And so I was the last of them. Everyone asks me, “Who are you?”, because I am not of their kind. For so long I have refused to respond, since the world has seemed to reject its past. For you- you and your people- do not remember the history of past generations, nor do they remember the tales of great Toa-heroes and the evils that challenged them. They do not remember why we wear these masks or what their purpose is- they merely think they are objects of power, nothing more. They have no recollection of anything, as if they have just been born. And like all children, they must learn, lest they should enter the world and die at its unrelenting and unforgiving grasp. So gather around one more time, my student, as I tell the forgotten tale of the BIONICLE…
In the time before time, the Great Spirit descended from the heavens, carrying we, those called Matoran, to this paradise. We were separate- without purpose. So the Great Spirit illuminated us with the Three Virtues- Unity, Duty, and Destiny. We embraced these gifts, and in gratitude we named our island home Mata Nui, after the Great Spirit himself. But our happy time was not to last. For Mata Nui’s brother, the Makuta, was jealous of these honors and betrayed him, casting a spell over Mata Nui, who fell into a deep slumber. The Makuta was free to unleash his shadows- and unleash them, he did.
Fearing that his brother would one day awake and avenge those who honored him, the Makuta forged a powerful mask, the mask of time. He began to warp time and re-write it to his will, sealing away Mata Nui into a different time, where nobody would remember him. But the last Toa, Ekimu, bearing the title of the Great Spirit’s Champion, challenged Makuta in the name of Mata Nui. They fought long and hard, forming the land we know today as the battle formed the mountains of Onu-Koto to the canyons and craters of Po-Koto. It seemed as though Makuta had won- he stood triumphant over the broken Toa who had given it all to stop him. But with a last, desperate effort, Ekimu knocked the mask off of Makuta, sending shockwaves through Mata Nui and casting both into a death-like coma. Ekimu had done everything he could have to maintain peace, but the damage was already done. Mata Nui no longer existed in that time and everyone no longer remembered the Great Spirit and his gifts, nor the city we fled so long ago.
Everyone but me. I am the last of our kind, the Chroniclers, who recorded all that had transpired. I do not know why I am not like the others, who cannot remember. So why am I telling you this, you ask? I am ailing, my dear child. The passages of time have not been kind to me, and there must be somebody else who can tell these stories to the people when they are ready. For if they are to find the seal that holds back Mata Nui, they will not be ready to face the horrors that guard him Now go, tomorrow we shall continue our lessons.
Okoto’s moons glimmered under the night sky, as a small, lone figure exited the cave hidden against the mountain. The child did not understand the mysterious elder’s words. They always called the old man crazy, and while the child personally believed it, the elder’s story was more intriguing than he thought. “Perhaps he is just crazy”, the Okotian thought. But deep down inside, something did not sit right in him. A single name echoed over and over again in his mind, one he had never heard before until now, despite it feeling extremely familiar- Orkan.
I hoped you enjoyed this short story!
It’s my first short story I’ve put good effort into, please leave constructive criticism below.
Just to clarify, the Le-Matoran Orkahm had his name changed to Orkan on Naming Day