka cart moving.”

Without hesitation Lhikan placed the now-glowing mask over his face and grabbed the hands of his two companions. “Hold on tight, everyone; this’ll probably be a wild ride.”

For the first time since Turaga Dume’s speech, a complete hush fell upon the crowd as the Olmak emitted a blinding, golden light that glowed with the intensity of all the stars in the sky put together. As the glare receded, onlookers gasped when the Toa were nowhere to be seen.

—

Mavrah didn’t know whether to be fascinated or terrified after the ground disappeared beneath his feet, leaving himself and the others floating randomly about in an endless black void. With his hands squeezed tight in Naho and Lhikan’s grasps, he asked in a trembling voice, “Um…uh, w-where in Karzahni are we?”

Before any of the group had an opportunity to answer his question, enormous bubbles of varying color blinked into existence in the sea of darkness, all of them depicting the same scene: the central room of the Great Coliseum. Seeming to be suddenly propelled by some mysterious force, all of the transparent spheres began to float about at a leisurely pace; the whole situation made Mavrah feel like he was trapped within a demented dream world, but he didn’t dare to let go of either of his companions’ hands to try and pinch himself.

“What in Karzahni is this, Lhikan?” Nidhiki asked, observing a multitude of the mysterious bubbles.

Carefully eyeing them, Lhikan replied, “They all appear to depict the same area; that being the Great Coliseum…I think that these may be—“

“Pocket dimensions,” Mavrah finished.

“How did you know that?” Lhikan asked, a slight edge of suspicion in his voice.

He shrugged. “I work in the Archives, so I usually read up on things that I’m curious about.…But I think we have bigger problems to worry about,” he said, gesturing to his right.

Looking over, the Toa of fire saw a large wayward bubble approaching them that had to be at least three-hundred bios across, but that wasn’t the worst part: the scene within depicted a sea of bubbling lava, presumably where the Great Coliseum had once been. Frantically, Lhikan’s eyes flew over other spheres within sight while he tried to propel himself forward by kicking his legs, but for all intents and purposes, he was stuck in place.

“Uh, you might want to hurry it up a bit, Lhikan,” Nidhiki said nervously. “No pressure or anything, but I really don’t want to get melted by whatever is in that thing.”

Suddenly, an idea entered the Mangai leader’s head as he focused on a random sphere that showed a normal-looking setting within. Closing his eyes, Lhikan silently willed himself to be there, and.…

He opened his eyes and gasped, his feet on solid ground. Surrounding him was the familiar structure of the Metru-Nui Coliseum, but not as he, or anybody else for that matter, knew it.

The metallic wall that lined the ground floor had rusted to the point of near-collapse, revealing gaping, jagged holes in the once pristine lining. The metal bleachers that once supported the weight of thousands were even worse for ware, as many of them had rusted away completely, leaving only rough, brown poles jutting from each level of seating. From above, the spherical roof that sheltered the inside was nowhere to be found; in its place was a dense layer of dead vines and plants, which allowed harsh, golden rays of sunlight to filter through to the floor.

“Um, Lhikan?”

He turned to face Naho, who was looking around with caution and disbelief.

“I don’t want to point a finger at anyone, but I don’t think agreeing to go on this trip was a particularly good idea…”

REVIEW TOPIC

Chapter II
(Written by Nuile: Crazy Writer; edited by Rising Moon and Doctor Bob)

Mavrah’s gaze swept the interior of the crumbling Coliseum. His life had been a lengthy one, one that encapsulated unimaginable horrors.

Never in his lifetime had he witnessed such a lurid spectacle.

It was the embodiment of carnage and destruction. Cold, dead stones rained down from its heights. They fell silently through the breathless air, careless and hopeless. Blankly.

The scene was simply…blank. It was as if chaos itself had broken loose…yet now, it looked nothing more than a dead site, no song singing upon what had once been a celebratory air.

Despite the stoic terror it wreaked upon Mavrah’s heart, what frightened him the most was what was not present. These seats, these crumbling, dying bleachers…the very same held Matoran. Living creatures, entities who had arrived with smiles dancing on their faces.

Now, there wasn’t a single soul in sight, no merriness, no happiness. It was…disturbing.

The chronicler felt more powerless than ever he had, more stripped of ability and right than ever before. He could do nothing but stare in shock, could do not nothing but loose a long, drawn-out sigh. He found a seat among the debris, setting his satchel down beside him. His head dropped into his arms. He did not cry, did not blink. He did nothing but gaze endlessly at the ground.

He was unaware of how much time had slipped through his fingers when the silence was broken.

“Well, that was fun. What an adventure!” Nidhiki declared in cheerfulness. Sarcasm practically oozed off his lips.

His voice dropped low, his eyes bored. “Let’s go home now.”

Naho gasped dramatically. “Brother! You jest?! What if this—this—this place is…is our future?”

Though her intentions were sympathetic, Mavrah, barely listening, his head cradled in his hands, found the gesture to be more self-absorbed than real pity. A grab for attention. He sat silently out of a strange combination of utter shock, and respect.

Lhikan nodded his agreement. “Which makes our mission all the more important. I say we take a look around.”

Lhikan. Always one for the practical approach . Mavrah preferred to simply lie in disgust for eternity and a week, but he could not deny Lhikan. Survival first. Planting his feet on the ground, he rose, stumbling numbly. He gathered his belongings, stuffing them sloppily into his pack.

Naho turned, visibly surprised. The expression was a bit too overcompensated. “Have a look around?” Her eyes narrowed. “Haven’t you seen enough? This is a terrible place, we must return home!”

“I have seen enough to know that it is a terrible place, and the Matoran here may need our help and protection just as much as the ones back home. That is our duty, is it not?” The Toa of fire’s voice was quiet, but firm and consistent. He spoke with confidence.

Naho tutted. ”Surely there are Toa here, who are responsible for the Matoran in this dimension.”

Lhikan’s voice rose, just a bit. “Do you deny your duty as a Toa, sister?” he said quietly; it was an accusal, not a question. “I have never known you to turn your back on those who need your aid.”

Naho opened her mouth impulsively, but no words emerged. She took a small step backward and lowered her arched eyebrows, shutting her mouth. She crossed her arms over her chest. The Toa was not one to admit her mistake. At least, not verbally.

She could only glare. Nidhiki stepped in between the two–cautiously. “Sister, it’s as you said. This may be our future. We should take a peek around, see what happened here. At the very least, we need to know what we may be up against.”

Mavrah was impressed, though the emotion was smothered by confusion. And horror… But mostly horror.

Lhikan blinked, apparently surprised by his brother’s support. Naho turned her scowl on the Toa of Air, furiously snapping open her mouth again…but instead of words she breathed a resigned sigh.

She conceded. “You are right, brothers. We are responsible to protect all Matoran, and it is for that reason that we cannot turn back…yet.”

Her last word was spoken as a threat.

The matter settled, Lhikan put the Olmak into his backpack as the others began preparations to set out. The others were grumbling to themselves, shooting hostile looks at one another. Lhikan said nothing, a determined look cast upon his face.

At least he recognizes the matter at hand. Mavrah thought. All those Matoran…living beings…their lives taken from them like coins from a purse. Is that what they are to whatever powers may be?

Is that what I am?

He shook.

With a frightened look over his shoulder, he chased after the Toa.

He scribbled a note down quickly on a tablet, a nervous look tossed over his shoulder every few seconds. ”W-Why don’t you Toa go see what’s become of our beloved city? I’ll—um, I’ll stay here, and guard the C-Coliseum. I just thought of a couple of good lines that I c-could use in the writing record… so maybe I should, uh, jot them down while keeping an eye out for anything strange…” his voice trailed off.

Naho managed a faint smile. “Oh, Mavrah,” she muttered, leaning over to pull him to his feet. “Don’t you know? The guard is always the first to go.”

The Matoran audibly gulped.

—

The Coliseum, frighteningly decrepit as it was, could not even be fairly called a preview of what awaited the Toa and their Chronicler companion outside its deteriorating walls. Nothing in the world could have braced them for the shock that surged through them all like a jolt of electricity.

“Oh, Mata-Nui!” Naho gasped, her voice an unnatural squeak.

She felt as if a pit opened in her stomach, swallowing her organs whole. The feeling was so realistic that only her flashing heartlight could have denied it.

Death; that was what they found when they walked through the rusting gates of the Coliseum. Death; the fate that had befallen, it seemed, all of Metru-Nui.

“It can’t be,” said Naho, shaking her head. “Impossible…it can’t be.…”

The bodies of countless Matoran and Toa were strewn carelessly about the street—or, what was left of them. All organic matter had been sucked away, leaving only masks and the empty shells of armor. The blinding sunlight that illuminated the city during their arrival had since given way to a gray, dreary sky, a light fog adding to the sense of death and decay.

Naho ripped her eyes from the horrifying scene to look at her companions; Lhikan and Nidhiki were wearing identical expressions of shock, repulsion and disbelief, while Mavrah was keeping his eyes clamped shut and swaying as if he was about to faint.

Almost against her will, forced by an urge beyond her control, the Toa of Water turned back to the scene of lifeless husks, of rotted and corroding buildings. A terrible feeling of doom chilled her to the core.

As the silent trance wore on, she took a step forward, shortly followed by a second. Slowly, she shuffled up the street, picking her way through the rubble and bits of armor.

A brown Miru…an orange Rode…a grey, dismally cracked Zatth…a lime Pehkui…a grey Rau.

Death. No matter which way Naho’s eyes turned…they saw only death.

Farther on, she approached a pool of protodermis, leaking from a damaged suit. At the center of this…the remains of a Toa of Air.

The Kadin had a cheerful, eccentric look about it, as that of one who joked and laughed often. The twisted expression of terror and pain left spread across it in death was a repulsing contrast. Naho looked away, only for her eyes to fall upon more bodies—indeed, if they could be called such.

“What c-could have done this?” she asked herself quietly, as if hoping an answer would echo back to her ears. But there was no answer; only eerie silence. “What p-possibly could—or—or even would—have done…this?”

Suddenly, Lhikan’s voice met her ears, making Naho jump. She had almost forgotten she was not alone: she felt as if she was lost in a city of the dead, waiting for her turn to join them. Lhikan’s voice was distant and hollow, yet Naho’s heart felt warmed. She had put much more distance between herself and the others then she would have liked, and made to turn around when something crashed suddenly in a nearby alley. She froze, one foot in midair, eyes searching.

“H-hello?” she whispered hoarsely. You’re being foolish, she scolded herself. Are you a Toa, or what? Steadying her voice, she called again, “Who’s there?”

The head of a Stone Rat cropped up over a small metal bin. As the fightened Rahi scurried away, Naho breathed a sigh of relief.

“Naho, what are you doing?” Lhikan’s deep voice, even from a distance, clearly pierced the silence.

“Coming!” The Female Toa Mangai broke into a run, ignoring the slightly blurred masks and armor scraps as best she could. Instead, she concentrated on Lhikan, Nidhiki and Mavrah; the latter two were gazing at her with concern, but Lhikan wore a stern expression.

“Don’t wander so far off!” Lhikan reprimanded as she approached. “We need to stick together! We have no idea what caused all this, or whether it’s still here or not!”

“I can take care of myself, you know,” Naho replied, suddenly indignant.

Lhikan sighed. “Of course you can, but look around, sister. There are plenty of dead Toa here. I would not want any of you to end up joining their ranks.”

“Yes, brother, of course,” said Naho, shivering as she remembered the Toa of Air lying in the pool. ”Do you—have you—recognized anyone?” she asked suddenly, uttering the last words in a whisper.

Lhikan nodded grimly. “Seeing friends dead like this, it.…” His voice trailed away as he searched for the right words.

“Depressing. Frightening. Sickening,” Nidhiki muttered, staring at the green Kadin that lay not far from the group.

“No,” Naho replied, shaking her head. “I don’t think there are any words strong enough to describe it.”

The four stood together in silence once more, trying to avoid eye contact with each other or the unmoving masks around them. Mavrah stared at his feet, wringing his hands, while Naho pretended to be interested in a fly buzzing over their heads.

“Come on, we can’t just stand around doing nothing,” declared Lhikan after several long minutes. “There may be survivors who need our help.”

“And who could give us some information,” Mavrah suggested quietly.

“Let’s start in the residential district, we may find someone there who’s still alive,” said Nidhiki, jerking a thumb.

With nods and murmurs of agreement, the team set forth. In silence they marched, stumbling through the metal, stone and masks that littered the ground. At one point, Naho’s foot fell upon a green Calix, breaking it into shards. Guiltily, she moved one foot aside and kneeled down beside it. The others slowed, glancing back at her.

“Naho?”

“Poor thing,” she whispered gently, as if consoling a wounded Rahi. Tenderly, she scooped together the broken pieces of the Kanohi and slid them inside a small leather pouch she had in her backpack. After smiling at it for a few moments, stroking the soft material thoughtfully, she stowed it away and rose to her feet.

She was not sure why she had done it, but Naho had a good feeling about the Calix. I know I have more pressing matters, but perhaps the mask will come in handy somehow. She blinked thoughtfully. Maybe I can find time to mend it.

The others, she knew, would not understand; to her appreciation, however, they did not question her. The male Toa glanced at one another as she passed, and Mavrah tilted his head curiously, but they remained silent.

Workshops, eateries and other small businesses lined up on either side of them, rusted and falling apart due to neglect. Windows smashed, doors hanging off their hinges, caved-in walls and roofs, and all overgrown with brown tendrils of ivy and other plants. These soon gave way to Matoran dwellings, most of which were in an even worse state. Entire levels were reduced to rubble, crumpled beneath higher floors or piled above lower ones. Here and there a house had collapsed completely, leaving nothing but a large heap of weathered materials.

“What could have happened here?” gasped Mavrah, wincing at a ruined dwelling that had fallen into a pyramidical shape—a dwelling that, in another dimension, he called home.

“It looks as if all the Matoran of Metru-Nui just dropped dead, leaving everything to rot,” Nidhiki observed.

Lhikan replied, “I might have suspected an illness of some sort, but why is all their flesh gone? Why are the remains only metal?”

“Perhaps it’s been so long, it’s all just decomposed,” suggested Nidhiki.

“Or maybe that’s part of the effect of the illness,” Toa Naho put in, interested in any distraction from the despairing gloom.

“We’ll know for sure when we find somebody who can answer our questions,” said Lhikan. “And there must be someone around here, somewhere.”

“Maybe we should go ring a doorbell?” Nidhiki suggested. “Although, it doesn’t really look like anybody’s home.”

Naho shot him a disgusted look. Only a Toa of Air could joke in the midst of all this, she thought in sullen irritation.

“Whatever we do, we better do it soon,” Mavrah spoke up suddenly. “There’s a storm coming.”

The three Toa turned to the south, where a dark bank of clouds was just visible on the horizon. A flash and a distant rumble further confirmed the Onu-Matoran’s observation.

“You’re right, Chronicler.” Lhikan nodded to the others. “We must find shelter, before we get caught in the rain.”

The pressed on, happy to be searching with a more exact directive. But as they passed home after collapsed home, and the storm rolling ever closer, their spirits drooped.

Soon the rain arrived, whipping against their faces and hiding all the city’s structures behind thick sheets of water.

“I can’t see a thing!” Naho shouted over the deafening roar of wind, rain and thunder.

“Nor can I!” Nidhiki complained. “How are we supposed to find shelter in this?”

Nearby, Lhikan was squinting through the rain, holding a hand over his eyes to keep out the water. As a flash of lightning lit the sky, he exclaimed, “Over there!”

The Toa of Fire leading the way, the Mangai and their Matoran friend darted inside a small residence. Naho screwed up her mask as the unpleasant aroma of mildew and rotting food washed over her.

“At least it’s dry,” said Mavrah in a constrained voice, as if he was trying not to breathe.

“I think I’ll take my chances out there,” Nidhiki grumbled, turning back to the door. A moment later there was a bright scintillation, a loud clap of thunder, and Nidhiki spun around once more. “Mmm, what a delightful scent.”

“Are you sure it’s safe, though?” Naho asked, turning to Lhikan.

He shrugged. “Not much choice, is there?” he replied, sitting cross-legged in front of the door. “One of us should keep watch, and everyone else can rest. I’ll take first watch.”

“No arguments here,” Nidhiki murmured.

Rusted metal and moldy wood was scattered across the floor, and with a revolted look Naho cleared a Toa-sized area of detritus. She was about to lie down when she spotted Mavrah nearby, trying to lift a heavy sheet of protosteel. The Water Toa strode over, and with her assistance they leaned it against the wall.

“Thanks, Naho,” said Mavrah, smiling up at his old friend.

Naho returned the expression. “Sweet dreams, Mavrah. Sleep well.”

Mavrah threw off his satchel and Naho did the same, returning to the area she cleared and dropping it beside her as she lay down. The floor was made of cracked and uneven stone, making it a very uncomfortable place to rest. As soon as her eyes closed, her mind filled with memories of the remnants of hundreds of Matoran and Toa bodies, scattered hither and thither about the city street before her. She tried to ignore them, to think of something else, but their eyes, lifeless and unseeing, burned at her like fire. She tossed and turned, scattering pebbles and metallic scraps, until restless, fitful sleep overcame her.

—

Naho ran, her feet making light thuds on the stone underfoot. She was being followed—by who or what, she did not want to know. She just ran, on and on, through alleyways and across streets, wherever her feet led her. At last she came to a halt, heartlight flashing and chest heaving. She fell back against a wall to rest, when a sudden roar met her ears, the sound of a hungry Rahi cornering its prey.

The sound grew louder, and louder, until Naho was sure it was just around the corner. She turned and fled along the alleyway, but to her horror, there was a wall at the end.

“No.…” she moaned, “No.…”

She heard the roar again, but different this time, as if countless scores of angry voices were calling out to her. She whirled around to see hundreds, thousands of masks floating toward her, their eyes dead and unlit. At the front of the crowd, three all-too-familiar masks glared at her—Lhikan’s, Nidhiki’s, and Mavrah’s.

“No!” she screamed, tears streaming down her mask. “You can’t be dead!”

The voices roared again, but this time their words were clearly audible: “This is her fault! It is Toa Naho’s fault we are dead! Kill her!”

“No! No, I didn’t kill you! Please, no !”

“Naho! It’s just a dream, sister, wake up!”

Her eyes flew open. She was no longer in an alleyway, being chased by the spirits of hundreds of dead Toa and Matoran; she was back in the moldy dwelling, Lhikan’s concerned face swimming before her eyes, rain lashing against the roof.

“Oh…Lhikan, it’s you…I had the most horrible dream.…” Naho gasped.

The Toa Mangai leader helped her to a sitting position. “It’s okay, sister, it’s over now. Relax,” said his calm, soothing voice.

“Oh, Lhikan, it was so horrible.…You were dead, and you…you said I’d killed you.…” Naho let out a small sob.

“But sister…I am dead. You did kill me. This is your fault!”

Lhikan’s voice rose into an unnatural hiss, and Naho screamed as her vision cleared, revealing his lifeless, sinisterly grinning mask.

“Sister!”

“Toa Naho!”

“Naho, what’s wrong?”

Naho’s eyes fluttered open again. Gray light filtered through the open doorway and broken windows. Nidhiki, Mavrah, and Lhikan stood over her, worry in their eyes.

“Are you okay?” cried Mavrah. “You were screaming and thrashing about!”

“I’m…I’m fine, I just.…” As Naho started to push one elbow against the floor, Lhikan and Mavrah grabbed her arms and helped her up. “Thanks,” she uttered in appreciation. “It was just a nightmare.”

“We all had nightmares,” Nidhiki assured her gently. “Who wouldn’t? All this death and destruction.…” He shook his head sadly.

“Did any of you wake up screaming?” Naho retorted coldly. Her gaze immediately softened, and she opened her mouth to apologize.

Lhikan cut across her. “It’s okay, sister. We’re all on edge right now.”

“Shall we set out again?” Naho asked, rising to her feet.

“Are you sure you’re up to it?” said Mavrah with concern.

“I’m not tired,” Naho snapped, though this was a lie. Her fitful sleep had made her more exhausted than she had been after their trek through the city. But she was not willing to admit that. “I was sleeping, not fighting a heard of Kikanalo.”

Lhikan looked as if he did not believe her, but he left her statement unchallenged. “Very well. But let’s eat something first.”

Naho glanced out the window as they settled down for breakfast. The rain had stopped, yet a strong wind whistled through the streets. It flowed in through the many gaps in the dwelling’s weak walls, making her shiver.

“I’ll be glad to be moving around,” she murmured. “It’s far too cold to be doing nothing.”

Nidhiki opened his mouth to agree, when a sudden creaking sound interrupted him. It echoed through the structure, loud and long.

Realization dawned on all their faces at the same moment.

“Get out!” Lhikan roared, pulling Mavrah to his feet with a tug that nearly dislocated the Matoran’s arm.

Naho jumped up, snatching up her and Mavrah’s packs as they all pelted for the door. Scraps of wood, metal and stone rained down on their heads, and a deafening crash announced that the roof had given way.

“Move!” Naho cried, practically throwing Nidhiki out the door before she leapt out herself.

The sound of the crash echoed across the island, loud as thunder. When the dust settled, Naho coughed and stood up. Nidhiki was beside her, but she could not see Lhikan or Mavrah.

“Lhikan!” she cried, “Mavrah!”

“Over here!” Lhikan’s answer was interrupted by a cough as a dome of debris slid apart, revealing the Toa and Onu-Matoran as they crouched inside a glowing sphere. Lhikan deactivated his mask and the pair climbed out of the rubble to meet the others.

“That was close!” Nidhiki gasped. “Let’s not stay in any more eroding houses, okay?”

“Brother, you’re hurt!” said Naho, noticing the Toa of Air limp as he approached Lhikan.

“Nah, I just twisted my ankle,” Nidhiki replied, dismissing her concern with a wave of his hand. “I’ll be fine.”

“We’ll rest frequently,” Lhikan promised, noticing that Naho was still looking worriedly. She blinked gratefully.

The three Toa and the Onu-Matoran started up the street, Naho helping to support Nidhiki despite his protests.

They marched through the bleak streets in silence, still heavily unnerved by the tragedy that had befallen this Metru-Nui.

Naho held her head high and concentrated on anything but the dead, yet she could not push away her eerie thoughts. Could this happen back home? Could we prevent this mass of death in our dimension? She shuddered. Death…I wonder what it feels like. Does it hurt

Similar thoughts, she was sure, haunted the others as well. She could tell by the looks on their masks that they too feared for the future of their island, and their friends.

Midday approached, yet the sky remained as cold and cheerless as ever. They had been walking for hours, pausing often as Lhikan had promised, yet there were still no signs of life. Metru-Nui is dead, Naho thought fearfully. And if we do not leave soon, so will we.

“Lhikan—” she began, jumping when a gasp from Nidhiki interrupted her. She tensed. “What is it, brother?”

Nidhiki lifted a trembling finger, and as he did there were three more gasps, and all four stood staring fixedly, their mouths hanging open.

On the cold stone before them sat a mask, just as all the others they had seen spread across the city. Lhikan, Nidhiki, and Mavrah turned to look at Naho, and she lifted a trembling hand to feel her mask. It was still attached to her face, yet it also lay before her, cold and lifeless, the empty husk of her armor on the ground beside it.

So, she thought, I already know how death feels…

“Over there,” Mavrah gasped, and they all turned to see Nidhiki’s remains leaning against a ruined eatery.

A third mask caught Naho’s eyes. A golden Hau, lying not far from her own dead mask. “And over there,” she whispered, as tears formed in her eyes, as they so often had since she entered this cursed city.

“Lhikan,” she whispered, lowering her hand finally. “We must return home.”

Lhikan just blinked at her, clearly at a loss for words. But it did not matter: there were no words that would change Naho’s mind, not after all they had seen.

Lhikan was reaching for his pack when voices erupted suddenly nearby, and with a whoosh something silver whizzed through the air, burying itself in the Toa of Fire’s arm. He reeled in pain, groping for his sword with his other hand as Mavrah ran to help him.

Nidhiki and Naho withdrew their own weapons, forming a shield between their leader and the alley from which the knife had emerged. Two more shot out of the darkness, but a gust of air whirled from Nidhiki’s hand and stopped their progress.

As the knives clattered to the ground, five Matoran leapt from the shadows. Their armor was rusted and dented. A Ga-Matoran had a large crack in her mask, and a hole in the mask of a Le-Matoran revealed half his face, the eye cracked and unlit. They all bore scars, gashes, and other signs of roughness.

A large Onu-Matoran held a heavy hatchet before him, as the others launched four more daggers simultaneously. Their eyes were burned with cold, mindless wrath: the disaster of this Metru-Nui had driven them to a state of primal, animalistic madness.

“Matoran?” Naho gasped, knocking aside two daggers with well-aimed orbs of water. The others were hit with such a fierce wind they flew back toward the attackers.

The Matoran scattered with angry cries as Naho grasped Nidhiki’s arm. “No! Don’t hurt them! They’re just Matoran!”

“Insane Matoran!” Nidhiki replied, wrenching his arm free. “This isn’t our dimension, sister! Perhaps they are the enemy here!”

The Matoran formed a large circle around their victims, brandishing their weapons.

More daggers went flying. Spurts of fire and air knocked them aside, and she saw a Ga-Matoran get blown backwards. Naho hurled an orb of water at a Ta-Matoran. He tried to dodge, but it struck his side, turning his sidestep into an odd spiral that landed him on his back.

She turned to see the Onu-Matoran, the one wielding the hatchet. He lifted it over his head, eyes glinting maliciously.

Everything seemed to happen in slow motion. The hatchet flew through the air. Naho hurled another ball of water, but the axe was too fast.

“Nidhiki, no!”

The Toa of Air heard his sister’s cry simultaneous to a crippling pain that erupted in the side of his head, blurring his vision to a dull flicker. Slowly, carefully, he raised a hand to gingerly probe the origin of the throbbing ache, feeling the tips of his fingers lightly brush against a splintery wooden handle. Gathering his strength, he pulled at the foreign object, and it slid away easier than he had expected.

Naho’s brother crumpled beside her just as a sphere surrounded the Toa and Mavrah, blocking them off from their attackers.

“Nidhiki!” Naho gasped, crouching beside him.

“No, it can’t be.…”

Lhikan just stood over his fallen brother, eyes wide, mouth open in shock.

Naho was shaking her head as tears began to fall. “No, not Nidhiki, no.…”

“So is this death?” Nidhiki wondered aloud, grimacing. “It’s not… as bad as I expected.…” he murmured with a grin. “I’m really sleepy.…”

“No.…” she sobbed, leaning over the dying Toa of Air. “Nidhiki, n-no.…”

Weakly, Nidhiki grasped her hand. He smiled. “Promise me something?”

“Anything, b-brother, anyth-thing!”

Lhikan was gazing about in alarm, and he seemed angry about something, but Naho wanted to ignore it all as long as she could, keep Nidhiki talking.…

“Make certain…Lhikan takes you all home.…” Nidhiki wheezed, his smile fading. “Promise… promise… promise… promise…” he said, his fatally damaged brain repeating the words in a loop. The Toa’s eyes flicked about in confusion, as if he was trying to regain control of his words.

“No!” Naho cried, “No! Y-you can’t—I won’t l-let you—you’ll b-be fine, you’ll be coming w-with us! Nidhiki, don’t—please don’t go!”

“Promise, Naho…go home.…And leave my body…it means nothing.”

Tears continued to stream unyieldingly down Naho’s mask, but she nodded resolutely and replied, “I will, I-I promise, I’ll be sure L-Lhikan takes us home, b-but Nidhiki—”

The Toa of Air shook his head, grinning even more widely. “You are a good friend, Naho…I could not have asked for a better sister.…” he muttered, his eyes closing. “Just do one more thing for me…tell Dume from me…that the next time he gets a bright idea…that he doesn’t.” After a weak chuckle, Nidhiki’s eyes suddenly widened in what looked to be awe, and he let out a final, shuddering breath.

The light behind the Toa’s eyes went off. His heartlight flashed one final time. Tears splashed upon the green Volitak, still etched with the smile of Nidhiki’s final joke.

REVIEW TOPIC

Chapter III
(Written and edited by Rising Moon)

Death.

It envelops this world.

Every point is covered by it. Nothing is beneath it, nothing above, nothing beside; just death. Only death.

Hrnh….Hrnh….Hrnh….

It had grown accustomed to the stench of death. Death was the natural scent for it. As it crossed through the streets, death was all it found. Death was merely an embodiment, a manifestation: one of the many forces chaos wreaked. And chaos was but instinct for it: the primal impulse on which it relied, on which it thrived. Chaos was its pleasure. Death was pleasure.

Hrnh….Hrnh….Hrnh….

It panted. The sound was not merely bestial, it was alien. It was disturbing to the mortal mind. Deep, throbbing pulses, like a heartbeat. It had no mouth—its entire form pulsed at every breath, tentacles writhing madly. Blackness swirled infinitely inside, a shadow animate. Death, chaos, animate.

HRNH….HRNH….HRNH….

Its breathing quickened, grew suddenly louder. A disturbance. Something was a ripple in the pool of the world. Something had broken the perfection that was death.

Something was here that shouldn’t have been.

The thing stopped. Its mass still convulsed crazily, but it did not move from its spot in the air. It physically collapsed on itself, inverted; it turned inwards, then back out. For an interminable moment, it froze.

Then, it moved

It cannoned through the air at unthinkable speeds, in innumerable thin black streaks. They coursed wildly, twisting around each other, ripping through the air. Violently. Instinct guided it.

And as it moved, it pulsed, with that horrific noise.

HRNH….HRNH….HRNH….

—

Tears flowed free from Naho’s eyes. She wept like she had never wept before. Her fragile world shattered, crashing down atop her. The weight forced her to the ground, where she lay weeping across her Brother’s chest.

“Dead! Dead, dead, dead, dead, DEAD!”

She shrieked as if mindless. It was utterly uncontrollable. Emotion poured through her.

Nidhiki was…Nidhiki was gone. Nidhiki had left the world. His soul no longer existed, not here; he was no longer a part of life. All that remained was a body, an empty, barren shell, murdered like a bug, left in the dust within an instant. On a world that was not even his.

Could he be done no lesser justice? Killed, undeserving, disrespectfully, in a land he did not know?

There were no Great Beings.

“Dead, dead, dead, dead—”

“Sister.”

Naho’s head jerked up. She inhaled sharply and loudly, conscious of herself. Still she wept, but less so.

Lhikan’s eyes bore into her. His face was solid and stoic, but those eyes…they quivered. Naho had not seen Lhikan’s eyes quiver before. Was it a droplet of water she saw?

“Destiny has decreed. Fate has done what it must do. Ours will be the same, if we do not leave. Now .”

“Lhikan…”

She trailed off, searching for words almost desperately, yet somehow in slow motion. Her shattered universe was reconstructing itself, but slowly, carefully. She opened her mouth to speak, and was abruptly cut off.

Something roared.

—

HRNHRNHRNHRNHHUNGRY!!!!!!!!!

The cry was an animalistic scream of absolute and inimitable rage. Rage, hot and furious, dripping with every sound and pulsing with the body.

They had entered the land of death. And death is as death does.

It was death .

And it would do as it did.

The mass exploded. Its form spread across the sky itself, all at once. It simply blew up—it expanded .

And it screamed.

—

The sound was immortal: far too unnatural, far too fierce, to be anything less.

It was the cry of a black divinity, the shriek of death. It filled Lhikan’s being, became his core. He experienced death a thousandfold, yet he lived to feel it more. It fractured him. It obliterated him.

As his mind descended into what felt like sheer death, his body acted. Centuries of guardianship , habitual virtue, guided him while he died a thousand deaths. He practically flew through the air, so bold and impossible was his leap. He met the thing at its heart, at its precise center. His blade erupted into flame, ripping through the air, and slashed the sky in two.

It met the thing, and everything went white.

REVIEW TOPIC

Chapter IV
(Written and edited by Doctor Bob [that’s me!)

Driven by panic, Mavrah ran. One second he had been sitting in solemn silence at Naho’s side after Toa Nidhiki passed into the realm of Artakha, and the next, he was sprinting as fast as his feet could carry him. The sight of the… thing was too much for him to handle in the already desperate situation; neither Lhikan or Naho had even realized he was gone. You’re nothing but a coward, a voice in his head jeered, laughing haughtily.

As the now-familiar shattered structures whizzed past his vision, the frightened Chronicler could sense a different presence pursuing him, one with ill intentions. And that frightened him even more. Searching deep within himself to find the resolve to keep running, Mavrah tried to propel his leaden feet faster, but sprinting long distances was more so in the talent pool of a Le-Matoran, not an earth-dweller. After the past five minutes of running, the Onu-Matoran’s breaths were exiting his burning lungs in explosive, desperate gasps; how much longer he could hold on, he did not know.

The thought wasn’t entertained in his mind for long before his foot caught on an empty shell of armor, sending him crashing into the dusty street… and face-to-face with the dead, empty eyes of a Ruru-wearing Ta-Matoran. Uttering a high-pitched squeak that was intended to be a scream, Mavrah shuffled away on all fours, breathing even harder than before out of fright.

Between uneven inhalations, the Chronicler flicked his eyes to-and-fro, taking greater account of his surroundings. Scattered husks of armor that were common features of Metru-Nui’s landscape lay all around him, with the only distinguishing landmark being the collapsed eatery that his group had taken refuge in during the fierce thunderstorm. Surrounding him, lonely shells of buildings seemed to watch his every move with sad, invisible eyes.

Snap

Alarmed by the sound of the shattering timber, Mavrah’s flicked his head towards the noise that seemingly originated from across the street. “H-h-hello?”

No reply.

Still seated, Mavrah slowly removed his rucksack, and opening it, he withdrew the sharp blade of his Chronicler’s Staff, along with the cylindrical staff segment that was crafted from solid protosteel. Replacing the pack on his shoulders, he hauled himself from the ground and clumsily screwed the pole segment into the base of the gleaming blade. He made doubly sure that the two pieces were more than secure. Scanning the area for movement, he called out again. “Hello?!”

Thud

The Matoran cried out as he stumbled backwards, eyes fixed on the rusty dagger that had penetrated a piece of empty armor lying not two inches from his foot. With the sound of his pulse roaring in his ears, Mavrah gazed at a large Onu-Matoran stepping out from a dark alleyway across the road. Dried lines of saliva were visible running down the crazed villager’s black Pakari, and in his left hand, he toyed with a large hatchet.

In the midst of the battle, Mavrah turned to see the Onu-Matoran, the one wielding the hatchet. The savage lifted it over his head in preparation to throw the weapon, eyes glinting maliciously.

Everything seemed to happen in slow motion. The hatchet flew through the air. He saw Naho hurl a ball of water in an attempt to save Nidhiki, but it was too late.

“No!” he heard Naho scream.

Mavrah felt a sick feeling rise in his stomach as he saw Nidhiki recoil from the impact, doubling over. When the Toa of Air rose again, his head was hanging to the side at an odd angle, with the hatchet protruding cruelly from the side of his skull. Nidhiki slowly pulled the object from its place, and he crumpled to the ground without a sound.

Startled by the intensity of the flashback, Mavrah rapidly blinked in an attempt to recover, but in the time he was gripped in the relapse, the murderous Matoran had almost made it upon him. Still dazed, he looked into the visible eyes of his aggressor; they practically screamed in a mindless, animalistic rage, their only intention to violently tear apart any living being that their malicious gaze caught sight of.

The psychotic enemy was upon him. With barely any time to act, Mavrah raised his staff just in time to reflect a fierce, upward strike delivered by the adversary. Caught off guard by the sudden strike, his Chronicler’s Staff was hurled back into his face from the jarring impact, knocking his Great Ruru from his head.

The effect was instantaneous. His vision doubled and a great pressure seemed to press on his lungs. “No!” Mavrah gasped, swinging his weapon and knocking his enemy’s hatchet aside seconds before it made contact with the top of his skull. With his remaining energy rapidly depleting, Mavrah began a fierce, desperate flurry of swipes before unconsciousness took hold.

Swing one.

The rabid Onu-Matoran parried the blow with the side of his hatchet.

Swing two.

Ducking, the enemy brought his hatchet back and struck Mavrah in his left arm, the sharpened blade easily smashing through armor and flesh alike. Reeling in agony, he stumbled back, feeling a heated anger begin to take hold of his body.

Swing three.

The Matoran dodged again. Before Mavrah was able to take a defensive stance after the unsuccessful attack, his adversary delivered a brutal strike with the flattened back end of the hatchet, hitting him square in the jaw. With the fringes of his vision turning black, Mavrah doubled over; something was broken in his mouth, and the taste of a metallic tang confirmed his worries. The Chonicler’s Staff fell from his hands. He couldn’t hold on.

In his long life, Mavrah had never felt so alone, so helpless until now. The feeling of cold, unforgiving isolation pressed upon his shoulders as a thought more frightening than ever before in his life entered his mind. I’m going to die.

Smiling evilly, the crazed Matoran rose his weapon high above his head and swung down hard, the blunt end of the hatchet smashing into the top of Mavrah’s head.

Mavrah’s vision became a concoction of swirling colors as he slammed into the ground head-first. He explosively spit several shattered shards of teeth from his mouth upon impact while nausea began to take hold. In resignation, the Onu-Matoran weakly looked up to see his murderer stand over him with the hatchet raised high, this time with the sharpened end facing him; the next blow would easily cleave his head in two.

I don’t want to die…

Mavrah let a final scream of helplessness rip from his throat as he heard the hatchet violently scream through the air.

…Blackness.

—

Naho was ruined.

The Toa of Water sat in a heap, staring blankly ahead while slowly rocking back and forth. In front of her lie Nidhiki’s body, his glazed-over eyes still open wide. Farther ahead was a blackened trail of utter destruction; the Nova Blast that Lhikan had unleashed upon the creature had leveled several city blocks, reducing everything it its path to pitch-black rubble and burning cinders. After the smoke of the Nova Blast cleared, there was no sign of either: Lhikan had either died and taken the monster with him, or both had somehow slipped away unnoticed.

Although Naho’s face remained blank, within her was a storm of conflicting thoughts and emotions. Why did those Matoran want to kill us? I could have saved Nidhiki if I had just moved faster- this is my fault… Where is Lhikan? Nidhiki is DEAD, and it’s YOUR fault! No, it’s the Great Beings who are at fault… NO! There are no Great Beings!

Suddenly, Naho’s hands shot up to the sides of her head as she let out a fierce, primal roar of rage. Feeling hot tears flowing down her mask again, she let go of her head and violently punched the pavement beneath her, bloodying her knuckles. “This is YOUR fault!!!” she screamed at the heavens. “I’ll find a way,” she cried, continuing to pound at the ground, “to level every last blasted square inch of your Mata-Nui forsaken Karzahni hole!”

Even as she spoke, the Toa of Water was disgusted with her own words. Never in her life had she cursed so thoughtlessly, so violently, let alone at the Great Spirits… But were they real? Had she misplaced her faith?

Naho halted her fit. Closing her still overflowing eyes, she breathed deeply and let Lhikan’s advice come to mind, echoing back from a happier time. It was days since she first became a Toa, and she broke down in a boiling rage after an innocent Matoran was whisked away from the streets by a Makuta, likely to become victim to some sort of deranged experiment by one who went by the name Mutran. In the middle of her outbreak, Lhikan sat her down and said:

“You must not let your anger control you, Naho. Rage is like a crazed beast: it is mindless, violent, and can lead you to commit an act that you may regret forever, even if it is unintentional. It is blinding. It is all-consuming. Learn to take control of it, but do not let it take control of you.”

“I won’t,” Naho whispered to herself. “I won’t.”

Reaching down, the Toa removed Nidhiki’s Volitak and gently shut his eyes. “I intend on keeping my promise,” she said, placing his mask in her backpack. “Mavrah and I are going to find Lhikan, and we’re going to go home: all four of us.”

Standing to her full height, she strode over to collect Lhikan’s bag; he must have dropped it during the ambush. “…I’m sorry you had to see me like that, Mavrah,” Naho apologized. “But thank you for keeping quiet. Sometimes I just need some time to myself to sort things out…”

When her apology was greeted by silence, she slowly turned around, scanning the area. Her friend was nowhere to be found. “Mavrah?”

Off in the distance, Naho’s ears picked up a frightened, bloodcurdling scream. The voice was unmistakable.

“Mavrah!!!”

Abandoning all other priorities, Naho sprinted in the direction of the scream. As she ran, she cursed herself for not realizing that Mavrah had wandered off, and now he was in danger because of her ignorance.

Left in the Toa of Water’s wake, Lhikan’s untouched bag fluttered lightly in a cold breeze.

—

“Hey,” a voice whispered, “wake up.”

Lethargically, Mavrah’s eyes peeled open, only to see what looked to be himself… except larger. A lot larger. “Am I dead?” he asked, his words slurred.

The Toa laughed, though his voice was drained of humor. “If you were dead, I’m pretty sure we wouldn’t be having this conversation right now.”

The Onu-Matoran reached up and ran a hand over his face, only to find that his mask had been returned to its rightful place. Mavrah let out a small gasp as the events of the fight between him and the psychotic villager came rushing back into his head. Ironically, he recovered quickly. Even though his head still felt as if it were on fire and his jaw throbbed, Mavrah strangely didn’t feel any pain in his arm; looking over, he saw it was wrapped in a dressing of various herbs. “You’ve definitely earned my gratitude, Toa… But what did you do with him?”

“You’re welcome,” the being said, “but what did I do with whom?”

“Big, rotund Onu-Matoran. Smelly, has drool hanging from the sides of his mask, has a hatchet,” Mavrah said. “He killed my friend.”

Wordlessly, the Toa gestured towards a building across the street.

Following his companion’s dictation, Mavrah shuddered, seeing a wide slab of solid earth pasted to a crumbling building’s front wall, a dark splatter stain lining the edges of the piece of hardened ground. “I thought Toa didn’t kill.”

The Toa looked down. “When you’ve been through what I’ve experienced, you’d have no problem with killing. I’m guessing you’ve seen the swarm by now? It killed everyone, it killed my team, and someday it’s going to kill me; probably you too.”

Sitting up, Mavrah said, “Nobody else is getting hurt. What we need to do is get back to Naho and Lhikan-”

“Naho and Lhikan are dead,” the being interrupted. “We were separated many days ago, and I came upon their bodies earlier today. As far as I know, we may be the only sane creatures alive in this madhouse.”

Reaching under his mask, the Onu-Matoran rubbed at an aching bruise. “I don’t know if you would understand, but we’re not really from here.”

His companion’s face lit up like a Le-Metru Spruce Tree on Naming Day. “The work of an Olmak?”

“Yes.”

The Earth being’s smile became wider, but he abruptly became solemn. “The only Olmak in this cursed city was destroyed by the swarm, along with just about every other helpful mask and living thing. But in truth, I’m most looking forward to seeing these Toa although it pains me to know that they won’t recognize me, or even be the same beings I’ve come to know… I miss them.”

“I’m sorry about your friends,” Mavrah said, looking away.

Before the Toa could reply, the Matoran heard Naho’s voice crying out. “Mavrah!!!”

“Over here!” both Toa and Matoran cried out simultaneously. Immediately after, they fixed each other with strange stares.

Seconds later, the unmistakable form of Naho rounded a corner and sprinted towards the pair, scooping Mavrah off the ground and hugging him with the force of an Ash Bear. “Oh, Mata-Nui, thank the Great Beings that you’re alive!”

Hardly able to breathe, Mavrah wheezed, “It’s good to see you too, Naho… Where is Lhikan, and where is the creature?”

Her mood changing, the Water Toa set her Matoran friend on the ground and said, “I don’t know. He attempted to slay the cloud with a Nova Blast, and both disappeared afterwards… We need to find him and get out of here.”

Mavrah nodded as the Earth Toa stood from his seat on a boulder. Slowly, he shuffled towards the pair, a bad limp in his right leg severely hampering his movement. “Just for future reference, it’s not just a ‘creature,’ it’s a swarm.”

“A swarm?” she asked.

“Yeah. Don’t know how it came into existence, but word is that some miners uncovered an empty cavern in the Onu-Metru mine: I’m pretty sure that you can guess what they found.”

“Obviously,” Naho said. “But what is it? You said it was a swarm of some kind.”

The male Toa nodded. “I’m naturally obsessed with Rahi, so I usually study as many possible species as my head can take in. Before he was killed, I was working with a Matoran named Nuju; we got a few seconds of the creature on film, and it looks like the being is comprised of millions of different living particles acting as a hive mind… Gah! I wish I could tell you more about it, but that’s as far as my knowledge goes.” Realizing he had fixed Naho’s form in an awkward stare, the Earth Toa looked away and took a deep breath. “… We really need to get out of here.”

Naho nodded in agreement and scratched her head in what seemed to be embarrassment; she had obviously caught wind of his stare. “Sorry, I know I should be more concerned about what you just told me, but I didn’t get your name. Mine’s Naho,” she said extending a hand.

“Oh, I know you more that you’d ever think,” he smiled, taking her hand in his. “I’m Toa Mavrah.”

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Chapter V
Written by Nuile: Crazy Write (edited by Rising Moon and Doctor Bob)

Naho’s eyebrows went up in surprise. “Did you say Mavrah? Toa Mavrah?”

The Matoran’s eyebrows lifted steadily in pleasant satisfaction. Not much would truly shock him anymore, though he was excited to know his Destiny here was more valiant and reputable than that of a Toa’s chronicler.

Toa Mavrah’s gaze flitted from Toa to Matoran. “Yeah, my name’s Mavrah. So what?”

Naho tilted her head, a bit confused. “Well…You look a bit different from ours.”

“Really? Is he…did he come with you?” A slight note of excitement crept into the Toa of Earth’s voice.

Mavrah the Matoran was satisfied. For once, he was ahead of the game–he was more aware of events than any other, including his superiors in all other aspects. And he was a Toa. That was fantastic as well.

“Yeah, he came with us.” Mavrah spoke with an air of royalty.

Toa Mavrah muttered something about meeting himself, speaking rapidly. “I’ve always wondered–must be awkward–but what if–canyoureallywowthisisamazingcan’t believe–”

A grin spread from ear to ear on the Matoran’s face.

Toa Naho shoved her hands into her hips impatiently, a unique combination of boredom and anxiousness cast upon her face. “We don’t have time for this. Toa–meet Matoran Mavrah.” She waved a blue hand at the Onu-Matoran beside her.

The Earth Toa smiled enormously for one brief, sweeping moment–the Matoran imitated the expression–and then frowned. The Toa’s excitement had visibly shattered.

“Yep! Nice to meet me!” He laughed heartily from his chest, for a second, ten seconds, a minute. The others stared. The Onu-Matoran cleared his throat, resumed his air of invisible professionalism.

Toa Mavrah assessed his counterpart in a single glance, then looked up in disappointed thought.

Now the other him frowned. The Toa had the impression of gazing into a mirror, from a traveling carnival a century or more ago–a mirror that diminished the appearance of the viewer.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” The Matoran accused, glaring indignantly.

“To be honest, I was hoping for someone a little more capable.” The Toa bit back his upper lip. “A lot of good you’ll be against the Swarm, not to mention those raving lunatics running about.” He spoke more as if stating his own thoughts aloud than an actual response. A thousand vile words leaped to the forefront of Mavrah’s mind, before he realized he’d be talking to himself.

The emotion swiftly evaporated from his eyes, however. They glazed over with fear. “Yeah…those Matoran.…” He convulsed, futilely attempting to hide the shudder. His fright was clear. “What happened to them?”

The Toa swept a hand through the air. “This happened.” His voice rose, deepened. “Any Matoran that haven’t been killed yet have gone mad.”

He dropped to the floor, staring at the ground. His voice fell to a haunted, reminiscent whisper. “Hard, watching your friends die one by one, like rats…Living in a perpetual terror, anticipation…Never certain if that perfect sunrise, that one last thing of beauty, will be the last…”

“That’s horrible. Just horrible,” Naho whispered, shaking her head. Toa Mavrah mentally cursed her. “We [i]must leave[/i], Brother. There is no time left to waste.”

“Yes.” Mavrah Matoran nodded his head quickly. He forced himself to agree with Naho; the circumstances required it. He would cry later. “Lhikan is at the top of our priority list… But what are we going to do with Nidhiki?”

Naho fought back the flood. Nevertheless, it rained down her cheeks. “We will bring his body with us.”

She said no more.

Toa Mavrah groaned. His grief was minimal: living in a city full of death numbed such feelings. “The Matoran got your brother?”

The Toa found silence a satisfactory answer. He moved on.

“Where’s the Olmak, then?”

Mavrah answered for the mourning Naho. “Lhikan left it in the satchel, I think.”

“And that is…?”

“Back where we were attacked by the Matoran.”

“And you just left it sitting there?”

Mavrah fought the urge to appear sheepish, channeled it into faux anger. “I had other things on my mind! Survival, for one,” he sneered.

The Toa returned the gesture. “Nidhiki’ll verify you did a fine job of that.”

Naho whipped around almost violently. “How dare you!”

Whew, do those sparks fly! the Earth Toa said inwardly.

“The Olmak! Lhikan! No time to waste, remember?” The words poured from the Matoran’s mouth instinctively. He breathed an internal sigh of relief.

Naho turned her glare from the Toa to the small figure. He physically stepped back.

“He’s right.” Toa Mavrah grumbled resentfully.

Naho closed her eyes and sighed to calm herself. “Yes. M-Mavrah, can you lead the way?”

Two voices spoke in an eerily similar bored tone, “Probably.”

Toa?

“Where were you attacked, anyway?”

“Beside an eatery, the one where—” Naho’s voice trailed off. She gulped audibly. “Where your Lhikan and Naho died.” The words were hard, for strange reasons. Emotions she had not felt before seeped through her visibly.

“Yeah, I know the place. But we’ll have to be careful. Swarm might be there.” The male Toa spoke blankly, as if it were of no consequence. Gazing up at his larger copy, the Onu-Matoran found that he admired the trait, then swore at himself.

“Of course.” Naho’s voice shook slightly.

“Better get moving.” Again, he seemed as if he were only voicing his thoughts. The sun hung high overhead. Midday. Time cannoned by.

“Thank you.” said Naho as the three began walking with the taller Mavrah in the lead, scraping his right leg along the ground. He didn’t ask for help. “I’m lost here. All this destruction…It’s all the same,” she said, speaking to nobody in particular.

“I’ve gotten used to them.” He did not look back. “Let’s hope you don’t have to,” he said in a whisper.

—

Their walk was not long. Most of it was spent in silence, much to Naho’s annoyance. A natural-born talker, this silence was fate’s slap in the face. She may’ve deserved it, but that did not mean she couldn’t resent it. She tried–repeatedly–to break it.

“So, Toa Mavrah, what’s your story?”

“Not much that you don’t know. For centuries the other Toa and I tried to fight off the Swarm. We failed. Obviously. The Matoran all died, and the Toa died trying to protect the Matoran. Nidhiki died. Naho, Lhikan. I’ll go soon too.”

“Oh.”

She wanted to die. Oh? What in Artakha’s name was ‘oh?’ Oh, Beings, if there are any left, kill me now.

Before anything else does.

Toa Mavrah was quiet once again. Rather strange, since he seemed rather friendly and enthusiastic when they first met. “Hey, are you ok?” Naho asked. “You weren’t like this when we first met; you seemed a lot happier.”

“I think you would be too if you saw a living copy of your own dead friend. Then reality sets in, and you realize that the carbon copy standing in front of you is nothing like the person that was once alive.” His words were almost harsh.

“I’m sorry.”

Silence.

Despite what seemed like some truly deep soul-searching on the lone Toa’s part, she attempted a third time to chat up a storm.

“Mavrah, is that your hut?”

“Two nos.”

Naho giggled. Immediately she felt guilty. Traitor. How can you laugh? Have you forgotten Nidhiki? Someone thought. She did not feel as if she were still connected to her body, her soul slowly being ripped away.

In this place, she was losing herself.

She fell into a gloomy lull after that, and none of them spoke again until they reached their destination.

The scene that had been consumed by rage and carnage, elemental blasts and blades abound, was quiet as the proverbial grave. Life had fled on sight of the Swarm.

And there, amid the debris of rotted buildings and fallen Matoran and Toa, lay Nidhiki’s body. Renewed grief washed over the Toa of Water as she fought mightily the losing battle to hold back the tears. She surrendered, and they loosed upon her. She sobbed, crying and crying and crying, tumbling weakly to the ground.

There were no Beings.

“Nidhiki….Nidhiki, Nidhiki, Nidhiki…..Nidhiki….”

“Yet another.” Toa Mavrah thought aloud. “Not even of this world.” He exhaled steadily, almost ignorant of Naho. “If there is heaven, or Arthaka, may it be of both our worlds.”

He’s right.

Realization blasted through Naho. The death was not his.

Yet here he lay.

And it’s my fault. If we had stayed…if I hadn’t pushed for leave…Nidhiki would be alive.

Mavrah’s voice aroused her from her thoughts. She inhaled sharply, jerking her head up. “Lhikan’s pack,” the Matoran whispered.

His counterpart strode over to the satchel, withdrew the Olmak.

His eyes glinted with a powerful hunger. “Lords…An escape.”

The look in his eyes took Naho by surprise. But of course, he’s desperate, she reasoned. Who wouldn’t be, having suffered through what he has?

Uneasiness despite.

She knew what would come, yet she would not admit it to herself.

“Here, I’ll take that,” Naho offered, extending a hand. Just a bit too suspiciously.

For a heartbeat, the Toa glared at her; then his gaze softened. “Yeah, uh-huh…of course… I’m sorry- if you were in my position you would be a bit overly eager.” He nodded, placing the golden mask in Naho’s outstretched hand.

Feeling more at ease, she slid the mask into her own backpack; she felt the leather pouch containing the shards of the Calix press against her back.

“Well! We better go find Lhikan now.” She wiped the tears from her eyes. Awkward…that was the best word. Odd.

The Mavrahs nodded, the Matoran hastily, the Toa cautiously. “Yes,” the Toa said, “before the Matoran beat us to it.”

Naho cupped her hands around her mouth and took a deep breath, but Toa Mavrah slapped his hand roughly over hers and shook his head.

He glared angrily at her. “Do you want to bring those Matoran–and possibly even the Swarm–upon us?”

Of course! How could I be so careless? “Yes…no, that is…How foolish of me. Sorry,” she apologized… Foolish? Naho shook her head; she hated formal speak, and now she was using the word ‘foolish’ instead of ‘stupid’. What was this world coming to?

The Toa of Earth just frowned and turned away. The other Mavrah blinked up at her.

“Am I really that grumpy?” he whispered.

“Not usually.” She winked.

Toa Mavrah was already picking his way through the debris, somehow managing the task successfully with his badly injured leg. “Are you two going to flirt all day or are we going to find your friend?”

“He’s like an Ash Bear with a sore head.” Mavrah muttered, as he and Naho ran to catch up to their companion. “Least, that’s how he makes me feel.”

Together, the three of them marched toward the fresh field of destruction and the unknown.

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