It’s a non-MOC topic from me. Whaaaaaat
One of the short stories from my Spirit Shadows storyline, and a pretty important one.
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The sun was going down over a cloudy sky, and a lone figure was walking passing through the reddish plains, making his way towards an ancient castle. It was Jetera, future Master of Storms.
The last four months had been a flurry of activity. Since his arrival, he had found that he was on the island of Erkelon, a ancient land that had only been settled 100 years prior, by refugees from a great war. He was one of the nine Toa Vihagu, warriors who were to come from this island and take part in the war.
However, Jetera had an inhibition unlike any of the other Toa. Although he knew the element he was destined to use - lightning - he had no idea of how to wield his powers. He had asked the Toa’s mentor, Emekal, but he said that he could not teach him how to find his power, only how to control it. He did, however, have one aid for Jetera – a strange book called a “Chronicle of Prophecy”, which he said could assist him in his art.
So now Jetera had the Chronicle in his hand, and was returning to his home – the ancient castle. This edifice was built on the Plains of Reneä, by the warrior race that once existed on Erkelon. Most of the Matoran – the villagers who made up most of Erkelon’s current population – avoided this place, but Jethryn liked it for the reason that an eternal thundercloud was raised above the city, striking its peaks with lightning. Since all the other Toa lived in locations of their element, Jetera thought it fitting that he would live here.
He made his way through the iron gates – which were now always open, since there would be no one on the inside to open them for him – and into the city’s lowest level. He had spent most of his time outside of training exploring the vast city, but for ease he had made his home in what he had noted was a “commoner’s dwelling” near the gate. The dwelling was designed for a family of at least three, so it had considerable room for one Toa, holding his weapon rack, bookshelves, food drawers, and spare cloaks.
After getting settled, Jetera picked up the Chronicle again. He was surprised to see that, as he grabbed it, the grey book turned bluish-black, and a strangle white symbol formed over the front. He opened it, expecting to see written letters. Instead, he saw a mass of colors, in no sense he could find to form a picture of any sort. And then came the voice, almost out of nowhere, wise but trembling.
“He was not a Toa proper, from what the Saga indicates, but he shares several features with the Toa - control of elemental fields, namely. He is differentiated by his wings and feet, which take on a Rahi-like appearance. He also does not have the Toa’s code of justice.”
As Jetera read this, the colors began to flow together, until they formed something visible. It looked like a Toa, but it had a pair of massive wings attached to its back. The colors faded until the figure became cleanly white and black, surrounded by a blue tinge. Another voice spoke, this one rough.
“I know, I have failed. But there was nothing I could do. He came like a strike of lightning, destroying all who stood and then leaving, and when I tried to stop him, he took my body from me. Would you have done better, had the very angel of death come to your doorstep?”
As the echo from this voice faded, streams of color flew from the book, so much that Jetera couldn’t see his room anymore from the vibrance. He could see the figure, now standing upright in front of him, spear in hand. Ahead of him lay hundreds of bodies, their metal armor glowing in the daylight.
“What is this?” He said out loud. He dropped the Chronicle, and it fell to the ground, but the vision did not end. Another voice came, this one loud and high-pitched, the screams of an insane being.
“Madness! All this is madness! We have built our world for us to proclaim our own name, but in doing that sealed our fate! We have invited him to take our lives by our own inaction!”
The daylight faded, and the sky turned blood red. Flames began to shoot out from the pages of the Chronicle, combining with the blood on the ground, forming a massive shape. It was a shape he had seen before, on the cover of the Chronicle, and in the last second before he had awoken. The shape of a flying hawk.
“He has lived among us, unseen, unnoticed! But from within the darkness, lightning will strike, and the Stormhawk will awaken, showing his true powers and his true face. And then he shall reveal himself, and all before him shall burn!”
Jethryn’s heart was racing, he wasn’t sure what all this meant. Without quite knowing what he was doing, he drew one of the knives from his belt, and plunged it into the pages of the Chronicle. The illusion faded, and he found himself, panting, in his home, with the torn pages of a book in front of him.
From the window, he saw lightning strike again.