Suru sat in his hut in Mahri Nui, holding a grey Kanohi in his hands. He had found the mask many years ago on one of his trips across the ocean floor. He assumed it was one of the many treasures from the Great Spirit that floated down to his village every Naming Day. The mask, he couldn’t identify the type, had a long shallow crack reaching from the mouth to the left eye socket. Probably a result of the fall. The crack made it useless to him and his fellow Matoran, so there was no reason to keep it. And yet, when Suru first laid his eyes upon it, he immediately asked if he could keep it. He wasn’t sure why he wanted to have it; all he knew was that the mask awoke in him a strange feeling of familiarity.
When Mahri Nui fell, the Matoran lost all memory of what came before the sinking. Recollections of the past were rare and as such a cause for celebration. Every time one of the villagers remembered even a snippet of the life on the surface, a ceremony was held at the Sanctuary, where the memory was shared with the rest. Suru never shared any memories. Not because he didn’t want to, but because, frustratingly, he couldn’t remember anything. He would spend hours looking at the grey mask, hoping to experience at least a tiny flash, anything that would tell him, why it looked so familiar to him. At this very moment he was still waiting.
“Suru!”
He jumped. A Matoran with a green Kualsi was at his door.
“Suru, what are you doing? The others are ever-ready to go!”
The Po-Matoran stared briefly at Defilak, his Le-Matoran friend. What was he talking about? Then he remembered - the Toa were planning to evacuate Mahri Nui. Defilak himself had ordered everyone to collect all their belongings and meet at the entrance into the Cord. Suru had gone to do just that – collect his Climbing Hooks and chain. And the mask.
“Sorry, Defilak,” Suru said, finally. “I got distracted. I’m ready to go.”
Defilak and Suru walked side by side, ahead of the procession. Toa Matoro walked next to them, making sure the Mahri Nui Matoran were following. Suru was fidgeting with a pair of pebbles between his fingers. It was something he did when he was nervous. He tapped Defilak on his shoulder. He wanted to talk and he didn’t want the Toa of Ice to listen. They fell back.
“Do you really trust them?” he asked the Le-Matoran. “Can we really believe their promises?”
“Their promise is of hope, Suru,” replied Defilak. “This is something we all desperately needed. And yes, I faith-trust them. I believe you can too.”
If you trust them, Suru thought to himself, then I guess I will too. It was a hard thought for him to accept. But there was one part of him that was enchanted by the hope that was promised. The hope of a better life. The hope of finally finding out. Suru instinctively reached into his sack and retrieved the mask. To his surprise, he felt a small pulse, a miniscule fragment of what might’ve been a memory.
Screams. Were those part of the memory? No, they were coming from behind. Toa Matoro was running towards the procession. Suru put the mask back. In a minute, there was chaos.
“What is going on?!” shouted Defilak, who huddled on the floor together with Suru.
“Old friends came to say hi,” remarked Toa Matoro in between hurling ice bolts. The Matoran couldn’t see clearly what he was firing at, but they looked like giant eels. Giant, colourful eels with large, smiling heads.
Suru was panicking. The migration, the memory, the attack, he couldn’t take it. His fingers were scraping the bottom of the Cord and his legs were kicking against it. Rocks were flying across his head. He wanted to run, to get away from the chaos. Then he saw something. A flash which turned into an explosion of light. A Rahi beast standing his ground before him, clutching a small grey Matoran in one of its claws. A live memory. Suru swung his arm to strike the beast.
And then everything went black.
When he awoke, it was on a different kind of stone. Rough, course, unlike the smooth volcanic rock of the Cord. Next to him, Defilak was also waking. The two Matoran looked at each other, both with the same question in their eyes. Then they looked around and saw something amazing.
Grass. Trees. Mountains and a clear blue sky. Sunlight. It was the most amazing thing Suru has ever seen. And it didn’t seem foreign at all. He felt chambers in his mind unlock and open after centuries of darkness. He knew what came before Mahri Nui, before the sinking. He remembered a cataclysm, a voyage, a shadowy hell and a former homeland. And he remembered a Matoran with a grey Kanohi. He tore the sack from his shoulder and rummaged through it. To his surprise, the large object was not there. In its place were fragments. He grabbed one of them and held it towards the light.
It was a piece of the mask.
“Are you alright?”
Suru looked up. Defilak was eyeing him with worry. Then he saw the fragment in his hands.
“I’m sorry.”
That was all he said. That was all he could say. Suru was silent. He looked around and saw Matoran embracing each other. Old friends, reunited at last. Suru felt alone. Lost. But he didn’t have time to dwell, because a large, bulky figure was stand before the Matoran, demanding their attention.
The giant’s name was Axonn, protector of Voya Nui. He calmly asked everyone to follow him. Said there was going to be a quake and that they should seek shelter in the underground caves. The Nui Caves. Suru remembered their name. Matoran huddled in the faint glow of lightstones. Defilak sat next to him, never leaving his friend’s sight. Pieces of the broken grey Kanohi were scattered on the ground.
“Suru?”
It was a female voice. A hardened female voice that came from the corner.
“Suru, is that you?”
The lanky figure, to whom the voice belonged to, stood next to the two Matoran. The light revealed her to be a Ga-Matoran with a Great Rau. Recognition shot through Suru’s mind.
“Dalu!”
Laughter filled the cave as Dalu and Suru embraced. He remembered his warrior friend from Voya Nui. He remembered their time together. Both became warriors out of necessity. Every so often they would fight wild Rahi together. He couldn’t believe she was still alive.
“I can’t believe YOU are still alive, you Brakas,” laughed Dalu. “None of us can.”
“You remembered me.”
“Yes, we all did.” Dalu greeted Defilak with a nod. Then she glanced at the Climbing Hooks on the floor. Possibly the same she once sacrificed to the depths on Naming Day. Then she saw the broken mask next to them.
“So, he found you after all,” said Dalu solemnly, pointing at the fragments.
Suru was confused. Who found him? Before he could ask, the caves began to shake. Everyone fell to the ground. Suru grabbed the pieces of the mask and held them in his lap. Another flash of light struck him. He was flying - the Rahi had struck him. Suru hit the ground and charged again with his spear. For a moment he was floating in mid-air and then he hit the ground again.
Suru stood up at once, ready to face the Rahi. But it wasn’t there. He was in the cave with the other Matoran. All around them was dust, illuminated by the shattered lightstones that lay everywhere. And there was something different in the air.
“They did it!”
The loud, booming voice belonged to Axonn. " Mata Nui lives!"
The Matoran were too shaken to comprehend what happened, but knew it was a good thing. One by one they exited the caves. When they surfaced, they noticed the sky was a different shade of blue. And it felt right. Suru wasn’t looking at the sky, his gaze was fixed on the mask he held in his hands. Except he wasn’t even looking at the mask. He was looking at the face of the shy De-Matoran to whom the Great Mask of Rahi Control belonged. The one he had just saved from a wild Rahi. The Matoran looked at him with quiet but infinite gratitude.
“What is your name?” Suru remembered asking.
Just then, one final gate in Suru’s mind was unlocked. What came out of it was like a massive tidal wave running through his head. He looked down on the familiar grey shape and murmured the Matoran’s name: “Vinurr.”
Yeah, I thought the exodus and return of the MahriToran went unexplored in the novels. What exactly were the Matoran feeling? How did they react? And what exactly was happening to them when Voya Nui was returned in its place? My story serves two purposes - answer these questions and inject some emotions into the Bionicle narrative. I feel sometimes that said narrative has too much angst and not enough heart - I try to solve this deficit with my stories.