Well, over the past few years I’ve been working on a very very long continuation of BIONICLE. Of course, I had to rap up some old plot that bugged me first. Here is my attempt. Bold as it is, it has quite a few flaws. It admittedly also needs a 2nd re-edit, but I just don’t have time for that these days. Still, comments are welcome (I love construction criticism too). Also, before you ask, yes I know what the Red Star does, I simply never found Mavrah’s death probable given things that we know about Matoran, and found another way to get him there. Finally, this is some of my older work, and my writing has vastly improved since the time I wrote this. Still, I’m interested in getting comments on it, and I haven’t finished anything since then, so I’m posting it.
Here it is:
Destiny of the Lost
Continued from Greg Farshtey’s, ‘The Powers the Be’
THE SHADOWED ONE WAS DYING. Or, perhaps, he was simply living new life. It had been those three vials he had found on Xia, and from there, it
had gotten worse. One of the vials had broken on one of his ships,
releasing its deadly poison. Everyone had died. Except for one. And
somehow, in his discrete dwelling on Xia, the Shadowed One had been
found, and had contracted the disease.
However, death was not right to describe the sensation. It was pain, yes, but pain that led to an end.
It was overtaking him like a swarm of ants, but also like a bath of
Energized Protodermis, recreating them. He had seen no one for days,
and he was surprised his aged form had survived this long.
Then, he felt the end nearing. There it was, around the corner, about to flash in his face like the muzzle of a loaded Skyblaster, and then . . .
A voice spoke in his head. You have been chosen. It was a dark, and ancient tone.
Chosen? Chosen to be what? I am not the chosen, but the chooser.
You have been chosen, the voice said, To rule the universe.
The Shadowed One smiled. What must I do?
Suddenly, that ancient being felt a powerful feeling wash over him, and
he felt new, young, and strong. He stood up from his deathbed, and
looked at the metal wall which acted as his mirror. He was astonished.
“You have healed me of Voporak’s curse,” he said, astounded.
That is not all. You have more power than ever. But there is a price.
“What is that?”
You must find the other two vials, it said. Then we’ll talk.
THE KESTORA IN THEIR MIGHTY red star fumed as the ice melted off of their
being. Fool intruders. The Kestora were only here to fulfil Mata-Nui’s
will, and to do it in silence. It would be unfortunate to be forced to
destroy the Toa, but if the Toa would not listen to reason, then they
would have to be destroyed.
“We”, said one of the Kestora, “must shatter these Toas’ arrogance and grand delusions.”
“Yes,” said another, “we must make quick work of them. The Great Being commanded it.”
However, the final, obviously the one in command, denied the suggestion. “We were created by the Great Beings, and hold respect for them. But why
does this one seek the destruction of Toa? For his own atonement.
Death is not the proper were-gild to right an action. We shall find
these Toa, attempt to explain to them the reason in our actions. Then,
if still they refuse to listen. . .” The leader’s eyes gleamed. “Then we shall destroy them.”
SLOWLY, A SENSE OF AWE warmed Kopaka’s memory. Mavrah? This could not be. The same one who rested calmly as a cold, dead memory in the Turaga’s tales. Surely not. However, another fact reminded him that, although Mavrah’s death was very likely, it was not fact, nor could it be proven wrong.
Until now, at least.
“I… hrm … I don’t believe we’ve met,” Kopaka said, easing into a diplomatic introduction. However, as usual, Pohatu blundered into things.
Eyebrow raised, Pohatu looked carefully at Mavrah. “You’re supposed to be dead.”
“The Kestora could say the same of you. None of us are supposed to be here, you know. And how do you know me.”
“Two words,” Kopaka answered, “those being Turaga and Whenua.”
Mavrah raised his eyebrows. “Not Whenua of Metru-Nui? And a Turaga?” The Onu-Matoran mumbled to himself incomprehensibly for a moment.
Kopaka nodded. “Indeed. He is a Turaga now.”
Mavrah sat down, shaking his head, mumbling something about, “He told the truth. It was no lie.” After about five minutes of mumbling to himself, he stood. “You must excuse me,” he said, “you understand, ever since I was lost from Mata-Nui my memory has been. . . not what it used to be. I must tell you my tale to explain, and then perhaps you will understand. To begin with, I assume that you know of the Tales of The Underwater attacks and civil war. Your knowledge of my name says as much. But I would have you know that I did not believe that Toa to be Whenua. I cannot explain why, but when I was absorbed into the water, I was swallowed by something that. . . changed me. Now” – he struck his two hands together. To the Nuva’s surprise, the second hand passed easily through the first, as if immaterial – “parts
of me are immaterial at random times. This was one of the side effects
of my being launched across the universe, for you see, this strange
creature does not digest food. Instead, it transports them to another
place, and gains energy from the use of the portals in its gullet.
“So, a thousand years ago, I landed on this barren wasteland, Bara Magna,
though I knew it not to be called that at the time. However, soon I
found a city, and that city was filled with beings. Beings who shunned
me because my armour was black. Skrall they called me, and denied me
entrance into their cities. The only place that would take me was a
place called Roxtus, filled with these Skrall. All the while I mourned
the loss of my creatures, but also, I feared, the loss of an ancient
friend. In time, the Skrall discovered what was different about me, and
cast me out, but, in a fit of revenge I sought to destroy their
“In the dead of night, I snuck into their compound. I had thought to remain entirely quiet, but instead a Skrall guard found me. He aimed one of those Thornax-fruit launchers at me and fired.
“It should have killed me. It should have gone right through me, and it did, only to disappear.”
Kopaka thought he was beginning to understand. “I read some tablets in Metru-Nui, theorizing about similar things. Inside of that stomach your energies reacted with the portal energies. So, you became part Protodermis, and part portal. This results partly in your being immaterial, but also partly. . . well, it seems odd, but partly you being a sentient portal?”
“Indeed it is,” Mavrah agreed, “though I did not know that to be true at the time. Back to Roxtus, though. The guard was astounded, and I made my escape. However, through the next year, I found that there was no place to go. Vorox, Bone Hunters,
Skrall and other exiles. . . so I fled to the only place of safety, the Black Spine Mountains. I found a building there, in it was a mad Great Being, and other things. But most of all what I found was information. I learned of things like the Core War, the creation of Mata-Nui. All of it impossible to believe. Yet I remembered the last time I had refused to believe something. It was in that cave where I should have
died. So I did believe.
“I rummaged for months in that Great Being’s library, and came upon many things, including something in a language I didn’t understand, though I would later understand. It was on a small carving, and I don’t know what possessed me to do so, but I kept it. All the while, the Great Being was oblivious to my presence, so for some reason, I was free to roam about. I also learned of the creature who had caused my condition, and how they had once been prevalent on my old world, Aqua Magna, when it had been part of Spherus Magna.
“So, with this knowledge, I consented to wander as an exile for the rest of my days. And then, Mata-Nui returned, but with Makuta’s mind. And as Makuta fell from the heavens to die, I suddenly, inexplicably knew what the words from the other tongue meant. They meant that this was not according to plan. That something was
wrong, and someone would try to fix it in the only way they could.
Months ago I began to follow after an Air Toa named Lesovikk, because I
knew who he really was: a Great Being in disguise. And the carving I
carried was the plan of the Great Beings, as he had formed it.
“You – all of you who lived in Mata-Nui – should not be alive, for it was
not part of the plan the plan. The Great Beings, all but the two who
are here, are gone from this universe, and the only sane one remaining
wishes to redeem his plan in the only manner he can. The destruction of
Spherus Magna, the death of his brothers, and the death of this
Needless to say, Kopaka and Pohatu were astounded by Mavrah’s tale. A wreath of silence hung.
“It is so hard to believe,” Kopaka said.
“But we will believe anyway,” Pohatu said in the way that he always said these sorts of things. “Now we must work together, and, though you are from another time that I
never knew and from tales that speak ill of your name, I will be proud
to call you brother.”
As Mavrah and Pohatu clanked fists, Kopaka smiled on the inside. This was what made Pohatu such a unique Toa.
But inside, Kopaka was also worried, for what made Pohatu such a great ally and friend also made him a fool.
GAARDUS SNUCK THROUGH THE RED Star ever so quietly. Unfortunately, quietly was apparently not silent enough.
“You never were very silent,” said the Kestora.
Gaardus wheeled round and snarled, bearing his filed teeth. “I will not return. Nor will you destroy me.”
The Kestora frowned, and then raised his hand, paralysing Gaardus with an effortless thought. “You were never meant to come here, nor were you ever meant to find out so
much. It was the Great Being’s idea. However, you still serve a
purpose, lucky you. Now, it is time for you to find out why you were
never supposed to know, and what the price for knowing is.”
THE PLAN WAS SIMPLE. Of course, recalled Kopaka, many ‘simple’ plans had
turned into horrid disasters. But, when surrounded by optimists like
Po-Matoran, or in this case, Po-Toa, talking about dark histories of
failure is not open for consideration.
“You needed Gaardus to come up here,” explained Mavrah, “but
there is another way to get back down. It’s the way I got here. The
Kestora have some form of control room, and it is from that control room
that the Great Being has come and gone, the Kestora granting him power
and strength. It also leads directly to the Black Spine Mountains, or
anywhere else you wish to go. I will remain here and attempt to
convince the Kestora of what must be, what has been prophesied before.
You however, will take the portal Old Atero and find exactly what I just
described to you. Otherwise, this Great Being’s plans may come to
Kopaka looked directly at the Onu-Matoran. “What exactly are these plans?”
“You don’t want to know,” Mavrah said. “Knowing is enough reason.”
“Enough reason for what?”
“The Kestora to destroy you.”
Mavrah gestured for the two Toa to follow him, and they did so. He
led them down a long corridor, and the Toa could only hope he was not
leading them into a trap. Finally, they reached the corridor into which
Gaardus had teleported.
“We will follow it all the way down,” explained Mavrah. “You
must the break down the door and stand on the red pad. I will handle
the rest from there. Start running on three. One. Two.”
Even before Mavrah had said three, the Toa were running. They ran
with all their might down the corridor, and ran until the door was in
Even as Pohatu was beginning to grab the door, Kopaka realised something. “Do not destroy it. We may have to close it.”
Pohatu ripped off the doorknob, and continued to claw at the metal. “What do you mean?”
Kopaka turned, and his eyes widened. “I meant Kestora!”
Pohatu shoved through the door even as the Kestora spotted the three.
Kopaka and Mavrah were dragged in and the door was shut. Kopaka froze
it shut. He dashed with Pohatu to the only red pad in the room. Mavrah
started to mess with some controls on a panel, and suddenly, an
explosion rocked the door.
“Hurry Mavrah!” Kopaka exclaimed.
GAARDUS DID NOT KNOW, BUT he rested in a sort of chair inside of the Red Star. The room was organic in nature, but it was made of black vines like the Morbuzahk’s. Two of the brittle vines had weaved into Gaardus’ Membrain, and began to make him loose control of his thoughts. The vines began to inject thoughts, like poison, into his subconscious, so that he could not help but think the thoughts it gave him. And so, he
thought of a time long past, when he had still been a Matoran.
Gaardus had been born many thousands of years ago on the Southern Continent. He had been born a Le-Matoran, but had never really felt that way. But then, for those living in the cold realm of Makuta Gorast, it was hard to feel anything but despair.
Gaardus had been ‘one of the lucky ones’, or rather, someone who had been chosen for an experiment which would allow escape from Gorast’s nightmarish kingdom. Gaardus had thought he would never be picked, for even his friend Vican had gone before him. When he was picked, however, he had not been picked for the normal tests of Makuta Mutran. Instead, he had been picked for those experiments of the Nynrah.
After that. . . well, after that he would rather not remember. But he came out as a living weapon, winged and all. Unfortunately, he had not been what the Nynrah wanted. Thus, like so many subjects of Mutran, he had been cast out.
He had wandered for centuries, before the Brotherhood of Makuta during the Makuta-Dark Hunter war, had decided to use him as their own weapon.
However, he had managed to escape, although such escape was through a
dark portal into a strange, black room. It took him centuries to
discover that this, ‘black room’ was in fact the mind of a madman. This
madman also happened to be a Great Being. And Gaardus had learned
secrets, and learned that, while his mind rested side-by-side with the
Great Being, his own body had been separated from his mind in the
At the time, the Great Being – who lived and worked with the only other of his kind on whatever planet they resided on – had not known of Gaardus’ presence, for Gaardus hid himself easily in the vast, mostly empty, confounds of the Great Being’s mind. Then, one day, he had heard a plan uttered, a plan so dark it frightened even him, a
scarred weapon of evil tests. And suddenly, he revealed himself, and was cast out and back into his own body, which now rested in another strange, dark room.
For what seemed like years Gaardus had sat in the darkness, pondering the dark plan. For the other Great Being’s plan had failed, and its success meant the destruction of all the Matoran and Agori and their whole universe.
All of a sudden, he had found himself among the Kestora. How he had gotten there, he did not know. They had tried to remove the memories from him but their attempts were without success. He simply had to remember. Eventually, he escaped the star and returned to Bara Magna’s surface where he had waited until the coming of the two Nuva.
And now he sat where he should have so many years before, as he forgot what he had fought so hard to keep. . .
“There,” the Kestora said, “now you have forgotten.”
Gaardus shook his head. Slowly, words entered his mind, and then thoughts became words. “Forgotten what?”
“Everything that was necessary to forget.”
The mutant shook his head faster now. “No,” he said, “no, no. NO!!! It’s not there! What’ve I forgotten?” He snarled at the Kestora. “You’ll pay for this! If you’re going to make me forget that you might as well kill me and make me forget everything!”
“Make you forget everything? How . . . interesting.”
Suddenly, the black vines began to weave through the paths in Gaardus’
Membrain. He screamed in pain as his mind was torn to pieces and
reformed again and again.
Unconsciousness, when it came, was merciful.
GAARDUS LOOKED UP FROM HIS WORK. It was a beautiful day. The sun was shining brightly. He was working on his latest carving of the noble Lady
Something in his mind skittered like a Rahi in the shadows of a Visorak kingdom. Lady Gorast noble? Well, of course. He could not believe he hadn’t though of it before. She was the most noble ruler a Matoran could have. No one was better.
Gaardus set to work on his carving, putting his heart and soul into
it. It was odd, it seemed, that he did not have wings over-shadowing
Ah, alas, he had spent too much time in the sun. But who would finish the wonderful carving of Lady Gorast if he did not?
Ah, yes, what more lovely a cause could he serve?
From outside the dark and twisted dream world of Gaardus, the Kestora looking on the mutant’s real, winged body from the door.
“Lucky Matoran,” mused the Kestora, “he’ll never know that he escaped the horrors of the world.”
The Kestora closed the door, which he would never open again.
Now to deal with the Toa.
MAVRAH FLIPPED THE SWITCH JUST in time. The Toa disappeared just as the door was blown to pieces. The furious Kestora entered.
“Foolish Matoran,” said the leader of the Kestora, “your time is up. Too long have you walked our fortress, foiled our plans. Your destruction is nigh at hand.”
“No!” said Mavrah in a strong and defiant voice. “You were meant for another destiny. I know that now! If you destroy me you will only achieve a destiny of destruction and evil rivalling that of the Makuta of Metru-Nui!”
Mavrah’s breath slowed, and he stared into the eyes of the leader of the Kestora. In a low, meek voice, he said the words he knew he had to say. “You will be silent and you will hear, for this is what must be.”
“Who do you think you are?” said the other Kestora, hurling a deadly bolt of energy at Mavrah.
As his body absorbed the blast, Mavrah said, “I am Mavrah, Onu-Matoran of Metru-Nui. I know your destiny and I am here to tell you what that is. But for what you want to know, those on the world of Bara-Magna call me the Archivist.”
The Kestora stared into Mavrah’s strange and wandering eyes, which had seen so much. He laughed, for he knew of the Great Metru-Nui Archivists, and that they were now no more. “What then is our destiny, you, the last of the Archivists?”
“Quite simple. The Great Beings wants to destroy the universe of people they created. You have given them the power to do so, but it doesn’t have to be this way. I want you simply to return our home to us.”
“The Mata-Nui Robot is beyond repair. We cannot change that truth.”
“Something I well know,” responded Mavrah. “The Mata-Nui robot is certainly beyond repair. That is one truth. I know another. You’ll have to listen to me very closely, but I’ve got something special in mind. In fact, it might just save the Matorans’
THE GREAT BEING RESTED OUTSIDE the palisade, smiling. Everyone was inside.
Miserix, Helryx, Axonn, Brutaka, Tuyet, Vezon, and Artakha were
trapped within the building, and, in time a Toa Nuva would be on his
way. He needed only one.
But then, there was the other.
It was odd, because this one seemed old, yet new. However, he still
wielded great power, and, to Angonce’s mad delight, he was heading into
All the more strength to me, he thought, after all it takes a lot of power to crush the universe.
IT WAS STRANGE. One minute Kopaka and Pohatu were in the Red Star, the
next they were in the ruins of Old Atero. They had only experienced
something like that once before, when they had gone from Artakha to
Slowly, Kopaka looked about the monolithic ruins. “I’ve heard of this place before but. . .” His voice trailed off.
Pohatu, also enraptured, mumbled, “It’s supposed to be the oldest city in the universe. . .”
Old Atero was truly the most amazing thing they’d ever seen, even in ruins.
Only one of the once-tall crown-like spires remained, its eroded
shadow cast high over everything. All of the other crown-spikes had
fallen inwards, which, over the brief course of time, had simply become
large mountains of rubble. The sun-scorched stone was rough and sharp,
and the heat radiating off of it seemed to distort the air, releasing
strange illusions into sight.
“Mata-Nui,” Pohatu exclaimed, “it’ll take an eternity to search through all of this.”
“Or,” Kopaka responded, his Kanohi Akaku Nuva doing its work, “just a second or two.”
His eye-scope extended, and he looked briefly around. They were
looking for a small cubic box, one made of dark metal and ‘smooth as
unbroken water,’ or so Mavrah had said. For a normal Akaku, finding
such a thing might be a job, but the Akaku Nuva could pierce even the
very atoms which bound together the universe.
It could find a small metal box.
He glanced around, up and down, through pillars, and into the fabric
of the earth. Suddenly, almost out of the corner of his eyes, he
glimpsed something. Turning towards it, a blindingly bright blast of
black lightning lanced out. It tore out of the earth, slamming into
Kopaka, and blowing the Toa of Ice off his feet and across the old arena
Magna, where he came to a less than peaceful rest on the earth.
Horrified, Pohatu looked around, observing the black lightning
continued to pour out of the crack in the earth. It flowed out like a
sharp geyser of water, and it slowly formed into a gaseous entity.
Strange-shaped and speaking through a single white spot in its being, it
began to hiss and to Pohatu it spoke
“Who seeks the secrets locked inside my shadow keep? Him that dares to read them both reward and curse he shall reap. Beware the shadows made to rest in the earth till the end of time. Who dares to read them? Enter me! Know the secrets that are mine!”
Pohatu faced the creature, holding out his climbing claws in defence. He took a brief look back at Kopaka. The Ice Toa was not moving. His armour was cracked in several places. Pohatu’s brother might well be dead. Pohatu
tended to be an optimist, but he was not a fool.
“Who are you?” Pohatu said to the entity. “Are you from the box that my friend was looking for?”
The entity only repeated its rhyming poem.
Pohatu grumbled, but then he realized it was not simply a rhyme.
Kopaka had found the black box, somehow releasing its contents by
looking at them. He had opened its contents. Now, the contents were
asking it Pohatu wanted to know its secrets. “Are you asking a question?”
The rhyme was repeated.
“Fine. You say that you have secrets?” Pohatu said. “Speak your secrets, and let me hear. The curse of knowledge is a noble one to bear.”
“Your brother already knows these secrets,” answered the strange Atero Entity, “ Even now he pays the price. The price has been paid. See now the visions of your brother, and know the truth.”
Then, another lightning bolt, black as Makuta’s soul, emerged from the
Entity. Pohatu did not see it strike. He simply saw what followed,
and what dark secrets would be revealed: