User blog:TheSlicer/The Fairon Chronicles

The Fairon Chronicles is an upcoming novel to be placed on this blog post and its respective CBW article. It is set in the Gigas Magna storyline, a world in which Teridax is dead and the Brotherhood is weakened, leaving multiple factions to fight for control over the universe. One of these factions is the Order of Darkness, led by the deadly Makuta Velnax, who seems to seek a reformation of the natural order... or perhaps something more...

Please review below.

Prologue
The world was spinning. The void around him, purple and black swirls of paint being mixed together by some sort of cosmic brush, was turning end over end in a way that made his stomach churn. Flamu had never liked the feel of teleportation; it was as though he were lost in one of the purple nebulae he had heard one could see through the telescope on the island of Mata Nui. And the pressure, slightly above what he was used to in normal gravity, wasn't enjoyable either.

He tried to right himself, but how can one right oneself in empty space? There were no reference points, or not here, at any rate. The spinning was not slowing. Did this always happen, or was it just him? He began to consider how it would seem if he vomited after arriving in Robotopolis, in front of Velnax and his minions. Certainly, that wouldn't be good for the mission.

The mission. He must focus on the mission, and therefore he must keep himself from vomiting.

How long had he been here? It seemed like hours could have passed, but it could just as easily have been a few seconds. He had had no idea how right his superiors were when they told him it was disconcerting.

The world around him seemed to be spinning faster, the pressure on him increasing until he felt like his chest was being crushed. Flamu's figure was being thrown about like a ragdoll, and the colors started to get thrown together into an uncomfortable black...

It stopped. Flamu took in a deep breath, taking pleasure in the air and light that surrounded him much more. He collapsed on the metal floor, his lungs heaving for some time, until he realized he was not alone.

“Toa Flamu,” sneered a serpentine voice from somewhere in front of him. “It's about time. Now get up.”

His vision focused, allowing him to look up. What he saw was a pair of legs covered with a thick red armor, with feet bearing three sharp talons. Immediately, he stood, focusing his attention on the task at hand while he quickly scanned the room.

The Robotopolis control room was very much like he had anticipated. A row of control panels were positioned on the wall in a semicircle, in front of which busy technicians were sitting, doing the best to ignore the scene that was ensuing. A domed ceiling towered over him, through which could be seen an array of stars. This momentarily confused Flamu, as the control room was at the center of the city, far beneath the upper levels, but then he realized that it was a display, nothing more.

Stationed at the center of the room, directly in front of him, was a throne of a silver metal that reflected the harsh, unnatural light from above to the point that it was almost blinding. To the sides were two pairs of guards standing rigidly at attention—male Vortixx, of course; most of the major organizations had predominantly employed these as guards since the fall of the League of Six Kingdoms. A black-armored Makuta, tall and lean, stood by it as well, positioned to the left of the being in the chair.

“Velnax,” said Flamu coolly. “I assume you know the purpose of my arrival.”

A small smile formed through Makuta Velnax's Kanohi Psikon. He reclined in the throne, appearing casual but not taking his eyes off of Flamu for a second. He peered at him in a tight gaze that somehow made Flamu feel as if he were being inspected by a curious Rahi.

“Going right to business, I see,” the Makuta said. The muscular figure did not move the slightest in his thick red and black armor. It was obvious now that he was analyzing him and his intentions, ascertaining his motives. The unflickering green eyes set deep in that almost expressionless face were studying Flamu, and it disturbed him. “Suppose, for the moment, that I have forgotten, Negotiator, and that I require information. That is what they call you, is it not?”

“Yes.” Flamu was as careful as he had ever been when dealing with enemies. Even had he not researched Velnax as much as possible before the mission, he would already have deduced Velnax's nature: Slippery and powerful. Someone to watch out for. “My message is simple: turn over your hostages or we will strike at Robotopolis with all force necessary.”

“Hostages?” said Velnax, peering at Flamu with an air of smug indifference. “What hostages?”

“You know very well what hostages. You are to turn over the Order of Mata Nui operatives Brominax and Shayla immediately.”

“Order of Mata Nui?” Velnax frowned. “I must say, I thought you'd be less open about your true affiliations. Doesn't the Order make a point of remaining secretive?”

“You clearly seem to know enough about us,” Flamu replied. He remained as expressionless as he could, a quality had quickly acquired even after only a few missions of peace. “We would be very interested as to how—after you return our operatives to us.”

“You're very persistent, Flamu,” said Velnax, clasping his armored-glove-covered hands together as he smiled slightly at the Toa. “Flamu, rookie Toa of Fire, nicknamed “the Negotiator.” Level Two clearance. Six missions, six successful. Currently stationed in Robotopolis. Authorization code,” he continued, and Flamu blinked in astonishment, “2918651242. So, yes, we know many things about your Order. We are fully prepared for you should you unwisely choose to invade Robotopolis. Our weapons are superior to yours—” he indicated the plasma cannons in his guards' hands. “—and while my forces may not all be as well-trained as yours, we are rather more numerous. Now, Kutrax, relieve the Toa of his comlink. No doubt, it is set to record a sound file and transmit it in real time back to Daxia. I want to talk to his superiors personally, if you please.”

The Makuta standing next to Velnax began to move towards Flamu. He involuntarily stepped backwards, but did not lower his attention from Velnax.

“You are not talking to anyone except for me.”

“The decision is not yours to make."

“As you're likely well aware from reading my file, negotiating isn't all I'm good at.”

“Of course. But do you think I'm actually incompetent enough to surround myself with guards who can't adequately defend me?” He motioned for Kutrax to stop his advance. “You have never been in a serious battle before. My guards, on the other hand, I personally picked from the best of the Brotherhood of Makuta's troops some time before we defected from them. The odds do not look good for you.”

Flamu had to admit that Velnax was right, but he was not prepared to show it. “Is this a threat?”

“Not yet. Very well, you may keep your transmitter. Settle down so you can finish threatening me.”

Flamu had to consciously keep himself from swallowing nervously. Kutrax stepped back into his position, glaring at the Toa, but Flamu ignored him. It was hard enough focusing on his duty as it was. “The two Order of Darkness hostages will be released from confinement immediately and taken to a neutral location—to be agreed upon by both parties—under minimal guard. From there, they will be given back to a group of Order of Mata Nui operatives, who will then return them to Daxia.”

Velnax laughed. “And what do we get I return?”

“It depends.”

The Makuta nodded. “At least you're not stupid. Well, then: I need the Order of Mata Nui to give me the Keeper of the Elder Prophecies. That is the only condition I will accept.”

“I do not know of such a being as the Keeper of the Elder Prophecies,” said Flamu. Doubt, however, had begun to flicker into life within his head. Of course there were some things he hadn't been allowed to know; he only had a Level Two clearance, after all. It was not only possible but absolutely certain that the Order ruling council would be keeping secrets from him.

“There quite definitely is,” said Velnax. “I've met him. Now, all I need is for your superiors to get this message, which they are at this very moment through the listening equipment they cunningly employed to eavesdrop on me. You don't have to consider an offer you don't understand anything about.”

“Then explain,” Flamu answered. He was beginning to get the feeling that something was going horribly wrong with this meeting, and it wasn't hard to detect why.

“He is in possession of some of the most closely-guarded secrets of the universe's workings,” Velnax answered. “He used to aid us intermittently, but we had a bit of what you may call a falling out. He believes that he and I pursue different goals, when they are in reality one and the same. We would like the Order of Mata Nui's cooperation in searching for him. He can be rather... difficult when it comes to evading pursuit.”

“What do you want with him?”

“It is none of your business.” Velnax's gaze seemed to intensify, as if he knew what was coming next. Flamu began to tense as he spoke again.

“And suppose we should not choose to hand this being over to you?”

“Then we shall find him ourselves,” said Velnax, “with no help from the Order of Mata Nui. And Brominax will die.”

Flamu took a deep breath. Velnax was not going to like what was coming next. “If you should choose to execute the hostages, this will be seen as an act of war. The Order of Darkness shall officially be viewed as a hostile faction and full military action will be taken against you.”

“And how do you think that that military action will go?” Velnax sneered. He was staring at the Toa of Fire in mockery. “As you know very well, we have access to all of your information. We could sabotage any and every part of your plan, throw your troops into chaos. We could even,” and with that he leaned forward and looked straight into Flamu's eyes, “reveal your existence to the Matoran world. What would you do then?”

“We will do, as we have always done, whatever necessary.” Flamu gazed back, his face tightened into a grimace. He was losing control of this meeting, and both of them knew it.

One of the Matoran at the control panel glanced backwards to face Velnax. Even from some distance, Flamu could see that he was suppressing fear as he spoke. Fear of Velnax, no doubt. “Sir? We have a message being relayed from Daxia to the Toa's transmitter.” He immediately turned around to focus on the control panel.

“Excellent,” said Velnax in a low growl. “Now, Toa, relay us your message. Don't worry, I'm not going to stop you.” Flamu reached down to his hip to take the comm out of its container, deciding that it would be best to take his eyes off of Velnax for a moment. It was a circular metal device that could easily fit in the palm of his hand, with a small screen that relayed data.

Right now, the screen said:


 * DO NOT AGREE. HE MUST NOT HAVE THE KEEPER. PREPARE FOR STRIKE TEAM'S ARRIVAL.

So there was to be a strike team teleported in? Perhaps it wasn't necessary yet. There could still be time to salvage the situation.

Slowly and deliberately, Flamu put the comlink away. He then stood back up to face Velnax. “The decision has been made. We will not agree to your terms.”

“Ah.” Velnax's facial expression didn't change in the slightest. “I was expecting that. What a pity. We could have had such a prosperous future together.”

“So this is war, then?” said Flamu. “Are you going to kill me?”

“Kill you? Certainly not,” said Velnax. “The war hasn't started yet. Unless you're planning to make a move right now.” Suddenly, Flamu realized that the situation had not only gone out of control, but was starting to get dangerous. He knew what Velnax was going to say seconds before he actually did.

“Unless, of course,” he continued, “there happens to be a strike team on the way right now. The war has officially begun for the Order of Darkness, and you are going to become our first prisoner of war. Though surely not our last.”

Before Flamu could worry about how he had known this, the five guards—the four Vortixx and Makuta Kutrax—sprang into battle position. The Vortixx trained their weapons at their target, and Kutrax raised his spear. He didn't need to be a Toa of aura to feel the Makuta's powers charging.

“Come quietly,” Velnax finished, “or this may become a little messy.”

Flamu blinked. He raised his arms in surrender and took a step back. The guards began to approach him—

And then a wall of flame came into existence between him and his foes. The Vortixx immediately fired, a compacted ball of superheated plasma shooting at incredible speeds towards him. Flamu was prepared for it, and as the plasma penetrated his wall, he ducked, letting it slip through the air above him. Of course, being the soldiers that they were, they had kept firing, but causing the weapons to heat up so that the guards would drop them was an old trick, and a sudden fireball knocked them back a few steps and disposed of their dropped arms.

But then there was also Makuta Kutrax, and he could not be dealt with so easily. With a hiss, he sprang forward through the fireball without hesitation. Flamu reacted, rolling backwards and launching more fireballs from his hands. But Kutrax had fire resistance powers, and had had thousands of years to practice them, whereas Flamu was just a novice Toa.

The strike team was arriving soon. If he could only hold the Makuta off for a few more seconds...

He reached for his staff and eased into a sparring stance, managing to do so quickly enough to block Kutrax's precision strike that would have sent his head rolling around on the floor. However, he had been unable to maintain proper technique; his combat form of Lihtne had failed him, and he had been sent stumbling backwards. Kutrax struck again, this time sweeping up from below, but Flamu was ready this time and pushed the blade to the side, leaving Kutrax wide open for a well-aimed kick.

“Oh, and Flamu,” said Velnax's voice from the other side of the crackling flames with a note of distinct glee, “your strike team won't be arriving soon. They've been... ah... redirected. You're all alone here. How long do you think you'll last?”

The message distracted him long enough so that he forgot to kick Kutrax, and was only barely able to duck away from his weapon as he swung it back across the length of Flamu's body. Deciding that he wouldn't last very long at all if he continued to play at defense, he used his powerful legs to leap high in the air and cleave down with his staff. Kutrax, acting on reflex, unwisely decided to block it. Flamu smashed his foe's weapon downwards in the direction of the ground, then launched a fiery blast of energy from the other hand, which went directly into Kutrax's eyes. It could not harm the Makuta too severely, of course, but nonetheless he fell backwards screaming until a solid kick silenced him.

There was an eerie moment of near-silence, punctuated only by the crackling of the flames noise the Matoran made at their control panels, monitoring the altitude controls of the floating city and such. Flamu was surprised at how they could still keep working, what with the fight raging in the center of the room.

Then Velnax stood and began to clap. “Well done, Flamu. I obviously underestimated you.”

“I'm in no mood for compliments,” he growled. He raised his weapon and pointed it at the Makuta; a futile gesture, he knew, since he was standing several bio away across the room. “You're at my mercy now.”

Velnax snorted aloud. “Do you honestly believe that? I am fully capable of killing you, now or whenever else I should choose. And not only that, but you are a Toa, and certainly incapable of killing me. It would be a violation of the Toa Code.”

“Killing in self-defense is not a violation of the Toa Code,” said Flamu.

“Of course,” Velnax said. “You're Order of Mata Nui. You seem to take pleasure in finding all those loopholes. But they won't help you now. Nothing can help you now.”

Instinctively, Flamu reached for his comlink, but Velnax was faster than he was. He flicked his wrist and a jet of energy shot from his hand, hitting the storage container at his hip. Flamu's hand recoiled upon seeing that his comm now had a blackened hole through the middle, and the Toa looked up to see the Makuta advancing towards him.

“What have you done with our strike team?” said Flamu warily.

“As I said,” Velnax answered, “I redirected them.” He drew a long, menacing sword from its sheath and increased his pace ever so slightly.

“What do you mean?”

“Attempting to buy time, I see,” said Velnax. “I expected better of you. You are only here because I wished it. They are not here because I do not wish them to be.”

“A teleportation block?”

“No,” said Velnax. He was only a few bio away now, but Flamu knew better than to try to run—yet. “Better. I have the key—the first one, at any rate—to the Order of Mata Nui's destruction.”

“And what would that be?”

“My boy,” said Velnax, grinning broadly now, “why should I ever give that information to you?”

The Makuta lunged forward. Flamu didn't flinch, his weapons at the ready and teeth bared, when a sudden shockwave appeared out of nowhere, emanating from a point directly in between them. Flamu threw himself to the floor, avoiding the brunt of the blast, but Velnax was not so lucky. The fiery explosion pushed him backwards and into the air, but he regained his balance by the time the wave dissipated and landed back on his feet.

“A mask of explosions,” hissed Velnax. “Excellent. I like when my enemies choose not to go out without a fight.” “I hope you're satisfied,” said Flamu as he got back up.

“You are doomed, Flamu,” Velnax growled. “You have no way to escape. Robotopolis is a massive city, and even if you were to manage to escape from me, where would you go? This city is currently thousands of kio above Aqua Magna, and teleportation out of here is impossible.”

Flamu considered his options. His foe was right; there was no escape, and there would not be even should he kill Velnax. There was only one thing left to do.

“Tell me, Velnax, what is to keep me from killing us both right now?”

“You wouldn't.” There was no hint of uncertainty on Velnax's face.

“I would. I could release an explosion that could obliterate everything in this room, and probably take a good deal of Robotopolis with me. See, you've made a mistake, Velnax. You've taken away all of your opponent's hope of escape. That might work on someone else, but not on a Toa.”

“And why is that?” Velnax's eyes began to flicker, as if he really were becoming worried.

“Because I'm a Toa,” Flamu concluded, “and Toa never give—”

A sudden shock coursed through his body. He gasped, for a moment oblivious as to the cause of the sudden change, and he simply continued staring forward. Then the pain began, more than he had ever experienced before, but already it seemed dull, as if it were only a distant memory.

Realization came upon him, and Toa Flamu looked down to find a long, sharp, metal object sticking out of his torso. A pool of blood was forming on the floor, a thin trickle slowly running down his body.

He collapsed. He could do nothing but look up in vague horror as Makuta Kutrax pulled the blade out of his victim's body and wiped clean of the blood—his blood. Velnax stepped forward, grinning down at him.

“How true. Toa never give up. That, my friend, is exactly the reason you Toa are dying out.”

Flamu tried to ready his fire powers, to retaliate, to snap back, but found that he was unable to. His responses were slow, his body already all but paralyzed by the venom that coated Kutrax's weapon. He tried to spit out something, some final words, perhaps, a last condemnation on the Makuta, but the muscles of his mouth were locked together, impossible to move with his failing strength.

Things were growing darker now. Details began to blur out, and his eyes, locked directly in place, continued to stare at the faces of his two foes. His heartlight was flashing slower and slower, and no doubt, his mental activity would soon cease. There was no need to worry now; the end was coming, and there was no need to stop it. It simply was.

The last thing Toa Flamu saw was the vile, grinning face of Makuta Velnax. Then darkness enveloped his mind, and everything was gone.

Chapter 1
The Toa of light peered noiselessly through the branches, his dark green eyes flickering as he looked past the small circle of rock that lay at the foot of the Daxian mountain into the green foothills in the distance. Despite himself, he inhaled deeply, taking in the heady scent of the moist air as he had done hundreds of times before, during the countless training sessions.

Today, though, was different.

Once again, he diverted his attention to the area before him, examining the landscape that stretched out into the distance: intact for the most part despite the countless small battles that had been waged here between members of the Order of Mata Nui for the last hundred thousand years. Apparently, the damage they inflicted on the environment could not be contained for long on Daxia, which served as a tangible reminder to the Matoran universe's natural resilience.

Or maybe it's another one of the Order's security systems, he pondered. I'll have to find out once this is over.

But that, as always, depended on what “over” would look like.

Fairon felt his pulse quicken as he thought once more about what would happen if he won today—or lost. Still, it mattered little at this point, and he tried to force himself to focus on his task and examine the landscape for Dorex. The time was past to worry. Besides, it was too late to turn back now: he had made the decision. It was battle or humiliation.

A flicker of movement caught his eye. He started, whipping his head around to look across the sheer vertical wall of rock in the side of the mountain, and realized that the noise had come from one of the dried vernal pools inhabited by a colony of spiky plants, their tendrils waving in the light breeze. The Toa of light relaxed just as quickly as he realized that it was a small gecko sunning itself in the light of the early morning: one of many of the reptiles (snakes and lizards for the most part, though other times some more exotic beasts had shown themselves) that he had seen scurrying around on other days, seeking to extract just enough from the harsh domain to survive another day.

Fairon was half-surprised to see it outside at such an hour. Most other Daxian creatures were safely tucked in their burrows and nests for the moment, preparing for the unusually massive low-pressure system that was due to arrive within the next week—the third in the last year. Most of the avian Rahi had moved away to the southernmost areas of the universe, where although the resources were less plentiful, it could hardly be worse than being trapped in a hurricane.

He found himself wondering how he knew this, then realized to his mild surprise that the answer was that Dorex told me.

He was interrupted by a gentle wave of apprehension and slight alarm, though it did not belong to him. This was Rantu's way of communicating when they were unable to speak verbally: a silent transmission of emotions through the aura field, a technique that had supposedly been developed by the Great Beings themselves. Still, Fairon couldn't wait for the day that the two of them were given comms; he often found the intrusion of his partner's emotions unwelcome.

Realizing what the message entailed, the Order of Mata Nui trainee shaded his eyes against the rising sun and peered eastward over the prairie. A few seconds later, the image he had been hoping—and dreading—to see came into view: that of a tall figure silhouetted against the rising orb. He was still too far away to see clearly, but Fairon knew what he was going to see before it actually came into view: a powerful-looking Toa Nuva clad in a thick layer of bright orange armor.

What thoughts are running through his head right now? Fairon wondered. ''What does he think about our challenge? Does he think it'll be an easy fight?'' He gripped his lance of light tighter and swore it would not be so.

The shape in the distance grew clearer. Dorex was how he always looked, his face betraying no expression beneath his concealing tangerine Olmak as he walked slowly over the broad grassland to the stone training circle near Fairon and Rantu's hiding places. His weapons were mounted on his back in an X shape: If he thinks he doesn't need them, then we're out of luck today, thought Fairon.

He recalled the scene he had witnessed an hour before in the gathering-place for the trainees, back at the fortress that was now only a looming shape at the horizon. They had gathered in the small meeting chamber, waiting for Dorex to address them: Deymur, new and inexperienced, shuffling his feet nervously; Harlen, quiet and detached as usual, standing patiently with weapon by his side; Crystillix, brooding silently in the corner and thinking to himself.

As Dorex had entered to address them and give them their training exercises for the day, Rantu and Fairon had risen and delivered their challenge. They had planned long weeks for this day—now that he considered it, months and years, ever since they had been recruited—and then, he had been secure in the feeling of impending victory.

But there was no time to think about that now. Their slicer had reached the training circle, and was even now stepping toward the center. As he did so, his heavily muscled arms reached back and grabbed the two weapons, rolling them over in his hands until they faced the front.

“Toa Fairon and Toa Rantu,” said the weapons master, standing silently and resolutely while Fairon watched evenly from his vantage point. Undoubtedly, across the circle, Rantu was doing the same. “I, Dorex Nuva, accept your challenge today to engage me in a test of skill, a traditional duel of powers and weapons, to allow you to pass on to the rank of Order of Mata Nui member, or be shamed in battle and return to the training from which you came.

“May you fare well. Let the fight begin.”

“May we fare well,” Fairon murmured.

For a moment, he looked at the slicer and contemplated the moral ramifications of what they were about to do. Dorex was their longtime companion and mentor, their teacher and guide in more ways than one, and the only way to gain admittance into the Order was to beat him. And despite this, he had spent the last one hundred years teaching them to fight, showing them how to surpass him.

''Your one loyalty is to the Order. Always remember that.''

More emotions, those of genuine alarm this time: Rantu was telling him to strike. Can't he understand, he thought, doesn't he realize why this is so hard? No, of course he didn't. His partner was far from stupid, but he had never had any qualms about battle, whatever the objective.

''Battle? We've never had battle. All that training was practice for battle. This is battle.''

Fairon thought for another moment of all the times they had fought Dorex, together and alone, but he managed to break free of them. Narrowing his eyes and pointing his weapon with unerring skill, he channeled his elemental abilities through the staff of light, sending an invisible laser burst in his trainer's direction. Orange armor was met by a spot of green light, releasing a sickening smell of burning armor, but by then the slicer had jumped out of the way of the attack.

Dorex's eyes blazed as they looked in the direction of the attacker while Fairon jumped down from the tree. For a moment, they were looking directly at each other, and in that moment, all feelings of remorse were gone from his body. Dorex was just another target now.

Far from that. He's one of the best fighters in the universe. This is going to be far from easy.

“Hello, Fairon,” said the weapons master as he crossed his swords. From the point where they came together, a massive sheet of solid rock spread outward and upward, blocking out the sun as it was launched into the air and began to fall toward the light.

He certainly seems to have been holding back a few tricks until now, thought Fairon mildly. He was hardly panicked; Dorex himself had taught him to adapt quickly to almost any situation, and he had learned that skill well. With the cold, calculating, deadly efficiency of a Toa trained to kill, he fired another laser burst, melting a circular hole in the rock directly above him. Still, if this is the best he can do, then there shouldn't be much trouble.

A heavy rush of wind came immediately after, then a horrific smashing noise as the sheet and the top layer of stone effectively exploded. However, Fairon remained untouched, weapon up, looking at the spot that Dorex had been standing in and readying an attack.

Only Dorex wasn't there.

Be aware, Fairon. You may not have Rantu's power, but there are still ways of seeing without your sight. Would you like me to show them to you?

Shutting out the other noises around him—the running water, the flow of the western wind, the gentle swaying of the trees and grass—he detected a small ripple in the air. Very, very close.

Fairon drew his weapon and spun around. His staff met one of Dorex's swords, blocking an attack that would have dismembered him. The other sword slashed sideways toward his face, but Fairon was able to duck backward and slash with his staff.

“Excellent,” murmured the the weapons master in what seemed to be an approving tone while he blocked the attack and countered with two of his own, directed toward both sides of Fairon's body. “But that won't be enough against me, and you know it.”

Blast it. The Toa of light grimaced as he simultaneously blocked both maneuvers and sliced at Dorex's legs, only for him to jump upward and move to spear him through the eye. Where is Rantu when you need him?

Then the shots came. Instinctively, Fairon rolled over backward, away from his opponent, as he watched a beam of crackling blue energy carve a path through the air. It made contact with one of the weapon master's blades, which Dorex immediately dropped. Before the Toa of aura could take control of the device and use it against him, it was sealed in a layer of stone.

That, however, gave Fairon all the time he needed to charge up for another laser blast. The force of it pushed him back along the stone, yet it accomplished its goal, vaporizing a good portion of Dorex's chest armor. Still the slicer stood, looking relatively placid. I suppose it gets old after thousands of years of this.

Two more energy blasts came, but Dorex responded in kind by erecting a wall of stone in front of him, blocking him off from Rantu's strikes. He and Fairon were alone on this side of the wall, and their eyes met again.

“You can't beat me with your powers, and you know it,” said the young pupil. He felt his heartlight pulsing rapidly in anticipation, but luckily, Dorex couldn't see it under his armor. “There's only one way to do this.”

“No, there isn't,” the weapons master hissed, and slammed his weapon into the ground. Recognizing that this was his chance, Fairon charged.

He heard it before he saw it: a low rumbling, at first barely strong enough for even his heightened senses to notice. As he moved toward the weapons master, who stood as unmoving as a statue, it intensified: with it, the ground beneath began to shake. The world swayed around him, but the Toa of light managed to maintain his balance up to the point where the fault line opened to form a gaping chasm in the ground, carving a deep scar in the center of the valley.

Fairon tried to jump away, but the rock he was standing on was suddenly absent. He felt himself plunging into the darkness, seeing the world above grow rapidly smaller. Wildly, he reached up with his staff, placing it perpendicular to the run of the chasm. There was a sudden jolt as it caught onto the rock on either side of him, almost making him let go. A horrible screeching noise ensued as the staff grated against the walls, his weight still pulling him downward into the blackness; then the weapon caught onto a small ledge, and it stopped.

“You're finished, Fairon,” said the voice of the weapons master. As Fairon looked up, a shadow obscured part of the entrance to the chasm, which he had little doubt was Dorex's upper body looking down at him. “Give up now and you will be spared a considerable amount of pain. You can still try again later.”

“Not a chance!” the Toa of light roared.

“All right, then.” It was there that the slicer's calm tone crossed over from slightly frightening to very infuriating. He raised his remaining sword and pointed it down, and Fairon's heart sank at the understanding that his instructor was going to bury him under a ton of rock.

But that was not what had angered him; there were ways to survive, of course, and both he and Dorex knew it. He would come out of the situation alive. Instead, it was the realization that he had failed, that his endeavor would have to be tried again on another day.

Then he heard Dorex cry out, and he remembered Rantu. Filled with renewed hope, he clawed at the small ledge above him and began to climb.

Dorex realized what was about to happen only moments before it did. While readying himself to channel his power through his sword, he realized that he had forgotten about Rantu. He glanced over his shoulder only just in time to see the green-armored figure before the ripple of aura energy hit him. A feeling of relentless, dizzying euphoria struck, diverting all of his attention and almost making him drop his weapon. The blast of stone power was instead launched up into the sky, sending boulders spraying in all directions from his position like a fountain.

Rantu ignored the projectiles, yelling his battle cry as he charged. Before Dorex could adjust to the situation, he slammed down his staff, coming directly down in a brutal attack designed to end the battle in a single stroke. Still fighting the overwhelming pleasure that threatened to engulf him, he was barely able to roll aside in time to avoid it.

He jumped back up, only to receive a debilitating blow to the jaw from the body of the aura Toa's weapon, which was smoothly continued with a sweep to the thigh that Dorex clumsily blocked. Only too late did the Toa of stone realize that it was a distraction, allowing Fairon's fully-charged laser blast to slip under his guard.

“Wh-where did you come from?” the weapons master gasped as he rolled over to get away, an awkward maneuver despite his fight against the lingering effects of the bliss. A second burst met him in midair, knocking him over and forcing him to roll in the direction of the chasm he had made. It penetrated the armor this time, reaching into the flesh beneath.

“I climbed,” said Fairon, his weapon glowing with light energy as he charged it for another attack.

Dorex jumped to his feet, having finally managed to win the battle against the mental attack. He sidestepped as another energy beam from Rantu's blaster narrowly missed him, continuing indefinitely into the faraway distance. He was not so lucky with the laser blast; it hit him right in the face, melting part of his Kanohi and narrowly missing one eye.

The weapons master fell again, coughing up a thick spray of blood. The euphoria was completely gone now, replaced by a sickening feeling that he could only assume was either an aftereffect or the result of repeatedly being hit by an energy beam.

He landed face forward, lying all but unmoving as the sound of footsteps came: not terribly rapid, but not terribly slow, either. Hesitant. Not surprising; Dorex had heard the sound in the many, many, times his trainees had bested him, over all the many years he had served the Order and Enforcers. Instead of reacting and standing up, he remained as he was, waiting splayed on the ground like a dead Rahi.

“Excellent job,” he croaked. “You tricked me. Not many have succeeded in such a thing.”

“Do you want to give up now?” said Rantu's voice through the fog in his mind as the pair of feet stood still. There was no malice in his tone, but instead a carefully guarded apprehension that the Order's slicer knew all too well. He wanted to know if Dorex was finished.

“No,” said the weapons master, allowing a faint grin to cross his face. Without even having to open his eyes, he envisioned the confused expressions on the young Toa's faces, and then began to sink like a rock in water.

Or rather, like a rock-controlling being in rock.

He felt his mechanical and organic body parts melting away into the substance beneath him as he dipped down into it—or that which was him, now—still aware of their existence and able to control them, but in all other forms a part of the rock itself. Sight was no longer necessary: Dorex's mind—or the rock's essence; the two terms were all but interchangeable—felt its every strength and weakness, its curves and contours, its breaks and cracks and fractures, even the tiny pressures made by the feet of two young Order of Mata Nui trainees, and so compelled the rock to guide him to them.

They have done well, Dorex thought. ''Very well. But let's see how they react to'' this.

As he watched, the weapons master sank into the ground, his body parts seeming to dissolve into the rock itself. Rantu shared his alarm through the aura field, but that was hardly necessary; Fairon was already rushing over to the spot where he had been, charging another laser, but by then the weapons instructor was gone. Fairon spun around, facing his companion and addressing him personally for the first time since the battle had started. “Do you sense him?”

He was briefly worried that Rantu might make some sort of facetious remark that might cost valuable time, but judging from the grim expression that crossed his usually cheerful face, it was clear that he was being as serious about the matter as he was. As he spoke, Rantu closed his eyes to submerge himself in the aura field, then extended an arm and gestured. “He's over there.”

“Excellent,” Fairon growled. The heat of battle was with him now, emboldening him almost to the point of recklessness. Compared to the coldness that he had felt earlier, it was almost a relief. Briefly, he allowed himself to wonder whether that was a good thing or bad. “Then let's get him.”

Drawing on the furious fire within him, he pointed at the spot in the ground where Rantu said Dorex was bount to be. Excitement fueled his power, which poured relentlessly out of him, yet not seeming to even slightly diminish his endless reservoir of energy. Before his eyes, a hole was being bored straight into the ground. “Do I have him?” said Fairon, his eyes animated with what he thought might me hunger.

“No,” said Rantu, eyes still closed. He turned to Fairon and blinked visibly. “He's heading for—!”

Then the ground exploded.

The stone beneath them crumbled as it expanded outward in all directions, tossing the Toa into the sky like small dolls. From his unique vantage point, several bio above the surface of the Matoran world with rocks all around him (though luckily none had hit him), Fairon saw the smooth cliffside collapse. Then the force of gravity set in, and he, Rantu, and the countless boulders began to fall.

Rantu! Fairon thought in alarm, and glanced to the side to see the aura Toa fall through the clear blue, precisely in a position where he would undoubtedly be crushed by one of the rocks on impact. Thinking quickly, he shot a beam of energy at the stone, his elemental power pulverizing it into ashes. He saw Rantu's thank-you nod—

And then he slammed into the side of the mountain with force enough to rupture the ground beneath him. He landed directly on his back, which instantly sent a thousand needles of pain shooting through it. Luckily, his back plating had absorbed the brunt of the damage, and he stood, filled to the brim with eager anticipation, scanning the area around him for Dorex.

He finally spotted the orange-clad figure at the mountain's base, standing over the limp body of Toa Rantu. Fairon roared, the fire within exploding to a climax, rushing down the slope with his staff in his hands. He fired three times without even thinking about it. As the first hit, the slicer spun around in response, dodging the other two as they scored gashes in the rock behind him and slamming his fist into the ground.

Once again, the ground seemed to explode, sending a shower of rock in Fairon's direction. He was ready this time, racing through the obstacle course without a second thought, allowing his instinct to guide him through the maze of what seemed to be plunging meteorites as though it were as simple as a Kolhii match. The exhilarating new feeling was filling him with adrenaline, and more: all the the pain, all the anxiety and fear, was pushed into the back of his mind. The air was fresher and crisper than ever as he charged through it, the rage in his heart being directed toward one goal: defeat Dorex.

As he ran, he realized that he felt good.

While Dorex stood, sword up, waiting for Fairon to arrive, the Toa of light noticed that Rantu was rising to his feet behind him. The weapons master looked over his shoulder, but too late: Rantu had already begun to attack. Good, Fairon thought with satisfaction. That should keep him busy.

Swords flashed in the sunlight as they were raised, then just as quickly slashed against each other, were withdrawn, and clashed again. He saw Rantu hold his own against the weapons master as he came closer and closer, feet moving at impossible speeds, each step bringing him nearer to his goal. There would be victory today, and it would be his.

Two seconds left, one second, and he was there.

A pair of precise but powerful slashes that came inches from Dorex's face, which was already half burned away to form a smoking, unrecognizable visage. The weapons master's attention went to Fairon, and he turned while delivering a savage kick to Rantu's gut. He spun his single blade in a dizzying circle as he moved in, making Fairon hesitate for the first time. But he willed the hesitation away, and attacked with the savage, single-minded fury of a wild beast.

A diagonal slash from shoulder to thigh. Dorex neatly flicked the weapon to the side and moved to spear the attacker in the throat, but Fairon was to fast for him, somersaulting out of the way. As he did so, he swept up to remove the left arm, but once again the slicer stepped out of the way. Instead, as he landed, Fairon was met by a powerful thrust, which he parried in midair. Only then did he realize that he had played directly into his instructor's hands, and a fist met his jaw.

The rush immediately went out of him. He fell on his back, while a quick twist from Dorex sent his staff of light clattering on the ground. The weapons master kicked it away, almost lazily pointing his sword at Fairon's neck.

“You've done very well,” Dorex murmured. “Very, very, well. I'm proud of you.”

Fairon spat in his face.

“You can give up now,” said Dorex, raising his free hand to wipe the flecks of spit from his scarred cheek. “You've passed the test. You and your partner have exceeded and defied expectations. You showed cunning, skill, and bravery, exhibiting remarkable knowledge of the skills I've taught you. That is enough. You can be made a true member of the Order of Mata Nui without actually beating me. You've shown that you already are.”

The image of Dorex came to him then, in their first group lesson, when Fairon had been nervous and not knowing what to expect. He had been ordering them to recite the society's principal values, and the memory brought a grin to Fairon's face, simultaneously charming and triumphant. “No, Dorex.”

''You are Order of Mata Nui. You live to fight.''

“No?”

You fight for justice and liberty.

“There's one thing you've forgotten. One thing that you've always told me.”

''You fight for integrity and honor.

“And what is that?” Dorex's brow was furrowed as he gazed at Fairon cautiously. “Go on.”

''But there is one thing you fight to achieve above all else. Do you know what it is, my students?

“We fight to win,” said Fairon.

The pulse from Rantu's Nynrah Ghost blaster made contact with the slicer's back. Dorex fell, immobilized, on his back, in the same position that his apprentices had just been in seconds before.

Fairon scrambled to his feet. Dorex began to laugh.

“Well done, my boys,” said the weapons master. He paused to cough up a bit of blood. “Well done. You have certainly excelled today.”

The light Toa glanced at Rantu. “I thought you paralyzed him.”

“Neck down,” said the Toa of aura, blaster in his hand, as he looked down toward the fallen slicer. “I thought he might have something to say to us.”

“You win,” Dorex said. “You win. You pulled it off, all right. I am impressed now.”

“Do you have anything important to say?” said Rantu.

“N—”

The slicer was immediately silenced, his mouth opened in mid-sentence in a manner that seemed eerily like what Fairon envisioned a screaming ghoul to look like. “Was that really necessary?” he said.

Rantu shrugged. “I dunno. Maybe.”

Fairon shook his head but didn't press him. As he knelt to inspect his weapons master, he felt a cold numbness inside him, a strange lack of emotion: of concern for the slicer, or triumph for the victory, or relief that the final training exercise was over. Instead, he felt hollow and empty, which he realized was the result of what he had done.

He was their mentor, and they left him to lie unconscious on a pile of rocks.

He looked up. “We should take him to the healing center.”

Rantu nodded in agreement. “Alright. What do we do, carry him over there?”

“Better idea.” He reached for the comlink device Dorex kept at his hip, unclipping it and taking it in his hands. Rantu peered over his shoulder in unguarded curiosity as Fairon pressed the button he assumed would connect him to the Order base. “This is Fairon here. Authorization code 2197682346. Training session completed. Requesting transfer of Dorex to the infirmary. Over.”

“Acknowledged,” replied a piping Matoran voice. “We're sending someone to pick y'all up.”

“Rando?” Rantu spoke up. “Is that you?”

“Who else?” said the Le-Matoran over the comm. “Say, 's Dorex all right?”

“He's fine, I think,” Fairon answered. He opened his mouth to speak again, but another pang of guilt came over him him. He forced himself not to look at Dorex as he continued.

''You will be strong, Fairon. The lives of many may one day depend on it.''

“He's out for the moment, though,” he forced himself to finish. “We need a transport to the healing center.”

“Alright.” Rando's voice disappeared for a moment, then returned. “''It's on its way. Oh, I almost forgot. Helryx needs to talk to you. In person.''”

“Why?” Behind him, Fairon heard Rantu shifting his weight anxiously. “You don't think we've done—”

“''No, you're not in trouble. For a mission briefing of some sort, I dunno. Nobody told me.''”

Fairon frowned. “What about the initiation ceremonies?”

“''Probably no time for that. I might not be allowed to know what's going on, but I'm not a blind stone rat. Something big's going down. Everyone at base has been whispering to one another lately, and the council is real busy right now.''”

“Hmm.” Fairon pondered the situation for a moment, but could not grasp the meaning behind it. “Well, thanks anyway. We'll tell you all about it when it's over.”

“I'd better get back to work, then,” said the Matoran. “See ya later.”

The device switched off. Fairon began to place it back on Dorex's belt, then paused in thought.

“Take it,” Rantu encouraged. “You deserve it. You beat him, after all.”

A moment of consideration. Fairon bit his lip contemplatively as the rumbling of magne-sled engines and the faint smell of spent fuel came very distantly on the wind, giving a conspicuous reminder that there was very little time left until his transport arrived to bring the trainees back to base.

No, not trainees.

Toa.

New members of the Order of Mata Nui, ready to submit themselves to their duty, wherever that duty would take them and whatever the cost to accomplish it. They had passed the final test and beaten their slicer in combat. Now Dorex could not command them anymore; now they truly, finally belonged to their Order.

“Fairon?”

“No,” he said decisively, clipping the comm back on Dorex's belt and standing. “Come on. The magne-sled is going to be here soon. Let's all be back to base before Helryx changes her mind and gets someone else for this mission of hers. Sound like a plan?”

“Sounds like a plan,” Rantu agreed, as usual.

“Let's get all our weapons back then, shall we?”

As the single sun rose over the horizon, the two dispersed, the weapons master lying limply in the stone circle as a faint wind stirred the foot of the mountain and the sound of the engines grew ever louder.

Chapter 2
Not for the first time, Toa Shayla, former sergeant of the Toa Dominion, senior lieutenant of the Enforcers of Gigas Magna, unofficial member of the Noctxia Guardians, and ambassador to the Order of Mata Nui opened her eyes to the unwelcome sight of a prison cell.

The cell she was in was dank, and humid, encircled by a perimeter of rusted metal bars made from solid protodermis, though they looked very much the worse for wear. The ceiling and walls were made from a single slab of rock, riddled with a number of cracks, although these were barely visible through the thick layer of moss that clustered above her. On the other side of the bars lay a hall, which extended beyond Shayla's field of vision. It appeared completely empty save a torch mounted on the wall, though if there was one thing she had learned over her long years, it was to never, ever trust initial appearances.

Still, if things really were what they seemed to be, she could break out anytime she wanted to, even considering the conspicuous absence of her Kanohi. Compared to the sophisticated prisons at the old Gigas Nui base and the new one on Noctxia Nui, this barely amounted to a Rahi pen. So uncivilized, she thought.

But if this involved Antidax—and it was undoubtedly certain that it did, after all the things she had seen in the last few days—then it could never be that simple, could it?

Shayla tentatively reached out for the bars with one hand. As she made contact with the metal, a pulse of electricity smashed into her arm. She instinctively reacted by pulling her arm backwards, and as she did so she realized that she was only moving a frozen, immobile appendage, dangling limply from the side of her body.

She swore under her breath. She had encountered devices like these before, designed to release an electric charge to overload the nervous system. With any luck, the effect wouldn't be permanent, though she was certain to be walking around with a useless arm for a while.

If I'm going to be walking anywhere. After a short examination of the walls, she realized that attempting to break them down would be futile. The entire fortress was dug directly into the mountain; the prison around her was only a minute chunk of it. Drilling through it with water bursts would likely take years, while going into the rock to weaken it would likely only bring the prison down on top of her. Still, it was her best chance at the moment, and possibly the only one she had.

Brominax would know the answer, she thought, then sighed in exasperation. Brominax was gone now, tight in the clutches of Makuta Antidax, but whether he was alive or dead she knew not. Of their original team, only Fyxan remained, and that was solely by virtue of remaining behind on Daxia; she had watched Colix die, crushed by a shadow hand as Krakanus took his vengeance for the death of the Vortixx King. That was the only thing that seemed real now, as though all her life before that had been a dream or illusion.

After tens of thousands of years serving her cause, she had assumed that she would have grown used to the feeling by now. She hadn't.

Best to get on with it, then, she decided. Reaching out with her arms and her mind, she felt the humidity in the air, the puddles of water at her feet, and the minute cracks within the rock. Focusing on the latter, Shayla allowed the aura field to draw her in, and she called on her innate elemental powers to make them grow and increase.

“Well, Shayla,” came a familiar baritone drawl that sounded like nails scraping on rock, “what are we doing now?”

She spun around to face the prison bars, instinctively slipping into a fighting stance despite the fact that she had no weapons and no way to attack her foes. Facing her on the other side was her captor, the infamous warlord known as the Green Hunter. Beside him were a pair of guards—Noctians, instead of the usual Vortixx—standing rigidly at attention. Immediately, Shayla realized that these two were very formidable; everything about them, from their armor to their stances, indicated that these were very formidable warriors.

And they know it, too, she realized after a glance at their eyes. That was good. Overconfidence was an easy weakness to exploit, but an effective one.

“What do you want, Acid?” she said carefully, being sure to focus on his facial expression. “And where is Antidax? I want to meet the master, not bargain with his dog.”

“Antidax is not my master,” Acid responded as coolly as if he had expected the question. He's smarter than he looks, after all. He must have. “He is merely my ally for the time being. I will allow the partnership to benefit me as long as it can, but in the end he is merely another pawn. A means to an end, if you will.”

“If you think you that about Antidax, you're a fool,” Shayla growled. “You might think that you're smart, but you're nothing compared to him. You're his pawn, Acid, as all of the rest of us are. Now, let me speak to him, or else I won't talk at all.”

“And if you are able to speak to him, what then?”

“I'll get out. Same goes if I'm not able to talk to him. And if you aren't careful, I'll kill you when I do.”

Acid laughed, an ear-piercing grate that sounded more like a series of screams than a display of humor. “And how do you intend to do that?”

Shayla forced a grin. “Why should I tell you?”

“You cannot threaten me,” he laughed. The lime-armored being stepped forward to her prison, though Shayla noted that he was careful to stay out of her reach. “You have no leverage against me or anyone else. You will answer my questions when I ask them, or else we will torture you. I'd hate to ruin your pretty face like that.”

She smiled again, only this time the smile was partially genuine. “I once knew—that is, I still do know—a small band of friends of mine. They have a saying. Do you know what it is?”

“Is there any reason I would want to know?” Acid said. “No, I didn't think so. Now, tell me everything you know about the organization you belong to.”

“What organization?” she said, frowning in a way that would have fooled all but the most skilled Ko-Matoran psychologist.

“You know what organization,” growled the Green Hunter. “The Talon. Where have they gone?”

Shayla had to resist the impulse to scoff at the idea. Then, realizing that it couldn't hurt her chances, she let it out. “Dark Talon?” she hissed. “The Talon? Are you mad?”

“Mad?” Acid whispered. “Far from mad. I know you and your partners were scouting out my island, the location of which only a few know. I also know that your technology level is much higher than what we have here on Cronicia Nui, and indeed the Matoran world as a whole. You're not from here, are you? You're from outer space.”

That was all true, of course, but she had no intention of confirming it. “I see. Is that what Antidax is telling you? That we're from Dark Talon, come to conquer your island? You poor fool. Don't you see he's been misleading you?”

“If you're not Talon, then what are you?”

“It doesn't matter what I am,” she said softly. “The Talon is dead. It died a hundred years ago. The Twilight Guardians killed it.”

“I see,” hissed the mocking voice of Acid. He stepped even closer to her, directly under a small rocky ledge that hung around the outside of the cell. “And who are these Twilight Guardians? A group of magical flying Rahkshi who run around giving gifts on Naming Day?”

“They're the friends I mentioned earlier,” she said. Her gaze flickered momentarily to the guards; they seemed completely unaware of what was about to happen. “They have this saying: 'If you don't have any leverage, you make it.'”

Acid's mouth opened, no doubt for another sarcastic remark, but by then Shayla had already done what she needed to. She used her powers to break off the rock ledge and send it directly onto Acid's head, knocking him over toward the cell. The guards reacted as she had anticipated, drawing their plasma cannons and aiming them, but she was too fast for them. Once again using her powers, she reached through the bars with a concentrated burst of water to effectively extend the reach of her arm, using it as a snaking tendril under full control of her mind. Without hesitation, she grabbed the warlord around the wait, pulling him toward her cage.

“Stop!” Shayla roared as she saw the guards lifting their weapons. To enunciate her point, she pulled Acid, who was frozen in shock, into direct contact with the bars. They did their work quickly and quietly, as the warlord spasmed once from the electrical shock and stood still. “Put down your weapons or he dies.”

She watched the guards look at each other as they evaluated the decision. Powerful they were, yes, and perhaps overconfident as well, but they were no fools. This Toa clearly meant business, and so their leader's life was in danger. If the one way to keep their leader alive was to follow her instructions, then it would be wise to do so. They dropped their plasma cannons. Shayla smiled. “Open up this cell.”

She watched as they stood in silence for a second, using the coil of water to push Acid's limp body against the cell. “''OPEN THE CELL NOW OR I WILL KILL YOUR LEADER! UNDERSTAND?''”

“Very well, ma'am,” said the taller of the two guards in an openly contemptuous tone. She stepped outside of Shayla's field of vision, the Toa of water watching her companion carefully and gauging his reactions. A few seconds later, there was a small click—from what she assumed was the cell control panel—and the guard declared, “The electric bars have been deactivated.”

Shayla narrowed her eyes: this was convincing, yes, but it could still be a clever trick on the part of her captors. She could take no chances now unless absolutely necessary, especially considering the information she was now carrying. The Order needed to know what she had seen, of the image the Keeper had showed her of the manufacturing facility.

Antidax was here in the Matoran universe, and he was making an army.

“Prove it,” she hissed, pressing Acid even tighter against her. “Touch the bars yourself.”

“Very well,” said the female. She stepped toward the bars and touched them carefully, meeting Shayla's eyes as she did so. What Shayla saw in them was the soul of a being filled with hatred, not at the Toa herself but at the entire world. Despite herself, she felt a surge of pity, though not a strong enough one that it kept her from carefully monitoring all of her movements.

The guard, however, did not attempt to defy her; she instead touched the bars with her hand and withdrew immediately. “See?” she said. “Now, what else do you want? I—”

“This,” Shayla said, letting go of Acid as she simultaneously launched a concussive water blast from her hand. The blast pulverized the cell bars, shredding them into small bits of metal that sprinkled around the surrounding area. Acid and the Noctian were launched backward at the wall as the water spread, while the other guard moved to pick up his weapon. Once again, he did not count on Shayla's speed, and was promptly thrown across the room by another elemental burst.

She glimpsed the exit next to a weapons rack, a staircase that spiraled up and out of sight—presumably to the main fortress—and sprinted toward it unimpeded despite the two feet or so of water that collected on the floor. A final glance back told her all she needed to know; all three of her enemies were out for the moment, lying stricken on the water line, though she doubted they were dead. Acid, she noticed, seemed to have lost an arm when he had been hit by the explosive burst, and that thought cheered her slightly.

She raced toward the stairs, pausing only briefly at the weapons rack before picking out a pair of plasma Uzi, small handheld energy weapons similar to plasma cannons the likes of which had been used by the Enforcers before the development of particle guns. Taking one in her hand and one at her side in the case that her other arm should recover, she started upward, examining the moss-lined walls for traps until she deemed it secure. It was only then that she realized this was unnecessary; a being such as Acid would never consider the possibility that any of his prisoners could stand a chance of escaping his oh-so-secure prison.

Her weapons raised, Shayla sped upward in silence, her feet making little sound on the worn steps. As she came higher and higher, she felt rather than heard the series of vibrations. She paused, listening intently as the vibrations grew louder, and braced herself mentally and physically for the battle that was inevitably going to take place. The shadow of the approaching party slipped across the corner a second later, and she saw a dozen determined Noctian faces, each of their owners heavily armed, a second before she literally leaped upon them.

The fight ended three seconds later, with all six of the warriors lying dead on the ground before her and a thin wisp of smoke wafting gently upward from each of her Uzi. The Toa of water peered regretfully at the mound of bodies and moved on.

This is what I hate about this job, she reflected. ''All the senseless violence. Is ending some lives justified by saving others? Where is the boundary between justice and brutality? Where does it end?''

She noticed the darkness growing noticeably lighter, realizing that she was nearly at the top of the staircase, and abruptly cut off that line of thought. It would lead her nowhere, as it always had, and there were more important things to think about right now.

A moment later, the staircase ended. Slipping through an arched gateway, she entered a hall that resembled the prison area, though this one was significantly cleaner and larger. Instead of being illuminated by torches, there was an expansive ceiling of glass, through which sunlight poured, forming a tangible contrast on the level stone floor between the light and the dark shadows of the brick supporting columns. There was no one in sight.

I guess the ceiling's my way out then, she decided. Gathering her powers once more, she prepared to launch herself upward through the glass on a pillar of water. I hope the glass isn't any stronger than it looks, or there'll be trouble.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a booming voice with a thick Northern Continent accent: “There she is, men! Fire!” Before the impending shots could reach her, Shayla had leaped behind one of the pillars, cursing herself for letting down her guard. She heard the roars of plasma cannon shots and the loud shocks as one smashed into the brick behind her head, blasting it into little fragments that she only just ducked her head in time to avoid.

The upper half of the supporting pillar, weakened by the shot, began to fall dramatically to the floor. Shayla raced along next to it, hunched over so as to keep it in between her and her enemies. As she did so, she caught a glimpse of them: another half dozen troops wielding plasma cannons, and clearly they weren't new to using them. To anyone who hadn't seen the same kind of thing over and over for the last few thousand years and wasn't capable of such a skill themselves, their shots would have seemed frighteningly accurate; though Shayla was too careful to let any of her body be exposed, each shot blasted away a portion of the brick even as it fell, many of which were frighteningly near to her head and chest.

Still, Shayla didn't feel particularly worried. She'd been up against worse odds before and won. Why should this instance be any different?

As the pillar made contact with the ground, she ducked behind it, crouching as she fired a series of blasts from her guns. Two of the guards were downed immediately, and a third was hit in the shoulder. With a grunt, he stepped out of the battle, but the rest continued firing, streaking the air above her with searing bursts of flame. It's a pity these Noctians don't live on Gigas Magna, she realized. ''They're good soldiers. I'd hate to see them all die.''

That was when she saw one of the warriors point his cannon in a different angle, aiming at a point somewhere above her. She realized too late what he intended to do, and desperately tried to get off a shot. But by then it was too late; the sound of breaking glass filled her ears, and a dozen razor-sharp transparent needles fell toward her. Desperately, Shayla took the only option available to her: she broke cover and ran for safety.

Shayla had a clear view of all three of her remaining attackers now, but perhaps more importantly, they had one of her. As she rolled out of range of the falling glass and behind another pillar, her limp arm flopping about uselessly, a spray of plasma bolts lit the room, reflecting off the shards to create an eerie light.

She reached around the pillar with her good arm and downed two more of them, but as she did so, a sharp pain came to her hand, making her drop her weapon. Swearing under her breath, she reached for the other one by her belt, and it was only then that she realized that her trigger finger and thumb were no longer present, with her middle finger only half remaining.

Shayla swore even louder this time, though it was doubtful her remaining foe could hear over the spray of plasma bolts he was continuing to unleash. This had happened before, of course; there had been more machine than organic matter in her since the beginning, and by now most of her was so ravaged by battle and age that there was very little left. But when she lost half her hand in the middle of a fight and had her other one incapacitated, and the only weapon available for use was a small plasma weapon, it was starting to become what she classified as a “bad day.”

''But I'm a Toa. I can get out of this. Besides, there's only one of them.''

She closed her eyes as the fundamental power of water gathered within her, and raised her useful hand as she prepared to channel her powers. Her wells of energy were not bottomless, but she had enough left in her to do what she planned. Allowing the aura field to guide her, she raised her arm, feeling the throbbing intensity of the growing force as it entered her hand—

“Stop whatever you're doing right now or I'll shoot you.”

A hard metal barrel pressed against her head. Shayla opened her eyes, careful not to let the power dissipate, and looked into the red eyes of the female Noctian guard. If she had thought that they were hate-filled earlier, now they were seemingly mad with rage. The guard's face was contorted into a mask of hatred, and the spikes on her head had tightened in a Cephlosapian display of anger. Her frighteningly white teeth were bared in a snarl.

“Doesn't seem like I did a good enough job of knocking you out,” Shayla said slowly, stepping away from her, hands raised. A trickle of blood ran conspicuously down her hand, but she knew better than to wipe it away. “I'll try to do better next time.”

She could see three other beings stepping into view from behind the female. One was the Noctian who had been shooting at her seconds before, weapon still in his hands, expression unreadable. The second was the one who had accompanied the female when they had been downstairs in the prison. The third was Acid, limping heavily and leaning on the second one's shoulder.

“I should shoot you right now,” the Noctian whispered, and for a moment it looked like she would do just that. Her hand was clenched around the grip, her finger on the trigger.“You killed my kinsmen. You slaughtered them! What the Karzahni are you?”

The surge of pity came again. As Shayla continued moving backward, ignoring the sharp pain as she stepped on the glassy fragments, she wondered how much of a monster she must seem to her. She had no idea, of course, of what she had to do, the importance of her mission—

So does that justify killing everyone that stands in your way? whispered the voice in her head. To her annoyance, it reminded her of Janneus. She hated Janneus.

“I'm a Toa,” Shayla answered, just as softly.

“No, you're not,” the Noctian growled. “Toa don't kill. I should know; I've fought many of them in my time. You're much too good at killing to be one of them.” That last word she spat out with distaste, as though the very thought of it was something she loathed.

“This is wartime,” said Shayla. “Sometimes, in wartime, we have to do things we wouldn't normally do. For the sake of the universe.”

“For the sake of the universe.” The guard's hand was shaking. “I've had it with your little hypocritical ideals that you support only when it's convenient for you. All you Toa are good for is killing and dying, and with any luck, we'll have a lot more of the latter.”

“Stop, Lizard. Let me handle her.” This was Acid's voice.

Lizard looked at Shayla for a long moment before stepping away, though her gun was still pointed at her face. The Toa of water immediately put her out of her mind, instead focusing her attention on Acid as he half-swayed toward her. The Green Hunter was indeed minus his left arm, with small bits of tissue hanging from the place where his stump ended. His cheek had been torn away from his face, leaving a large hole that showed his skull. His pincers had been almost vaporized by the water blast Shayla had unleashed on him, leaving very little left of Acid's likeness.

“You look wonderful,” said the Toa of water. “Should I improve your visage a bit further?”

“Try,” Acid said, “and Lizard here blows your head off. But I doubt that that's what you want, is it? Otherwise, you'd have killed me already.”

“I should've.” All feelings of pity were gone; there was no room for them when dealing with beings such as this. She could not let such emotions cloud her judgment.

“But you didn't. You have some reason to get back to wherever you came alive, and I doubt that it's just self-preservation.”

“Let me talk to Antidax.”

“I will let you talk to whomever I choose, and no one else.”

“You can't control me,” she hissed. “None of you can control me. I won't stop until I'm dead. I will accomplish my mission.”

“Then let's make it easy for all of us. You tell us what your mission is. We put you out of your misery.” Acid peered up at her with a grotesque sneer. “Else, we lock you up until you sing like a Kahu. Either way, we win.”

“There's another saying from the Twilight Guardians I think you should know about,” said Shayla. She had stopped moving back, and was instead standing rigidly as Acid approached her. “The saying is—”

“GRAB HER!” Acid roared.

The Noctians sprinted in her direction. Before they could near her, she released the water burst that she had been charging up for, but it was not aimed at either of them: it was aimed at the ground. A spray of glass fragments were launched in every direction as the pressure from the clear burst pushed her up into the air, leaving her suspended above while the room began to flood.

“THERE'S ALWAYS A THIRD OPTION!” she cried triumphantly above the roar of the water.

It was then that she saw Lizard. Lizard, undaunted by the water that was already going up to her knees, had her plasma cannon trained directly on Shayla's head. Knowing that she had to move fast, the Toa willed the gushing column of water away from its current position, but it was too late. Lizard fired.

Instantly, her thigh felt like it was on fire. Continuing to propel the pillar across the room, she looked down at the area where she had been hit only to find that a good portion of the area was just gone. Blood began to ooze from the newly-formed cavity, and it was then that it hit her: she was hurt badly, and she would need healer attention as soon as possible.

Mata Nui, she decided. ''I must go to Mata Nui. That's my only chance.''

She took herself higher on the pillar to a point that was hopefully out of the range of her assailants' weapons. Below her, she could see the fortress: row after row of glass-ceilinged rooms, so that she could look down into them and see the interior clearly. But what she saw was not something to dwell on: it was much more important to move on to the shore, from which she could go into the sea and move for the island that lay on the Great Spirit's face.

There was little time left. She was growing weaker by the second, able to feel it even as it happened. But the sprawling complex below her was too large for her to traverse across it in time. The ocean lay far away at the horizon, tempting her, its call too strong to ignore. The water would heal her; she must go to it or die.

''Die? Like all those others you killed? Dying will just make things easier for you.''

Then came Janneus' mocking laughter.

Get out of my head, Janneus, she hissed to herself. I am doing this for the Enforcers and Order of Mata Nui, and because this is my duty.

The voice changed, changed into one that was horribly familiar to her, but much harsher and crueler. ''Now, Shayla, do you really believe in duty? How naïve of you...''

GET OUT OF MY HEAD! she said to herself. The voice faded, and it was then that she realized she had wasted the last few seconds hanging in the air, while her powers were slowly draining away.

You know what to do, Shayla, said the voice again. This time, she gritted her teeth and ignored it, limiting it to a dank corner of her skull while it throbbed in her brain. She increased the power of the water burst, pushing herself higher and higher. The strain on her body was enormous, one that she would hardly have risked at peak efficiency, much less with a hole in her abdomen. Still, she had no other choice.

Oh, but you do, the voice taunted. ''There's another way out. There always is.''

She pushed herself higher and higher. The complex below shrank to the size of a Kolhii ball held at arm's length, then smaller, until it just seemed to be comprised of an array of pinpricks that represented its different parts. Around it lay the island, with a series of Matoran huts to the east and the waves breaking on the shoreline to the west. Yet she was still not high enough.

Give up now and your suffering will be eased.

She pushed onward. The air, she could tell, was thinning. Her heartlight was flashing more rapidly. Time was running out; if she wanted to land in the sea, she needed to be high enough before her strength faltered—

It will be over quickly.

SHUT UP!

It faltered.

Toa Shayla plummeted lifelessly towards the surface of Aqua Magna, Nightwatcher's voice echoing in her mind.