Kopaka and Tahu - Start of the Civil War [Worldbuilding] [Characters] [Story]

Hello and welcome!
This is my first ever short-story for Bionicle G3! I have put together my writing skills, my love for bionicle and my 2 previous threads (HERE and HERE) and this is what I came up with!
I don’t want to sound arrogant, but I am proud of what I’ve written. I really hope you enjoy this! Don’t get distracted by the lenght of it, it will be over very soon!


Anger that he never felt before was flowing through every part of him, making him feel more as one of those water-worshipping Nahuans than a member of the royal family of Ihu.
Kopaka was standing in his chambers, cold walls all around him. Before, he liked them, their beautiful carvings, their bluish light. Yet now, they seemed to be closing in on him, like there was no way out.

That hot-headed Mangaian Toa, Tahu, how much he hated him. They got into an argue over what Ihu has ever done for the island. What an ignorant piece of obsidian! What had Mangai ever done for the island?! Those Matoran always stay in their black castles, marching on the walls, like a war is to break out any moment.
They have never made something beautiful for their sister regions, their land itself was a burning mess. Plains of black lava, with a burning tree here and there, and a red river flowing down into the sea.
Over this hideous land, the Mangaian Matorans fought. Every now and then a piece of fertile land popped up, only to be covered by red lava soon after. That was the endless cycle of life and death these foolish Matorans expirienced.

One the other side, in the kingdom of Ihu, everything seemed to be frozen in time. Since Matoro the Great, the high walls of Ihu stood, never to be brought down, never to be scratched, never to be touched by a Mangaian. The great kingdom has stood for thousands of years, never to fall, never to show it’s weakness, while the other tribes fought among each other.

Ihu housed the greatest writers, painters, warriors. The Ihuans were the best builders, the great palaces of ice being the evidence.

And yet that pathetic Tahu still questioned Ihu’s place among other cultures on Artakha.
They got into the argue during a private dinner with him and his sister Lumi. At first, the Mangaian was polite, a flirtatious comment sent to Kopaka’s sister, here and there.
Only after that joke by Kopaka his face reddened to the color of his armor. “Are you fighting anybody at the moment?” It looked like apart from manners and culture, the Mangaians lacked a sense of humor.
They began arguing, that changed to shout, that changed to fists ready for a fight. It was Lumi that set them apart, not with her thin and weak arms, but with her words.

Only for that arrogant piece of magma to insult her in the worst way possible. That was the last drop. That pushed Kopaka over the ledge. He called for guards and banished Tahu from the kingdom, warning him that if he were to ever set foot on the Ihu Mountains again, his head would decorate walls of the royal palace.
Kopaka was little away from ordering his guards to bring him that hideous head of his, when Tahu remarked that Kopaka couldn’t even climb onto those walls to put the head up there.
It was only the weak hand of his sister that stopped him from doing it.

Now he was standing in his chambers, all alone, with only cold being his companion. His head was burning like a forest around Mount Vakama, though. His anger could not be extinguished to easily.

It was a long time since Ihu’s banners hanged atop the walls of Mangai castles beneath the volcanos of Jala and Vakama. He will show that arrogant walking fire what Ihu can do.

“Yes, show him.” a voice as sharp as obsidian and as cold as the highest peak of Ihu was heard behind him.

Quickly, he turned around, suddenly forgetting his hatred of the Mangaian, concerning himself only with who that terrible voice belonged to.
In front of him, a mysterious figure stood. A bit taller than he was, dressed in white coat of fur, covering him whole, a cape over his head, mask hiding his face.
It was a mask unlike any other, bright as snow, clean as ice. There were markings on it, like those on the walls of his chambers.
If the figure had eyes, they did not glow, for they were black as ashes.

“Do not bother calling guards, you would miss an opportunity.” the figure said, it’s sharp voice cutting into Kopaka’s skin.

“What opportunity?! Who are you?! How did you get past my guards?!”
Kopaka was in no mood for riddles, he wanted answers, and he wanted them now.

“My name would not mean anything to you. I saw how that, how did you call him? ‘Hot-headed piece of obsidian’ talked to you and your sister.”

How did he know? He called Tahu like that only in his mind! Without saying a word! Kopaka quickly grabbed a knife that was under his belt and jumped to the figure, putting the blade to where it had neck, only for it to laugh in a voice that sounded like a blizzard cutting through metal.

“Save your strength on those of sides opposite to you, young king.”

Once again, Kopaka pressed the blade of ice to the figure’s neck, harder this time.
“Who is on the opposite side of mine?!”

A cold laughter came from behind the mask again. Kopaka wished for it to stop.

“You know. You have always known. Your people have known. For eons all they wanted was what you want right now, young king.” those black, cold, dead eyes stared deep into his soul. Kopaka felt as they were reading his mind, his feelings, his wishes.

“You want me to declare war on Mangai?”

“I do not. It is you, who desires it.”

Kopaka hesitated, his grip on the knife eased. That being was right. He did want war. He wanted revenge. For what Tahu said to his beloved sister, for what he said about his kingdom, for what the whole of Mangai has ever said about Ihu!
There will be war, there will be revenge. The Mangaians will perish.

Then, Tahu will see what Ihuans are truly worth!