Hellbound

This article was written by DeltaStriker. Please do not add to it without the writer's permission.

Hellbound
Story
Setting	Mahri Nui - Afterverse
Date Set	31 AGC
Timeline
Previous	Rock Bottom

The following story serial is incomplete, and will never be completed. It is preserved for archival purposes. See the Notes below for more information.

Hellbound is a story serial written by DeltaStriker. It begins a week after the events of Rock Bottom.

Story

Prologue

As the first light of dawn reached down past the waves two figures walked purposefully along the outskirts of Mahri Nui. Both wore battered suits of armor, one a faded yellow and the other a dark green. Their destination: a small, battered, and isolated hut almost at the edge of the air dome. Another figure waited for them at the door, clad in navy blue and gold armor that looked even older than the hut.

The three filed inside the hut, closing the door behind them. Between them and the three slumbering matoran on cots around the edges, there wasn’t much room for all of them to stand, much less sit. Nevertheless they began their meeting in hushed tones.

“Can we trust him?” the one clad in yellow armor asked.

“All I can say,” the green one answered, “is that there was a toa-hero of ice named Glace when I operated my trading business out of Metru Nui. I didn’t know him well. Nobody did. He was a recluse, spending most of his time alone when he wasn’t off on some secret mission-quest. He wasn’t like the others, he didn’t encourage trust the same way they did. Nobody knew what to make of him.”

“Is there any way of confirming he’s really who he says he is?”

“Like I said, I didn’t know him. There’s no way for me to confirm it’s him. And even if it is, I can’t promise he’d be trustworthy.”

The third being remained silent, regarding the two. For one who had just recently witnessed the death of two matoran under his command, Dekar seemed to be holding up pretty well. That wasn’t to say he was completely unaffected. His eyes appeared sunken, his movements heavy. He hadn’t slept at all in the week since the monster’s attack and Kyros’ murder of Lemiddus. It was clear he wanted to hunt the ko-matoran down, but his duties had prevented him from doing so. She could tell it was eating at him.

Defilak, on the other hand had seemed to strengthen in both his resolve and mannerisms. Over the past week he had been working tirelessly to organize defenses, train every inhabitant of the city in combat, and even produce more of the recently named “Air Launchers” that had been used to defeat the creature that had attacked the city a week before. His sudden involvement in the workings of the city had been quite effective. Dekar had clearly known what he was doing when he appointed the le-matoran temporary head of the council.

“Then what am I supposed to do?” Dekar asked in exasperation. “He’s too powerful and unpredictable to be allowed to stay, but how do you tell a toa to ‘get the hell out’?”

“You point a very, very big gun at him,” Defilak muttered in response. “And possibly use a bit more colorful language.”

The po-matoran stared at the ceiling. “He’s enough of problem as it is, let’s not make it worse. We have one-too-many enemies already.”

The third figure coughed lightly, indicating she wished to speak. The two matoran turned in her direction, waiting expectantly for her to speak.

“Send him out after Kyros,” Kaira suggested. “He won’t be able to resist an adventure. Give him a small team and let him loose. You’ll kill two gukko with one stone. He’ll be out of the city, and you’ll have someone to keep Kyros busy, if not catch him.”

Defilak nodded his head in agreement, but Dekar’s eyes narrowed. “How do you know he’ll go for it?”

She had hoped they wouldn’t feel the need to ask that question; her past was sensitive topic. “There was a ko-matoran named Glace in my village, back on the Peninsula.” She paused. “He was the village Chronicler, but he was always closed off and rarely spoke to anyone. Didn’t have many friends. He was a very lonely matoran.”

She fell silent. That was all she was willing to say. She would do what she must to help her city, but there were lines she would not cross. Her past was her business, especially where the Northern Continent was concerned. The others would have to figure out Glace for themselves.

“And you’re sure this is the same Glace?” Dekar asked.

“Positive.”

“Well then, I guess we’d better quick-send him away,” Defilak declared, then winced. “Sorry.”

Defilak had been making a conscious effort to drop the Le-Metru accent he had picked up during his time in the Metru Nui on account of it making him harder to understand, but sometimes a bit of chute-speak slipped out. Feton, the fe-matoran inventor with whom Defilak had a longstanding rivalry, had offered to slap him whenever he used a phrase from the dialect, an offer that had been bluntly declined.

Dekar nodded, finally appearing to be convinced. “Call a council meeting after the funeral,” he said. “We’ll ask for volunteers there.”

The two quickly exited Kaira’s humble abode. The ce-matoran was left alone with the sleeping figures of the wounded. Only the aforementioned three were still in her care; the others had all been minor injuries. She was left with the least hopeful, the worst off. As she always was. It was where she fit in.

She supposed that was a sad statement to make about herself, but in her mind it was the truth.

She glanced over at the still-dormant for of Kyrehx. The ga-matoran had been comatose for the entire week, ever since the late Lemiddus had carried her into Kaira’s hut with stories of a vampire squid attack. Details on this were sketchy at best, as Lemiddus’ account had been clouded by a rush of adrenaline and had to be taken with a grain of salt, but from what Kaira knew it had been close. A few more minutes and Kyrehx would’ve been gone. Not that she wouldn’t end up that way regardless.

For what had to be the hundredth time she thought she saw the color return to her patient, a flash of blue in her peripheral vision. But it was nothing. Kyrehx was pale as ever, lying peacefully on her back with her arms crossed across her chest. She was good as dead, really. If not for the faint pulsing of her heartlight Kaira would’ve declared her such days ago, tossed her in the unofficial morgue that had been set up in one of the larger structures in the city. But Kyrehx wasn’t dead, at least not in the conventional sense.

It was common medicinal practice to put patients with terminal conditions and no chance of recovery out of their misery, painlessly kill them in their sleep. Kaira had always found this to be barbaric, but now she started to see why it was even considered an option. It was depressing, waking up every morning, knowing there was nothing more you could do to help. It made you feel as though you had failed. It made you sad, filled you with pity for the poor soul you cared for day after day with no hope for their survival.

She tried to justify her lack of action to herself, to tell herself that there was no guarantee Kyrehx would die. That there was no guarantee that she wouldn’t recover. Telling herself that she didn’t know enough to merit such drastic action. But the thoughts felt hollow and selfish whenever she was near Kyrehx. And so the days had gone by and the debate had raged on within the confines of her mind.

Kaira shook herself, and moved to check on the other patient in critical condition: Aescela, the brave po-matoran who had lost her leg in battle with the crab-like monster that had attacked the city seven days prior. The scholars had already named the thing “gadunka”, a portmanteau of the three old matoran words meaning “large water crab.” Everyone was worried there were more out there. Kaira didn’t think there were. The matoran would’ve run into them before. The one Idris killed had to be the only one. Kaira doubted that even that one was a natural occurrence. She’d been told about the mask Lemiddus had found, that had changed Kyros into who knew what. If there was no connection between the two she’d eat her cloak.

Slowly, she peeled away the bandage from the stump that had once been Aescela’s leg. The wound was healing cleanly, thank Mata Nui. The last thing this matoran needed was an infection. It would heal‒ eventually. Aescela would need a crutch to walk for the rest of her life, would never be able to serve as a sentinel again. But she would be alive. That’s what was important.

She turned to the last patient, another po-matoran, this one male. He had tried to stop Kyros from escaping, and as a reward for his efforts had had a stone column dropped on his head. It was a miracle he was still alive, and yet somehow he had survived without so much as a dent in his mask.

Kaira switched the wet cloth on his forehead for a fresh one, tossing the original in a basket beside her own cot. He’d only been fully conscious once since he’d been brought in, and he’d spent that time rambling about indecipherable gibberish like “Spherus Magna” and “Angonce”. Complete nonsense. Probably the result of the blunt force trauma to his head.

She patted his shoulder gently. “Don’t worry Velika,” she said as soothingly as she could.

“Everything’s going to be all right.”

Book I

Chapter 1

The whole of the city was gathered in the one building that wasn’t covered by an air dome, the ancient temple dedicated to the Great Spirit Mata Nui. The roof had been removed and the four hallways that surrounded the central chamber had had arches cut into the inside walls, allowing the gathered matoran watch the ceremony from behind a protective wall of air. The whole structure was several hundred bio away from the rest of the city.

Six oval shaped caskets floated in the center of the structure, glowing faintly with cold gray light. Five cloaked matoran priests stood in front of them, one for each casket. The mood was grim as Defilak moved to the podium in the far hallway. All eyes turned in his direction, waiting for him to speak.

“Well, we’ve had quite the sorry-bad week, haven’t we?” His words were carried to every part of the temple by a series of pipes running along the roof from where he stood. “I mean, how could you not with me in charge?”

This earned a small chuckle from the gathered matoran. Defilak politely waited for them to stop before continuing.

“In all seriousness, I’m not sure what you’re expecting me to say. I’m no speaker. I’m not some master wordsmith who can weave magic from air. I’m just an inventor, an ordinary matoran. I’m nothing special.

“But these six matoran were something special, something so much more than ordinary. They were heroes. They died protecting our city from the dangers that surround us. They paid the ultimate price so we could live to fight another day.”

A murmur of agreement rose up from the crowd, and once again Defilak paused. Partly to allow them to calm down, but mostly to give himself a moment to lock up the emotion that was threatening to overflow from him. He needed to be strong. The matoran of Mahri Nui needed to have someone to look up to in these dark times, and right now that someone was him.

“As we send their bodies on their way tonight let us seal them in our memories. We mustn't let ourselves forget their sacrifices. Let them be our inspiration to go on. Let them be our inspiration to survive.”

As he spoke, the five cloaked priests drew short, ceremonial daggers from the folds of their robes. In perfect synchronisation they cut the tethers that held the caskets in place, then lifted them gently towards the surface. They floated slowly up and out of the courtyard towards the rising sun. All eyes watched their ascent.

Then suddenly there was a great flash of light. Everyone shielded their eyes with their arms. When the light faded the caskets were gone.

For a moment no one moved. Then slowly they began to filter out into the water, returning to their homes and places of work to resume normal activities. There was no mourning, no tears. Just grim acceptance of what the six matoran had done for them. Death held no power of the matoran of Mahri Nui. It was a part of life, like everything else. They did not fear it.

Defilak stepped back from the podium, exhaling deeply as he did so. “I am never, ever giving another speech. Period.”

His companions chuckled. They were a motley bunch, the assorted few that were the le-matoran’s inner circle. Defilak considered himself lucky to have them, otherwise he would be completely lost.

“Let’s hope the situation resolves fast enough that you won’t have to,” said the bo-matoran lawyer named Leeta from her spot by the wall. Leeta was his political adviser, giving him advice in the area he had absolutely no knowledge in whatsoever. She had proved invaluable over the past week.

Dekar grunted. “This situation won’t be over until I have that monster’s head on a spear.”

“And until Kyros is caught,” Idris added worriedly. The ga-matoran blamed herself for the ko-matoran’s situation and Lemiddus’ murder despite multiple attempts to convince her otherwise. As tough as life at the bottom of the sea had made her, she was still a soft and sensitive creature underneath her protective shell.

Dekar looked at her and laughed emptily. “I wasn’t talking about the gadunka.”

And awkward silence fell over the group. Then Navek, the onu-matoran archivist who managed the Hall of Gifts spoke up. “Well, on the bright side Feton, Kaira and I managed to find a way to replicate the spheres used against the gadunka to some extent. We don’t have to worry about our limited supply anymore.”

Defilak nodded his approval. “Good,” he said. “I presume Kaira went to check on her patients?”

Feton nodded. “She ducked out as soon as the light disappeared. Muttered something about wanting to avoid being caught in the crowd.”

“That’s fine,” Defilak said. “She already knows about this. I’ve decided to quick-send a group out after Kyros.”

His announcement was met by a number of incredulous faces. “I know, I know. We said we wouldn’t, but hear me out. We’ll send Glace with the team. Get him out of the city. Kaira used to know him, she assures me he won’t be able to resist a challenge like this. So we kill two rahi with one stone. We get to have a group out actively hunting Kyros, and we get him out of the city.”

Most started to nod their heads, but Feton remained skeptical. “What if that thing from the Black Water decides to show its ugly head? What is the vampire squid come back?”

“Then the Sentinels can take care of it,” Dekar interjected. “We have never needed a toa to fight our battles for us before, and we sure as hell don’t need one now.”

“It’s been a week. Kyros could be anywhere by now!”

“No, not really,” Defilak argued. “His air bubble would’ve lasted him a day at most. Very likely less than that. And since we haven’t seen him, he must’ve found an air pocket somewhere. And there are only a few of those that can be reached with the limited supply in a personal bubble.”

Navek nodded. “Echo Canyon and the Cord.”

“So he’s in one of those places?” Leeta asked.

“Most likely,” Defilak replied. “And with the proper equipment, a team could easily seek-find both areas in a few days. If they don’t find Kyros by then, we’ll have to assume he’s dead or too far away to be a problem.”

This time everyone nodded in agreement. Defilak sighed with relief. That had gone surprisingly well. He had expected much more resistance. “Ok then, it’s decided. We’ll call a meeting later tonight to ask for volunteers. The team will leave tomorrow afternoon.”

Dekar nodded. “I can gather the equipment we’ll need by then.”

“You can’t go Dekar.”

Dekar’s eyes narrowed. “I’m going. There’s not a chance in hell I’m gonna let anyone else take Kyros down.”

Defilak shot a pleading look at the others. Feton simply smiled as if to say “it was your idea.” The le-matoran sighed and returned his gaze to Dekar.

“You’re needed here,” Defilak said. “Idris will be the lead the mission.”

Dekar glowered at Defilak, his eyes ablaze. “Idris can do my job just as well as I can. Besides, it’s not your decision to make. You may be temporarily in charge of the city, but Sentinel matters are my jurisdiction.”

Idris was visibly uneasy, standing just behind Dekar and a little to his right. Defilak shifted his gaze from Dekar to her, his gaze poignant. “It wasn’t my decision.”

Dekar spun, his Kanohi Kiril contorting into a furious expression. His fists clenched and his eyes blazed like suns. Idris took an involuntary step backwards.

For a second Defilak thought he might strike her, but the po-matoran’s arms stayed at his sides.

“You?” he growled. “This was your idea?”

“Dekar-”

Idris was cut off before she could continue. “You of all people should know why I have to do this. Why I need to be the one to take Kyros down. If that creature had gotten away, would you be content to sit here while some else went after it? Would you?

“Kyros murdered Lemiddus. In cold blood. Over a mask. One damn Kanohi. I have a responsibility to bring him to justice, and I sure as hell won’t let him get away with that mask.”

Idris cowered from Dekar’s rage, every word like a dagger to her. She hadn’t wanted to do this, she had said as much when Defilak had suggested it earlier that day. But she knew she had no choice. He was needed here, much, much more than she was. Not to mention he’d be a risk to the mission if he went. He’d be as much of a loose cannon out there as the toa was in Mahri Nui.

“We understand how you feel Dekar,” Leeta interjected before the po-matoran could continue. “But we can’t afford to let personal vendettas impact our judgement. So far, Kyros has killed one matoran. This monster from the Black Water has killed at least two, probably more. It could’ve been responsible for any number of disappearances in the past; we’ve certainly had plenty. Defending ourselves against it should be our first priority, and as Captain of the Sentinels it is your responsibility to take charge of that defense. Besides, the team is only being sent to get Glace out of the city. It would be foolish to send our tactical expert on such a mission.”

Dekar was seething. He knew they were right, knew why he couldn’t go and he hated it. But his sense of duty was overpowering. In that moment Defilak knew they had won, but at what cost? Dekar had just shown he was one to hold grudges. This moment could come back to haunt them.

The le-matoran pushed the ominous thought to the back of his head. Such thoughts could brew uncertainty in the trustworthiness of those who could he could not afford to distrust.

“Ok then,” Defilak said, ending the tense silence. “Get the word out about tonight. I want everyone there who isn’t doing something essential.”

His companions exited the structure in silence. Some gave him a polite nod as they left, others just left. In the silence Defilak found himself wishing, not for the first time, that this madness would end and that he could go back to his workshop and live out the rest of his life in relative peace.

He almost was alone now. Almost. One person hadn’t left yet.

“You know why I did what I did Dekar,” Defilak said.

“I know why,” Dekar spat from somewhere behind him. “You don’t trust me to bring him back alive.”

“You might let your emotions get the better of you. That would put everyone on the mission at risk.”

“They’ll be hunting a homicidal maniac with energy powers. Not to mention the fact that the mask he carries seems capable of transforming nearby creatures into monstrous things when it feels threatened. If that’s not putting them at risk, nothing is.”

“If you saw an opportunity to get Kyros you would take it. Even if it meant putting the rest of your team in mortal danger. I can’t allow that.”

“Are you suggesting I would leave matoran to their deaths just to get Kyros?”

“In your current condition, yes!”

Defilak spun, facing Dekar for the first time in their entire conversation. The po-matoran seemed taken aback by his blunt answer.

“You’re a good matoran Dekar,” Defilak said. “But you aren’t you right now. You’re someone else. Someone violent and unreasonable. You only want revenge. That is not the kind of matoran I want leading a mission into certain danger.”

“You can’t be serious,” Dekar said.

“Dark-serious. You put me in this position to keep Mahri Nui and its inhabitants safe. That’s what I’m doing, an if you have a problem with it you have only yourself to blame.

“I intend to keep every matoran in this city safe for as long as I can. And if you are going to get in the way I can and will have your removed. Do I make myself clear?”

Dekar scowled. “Very.”

He stalked past Defilak and out into the ocean, swimming off towards Mahri Nui. Defilak watched him go, a feeling of dread washing over him. He had done the right thing, of that he was sure. But in doing so he feared he had begun something worse than he could ever imagine.

***

Kaira was accustomed to having time to herself. Few matoran ever got sick enough to consider it worth going to her hut. So she had become a recluse, leaving her hut only when necessary. She’d spent the time experimenting with whatever she could get her hands on, and was now more of a scientist than a healer. She’d had no trouble amusing herself the last few centuries.

But now she felt something she had never felt before. It was an odd sensation, something completely foreign to her.

She was bored.

Not the slump one gets into and doesn’t feel like anything. No, this was a different kind of bored. A helpless feeling that made one unable to do anything but think about helpless they felt.

There was nothing she could do for her patients now. Not until they woke up or had a significant change of condition. And this left her feeling so helpless, so very helpless.

On one hand she should be thrilled that none of them were dead. But they’d all been unconscious for about a week now, Kyrehx a week and a day. Granted, Aescela had been awake several times, enough for Kaira to be certain the po-matoran would recover. But for the most part she could do nothing but sit around and be ready in case anything happened.

But spending all day with unmoving and unspeaking bodies could be rather depressing. She felt herself more and more bored by her experiments, to the point where they became a chore rather than a distraction. They were all still there, waiting for her to take up her chosen hobby, but she felt no urge to test the laws of nature anymore. She was a healer once again, and that was her only care.

Of course, she would never reveal to anyone that she held such emotional sentiments. She was too much of an introvert to allow for that. Better for them to think her detached than to reveal she was just as worried as the next matoran.

She sighed and threw a glance over at her three sleeping patients. They slept so peacefully she almost envied them. They had slept through this last week without a care in the world. They were not troubled by the impending collapse of their world as those walked the waking world. Just yesterday Defilak had approached her and asked about any possible cures for insomnia, revealing that she was not the only one to be having trouble sleeping. She’d given him some somnus root and sent him away, wondering how many other matoran were having trouble sleeping.

And yet here these three slept. Oblivious to the world around them. It sounded like bliss to her.

She would not be attending the assembly Defilak was arranging. She had no need to. She would hear who volunteered eventually, and as she had no option nor desire to go. There was no point in her being present. She’d watch her patients instead, hoping beyond hope that they would wake.

She was startled by a knock on her door. This in of itself was an oddity, as it was unusual for anyone to pay her a visit, and potential patients never bothered to knock. The noise jolted her from her thoughts, pulling her out of her self-pity and back into reality.

It was probably Defilak, coming to ask for more somnus root or advice about Dekar. She’d heard what had gone down after the funeral, and was all the more glad she had skipped the meeting.

“Come in!” she called from her seat beside the cots.

The door opened but it was not Defilak who entered. A towering figure, clad in white armor, crouching over rather uncomfortably to fit through the door frame that was built for a being half his size. A toa, and one Kaira recognized instantly.

“Glace!” she exclaimed. “I wasn’t expecting you.”

“Hello to you too, Kaira,” the toa said.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?”

The look on the toa’s mask of intangibility was accusing. “Don’t play games with me Kaira. You’ve been avoiding me. I want to know why.”

The ce-matoran forced herself to meet his gaze. It was a cold, unfamiliar gaze. Nothing like the one she had known so long ago. And yet she knew it was the very same Glace who she knew from her old village. But he had been changed. Fate had not been kind to him, seemingly even more unkind than it had been to her.

“I was afraid... am still afraid,” she said. “I thought talking to you would bring back memories. Memories I’ve tried hard to forget.”

“And does it?”

Kaira could do nothing but look away. “Yes.”

Glace said nothing. He had never been good with conversation, something Kaira had always found ironic considering his chosen profession as Chronicler all those years ago. This was probably as awkward for him as it was for her, if not more so. If anyone should want to bury his past it would be him.

“I’m sorry,” he said finally. “I didn’t want to hurt you.”

Kaira shook her head. “No, it’s fine. You wanted to see an old friend, no one can blame you for that.”

She noticed he looked uncomfortable standing in the center of the hut, the only place he could stay upright without banging his head on the roof.

“Have a seat,” she said.

She indicated to her cot on the other side of the room. He nodded his thanks and sat down.

“So what was that all you wanted to talk about?” she asked.

“I don’t know what I wanted,” Glace said. “I wanted to know why you were avoiding me. I wanted to see you again.”

Kaira thanked Mata Nui Glace didn’t want to reminisce. She had no desire to talk of the past, it was uncomfortable enough to be sitting here with him after all this time. She wondered what he wanted now that he had accomplished what he came to do.

“I get the feeling the matoran here don’t trust me,” he said after a few minutes of silence. “Like they think I’m going to go crazy and murder them all.”

“They haven’t seen a toa in a long time,” Kaira said. “Its only natural for them to be suspicious, especially when you refuse to tell them why you were floating in the Black Water.”

Glace sighed. “I’ll tell you what I told them. It’s for their own good that they don’t know what’s down there. If they don’t know, there’s less of a chance it’ll find them.”

“We killed the gadunka, and Defilak outwitted the giant squid creature. We can take care of ourselves.”

“I killed the gadunka, and Defilak was lucky to make it out alive. Kalmah is not as stupid as he looks.”

“‘Kalmah’? Is that the creature’s name? How do you know so much about it?”

Glace shook his head. “This is exactly why I can’t tell you anything. You, or any other matoran in this city.”

Kaira stared at him. He really thought he was protecting them. “What you don’t know can’t hurt you”, wasn’t that the saying? Kaira had seen enough in her life to know it was complete and utter foolishness. Not knowing made you vulnerable, open to attacks one could never predict nor counter.

“I seem to recall an eager ko-matoran who believe all matoran had a right to know,” she said. “What happened to him?”

“Reality happened. That matoran you knew back in Boreas is gone Kaira. This is who I am now.”

“And who is that? A toa who sees it as his responsibility to dictate what matoran should know or do? The Glace I knew would be disgusted.”

This time it was Glace’s turn to look away. Kaira knew she had stuck a nerve.

“What is going on Glace? What won’t you tell me?”

The toa of ice remained silent. Kaira stared at him, her gaze unforgiving.

“Get out,” she said. “Just go.”

Glace looked as though he was about to protest, then stood and walked to the door. Before he left he paused, looking over his shoulder at her.

“I will say this though,” he said. “Don’t let anyone near the Black Water. If you value your lives, stay away.”

“Goodbye, Glace.”

Glace ducked out the door, leaving Kaira alone with her patients. She watched as the door swung shut behind him, wondering if perhaps she had been too harsh. He had only wanted to visit. She couldn’t blame him for that.

But on the other hand he still refused to tell them anything. And that was inexcusable from her point of view. They needed to know what he knew, for their own sakes.

Glace wanted to keep them away from the Black Water. There was something down there he didn’t want them finding. Well, she wouldn’t tell the others to stay away. She’d encourage them to go investigate. If Glace was hiding something, she would do everything in her power to find out what.

Chapter 2

For the second time that day Defilak approached a podium, this one in the grand council chamber of Mahri Nui. Light streamed down on the crowd gathered before him through the few panes of glass that were embedded into the ceiling. The brightest of these beams fell on the podium from which he was to speak, a spotlight effect he appreciated for the sole reason of it reducing his audience to mere silhouettes. That way he didn’t have to see that everyone was staring at him.

He looked out over the gathered matoran. There were less than a hundred of them now, the grim survivors of a millennia of misfortune. They were a hardy bunch, having survived calamity after calamity. Karzahni. The Great Cataclysm. The Sinking. And who knew how many other dangers had faced them.

But why had they survived? Were they tough, like Dekar? Reclusive, like himself? Or had they lasted this long because they were selfish, like Kyros? How many could truly be counted on to defend the city, and how many would save their own skins?

Only time would tell. Defilak hoped they would never have to make such a decision, for their own sakes as much as the city’s.

“I’ll get straight to the point,” Defilak began, his voice amplified by the room’s harmonics. “A team is being sent to seek-find Kyros. To bring him back for punishment, if possible. But the Sentinels are otherwise occupied and cannot be spared from their duties. So it was decided that we would quick-ask for volunteers.”

The matoran shot each other odd glances, unsure of what to make of this. Most had heard stories of Kyros’ flight from Mahri Nui, greatly exaggerated tales that made Kyros out to be some kind of god. Defilak found it immensely ironic that Kyros had had to exile himself from civilization to gain the attention and power he had always craved.

“Idris will lead the team.” He indicated to the ga-matoran standing a few bio behind him on the raised platform, “which will also be accompanied by toa-hero Glace.” He made a sweeping gesture towards where the toa stood in the back of the room.

A sea of faces turned to look at the toa, whose eyes narrowed. Fortunately he said nothing, and the matoran returned their gaze up to the podium without catching wind of the tension that Defilak’s announcement had created.

“We’re looking for able-bodied matoran who are willing to follow orders and aren’t afraid of the dangers out there. It should be a relatively quick-short mission. There are only a few places Kyros could be hiding, and with the proper equipment you should be able to search them all in a matter of days.”

For a moment nobody moved. Then a de-matoran stood to his feet, a slightly nervous expression on his kanohi Sanok. He happened to be one of the few matoran in Mahri Nui Defilak knew by name: Casa, the city Chronicler.

“I’ll go,” Casa said.

Defilak nodded in acknowledgment. He was thankful someone had volunteered so quickly, or else this would’ve been a long and awkward meeting. He had always found that most matoran were less apprehensive about volunteering if they weren’t the first.

Indeed, within ten minutes he had his team of volunteers. The five matoran remained in their seats as the rest of the city vacated the room.

Defilak hopped off the raised stage from which he had been speaking. He approached the volunteers with measured strides, trying to maintain a confident demeanor. He waved Glace over with a quick hand gesture as he sat down on the bench facing the volunteers. Idris sat down beside him.

He took stock of the group that sat before him. He only recognized Casa by name, the others he had had little contact with. One was a smug looking ta-matoran who lounged on the bench, seemingly unconcerned that he was about to off in search of a superpowered lunatic. Next to him an athletic vo-matoran was fidgeting pathologically, and beside her an unconfortable looking ga-matoran stood stiller than a statue. In the row behind them sat a black-clad onu-matoran wearing a battered mask of earth. Defilak swore he recognized the onu-matoran, but couldn’t put a name to the face.

“I didn’t agree to going anywhere,” Glace said from his spot in the back of the room.

“Do I look like I care?” Defilak replied.

“I will not be responsible if anything happens to them,” Glace said.

“Of course not. It’s not like it’s your job or anything.”

“You don’t want to make an enemy of me, le-matoran.”

Silence fell over the room. One could hear a pin drop. The volunteers looked uneasily back and forth between Glace and Defilak, as if waiting to see which one would back down first. Fortunately, neither had to.

“So what do you know about the situation?” Idris asked, eager to move the conversation away from Glace.

For a moment none of the matoran said anything. Then Casa spoke up. “We only know what everyone else does, that Kyros somehow gained energy powers and killed or injured several matoran while fleeing the city with some kind of Kanohi mask.”

Idris nodded. “Good. That’s the jist of it. Now let me get one thing straight. Kyros is not a god, he is a matoran. Just like you or me. He can be hurt, he can be killed. However, his new abilities are very real. And we don’t know anything about what exactly his limits are. He’s already demonstrated the ability to disintegrate items with energy blasts, produce some sort of energy shield and create tremors by simply touching his hands to the ground. Our goal is to catch him off guard and disable him before he can do any of that.”

The ta-matoran volunteer spoke up. “And what happens if we don’t find him at all? Won’t this all just be a big waste of time?”

Idris stared intently at the ta-matoran. “What’s your name, firespitter?”

The ta-matoran scowled at her use of the le-matoran slang term. “Pedra.”

“Well Pedra, if we don’t find him you should consider yourself lucky. Because that means he’s either far away from here or dead. And that means that you're that much less likely to be killed by a power-hungry ko-matoran lunatic with energy powers. Any more questions?”

That wiped the smiled off his face. The other four exchanged tentative glances and kept their hands down.

“Very well then. Meet in Defilak’s warehouse at dawn tomorrow. All the gear will be ready for use, we’ll look it over and then head out. If all goes well we’ll be back in a couple of days.”

“And if it doesn’t go well?”

This came from the matoran in the back, the onu-matoran. Defilak’s expression darkened as he finally recognized who it was. Reysa, the Keeper of the Hydruka. For a moment Defilak found himself back on the edge of the Fields of Airweed, looking down into the Black Water and seeing Gar’s mask. All because Reysa hadn’t been there to do his job. Would another matoran have to die because Reysa was shirking his duties yet again?

Defilak shook his head. That wasn’t fair, not in the slightest. It wasn’t Reysa’s fault Gar was dead. Gar had volunteered to fill in while Reysa was sick. Perhaps Reysa felt that it was his responsibility anyways. Perhaps this was his way of coping with the guilt of being the lucky one.

Idris’ response pulled him back to reality. “If it doesn’t go well then getting back will be the least of your worries.”

She looked at each of the five in succession, staring them down with grim seriousness. Her inner soldier was showing itself again, and Defilak found himself awed by the authority with which she delivered her words.

“I know that this is asking a lot of you. You’ve all heard enough to be scared to death, and if you aren’t then you’re an idiot. But Kyros is a very real threat, one that must be dealt with sooner rather than later. Thank you all for volunteering. Now go get some rest, and meet me at the warehouse tomorrow morning. Dismissed.”

Defilak watched the five matoran go, silent as phantoms. Idris had unnerved them, just like she had doubtlessly intended. They wouldn’t take this mission lightly anymore. Hopefully this made it all the more likely they would make it back alive.

“Have you chosen the Sentinels that’ll be accompanying the group?” Defilak asked.

“Gemini and Whevn,” Idris said. “Gemini’s a su-matoran who’s quite handy with a knife, and Whevn is a skilled po-matoran tracker.”

Defilak nodded his approval. He remembered Gemini from that fateful council meeting a week ago, when the su-matoran had stumbled in with news of the attack on Kyrehx. He’d never met Whevn.

He made a mental note to start interacting with his fellow matoran after everything went back to normal. Far too often he found himself not recognizing names that everyone else seemed to know.

“In the future I would like to be included on any decisions involving what I will or will not be doing,” Glace announced to break the silence that had fallen over the chamber, “so I may be able to make my own.”

Defilak snorted. “That’s the point. If we’d told you might’ve said no.”

“And would it have been so horrible if I had?”

“If you were a matoran would you be willing to quick-chase someone that a toa refused to?”

“If I were a matoran I would not be so keen as to cross a toa.”

Defilak stared up at Glace. His expression was impassive, as usual. It was impossible to have any idea of what he was thinking, let alone what he was feeling. He was an enigma, and that was precisely why he had to leave.

“I hope we don’t have any further misunderstandings in the future,” Glace said before walking out of the chamber and leaving the two remaining matoran in silence.

Idris was the first to speak after Glace had gone. “Do you think he suspects what we’re trying to do?”

“I don’t pretend to know anything about him. It wouldn’t surprise me, though.”

“But then why is he going along with it? He could just refuse to go at any moment and no one could do anything about it.”

“Because he knows we have him trapped,” Defilak said. “If he were to back down now then he would ever-ruin both what little faith the matoran have in him and their trust in their own abilities to stop Kyros. He saw Lemiddus’ body and the size of the pillar that dropped on Velika. He knows Kyros is a threat that must be handled.”

“So he goes. What happens when he gets back?”

Defilak turned to face Idris, his expression grim. “We hope to Mata Nui he’s gotten over it.”

***

Dekar sat in the center of the warehouse, staring down at the projectile launcher in his hands. It was the same one he’d fired at Kyros a week ago. He hadn’t figured out what exactly it needed to work; nothing he had used as ammunition had gone much farther than a bio or two, if it had worked at all. Not that it mattered.

The warehouse was still a pigsty. Scrap metal, tools, and unrecognizable bits of debris were scattered across the floor, tables and benches were overturned. That’s what happens when you take an already disorganized workshop and accidentally fire an explosive projectile inside.

He was supposed to be preparing the equipment for the team that was going out after Kyros. At least, that’s what he’d said he’d be doing. It was more of an excuse to get out of the council meeting. He’d barely touched the exploration equipment Defilak had mentioned. Of the twenty canisters that were supposed to be filled with compressed air only five were. Only one of the nine personal propulsion units was fueled. He hadn’t even touched the three watersleds. Idris would have his head, but he didn’t care. Not anymore.

He hurled the launcher across the room in frustration. He should be leading the team, not Idris. He had made a promise to Lemiddus that he would destroy the mask. And that chance would be lost to him if Idris’ team encountered Kyros. There was no way Kyros would could come willingly, and the only way they could subdue him would be to kill him. Then the knowledge of where the mask was would be lost. And he wouldn’t have even had the pleasure of ending to vile ko-matoran himself.

The clatter of metal on stone nearby startled him. The launcher was back at his feet, not out in the mess of scrap and tools where he had thrown it. His hand shot to his electro-blade’s handle.

“Who’s there?” He called, his voice echoing across the warehouse.

The air in front of him shimmered. He could hear the faint crackle of electricity as a matoran appeared in front of him like a phantom stepping out of thin air.

“Hello Dekar,” Kyros said.

Dekar was on his feet in less than a second, weapon in hand. Kyros was a barely a bio in front of him, Dekar could easily remove the ko-matoran’s head from his shoulders before he could react. But there was something he had to do first.

“Where’s the mask, Kyros?” He stared daggers at the other matoran as he spoke. The hatred rolling off him was almost palpable.

“Someplace safe,” Kyros responded. “I know you want to destroy it. Do you really think I would be so stupid as to bring it with me?”

“I could hope. Why are you here?”

“Because I want out of this hellhole. I need that submersible.”

Dekar laughed aloud. “That’s it? You want what’s left of the submersible? You’re welcome to it. Once you tell me where you put the mask and let me choke the life out of you.”

Kyros smiled sadistically. “I was hoping you’d say something like that.”

A bolt of energy slammed into Dekar’s chest, throwing him to the ground and knocking the air out of him. Before he could rise to his feet bands of energy wrapped around his arms and legs, pinning him to the ground.

Kyros strode over to Dekar wearing a mocking smile on his mask of clairvoyance. From his pack he withdrew a glowing golden object. The mask.

“Oops, I forgot,” he said. “I have it right here.”

With those words Kyros waved his hand and vanished into thin air.

Dekar struggled against his bonds, trying to shake his other electro-blade out of it’s sheath. It clattered to the ground just out of reach of his hand.

He threw himself against his bonds and grabbed the blade. With a quick flick of his wrist he hurled it at the spot where Kyros had been moments before. It soared through the air and over to the other side of the warehouse.

Whatever Kyros was doing, it allowed him to move around unseen. That wasn’t good. He could be anywhere and nobody would ever know.

From behind him he heard the sound of a machine powering up. He turned his head in time to see the lights of the submersible on and the craft vanish into the pool. Somehow Kyros had gotten it running again, and was taking it out into the ocean. Damn. With transportation that held it’s own supply of air Kyros could go anywhere. He would almost certainly be out of the reach of Idris’ search team wherever he went. That could not be allowed.

As soon as the submersible was out of sight Dekar’s bonds vanished. Jumping to his feet the po-matoran grabbed two air canisters and a propulsion unit and dove into the water after the submersible. He was going to stop Kyros, even if it was the last thing he did.

It was only after he was out in the open sea that he realized that he had left his electro-blades on the floor of the warehouse.

Chapter 3

Idris really, really wanted to punch someone.

She kicked at a piece of scrap metal lying beside her foot, revealing one of Dekar’s battered electro-blades. The other was across the warehouse, stabbed into a pile of tools. The po-matoran himself was missing, along with two air canisters, a propulsion unit and the remains of the submersible.

Several Sentinels were currently digging through the piles of junk with the assistance of Defilak, who had apologized profusely for the mess. She doubted they’d find anything, but it was worth a shot. The five volunteers who had shown up that morning expecting to leave immediately were busy readying the equipment that had not, for the most part, been prepared by Dekar.

Idris respected Dekar for what he had accomplished with the Sentinels, for his tactical abilities and skill in combat. But there were times that even she had to admit that he was not the most rational matoran in Mahri Nui. He let his emotions get in the way sometimes. Usually minor things, like pushing matoran too far in training.

But this was a whole new level of brashness. For him to abandon the city and run off alone was nothing like him. Yes, he had been frustrated. But he was devoted to his duty, and regardless of the situation he would put the safety of the city before his personal wants and needs.

Something must have happened to make him run off without explanation. But what?

“Idris!” a voice called from the small shack behind her. “I’ve found something!”

Idris entered the shack to find Defilak puzzling over a burnt chunk of metal. It was sitting on the table with tools and spare parts strewn about it as if somehow had been working on it and left without bothering to clean it up. Knowing Defilak, that was very likely the case.

Seeing her blank expression, Defilak explained, “It’s the power source I used for the sea-craft. I was working on it this morning before going over to Kaira’s hut. Nothing has been touched, and this is the only one I’ve got.”

Idris frowned. “So if your submersible had nothing to power it, then where did it go? Did Dekar drag it after him into the water?”

Defilak shook his head. “Running off was a slow-think move, but there would be absolutely no point in pulling the sea-craft through the water. It would make him bog-footed and would keep him from swim-speeding.”

“You’re doing it again.”

Defilak froze and his expression morphed into one of exasperation. “Am I?”

Idris nodded.

“I’m ever-sorry,” he said quickly. “It just slips out sometimes.”

“I‘ve noticed,” Idris said. “So where do you think the submersible went?”

Defilak looked nervously around the hut, even poking his head out the doorway as if he expected someone to be listening in. Satisfied Idris was the only one in earshot he answered her question.

“I believe that Kyros somehow managed to quiet-sneak back into Mahri Nui and stole the sea-craft,” he said in a hushed whisper, “and Dekar quick-swam after him.”

Idris nodded again, ignoring his continued use of Chutespeak. “That makes sense. He would be able to power the submersible with his powers. And Dekar would’ve know that with transportation Kyros could go anywhere in the ocean, far out of the reach of a search party. He must’ve used that to justify running off after Kyros.”

“And it means that Kyros could be anywhere out there, probably nowhere near our search zones.”

Idris spun, marching out of the shack. She took a quick headcount with her eyes, making sure the entire search party was present. Everyone but Glace was there. Well, that was his loss. He’d just have to roll with it when he got here.

“Your attention please!” she called.

Everyone turned and stared in her direction. For a moment everyone was still.

“Oh, for the love of Mata Nui get over here!” Idris said. “Don’t make me shout everything at you.”

Once everyone had gathered at a more reasonable distance she began to speak. “Evidence has been found suggesting that Kyros and not Dekar is in possession of the missing submersible.” Several gasps cut her off, and she silenced the offending matoran with a glare. “That means our original search plans are now useless. Kyros could be anywhere within a dozen kio by now, and not necessarily someplace with air.

“I know this is a drastic change of plans. I wouldn’t blame any of you for wanting out. But I ask that you at least consider going forward with the mission.”

She looked over the seven matoran in front of her. The volunteers appeared to be thinking it over, while the two Sentinels she had chosen, seemed perfectly fine with the change. Gemini was fidgeting slightly as he waited while Whevn stood perfectly still as the statues his kind were so skilled at carving.

Finally one of the volunteers stepped forward. A timid looking ga-matoran who worked at the city’s greenhouse, Idris had been surprised when she had volunteered. Most likely she just wanted a break from the tedium of botany, and the sudden change of pace was too much for her tastes.

“I’ll stay,” she said, refusing to meet Idris’ gaze.

“Very well,” Idris replied. The ga-matoran scurried off and was gone. “Anyone else?”

No one spoke. Idris fought back a sigh of relief and managed to maintain her composure. “Wonderful. I want you all ready to leave in an hour. And fill an extra ten air canisters, just in case.”

Having said her bit Idris returned to the shack. Defilak was still pondering over the power source, staring at nothing in particular. He looked to be deep in thought.

“Defilak.”

The le-matoran started at the sound of his name. “Yes?”

“I’m not going to be able to go with the team,” Idris said. “I have to stay here. Dekar’s gone, and that leaves me in charge of the Sentinels.”

“Okay. That’s ever-fine.”

“I was thinking Whevn could lead the team instead.”

“Whatever you think is best, Idris.”

Idris frowned. “Are you alright? You’re acting strange.”

“I’m fine. You should go… do something important.”

It was obvious he was lying. “What are you thinking, Defilak?”

He looked up from the table, still looking the opposite direction. “Nothing, I’m just tired,” he said. “I haven’t been sleeping well. That’s all.”

It was an unconvincing excuse, but if Defilak wasn’t in the mood to tell her she’d let it lie. For now. Besides, he was right. She had things to do.

She’d be back to continue this conversation later, though. And then it would more than “I’m tired” to satisfy her.

***

Defilak felt a weight settle on his chest as Idris left the shack. He knew he wasn’t helping anyone by lying to her, but he couldn’t imagine telling her what was really wrong. She still had faith in Dekar, she was still loyal to him to the death. He couldn’t ruin yet another matoran’s trust in the po-matoran.

The whole situation was a mess. Kyros on the loose with a method of transport that could take him anywhere in the ocean, maybe even up to Voya Nui. Dekar was running recklessly after him without thinking of the repercussions. And to make matters worse, the matoran that were supposed to be hunting Kyros were now short a leader and leaving later than planned.

Defilak wanted to be able to trust Dekar to do the right thing. He wanted to believe the po-matoran would come back and make things right. But he knew it wouldn’t happen. Dekar was consumed with his need for vengeance. There would be no reasoning with him until Kyros was dead.

That was what was bothering him. He couldn’t trust the matoran he had thought he could rely on the most after Gar’s death. He could no longer call on Dekar’s experience to help him solve problems. He was alone, a situation made even worse by the lie he had just told Idris. If he couldn’t tell those he considered friends his problems, then who could he tell?

He collapsed onto a stool and rested his head in his hands. Why was he even trying anymore? He wasn’t a leader. He was an inventor. A trader. He wasn’t any better than any of the other matoran in Mahri Nui. Half of them were probably more qualified to lead than he was. Why wasn’t Idris in charge? She was a leader. She knew almost everyone in the city.

Dekar had chosen him, that’s why. But if Dekar wasn’t acting rationally then couldn’t it be argued that Defilak might not the right choice?

He sat there in the silence, alone with his thoughts. Time passed him by without caring. He didn’t care either.

***

Whevn was exhausted by the time the equipment was ready. It wasn’t the nonstop work that tired him. That he was used to. It was the fact that he hadn’t slept a wink last night. He felt tired like never before. It looked like his fellow matoran team members were feeling the same way.

He hadn’t been formally introduced to them all but he knew their names. Tralix the vo-matoran volunteer was rechecking all the equipment with the help of Reysa, the onu-matoran who usually cared for the Hydruka. Casa the timid de-matoran was sitting on a bench with Pedra, the ta-matoran Whevn had caught trying to sneak a nap while the rest of them were working.

The only one he actually knew was Gemini, his fellow Sentinel. They’d known each other for years. It was a great relief to have Gemini to back him up, especially after hearing it would be Whevn himself and not Idris that would lead the team.

“A’right, ya lazy sods!” he called over to the two matoran resting on the bench. “Up with ya! We’ve got a schedule to keep.”

Casca was up in a flash, while Pedra took his time walking over to the sleds. He’d have to keep an eye on the ta-matoran, he didn’t appear to be taking this seriously.

“Get your gear on,” he ordered. “We’re leavin’.”

Gemini shot him a confused look. “What about Idris?”

“She ain’t coming. Gotta stay now that Dekar’s gone.”

“So who’s in charge now?” Pedra asked. “You?”

“Bright one, ain’t ‘e?” Whevn said, earning a chuckle from the others. “Now where’s that blasted toa gone to?”

“He hasn’t been here at all today,” Tralix said. “Typical, from what I’ve seen of him. Doesn't seem to care about anything.”

“Judge ‘im later, find ‘im now!” Whevn ordered.

He hoped this wouldn’t become a recurring issue. The toa would have to follow his orders out in the water. If he didn’t, it was very likely things would start to go wrong very, very fast.

“Don’t bother,” said a voice from the doorway. “I’m here.”

Whevn looked to see Glace just inside the warehouse, casually strolling towards the group. “Where the ‘ell ‘ave ya been?”

“Busy,” Glace said.

Whevn scowled at the toa but didn’t push the matter. If Glace didn’t want to tell him where he had been then he would have to live with it. There was no way he could make a toa tell him anything. That didn’t mean he had to like it, though.

“Grab a couple of those air canisters an’ get movin’,” the po-matoran ordered, grabbing two from the watersled as he spoke. “We should’ve left ‘ours ago.”

Whevn strapped the canisters to his back and walked over to survey the pool. That was where they would start from. He hoped following Kyros’ path through the tunnel would give them some insight into where he’d gone from there. It wasn’t very likely, but it was worth a shot.

Defilak hurried out of the hut behind them, carrying a bundle of odd devices under his arm. Then looked like small black boxes. He tossed one to Whevn and started passing the rest out to the others.

“What’s this?” Whevn asked.

“Wireless communication unit,” Defilak said, handing the last one to Glace. “You strap it to your mask and you can speak to each other from different air bubbles.”

Whevn nodded and attached the device to his kanohi. “There’s a switch on the bottom,” Defilak informed them, “that turns it on and off. They run on small amounts solar power, so they should recharge on the light from the surface while you’re less than two kio under. But turn them off when you’re not using them, just in case.”

Whevn led his team over to the edge of the pool, staring down into the murky water with a mix of apprehension and anticipation. He’d never been more than a few bio from the safety of the air domes before. None of them had, with the exceptions of Glace and Reysa.

“Good luck,” Defilak said.

Whevn jumped in.

The water was warm and surprisingly clear. He could see the stone walls of the tunnel around him clearly, like he was looking through glass.

He felt the water stir as the others followed him in. He turned and tapped the small box on his mask, signalling for them to turn on the devices Defilak had given them.

“Can ya’ll hear me?” he asked.

“Loud and clear,” Gemini said. His voice sounded flat and mechanical, though it was still identifiable as his own.

“Good,” Whevn said. “Now stop loligagging and let’s get a move on.”

He threw himself into the tunnel, swimming quickly away from the opening to the warehouse. As he went he noted the scrape marks on the walls, the kind made by exposed metal. The submersible had been under construction, likely with open hatches or exposed wires. Hopefully the fact that the submersible was a wreck would play in their favor. Even with Kyros powering it it wouldn’t last forever. With any luck it would fail soon, making the ko-matoran easy to find.

They swam on, occasionally stopping to examine scrape marks on the walls in hopes of discovering something of use. All they discovered was that Kyros was horribly inept at piloting the submersible, a fact that Pedra maintained would come in useful as it meant Kyros would crash soon and be lying unconscious in the wreckage for them to find. The others ignored him.

Then at last they were out in open water. As far as the eye could see it was sand, airweed and blue water. Mahri Nui was several dozen bio behind them. The Cord towered above it, casting a massive shadow across the sea floor.

“We’ll make for the Pillars of Salt,” Whevn declared. “I want to make it there before we lose what little daylight we get this far down. There’ll likely be a cave where we can rest.”

They swam off into the open ocean.

Chapter 4

They didn’t read the Pillars by nightfall. They weren’t even close.

The problem lay in the fact that no one had ever attempted to reach the subaquatic mountain range before. They had decided where it was in relation to Mahri Nui based solely on guesswork, using what little knowledge they had of the surrounding geography to determine its location. Clearly, the matoran mathematicians had been very off with their calculations.

This had three immediate effects on Whevn’s team. Firstly, it meant the Pillars were a lot farther away and a lot larger than they had anticipated. It would take longer to reach the mountains, it would also take longer to search them. The last thing they needed was more ground to cover.

Secondly, if the matoran who had made the maps of the sea floor were wrong about the location of the Pillars of Salt, then there was no guarantee they weren’t wrong about other things. The entire search plan could be based on false information. For all they knew, they’d run out of air before they were out of the mountains, exposing them to the mutagenic seawater and reducing them to carnivorous monsters.

And lastly, the most pressing matter was that the team had now found themselves exposed in the middle of the bay, with night closing in and nowhere to take shelter and rest. They’d be sitting gukko if any of the nocturnal predators decided they looked like a nice snack.

Whevn scowled as he looked up at the surface for what had to have been the hundredth time in the last hour. They were running out of light; it was nearly too dark to see now. They’d have to stop soon, or they’d risk getting lost in the absolute darkness that was night at the bottom of the sea.

Reluctantly, he tapped the communication device Defilak had given him, then signalled for the other to do the same.

“We’ll make camp ‘ere,” he said.

“In the open?” Pedra said. “What about predators? I’ve heard of sharks attacking matoran before.”

“As much as it pains me to say it, I agree with the firespitter,” Gemini said, earning a scowl from Pedra. “We’re too exposed out here.”

“We don’t ‘ave a choice,” Whevn said. “Two of us will ‘ave to stay awake an’ keep watch.”

Not surprisingly, Gemini volunteered almost instantly. The others looked reluctant, probably not thrilled with the prospect of losing sleep, especially for these matoran they barely knew. In the end Whevn decided it would be easier to let them off the hook this time than to argue and declared he would keep watch with Gemini.

Everyone seemed content with this arrangement. The group spread out across the sea floor, grabbing a space and proceeding with whatever they deemed necessary before a night’s rest. Most just lay down in the sand and tried to find a comfortable spot. Reysa kneeled and muttered a quiet prayer under his breath. Glace sat a ways away from the others, staring out towards the mountains in the distance.

Whevn and Gemini sat on the edge of the group, keeping their gaze focused out into the blue of the sea. It was going to be a long night, and they couldn’t afford to allow themselves to get distracted or they would leave themselves even more vulnerable than they already were.

Once he was sure the rest of the group was asleep, Whevn motioned for Gemini to turn on his communication device.

“Ya ‘ear me?” he asked.

“Yes,” Gemini said. “What is it?”

Whevn glanced tentatively over at the sleeping matoran. “Look, I don’t want this gettin’ ‘round, but I don’t trust the toa.”

Gemini’s expression was impassive. “He’s a toa, why shouldn’t we trust him? It’s his job to help us.”

“‘e’s too secretive,” Whevn elaborated. “‘e wouldn’t say why ‘e was late, an’ he doesn’t seem thrilled to be out ‘ere.”

“I’m not thrilled to be out here, Whevn. I don’t think any of us are.”

“All I’m sayin’ is somethin’ about ‘im doesn’t sit well wit’ me.”

Gemini stared off into the distance, his expression still unreadable. When he got like this Whevn knew he was deep in thought, thinking out his next few sentences before he said them.

“I don’t think he’s planning anything that’ll endanger us,” the Su-matoran said at last, gesturing towards the rest of the group. “He seems to consider our safety a priority. He did help Idris slay the gadunka.”

“I know, I know.” Whevn sighed. “That doesn’t mean ‘e’s not up to somethin’.”

Gemini remained silent, conceding the point. Whevn decided not to say anything else, and the pair sat in silence.

Then Whevn felt a chill down his spine, as if someone were watching him. He threw a glance over his shoulder, looking for whatever had unnerved him. The rest of the matoran were still asleep. His eyes fell on Glace, still sitting facing the mountains.

Had the stoic toa of ice been listening in? It would’ve been easy enough to turn his communication device on and listen to the conversation. But the toa showed no signs of having heard anything. He sat perfectly still staring out into the quickly darkening waters.

Whevn returned his gaze to the ocean in front of him. It didn’t look like Glace had been listening in, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that the toa had heard every word.

***

Idris didn’t sleep a wink that night. As soon as she lay down she knew any attempt to get to sleep would be in vain. She had too much on her mind.

After about an hour of trying she got up and walked over to the desk that dominated the entire side wall of her hut. She dropped into the battered wooden chair in front of it and plucked a faded tablet off of its stand.

The tablet was a carving, the only thing she had left from her life before Karzahni. She’d been carrying it in her pouch the day her village’s turaga snapped and sent them all away. She’d snuck it through Karzahni and saved it during the plunge.

It was a picture of her and two other matoran, her best friends. Sarda and Lesovikk. They’d had it carved on Naming Day, the last one they spent together. The three of them had wide smiles on their faces. Sarda was laughing.

It was hard to believe any of them had ever been that happy. Just a few weeks later Lesovikk had run off to become a toa without so much as a goodbye to either of them. She and Sarda had stuck together, but it had been awkward without Lesovikk there to come up with wild schemes for entertainment.

Then the turaga had gone crazy and shipped them all off to Karzahni. She and Sarda had been separated, and the next few months were miserable. Alone and frightened in that hellish place, it had been a relief when she had arrived on the Southern Continent. She made a new life for herself there as a guard in a small lakeside village.

She got stuck on Voya Nui simply because of an ill-timed vacation. She had been visiting the massive Mount Valami, a huge tourist attraction, when everything started to shake. The next thing she knew, Voya Nui was an island in the middle of a gigantic ocean. Her new home had vanished, along with the life she had built for herself.

Mahri Nui had been the obvious choice for yet another new home. It was big, it was civilized, it was full of opportunity. It was there that she’d finally been reunited with Sarda.

When they bumped into each other the first time they didn’t recognize each other. They were simply two matoran who lived on the same street. Then Sarda had recognized the tablet when visiting her hut, and their reunion had been joyous.

That was the night Mahri Nui had plunged into the Voya Nui Bay. Idris was knocked unconscious by debris.

After the city was halted by the sea floor, Idris awoke. Sarda was gone, disappeared into the carnage. When she finally found him she discovered he’d received a nasty hit to the head that had cracked his mask. She got him to Kaira just before he passed out.

When he woke up he didn’t remember her, or anything else about his past for that matter. She’d held out hope that he’d recover from his amnesia with time, but it soon became evident the matoran she had known was gone, replaced by someone foreign to her. A stranger.

She hadn’t tried to restart their friendship from scratch. It would’ve been too awkward, too painful. So she kept her distance, and life moved on.

Now he was dead. She hadn’t thought about it much. They hadn’t spoken except for sentinel matters for decades. She’d distanced herself from him, and so his death had barely been felt.

But now, as she looked at the old and worn carving she’d kept all these years, she felt herself drown in a wave of emotion. Sarda was dead. Gone forever and ever.

The carving dropped back onto the desktop as her head fell into her hands. Her sobs quickly filled the room.

***

Defilak had decided to take the day off. No meetings, no questions, no crises. Just him and his workshop.

It was pure bliss at first. After nearly a week of nothing but his new responsibilities as emergency leader of Mahri Nui getting to work on his machines again was like heaven. The feeling of grease and oil on his hands, the cold, friendly touch of his tools, and most of all, his warehouse alive with the sounds of an inventor at work.

His chosen project was one he’d shelved a while back. A large transportation device, built for subaquatic travel, cannibalized from an old watersled, a spare propulsion unit and a plethora of other scrap parts scavenged from the surrounding area. His initial tests had proved disastrous and had resulted in the destruction of his other project at the time. So he’d put it away in a box in the back of his warehouse where it had simply become one of the unsuccessful precursors to his submersible.

Defilak wasn’t sure why he’d chosen to spend his precious free time on this project. Between his successes with his submersible and a lack of a market for such a vehicle in Mahri Nui it was rather obsolete. Nobody but himself had any desire to leave the relative safety of the city again, and if they had to go there were safer options than a giant propulsion unit behind which the rider was dragged through the water at high speeds. Such a ride would only appeal to the daredevil le-matoran test pilots of Metru Nui. So all in all the project was a waste of his time. And yet he pressed on, determined to discern what had possessed him to dig up the old piece of junk and continue where he had left off.

The vehicle itself was lying on the floor in several large pieces, well separated from the piles of unused scraps and tools as to prevent a mix up. Defilak was working on the largest section, deftly pulling out old components and replacing them with ones he had restored to working condition. Every now and then he would make an alteration with the intention to improve upon the original design. Of course, as always he had no guarantee that anything he did would change his original results until he had the opportunity to test it. Then he hoped to Mata Nui that it did work, lest he blow a hole in the side of his warehouse.

He was replacing an eroded wire with a fresh one when he ran into his first problem. The power cell contained within this piece was rusted and ancient. There was a high likelihood it would explode if he tried to activate it. He’d have to replace it. There was only one problem. His only other power cell was sitting on the table in his hut, fried and unusable.

But perhaps he could still use them. If he disassembled both of them, perhaps there’d be enough working components to construct a functional one. He wasn’t used to working with tech that small, save the communication devices he had given to Whevn and his team, but he imagined it couldn’t be that much different from everything else he’d done.

He gingerly pried the old power cell from the rest of the machinery, disconnected it and carried it over to the hut. He had to back into the door to push it open with his arms occupied carrying the cell. Once inside, he turned around and went to place the device on the table.

He stopped short when he realized he wasn’t alone.

“What in blazes are you doing here Feton?” Defilak said.

The fe-matoran was leaning over the submersible’s power cell, poking at the exposed wiring inside. He started at the sound of Defilak’s voice, yanking his hand back to his side and spinning around to face him in a pathetic attempt to look innocent.

“I was just looking!” he said.

“Looking does not involve the use of one’s fingers,” Defilak said. “Now quick-tell me what possessed you to enter my workshop before I decide you were trying to rig the power cell to explode and kill me.”

Feton glared at him. “You’re not worth the time it would take,” he said. “I’m here because Leeta says you’re needed in the square. Apparently it’s urgent.”

Defilak scowled at the fe-matoran as he placed the second power cell on the table and gestured mockingly for him to lead the way. Feton shot him a look and marched out, Defilak close behind.

His mind was already racing as he left the warehouse. He knew the situation had to be truly urgent; Leeta was a capable matoran, she could deal with almost anything. She was quick to act, but never reacted. There was a certain logic to everything she did. She acted quickly in the most efficient manner possible.

So if she had determined that the most efficient path to solving whatever problem she was facing was to send Feton, to fetch him from across the city, he knew things had to be bad.

The fact that Feton had actually consented to go meant it had to be even worse.

He was nearly running by the time they reached the square. Leeta was waiting for them in the shadow of one of the huts, intently watching the scene playing out before them.

A throng of thirty to forty matoran were gathered around a lone figure who stood above them all, the hood of his cloak thrown back to let the light fall on his pale white Matatu. The effect was angelic, making it look as though the matoran had a halo around his head. The other matoran were listening with rapt attention as he spoke, soaking up his every word like sponges absorbed water.

“...and the day of judgement is upon us! I have seen it! By fire and protosteel the city will fall into living damnation!”

It only took Defilak a second to figure out what was going on. On of the priests was riling up the matoran with stories of death and destruction. To what end he was not sure, but it had to be stopped. Mahri Nui could afford no more chaos.

“What’s his name?” he whispered to Leeta.

“Erastos,” she answered in an equally hushed tone. “He’s one of the lower priests, meaning he mainly just keeps the temple clean. This is probably just an attempt to get a promotion. Not that you can blame him. Scrubbing floors all day must get old real fast.”

Defilak nodded. The priests were an odd bunch, to say the least. They lived in the temple, one of the buildings built after the plunge, never emerging from their self-imposed solitude unless they absolutely had to. They also never uncovered their heads outside of their temple, making this one’s behaviour extra unusual. The priests considered themselves to be servant of Mata Nui, not prophets. So what was this Erastos after?

“I’ll try and talk to him,” Defilak said, “while you quick-find some sentinels so we’re ready for anything.”

They nodded and Feton ran off into the city, heading for the sentinel headquarters. Defilak stepped out of the shadow of the building in which they had been hidden. He approached the crowd slowly and as authoritatively as possible. He needed to look in control, or else this would go south very fast.

Leeta’s favorite words of advice ran through his head. “You have to sound like someone who is used to being obeyed,” she always told him. “Otherwise all you’ll get are blank stares and defiance.”

So far the advice had served him well. He hoped it would hold true today.

Erastos saw him coming, and his eyes blazed. “And this matoran shall be the cause of our suffering! He shall bring hell down upon us! The Great Spirit himself has shown me this! Our self-proclaimed leader’s incompetence will be our doom!”

Defilak winced. This was an unpleasant turn of events. He had to put a stop to this before it got even more out of hand. Whatever doubts he had about himself, the last thing he needed was the rest of the city sharing them.

“Hello Erastos, I’m Defilak,” he began, moving slowly and cautiously as if he were approaching a wild animal. He had no idea what was causing Erastos to act this way, but better to be safe than sorry.

“I know who you are, deathbringer! You are the one who has set us on the path to hell! Back, devil!”

Erastos pressed the backs of his spread fingers against his chest and then pushing towards Defilak, an archaic gesture for warding off evil. Defilak had never actually seen it used before. Clearly, the priests believed it still worked, or at least Erastos did.

“Let’s just quick-calm down and talk about this, shall we?” he said.

Defilak continued to move forward. He was almost within arm’s reach of the the crowd now, all of whom were staring at him with undisguised hostility. Clearly Erastos was a skilled speaker, if he could enthrall so many matoran with his words.

“Leave us in peace, you bringer of destruction!”

Erastos waved his hand, and the crowd charged. Thirty matoran rushed at Defilak, trying to catch him with outstretched arms. Defilak had been so close that he barely managed to jump back in time to avoid their wild grabs. But they kept coming.

Under most circumstances Defilak’s first priority would’ve been to figure out what was causing the matoran to go savage. But in this case, self preservation was a more immediate concern.

Defilak ran.

He risked a glance towards the spot where Leeta had been a moment before. The bo-matoran was looking frantically over her shoulder, no doubt wondering where Feton was. For the first time since he had met the arrogant fe-matoran, Defilak found himself hoping he would turn up sooner rather than later.

He had more immediate problems than a lack of backup, however. The crowd had turned savage, seemingly wanting nothing more than to tear him limb from limb. He had to assume they were under some sort of influence, either from Erastos, mutagenic seawater, or something entirely new to him. Considering the week he’d been having, it could be any of the above.

Defilak ducked under a ta-matoran’s vicious swing at his head. The matoran’s momentum sent him stumbling to the side, temporarily blocking Defilak from the rest them. The le-matoran took advantage of this and ran, gaining a bio or two in the process. But he needed more than distance, he needed some sort of strategy. Otherwise he’d just keep running until he made a mistake, tripped or tired himself out. Then he’d be at the mercy of the mob. He very dearly wanted to avoid such a situation at all costs.

So Defilak kept running.

Erastos was still standing on the rock in the center of the square, looking down at the scene with fire in his eyes. Perhaps if he could be taken down the crowd would come to its senses. Or it could just drive them even further into their raging savagery. But it was worth a try.

Defilak made an abrupt turn and charged at Erastos. But as soon as he did so the crowd swarmed back around the priest. Defilak couldn’t lay a finger on Erastos. A new approach was required.

Defilak crouched down and grabbed a sizeable rock from the cracked street. He knew he only had second before the crowd charged again, knowing he was no longer approaching their leader. Or whatever Erastos was.

The crowd charged.

Defilak rose to his feet. He drew back his arm. He hurled the stone. It soared through the air, arcing towards Erastos’ head.

The priest’s hand snapped out and plucked it out of the air. There went that plan. Not that it had been much of one in the first place.

Then the crowd was upon him.

This time Defilak didn’t have a chance to run. The matoran were too close. Mere seconds after he released the rock thirty pairs of hands were reaching for him, latching onto his limbs and armor and pulling him in all directions. They were trying to tear him apart.

Defilak thrashed about wildly, trying to throw the matoran off of him. He cursed himself for spending so much time in his workshop, fiddling with his machines, instead of dedicating some to keeping himself in decent physical condition. His movements were sloppy, his strikes lacked the proper force. He was just as likely to injure one of the matoran as he was to do absolutely nothing.

More hands grabbed him. He felt his legs being pulled out from under him. He was going down, and that would be that. There was no chance he’d be able to return to his feet with the horde of savage matoran crawling all over him.

He fell, hitting the stone hard and knocking the breath from his lungs. Now feet began to make contact with his horribly exposed body, bruising him and denting his armor. He was done for.

Then he heard a sound over the din of the crazed cries of the matoran, the soft swoosh of a kanoka disk flying through the air. This was followed by a heavy thump, the sound of a body hitting the ground. The mob of matoran froze.

Defilak risked lifting his head to see Feton flanked by two Sentinels, one of whom was pointing her kanoka launcher hesitantly towards the mob. The other was reloading his kanoka launcher. Defilak could only assume he had fired a stun disk at Erastos.

Before he could rise to his feet the mob was on top of him again. Hands scratched at his armor, some getting underneath and clawing at the soft tissue beneath. Feet kicked forcefully at his sides. Erastos had not been controlling them. That was problematic.

The le-matoran scrambled for another escape, racking his mind for anything that might allow him to get free. Nothing came to mind. He’d left all his gadgets in the workshop, and he never bothered to carry a weapon around the city. He had never expected to have to defend himself inside the Air Domes. They were supposed to be a safe haven for the matoran. The danger was supposed to be outside, in the water. This wasn’t supposed to happen.

He could hear Leeta shouting at Feton, though he couldn’t make out what she was saying over the rumbling of the mob that surrounded him. Not that it mattered. There was no way any of them could pull all the matoran off of him without getting crushed themselves. They couldn’t help him, not unless they started firing stun disks into the crowd. And Defilak refused to go there. He could almost guarantee that if they started dropping matoran with their launchers some would get trampled. That was unacceptable. His life wasn’t worth that.

But he had no guarantee they would stop with murdering him. For all he knew they would go on a rampage, killing all the matoran in the city. Regardless of his own fate, he would not allow for the city to fall with him. There were nearly a hundred other matoran whom Dekar had entrusted to him to keep safe. He had to stop these crazy matoran, and that left him with only one option.

“Stun them!” he shouted as loudly as he could. “Stun them now!”

He didn’t have time to hope they had heard him before he heard the sound of disks slicing through the air, followed by the sound of bodies hitting the ground. Over and over and over. Within half a minute of his command half a dozen matoran had been neutralized. The Sentinels had been trained well.

Then he heard the sounds of bodies being stomped on and kicked. The sickening sound of limbs crunching under boots.

The Sentinels kept firing. Ten matoran were down now, only twenty left to go. Then eighteen. Then sixteen. They were half way there.

The crunching didn’t stop.

Defilak could feel the assault on his body lessening as he counted down to zero. There had to be about six left now. Then four. Then two.

Thump. Thump.

As soon as the last two were down Defilak tried to climb to his feet. He managed to to lift himself several dio from the ground, but the weight of the unconscious matoran on top of him was too much for his weary arms. He collapsed back down onto the cold stone street.

Leeta reached him first, pulling him from the bottom of the pile with surprising strength for a matoran her size. She helped him up and led him away, back towards the shadow of the building she had been watching from when he arrived.

“Mata Nui, are you ok?” she said. “What just happened there? That look awful. You look awful. I thought they were going to kill you!”

This was the first time Defilak had even seen her panic. It worried him.

“I’m- ow!- fine,” he said.

He sounded as bad as he looked. His voice shook, his tone was weak. His heart thundered in his chest, and he could still feel strongly the effects of adrenaline pumping through his system. It was only because of Leeta’s assistance that he was able to remain on his feet.

“We should get you to Kaira’s,” Leeta said.

Defilak shook his head. He tried to pull away, removing his arm from Leeta’s shoulders and limping back towards the pile of unconscious matoran. He didn’t make it a bio before he collapsed back down to the street.

Leeta was there almost before he hit the ground. She pulled him back up to his feet, brushing the dust from his armor and replacing his arm behind her head to support him.

“Defilak, you can’t help them,” she said. “Let’s go to Kaira, she’ll be able to help you.”

“No,” Defilak said. “I… I need to know.”

Leeta looked at him with obvious confusion. “Know what?”

“How many died. I need to know how many matoran died.”

Leeta opened her mouth to protest, but Defilak was already moving. Every step ached, and he had pull Leeta nearly a bio and a half before she reluctantly followed suit and walked with him to where Feton and the Sentinels were laying the unconscious matoran out in rows. While he knew the organization was for identification and greater efficiency when more Sentinels were summoned to collect them, the resemblance to the makeshift morgue that Defilak had become all too familiar with over the last week was disturbing.

Feton noticed their return and ran over to meet them.

“What is it?” the fe-matoran asked. “I want to get them taken care of before they wake.”

“Defilak wants to know how many matoran were killed,” Leeta said before Defilak could open his mouth. The le-matoran glared at her for speaking for him, but quickly returned his attention to Feton.

“We’ve found three,” Feton said. “Which is better than any of us expected, considering the circumstances.”

Defilak’s shoulders drooped. Three more matoran dead because of him.

“Look, you made the best decision you could,” Leeta said. ‘Now, please will you let me take you two Kaira? Your injuries need attention.”

Feton chimed in. “If you see Idris, let her know we’ll need more Sentinels here. And tell her I think it’d be best to lock all of them up until we can be sure they won’t attack anyone else.”

Defilak nodded. “I agree.”

“I’ll find Idris after I get him to Kaira,” Leeta said.

“Be quick,” Feton said before running back to help the Sentinels.

Three matoran dead. Maybe more. Defilak knew he shouldn’t let it get to him. He had known matoran were going to die when he agreed to take charge of Mahri Nui. He had known there would be times where the death of a few would be the best possible outcome. That there would be times when it would be unavoidable.

And yet somehow he had convinced himself that it was done. That no more would die now that the gadunka had been slain and Kyros chased out into the sea, soon to be returned for judgement. That the city was a safe haven where danger could not penetrate.

He had been wrong.

As much as he tried to convince himself he had made the right decision he felt as though he could’ve done more. He knew it was irrational and irrelevant. He couldn’t change the past, and even if he could what else could he have done? He had, as Leeta said, made the best decision available to him.

But he had to wonder. Had there been another option? A better way to handle the situation? One that was obvious to others and yet hidden from him? Could he be trusted to keep making decisions for the entire city?

Erastos believed that Defilak was leading Mahri Nui on a path to hell. What if he was right? What if the priest really had seen the future?

“Defilak, can please we go?” Leeta asked.

He needed to talk to someone. Someone who would understand and be able to help lift the growing weight off his chest. Someone he could trust not to relay his doubts to anyone else. Someone who had had responsibility thrust upon her without being asked if she wanted it.

He knew just the person.

“I’m done here,” the le-matoran said softly. “To Kaira’s hut.”

Chapter 5

“What am I doing, Kaira?”

“You’re sitting very still while I examine your wounds so I don’t accidentally poke something and cause you immense pain.” She lightly jabbed one of his lighter bruises as an example. Defilak winced.

“Was that really necessary? And that wasn’t what I meant.”

Kaira ignored him and reached over to grab some salve from the jar on the table beside them. Deftly she applied it to each point of injury, then leaned back on her stool to examine her handiwork.

“The bruising is severe in some places, but as far as I can tell you’ll be fine. Just stay here overnight so I can be sure, then I’ll let you go. You’ll need to keep applying the salve for the next few days though, or else you’ll be so sore you won’t be able to think through the pain, let alone run the city.”

Defilak nodded, only stop mid-motion and cringe. “Ow.”

“You should also avoid any quick or unnecessary movements. You’ll feel those even with the salve.” She paused for a moment, then applied another swipe of the medicine to his neck. “What did you mean, then?”

It took Defilak a second to remember what she was referring to. “Why am I the one leading Mahri Nui?”

“Defilak, if you want profound advice that will fix all your problems you’re in the wrong place. I may be old, but I’m no turaga. ”

“No, I want someone to quick-tell me why exactly I’m bothering trying to play leader.”

“Only you can figure that out.”

“What do you think I’ve been ever-trying to do for the past week?”

Kaira sighed. “From what Leeta told me you had no better options. Besides, the fact that you had the guts to give the order proves that you’re capable. Most other matoran would’ve cracked under the pressure.”

Defilak winced as the ce-matoran applied more salve to his injuries. “I almost did. In both senses of the word.”

“But you didn’t. That’s what important. You analyzed the information you had and made a decision based on what you found. That’s what you’re supposed to do.”

Defilak sighed and stared blankly at the ceiling. Kaira continued her work in silence. She was glad to be working with a living patient again, someone who would actually talk back to her. Even better, it was Defilak, one of the few matoran that didn’t avoid her like the plague.

She wished she could do more for the le-matoran. He had had a rough week, and the stress of leadership combined with the loss of his friend, that onu-matoran Gar, had hit him hard. But alas, there were no cures for self-doubt. It was a battle Defilak would have to fight for himself.

“Alright, I’m done,” Kaira announced as she wiped her hands on an old rag and tossed it into a tub of water on the table. “Remember what I said: no quick movements, apply the salve daily, and don’t get beat up by raving religious fanatics again.”

“I quick-make no promises,” Defilak muttered.

Kaira rolled her eyes and capped her jar of salve. “Don’t use too much and don’t lose it, I don’t have another jar.”

Defilak took the medicine and put it down beside his chair. “So I have to stay all night?”

“Yes. And don’t try and argue, I’m not changing my mind.”

Defilak grumbled but obliged, limping over to the cot with her assistance and laying down.

“Fine. Just so long as you don’t mind people stopping by every hour to quick-ask me questions.”

“Don’t get up, okay?” Kaira said. “I need to go check on the matoran Feton had locked up. Some of them had pretty nasty injuries.”

She left him staring up at the ceiling with only the sleepers for company.

***

The search party was up and ready to move on before the first light of the new day reached them. Using lightstones they checked their campsite for anything that might have been left lying in the sand before forming up into a loose formation for Whevn to give them the rundown on the day’s travel plans.

“We’ll keep ‘eadin’ for the Pillars,” he said . “If we find somethin’ to use as shelter after noon, we’ll make camp there. If not, we keep on goin’.”

His words were met by a collective nod of acknowledgement. Glace just watched him analytically, as if he were taking in every word and every movement. It was unsettling, the feeling that Glace was learning everything he could about the po-matoran while Whevn found it impossible to read the toa. He tried to ignore it.

“Stick close together an’ keep an eye out,” Whevn continued. “If anyone sees anythin’ let me know ASAP.”

Another round of nodding confirmed the matoran had heard and understood him. Whevn kept his eyes from Glace and his piercing gaze.

“Any questions?”

There were none.

“Fine, let’s move out!”

The party launched themselves a bio or so off the sea floor, then switched their propulsion units on and left their campsite behind them. The watersleds cruised along behind them, carrying the extra air tanks and heavier packs of supplies.

They traveled in silence for hours, watching the sun cross the sky through the waves. Every once and a while they would turn off their propulsion units and swim a ways, to keep the motors from heating up. But these times were few and far between. Whevn prefered warm motors to tired matoran any day.

Then Navek tapped his comm to signal for Whevn to activate his.

“Whevn, I see something on the sea floor,” Navek informed him. “Three or four somethings, to be precise, and they’re moving this way. Should I go check and see what they are?”

Whevn nodded instinctively before realizing the ba-matoran couldn’t see it. “Go ahead, but keep yer distance.”

Navek was off in a flash, probably eager for something to do. He approached faster than Whevn would’ve, but not fast enough to compromise his position. The ba-matoran stopped short about twenty bio away from whatever they were, his hand flying to the blade strapped to his waist.

“Whevn, they’re keras!” he nearly shouted. Whevn flinched. “We must’ve trespassed on their territory!”

Whevn clicked his communicator off and swore colorfully under his breath under his breath. Keras crabs were viciously territorial under normal circumstances. At the bottom of the Voya Nui Bay, however, the mutagenic seawater had made them even more aggressive, and had given them longer and sharper claws to back it up. Their exoskeletons had also been strengthened, and the sentinels were under strict orders to go the other way when a keras appeared.

He turned his communicator back on and was instantly bombarded by nearly the entire team speaking at once.

“-make it away in time?” Casa was asking frantically.

“-not that many, we can take them.” That was Gemini.

“-give them some fish? Would that work?” Whevn felt a strong urge to slap Pedra for that comment, but he had bigger issues at the moment.

“Shut it, all of ya!” he ordered, silencing everyone where they stood. “We’ve got a minute, maybe two, before they get ‘ere. That’s plenty of time to escape. Navek, get back over ‘ere now, we’ve got to go.”

As soon as the words left his mouth the sand below him began to shake, then exploded upwards with enough force to push him back several bio. Four more keras had just risen from their burrows. That made seven of them, and they had Whevn and his team surrounded.

Now there was no chance of escape. They would have to fight to continue on.

Whevn turned to Reysa. “Reysa, you’ve been out ‘ere in the ocean more than the rest of us. Do you know of any ways to drive these thin’s off?”

The onu-matoran frowned. “None that I know of,” he said. “The Hyrduka always went back to the kennels whenever keras appeared on the edges of the fields.”

Whevn resisted the urge to swear again. There went that lifeline. He’d hoped that Reysa would have at least a small something for him to work with.

“We’ll ‘ave to improvise then,” he said. “Pedra an’ Reysa, stay back an’ guard the gear. Casa, Gemini, see if ya can circle ‘round behind the buggers. Navek and Glace, you’re with me.”

The group scattered. Gemini and Casa drew their weapons, dropped their propulsion units to the sea floor and swam wide, staying several dozen bio away from the keras as they went. Glace, Navek and Whevn himself followed suit, but instead of going wide they swam straight toward the keras.

The crabs were staring up at them with beady black eyes, clacking their pincers menacingly, anticipating the coming battle with obvious excitement.

“Glace, lower the temperature ‘round the keras,” Whevn said. “See if ya can slow ‘em down. Maybe even freeze ‘em completely so we ‘ave time to get away.”

Glace said nothing, but obeyed. Whevn saw the water around the keras start to glitter with tiny ice crystals. The crab’s movements became sluggish; the plan was working. Maybe they could end this without fighting the beasts and make their escape before they thawed out.

They had no such luck. The crabs began to glow a pasty orange, and the crystals around them vanished in seconds. They had somehow started heating up the water around them. Another mutation, no doubt, courtesy of the seawater of the Bay.

“Dammit!” Whevn growled.

The closest keras lunged at him, moving surprising fast for its size. Whevn ducked as its pincer snapped closed on the space where his head had been.

Whevn drew his electro-blade and drove it up at the keras’ stomach. The point slammed into the crab’s exoskeleton and stopped short. The keras’ armor was too thick for their weapons to pierce. That would make things difficult.

The po-matoran stepped back, only to have his legs swept out from underneath him by the keras’ pincer. He was suddenly floating in the water, lacking all sense of direction.

He panicked.

Po-matoran had a natural fear of water. After centuries of living at the bottom of the Voya Nui bay, Whevn and the majority of his fellow matoran of stone had managed to, for the most part, overcome that fear. But as he floated unanchored and uncontrolled at the bottom of the ocean it all came rushing back. His breath quickened, his arms swung wildly through the water, trying to find something to orient himself. His eyes squeezed shut and refused to open.

He felt something close around his leg, catching him with a strong grip. One of the keras no doubt, come to finish him off. He swung his blade at the pincer, driving it into the hard exoskeleton and flicking it on to full power to try and shock the crab.

The weapon made contact. Whevn felt a jolt of electricity shoot through his body before the keras released him. It had worked, for now at least.

Empowered by his small victory, Whevn turned the blade off and swung his spear in the direction he hoped was the ground. The spear embedded itself in the sand, allowing Whevn to right himself. He grasped the spear with both hands and pulled himself back down to the sea floor.

His feet back on the ground, Whevn took stock of their situation. His team was locked in a fight for their lives, barely holding off the seven keras. Glace did what he could, but his abilities were quickly proving themselves to be ineffective against the crab’s heating abilities. The others ducked and dodged around vicious swipes and pincer snaps.

Casa was barely holding off a keras single handedly, keeping the rahi from the watersleds any way he could. Pedra was still there as well, but the ta-matoran was using the watersleds as cover instead of protecting them. He seemed to be taking one of the air canisters from the pile. The coward. Whevn would deal with him later… if there was a later.

Whevn replaced his spear on his back and readied his electro-blade. He charged the nearest keras, moving more sluggishly through the water than he would have preferred. The crab’s eyes seemed to glow at the site of him. Whevn imagined he must look like the most entertaining dinner this creature had had in months. The fish around here likely never fought back.

Whevn swung his blade at the keras’ left pincer, unsure of what he was trying to accomplish. He couldn’t seriously injure the crab, yet here he was charging it yet again.

His strike bounced harmlessly off the keras’ pincer, as expected. The crab turned and snapped at him, barely missing the front of his kanohi. Whevn was forced to step back, then bring up his blade to block a second snap at his head. The pincer closed around his blade, effectively immobilizing his only weapon and left arm.

Clearly aware of its advantage, the keras reached for Whevn with its other pincer, opening it around Whevn’s trunk and preparing to snap. The po-matoran was mere seconds away from being snapped like a twig.

Then something exploded somewhere to Whevn’s right. Then a wall of force smashed into him, dragging him out of the keras’ grasp and sending him spinning through the water. His electro-blade slipped from his hands, floating off into the sea. He didn’t have a chance to see where it went before he spun around to face the battle once again.

Only there was no battle. The keras were fleeing, with the exception of the one that Whevn had been fighting. That one was lying on the ground, twitching. Half of its face was gone, exposing its soft innards.

Using all his willpower not to succumb to the fear rising in his chest, Whevn grabbed his spear and drove it into the sand once more, anchoring himself while he regained control of his movements. Then he pulled it out of the sand and swam toward his team. They had gathered around the fallen keras, and seemed to be discussing something.

He jabbed his communicator on.

“...this to it? That’s one of the cleanest cuts I’ve ever seen!” Gemini said.

“It can’t have been cut though,” Navek said. “Underwater we can’t swing our weapons with enough force to penetrate their exoskeleton.”

“Well somethin’ ‘ad to do this,” Whevn said, causing several of the group to jump. “An’ I’d guess it was whatever exploded and nearly sent me spirallin’ off into the the ocean.”

“Whevn’s right,” Pedra’s voice came through the communicators.

Whevn looked around. The ta-matoran wasn’t in their circle.

“Where are ya?” he demanded. He resisted the urge to add “Ya filthy coward” to the end of that sentence.

“Right here.”

Pedra emerged from behind the watersleds carrying an air canister that had been ripped open. He wore an arrogant smirk on his crimson Jutlin.

“Defilak told me air really doesn’t like to be compressed,” he said, “so I decided to let it out.”

Pedra was more resourceful than Whevn had given him credit for. He had come across as a lazy matoran who did nothing for anyone but himself. But the ta-matoran hadn’t been hiding behind the watersled, he’d been grabbing a canister to use on the keras.

“Good work,” he said. “Now let’s get movin’. We’ve got a lot o’ ground to cover.”

Chapter 6

Idris had only been down in the crypt once. Located beneath the old fort that was the Sentinels’ base of operations, it was a cold, damp place, lit only by aging lightstones embedded in the walls at long intervals. Anyone who went inside could not help but feel grim and hopeless. That’s why the Sentinels used it to hold those who would otherwise be a danger to Mahri Nui.

So far there had been only one other matoran kept down here in the decades they’d spent at the bottom of the bay. One of the fully mutated matoran who were not fortunate enough to have been inside the newly formed Air Domes just after the Sinking, the one they’d managed to capture. They’d kept her down here for years, until it became clear there was no cure. Dekar had decided to have her killed then. An execution of mercy. Idris hadn’t gone down to watch.

But now the cells were almost full. Thirty-four matoran had been locked up in groups of three, with the crazed priest Erastos locked in a cell of his own far from the others. They had nearly a fourth of the population down here, far more than anyone had ever expected they would have to hold. They were in uncharted waters, and Idris didn’t like it one bit.

Feton was waiting for her just inside.

“I took the liberty of summoning a few more Sentinels and carrying them all down here,” he said. “I hope you don’t mind. I wanted to get them locked up before they awoke. The others agreed.”

Idris nodded. “You were right to move quickly,” she said. “I shudder at the thought of what those matoran would’ve done if they’d been let loose on the city. Do we know what caused it yet?”

“Erastos is awake, but he’s refused to answer our questions. He’s still ranting about the apocalypse.”

“Charming.”

They rounded a corner and entered an even longer hallway. This one’s walls were lined with shadowy alcoves, each blocked off by thick metal bars and marked by a single lightstone embedded in the stone above them. This was one of two identical hallways that ran parallel to one another. The other was several dozen bio deeper in the rock.

“Are they awake?” Idris asked in a hushed tone.

Feton nodded, then put a finger to his mask to indicate for her to be silent. Idris nodded her understanding.

They passed the first few cells quickly. Feton had started from the back and moved forward, so these were empty. But the shadows made odd shapes on the walls inside, and Idris shuddered.

Then they reached the occupied cells, and suddenly the shadows didn’t seem so bad.

Sometimes the most unnerving things are the ones that look the most normal. Things you’re so used to seeing one way that to see another was so unnatural it was terrifying. It’s even worse when you are completely unprepared to see it.

The matoran were all that and worse. At first glance they were perfectly normal, your average, hard-working villagers. Then you took a closer look. Their eyes were glazed over and blank, staring straight at you and yet seeing nothing. Their hands twitched constantly, little fidgeting movements almost to small and too fast to see.

Idris gasped before remembering Feton’s warning to stay silent. The caged matoran froze, heads shooting up at the sound. Feton clamped his hand over Idris’ mouth and replaced his finger over his own. Idris nodded her understanding, and he slowly removed his hand.

They moved at a quicker pace now. Idris barely had time to catch a glimpse of the cells they passed. She was relieved when they finally moved past the cells containing the maddened matoran and rounding a corner to the second wing.

“We locked Erastos up away from the others so he couldn’t set them off again,” Feton explained. “I’m hoping he’ll crack if we keep him isolated long enough.”

“You should’ve gone into law enforcement,” Idris said.

They came to a stop in front of a cell. The lightstone above it glowed faintly, barely illuminating the interior of the tiny chamber. The stone walls were damp and webbed with cracks. Algae grew up and down the walls, leaving them almost completely padded with pale green fuzz.

Erastos was sitting on the cot in the back, hands on his knees palms up and head thrown back so he was staring at the ceiling. He had been stripped of his robe, left only in the pale white and gray nondescript armor of the priests. His mouth moved ever so slightly as he muttered under his breath.

“Erastos,” Feton called, a harsh edge to his voice. “You have a visitor.”

Erastos didn’t react to the fe-matoran’s words, continuing to murmur fervently at the ceiling. He didn’t even falter in his speech.

“Erastos,” Feton pressed.

Idris watched in confusion as Erastos fell silent and sat perfectly still. He seemed oblivious to the fact that they were standing outside his cell.

Feton smacked his hand against the bars of the cell. The clang of metal against metal reverberated through the cell and down the tunnel. Erastos remained frozen until the sound was just a ringing in Idris’ ears. Then he straightened his neck and looked Feton in the eyes.

“It’s rude to interrupt when one is speaking to the Great Spirit,” he scolded.

Feton opened his mouth to reply, but Erastos had already turned his attention to Idris.

“Good evening,” he said pleasantly. “Can I help you?”

Now that he had ended his reverie Idris could get a better read on him. He sat with the proper posture, but looked completely relaxed. His expression was plain and pleasant, like he was the sort of matoran everyone would like and go to for help. He looked surprisingly muscular for a matoran who spent most of his day inside studying and praying.

It was his eyes that gave it away. They were an inferno of passion and emotion, ablaze with righteous fury. Idris had heard it said that the eyes were windows into the soul. For the first time she knew what that saying meant.

“That depends,” Idris answered, ‘on whether or not you’re willing to help.”

“The Great Spirit requires that I help all matoran. Then they will see that the Way of Mata Nui is the only path to inner peace.”

Feton snorted, but Idris silenced him with a hand gesture. She didn’t need his cynicism ruining her chance at getting information. Erastos seemed to be in a good mood, but she had no guarantee he would stay that way.

“Wonderful,” she continued. “In that case, would you mind explaining that little incident back in the square?”

Erastos smiled. It was eerily sincere. “Of course. You see, the Great Spirit has spoken to me through a vision. He has shown me what is to come. I was relaying his message.”

“You ordered them to attack Defilak.”

“I did no such thing.” More smiling. “I bid him to leave. I suppose the Congregation was so entranced by the Great Spirit’s words that they took it too far.”

“The ‘Congregation’? It looked more like a mob to me.”

“Any who will hear the words of Mata Nui is a part of the Congregation. We are dedicated to preserving the peace and livelihood of Mahri Nui and helping everyone to come to know the Great Spirit.”

“That wasn’t preserving the peace. Your followers almost killed Defilak. That’s why we locked them all up, so they wouldn’t try again.”

“They are not my followers. We are all equals. I am simply Mata Nui’s chosen reciprocal of knowledge, trusted to convey all the truth to all those who will listen. And it would be better for all of us if the Hellbringer had been slain. Perhaps then kolmagna could have been avoided.”

“What could have been prevented?”

“Kolmagna. A forgotten Old Matoran word. It means ‘great end’.”

Idris was incredulous. “You think Defilak is going to cause the end of the world?”

Despite her earlier warning, Feton decided to butt into the conversation. “That is the stupidest thing I have ever heard.”

“You doubt the great Mata Nui?” Erastos exclaimed.

“I doubt your sanity. Gods don’t reveal themselves to the living.”

Erastos spat at Feton’s mask, his spittle landing on the fe-matoran’s cheek. “Cispkolvettac. Heathen.”

***

Defilak sighed and stared blankly at the ceiling. Kaira continued her work in silence. She was glad to be working with a living patient again, someone who would actually talk back to her. Even better, it was Defilak, one of the few people that didn’t shun her like the plague.

She wished she could do more for the le-matoran. He had had a rough week, and the stress of leadership combined with the loss of his friend, that onu-matoran Gar, had hit him hard. But alas, there were no physical cures for self-doubt. It was a battle Defilak would have to fight for himself.

Kaira was almost done wrapping the last bandage before Defilak spoke again.

“Do you think they miss us up there?” he asked quietly.

“Up where?” she said.

“Back on Voya Nui. Do you think they miss us?”

Kaira tied off the bandage and took a step back to examine her work. “I would think so,” she said. “They do send us the gifts every month.”

“It only takes one matoran to quick-drop a bag of old masks and tools into the water.”

“Then there’s one matoran who misses us, which is better than none. Besides, it doesn’t matter since we can never get back to the surface anyways.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do. I studied the corpses of the matoran who tried to swim to the top. The soft tissue underneath their armor was deformed due to the change in pressure. Our bodies can’t handle the rapid change of pressure they would have to go through to make it to the surface before our air ran out.”

“So we take something like my sub up instead. Problem solved.”

Kaira shook her head. “It wasn’t just the tissue. The matorans’ lungs were ruined. We’ve become accustomed to the air down here, where it’s pressurized by the Air Domes. If we tried to switch back to the air on Voya Nui our lungs would suffer the same fate. I’ve run tests, and the air we get from the airweed is not the same as it is above the surface. We’d need a specialized airlock to readjust to surface air, and the only place we could find one of those would be Metru Nui, maybe Nynrah. I’m sorry Defilak, but we can’t go back. Not now, not ever.”

Defilak slumped against the wall behind him. He looked even more depressed than he had when he came in with Leeta, if that was possible. She hadn’t meant to depress him, she was just delivering the facts. She would’ve thought he of all people in Mahri Nui would appreciate that.

“Look, Defilak…”

“No Kaira, it’s fine. I think I needed to hear that.”

Kaira opened her mouth to say more than thought the better of it. Instead she cocked her head toward her last free cot.

“I want you to rest. Those injuries need time to heal, and they won’t if you keep running around. I want you to stay a day, at least.”

Defilak grumbled but obliged, limping over to the cot with her assistance and laying down.

“Stay there, okay?” Kaira said. “I need to go check on the matoran Feton had locked up. Some of them had pretty nasty injuries.”

As she left the hut she could’ve sworn she heard him sobbing. She said nothing.

Characters

(In order of appearance)

• Dekar
• Defilak
• Kaira
• Lemiddus (Mentioned only)
• Kyrehx
• Aescela
• Velika
• Leeta
• Idris
• Navek
• Feton
• Glace
• Casa
• Pedra
• Gar (Mentioned only)
• Reysa
• Tralix
• Unidentified Ga-Matoran
• Kyros
• Whevn
• Gemini
• Lesovikk (Mentioned only)
• Erastos

Notes

• Hellbound was originally planned to be released in 2015, but only five chapters were written and released. In late 2017, the page was cleared as part of an effort to rewrite and refocus the story, but though work was done on this updated version none of it was ever released. In mid 2022, DeltaStriker restored the original version for archival purposes, as well as releasing a previously unpublished piece of Chapter 6.
• This version of Hellbound is considered Third Tier canon within the Afterverse.