Approximately four hours remained before the sun would rise over the island of Mata-Metru. For some unknown reason, the arrival of Helryx's chosen before dawn was an absolute necessity. Neither Vhisola nor Orkahm understood why. They simply followed Tobduk's instructions, captivated by yet another twist authored by the Great Creators. Their minds wandered as they tried to imagine what other grand mysteries lay buried in a world they were convinced would never live again.
Upon reaching Exit 012, they abandoned their vehicle and hastened toward the surface. Seven long minutes passed as they ascended. Seven minutes of silence, broken only by the grinding of gears and the weight of their own thoughts, each aware that something, or someone, might be waiting above.
"There it is..." murmured Vhisola, spotting a door marked with a glowing Matoran symbol a few paces ahead. "If I remember correctly, Tobduk told me to—"
BOOM!
The gate that would have reconnected them with the outside world after nearly an hour of darkness exploded without warning, scattering debris in every direction. A charge had been planted just minutes before the two chosen ones could approach. In an instant, armed figures emerged from the smoke and ruin. The Ruhnga soldiers stationed outside, cloaked in invisibility to avoid detection by the commonfolk, were swiftly discovered and slain before the explosive breach began. The invaders had chosen a weak entry point.
Vhisola tried to use the smoke to escape, slipping past the shadowy figures who failed to notice her. But Orkahm had collapsed. One glance was enough to see the blood trickling from his temple. Likely, a shard of debris had struck him. Panicked, she lifted his limp body over her shoulders, choking on the acrid mist that clung to the corridor walls, and fled without daring to look back.
She sobbed. She trembled. She felt weak, not from Orkahm's weight, but from the crushing burden of responsibility suddenly thrust upon her. She ran through the city streets, only to find herself trapped in a dead-end alley.
"There she is! Move in!"
"We'll flank them from the other side!" voices shouted.
Terror gripped her. Orkahm's small body slipped from her grasp like a sack of Hua fruit, suddenly devoid of meaning. Footsteps thundered around the corner, at least ten of them. Close combat was impossible. With no other choice, she dragged the unconscious Le-Matoran behind a narrow alcove and opened fire with every remaining round she had. But her ammo reserves, already depleted during the battle near the Protodermis Falls, were pitiful.
"Die... DIE!" she cried in desperation. But the enemies' firepower overwhelmed her.
Her weapon clicked empty. She had nothing left but what she had learned from Toa Krakua before the Second War of Spherus Magna. But it was not enough. The knife in her hand felt too heavy. The sight of her wounded companion only deepened her despair. She dropped the blade and withdrew into herself, tears streaming, her mind haunted by a single image: the First Toa.
She didn't think of her past battles with Nokama or the Toa Metru. Her thoughts turned solely to Helryx. If she died now, it would be a failure... another failure... a disgrace...
"What, done crying already?"
The footsteps had ceased. The gunfire in the distance vanished. All she could do was open her eyes. A figure in dark armor stood before her. His shoulder guards, his Kanohi, his green-hued shield. They belonged to one individual only. Before she could speak his name, she glanced to her left to see what had become of her pursuers. But Bomonga, Toa Hagah of Earth, blocked her sight with his seismic spear.
"You alright?" he asked.
"Bomonga... how did you—"
"Gut feeling," he replied with a grin.
A grin like that, after all that had happened, seemed madness. Even the presence of a true protector like Bomonga offered her no comfort. She dared not imagine what had happened to the attackers, especially knowing they, too, were Matoran. Still, surviving the encounter had awakened something darker within her...
"Vhisola. Did you hear what I just said?"
"Huh? What?" she blinked, regaining awareness.
"Orkahm... what happened to him?"
"There... there was an explosion as we were leaving one of the tunnels and... um..."
"Then it was you two behind the blast," Bomonga deduced. "I assume he was injured in the attack?"
"Exactly," she nodded.
Bomonga sighed, visibly irritated. "This is bad. Now they know about the Order's underground passages."
"So... how will you kill them all?" Vhisola asked bluntly.
Bomonga stared. Of all the reactions he'd expected, that was not one of them. The enemies he had merely stunned—not killed—were Matoran, just like her. Same race, same customs, same life-force. Did she truly believe they all deserved death?
"All clear down there?" a voice called from across the street.
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"Orkahm...? Orkahm...? Do you remember me, Orkahm?"
"Wha—what? Matau? Turaga Matau?"
Voices echoed endlessly in the dark recesses of his mind, weaving a chaotic dialogue.
"Yes. Can't you see me?"
"I... no, I see nothing. No one. It's dark. Too dark..."
"Do you fear the darkness? Are you afraid, Toa Orkahm?"
"What? Toa? Me? Don't be ridiculous... stop it!"
"Why? What did I say wrong? Was it not your destiny?"
"Stop! Enough!"
"Orkahm... Orkahm? Why are you ignoring me, Orkahm?"
"SHUT UP! I'M JUST A LE-MATORAN! I'M NOT MEANT TO BE A TOA!"
"Oh really? So you've given up trying to impress Helryx? You've settled?"
"TURAGA MATAU, ENOUGH!"
"Turaga? Do I sound like an old Turaga to you? Hear how strong these lungs are! How they fuel the body of a true Toa warrior!"
His breathing grew ragged, deathlike, as if something within was about to burst.
"You know what awaits you... don't you?" asked another voice. A female voice.
Orkahm didn't answer. He knew that voice. It had been years—not many, but enough—since he'd last heard it. Since the day Toa Matau had knocked at his door.
Then the voice changed again, colder. "Still chasing after others like a tamed Rahi, huh? You'd do anything to stand where you wish to be, even kill the one you love most, right? If Helryx asked it, you'd obey... wouldn't you?"
"Leave me alone... Any choice I make is for myself, no one else!"
"And what about Vhisola? Nuhrii? The others? You played your roles well during the war. Fulfilled every command from Helryx. So why shouldn't the First Toa mold you in her image?"
"Because... b-because I... I..."
"You even killed a Matoran to reach this point, remember?"
Silence.
The voice spoke the truth, reaching into memories tied to the Second Core War. Orkahm had no retort. More terrifying still was not the act itself, but how unmoved he felt by it. He felt no guilt. Unlike Vhisola, he had always suspected the rebellions. Opposing Helryx, in his eyes, meant opposing the Ignika itself. Thus, any enemy, regardless of race, had to fall, ideally, by his hand.
"Kid, can you hear me?"
This voice was different. Alive. Clear. And with it, a light appeared, tiny but growing.
"Orkahm? It's me, Vhisola! Come on, look at me!"
"Don't wake him too quickly, Matoran," said another voice. "Let him recover."
"But, Toa Pouks, we must hurry! The sun will rise soon!"
"And you'd abandon your comrade for that? Which is worse?" he snapped.
Another voice joined in. "That's enough, Pouks. Move. I'll handle the Le-Matoran..."
Slowly, Orkahm's mechanical eyelids opened. The healer's touch had done its work. A rush of adrenaline pulled him from unconsciousness, as if he had simply awakened from a deep, natural sleep.
Norik, leader of the Toa Hagah, stood before him, his silver Kanohi catching the light of the twin moons.
"Welcome back," he said, smiling.
Orkahm instinctively touched the wound on his temple. A gelatinous matrix had been applied to stem the bleeding while he was out.
"Thanks, Vhisola..." he whispered.
"That was me, leaf-head," said Pouks, Toa Hagah of Stone. "Your friend was too busy worrying what Helryx would think if we were late... or how to kill the next wave of rebels."
Orkahm couldn't grasp it all. But he knew, somewhere in his foggy mind, that he shared Vhisola's hatred for the rebels.
Norik stepped in, calming the tension. "Vhisola is right. Let's reach the Kikanalo and meet Bomonga and the others at the Coliseum. Too much Matoran blood has already been spilled."
"And why should I care..." muttered Vhisola, too quietly for Pouks to hear.
* * *
The Coliseum loomed ahead, ominous and grand, just as it had been before the Great Cataclysm. Once a stage for glory in honor of the Great Spirit, now it was little more than a monument. Its significance stripped away, replaced by the Order's dominance.
Its towering walls bore symbols of Ignika's devotion. Statues, banners, and icons reminded every citizen who ruled, and what faith they followed. The servants of the Mask of Life, be they agents, Toa, Ruhnga, or Korero, displayed their allegiance through courage and fire, led by Helryx and her advisor, Dume.
The Kikanalo, usually wild, were eerily silent. Orkahm spotted Bomonga in the distance, alongside the other chosen Matoran. But Vhisola's eyes were drawn to a lone figure pressed against the Brown Wall, one of the six outer supports of the Coliseum, directly connected with Po-Metru.
"Toa... Krakua?" she whispered, drawing Norik's attention.
He said nothing.
As the others arrived, Krakua, Toa of Sonics, stepped away from the wall, falling a hundred bios and landing with perfect grace. A cloud of dust flared up, heralding his entrance.
After brushing off his armor and letting silence settle like a cloak around him, he spoke. His voice was low, wary of noise. "Thank you, fellow Toa, for your service. And Matoran... thank you for answering this sacred summons. Helryx and Turaga Dume have placed their trust in you, just as they once did long ago. Though your destiny was once stolen and given to others, times have changed. The world stands on the brink once more, and you have been chosen to ensure it does not fall to greed and rebellion."
"What are you saying, Krakua?" asked Tehutti. "I thought the Ruhnga only saved me from those filthy rebels out of duty!"
Krakua grinned, silent and knowing. Then he revealed the truth. "You have been chosen... to become the five new guardians of Mata-Metru."
The Matorans' doubts were silenced. Krakua's prophecy confirmed it.
"Become... Toa?!" exclaimed Nuhrii of Ta-Metru.
His dream, centuries in the making, had returned. Once jealous of Vakama, now he stood on the precipice of transformation. He and the others wanted to shout with joy, but a thunderous roar shook the land. The enemy was near, armed with firepower likely stolen during the Second Core War.
"Come," Krakua said, face darkening. "Helryx and Dume await us in the central chamber."