Chapter Text
Onua rose from his sleepstone with the sounds of work outside his door, the same way he had every day since he and his people came to Metru Nui. The clang of hammers, the whirring of machinery, and the chattering of Onu-Matoran was different from how he had awoken on Mata Nui, in his quiet hut on the edge of Onu-Koro, with the steady rush of the underwater river nearby, and sometimes chirping from an enthusiastic Burrow Bird.
The Toa of Earth swallowed a mouthful of water, ran a hand over his mask, and stepped out of his door. Three Matoran, one of them clinging a little desperately to the structure next to his hut, called greetings to him. Onua smiled.
It was different here, but maybe not worse.
“Are you stuck, Onepu?” the Toa of Earth asked.
“No,” grunted Onepu, struggling to get a better hold on the bars of the tower. “I'm trying to get up onto this floor but I can't reach. The stairs inside collapsed a long time ago.”
“We want to start rebuilding the wall up there,” added Sook, pulling a heavy length of rope out of a cart attached to his Ussal crab.
Onua glanced up at the sizable hole in the side of the building, which let shining morning light soak into the earth. Onepu was struggling diligently towards it. With a gesture of the Toa's hand, a column of earth rose up beneath the his feet. Onepu grinned and clambered onto the third floor of the building, saluting Onua cheekily before disappearing into the building.
“Be careful,” Onua glanced the two remaining Matoran over, glad to see they both had heavy knives strapped to their belts. “There could be Rahi hiding in the ruins.”
“We will be, Toa,” promised Okano, eagerly shoving aside a rotted door to get to the ramshackle tower.
“We will be! Thank you, Toa!” Sook followed him, leaping clumsily over the rubble, already distracted by the chance to explore.
Onua grabbed his own weapons and a bundle of nuts and ridge-bark before heading out. Most days on Metru Nui he spent helping to repair buildings, streets, and the Archives, clearing out Rahi and infestations, or responding to a crisis, but today he had something else planned.
The Archives wound underground for leagues and leagues, but that hadn't stopped the Onu-Matoran from creating beautiful buildings on the surface of the city as well. Onua headed towards what was now a decrepit Archives entrance building, besides which a deteriorated statue of an unfamiliar Toa of Earth still stood tall. Whenua had told him that it was most likely an image of one of the many Toa who had fought for their city thousands of years ago and protected Onu-Metru with his life. But the Turaga could no longer remember his name, and the plaque at the statue's feet was too worn away to read. Onua intended to one day find what it was. He didn't like watching his Matoran avert their eyes, as though in apology for forgetting, every time they entered the Archives.
A stocky burrower named Zoiss was inside the Southern Entrance Building, sitting on the damaged floor and patiently tinkering with three broken levers next to a desk. He smiled warmly at Onua but offered no greeting.
“How's that puzzle coming?” Onua questioned him.
Zoiss sneezed before he answered. Sometimes the whole city seemed to have a layer of dust over it. “Complex.”
“And the door's wide open until it gets fixed?”
“Yes. It's convenient, except for the possibility...”
“Dozens of potentially dangerous Rahi could get out.”
“I'll be careful.”
Onua chuckled. “Thanks, Zoiss. How about I come by tomorrow and see if I can help?”
“That would be nice. But if there's two of you here you must be doing something important.”
“Two of us?”
Zoiss sneezed once more, looking up at Onua with his large yellow eyes. “Your brother already came through here, not long ago.”
Onua glanced into the dark tunnels of the Archives as Zoiss turned back to his work. Since the Matoran had returned, the upper levels of the Archives were usually buzzing with activity, and even now, Onua could hear Onu-Matoran hard at work. But he had no idea why one of the other Toa would be here. If something was wrong, surely they would have come to find him.
He clambered through the collapsed stone door and into the hallways, which were exactly tall enough for him to be able to stand up in. A line of lightstones every few feet, hastily installed only a couple weeks ago, dimly illuminated the hallway. Onua passed what remained of a sign: the bottom half had been acidified, probably by something he had been forced to fight off, and the top half pointed one way to the loading dock, and another way to the map room.
“Map room's a mess,” called Oneno, pushing a cart full of rubble past the Toa of Earth. “What are you looking for, Toa?”
“The library.”
“Oh, yeah, the Toa headed that way too. Take that third right path, and then follow the lights. We haven't lit much up yet in that direction.”
“Alright. Thanks, Oneno.”
“Don't mention it. And don't get lost. Or stuck. Or killed. Or – ”
“I understand, brother, thank you.” He set his hand on his mask for a moment as he passed.
Onua moved down the third of the four passageways to his right, his hands following the messy string of lightstones along the wall. After a few minutes, the sounds of his Matoran faded into the darkness and the silence on all sides.
His armored hands moved over a sign and found the words “Archives of Information” written in Onu-Matoran braille. Squinting, he could see two grand doors in faded green paint, and he reached out to grab a brass handle, only to find that they had already been opened.
There was a soft slithering sound from inside. Onua stepped into the Library of the Archives on cautious feet.
Despite its decay, the library was expansive and wonderful, even in the dim light. The shelves stood more than twice Onua's height. Aisle after aisle was filled with carvings and the occasional knowledge crystal: records, articles, texts, and stories, a comprehensive tale of Metru Nui compiled in a single room. Lovely, long-dead light fixtures meant to hold fresh lightstones dangled from the ceiling far above, jangling slightly when flying Rahi shifted. Images of Onu-Matoran and impressive monsters were carved into the walls. In the middle of it all, Toa Mata Kopaka Nuva was running his hands over a row of books.
His back was turned to Onua, and the quiet sliding noise came from beneath his reverent fingers. Carrying a large blue lightstone in his left hand and armored in white and silver, his brother appeared ghostly and haunting in the cold darkness of the abandoned archive.
“Kopaka?” Onua pitched his voice low, unsure why he was whispering.
The Toa of Ice turned swiftly. When he saw his brother, his stance shifted from defensive to uncertain. “Onua,” he replied softly. His shy right hand fell from the books a moment later.
“Turaga Whenua won't believe that an Ice Toa came here willingly, unless I have a pretty good reason why.”
Kopaka glanced back at the books. “I can understand that. Turaga Nuju didn't believe me when I said I was coming to see the library in the Archives. I think he's halfway convinced I have a secret personal investment in one of you.”
Surprised and amused, Onua stepped closer to his brother. “You came to see our carvings? What about the Knowledge Towers?”
The Ice Toa's deep blue eyes flickered with an emotion Onua didn't recognize. “The Towers stand, but little remains whole inside of them,” Kopaka told him dully. “They're so decrepit and contaminated as to be hardly worth repair.”
“I see,” Onua frowned.
Kopaka shuffled and placed his lightstone on the shelf. “Did someone tell you I was here? I did not mean to alarm.”
“No, I was coming here myself.”
“Really? To see the books?”
“Yes. On Mata Nui, most of our history lessons came from the Turaga. And they... well.”
“They were less than honest.”
“At times,” agreed Onua, chuckling. “And not particularly thorough, when it comes to the rest of the world. But here there is so much knowledge. And just in this one room! I want to find out everything I can about what lies behind us, and about what lies ahead.”
Kopaka glanced over appraisingly. “In that case, I hope you read braille. I've been wandering between sections for half an hour.”
Onua laughed. “I forgot to check the indentation labels at the front of the shelves.” He reached out to touch the spine of a big blue book. “Let me take a look.”
Onua took it off the shelf and something moved, a flash in the corner of his eye. Kopaka jumped back too and Onua knew he hadn't imagined it – like the shadows had shifted. Bats fluttered through the ceiling above, and the faraway fixtures clinked and spun.
“What was that?” asked Kopaka, voice low.
“I don't know,” replied Onua stiffly.
“It looked like... black sand.”
Black sand – moving shadows. Something flickering unnaturally in the darkness. Onua didn't know what it had been, but his stomach twisted with the thought that he and his brother might not be alone in the silence.
Onua peered at the book in his hands. “'Embalming Methods for Winged Rahi.' That doesn't sound significant, does it?”
Kopaka took another carving from the shelf, and Onua felt the slight drop in temperature that meant the Toa of Ice was ready for a battle.
The shadows in the whole room spun when the carving was taken away, as though light had forgotten what it was meant to do and fallen on its side. Onua grabbed his weapons, but stillness settled in as quickly as it had left. The shadows, however, had not returned to the way they were, and Kopaka and Onua were left standing in the darkness. Turning right, they could see that, though Kopaka's lightstone was still perched on the shelf, its blue light was now several feet away, flickering innocently beyond the bookshelves.
“Makuta is dead,” whispered Kopaka.
Onua blinked, startled. But of course his brother was right – that was the most logical assumption, that their enemy and the Mask of Shadows would be behind this. But he had met an end thanks to Takanuva and a very heavy door.
“You have never heard of something down here that could do this?” Kopaka had unsheathed one of his swords, eyes narrowed.
“There's so much down here,” replied Onua helplessly. Something that could shift light and dark? That hid in bookshelves and didn't like to be disturbed?
“Do you see anything?”
Kopaka was more reliant than most upon his vision, and while Onua could still see adequately in the near-darkness, his ice brother may as well have been blind. “I don't,” Onua answered softly. “Do we head towards the light?”
Kopaka glanced in his direction. “Sounds like a trap.”
“Yes – but how else do we find out what's doing this?”
The Toa of Ice frowned, and then reached out a hand. Ice crept up the wall that was lighted by the waylaid lantern, its frosty surface thick and gleaming in the blue shine.
Then the ice blackened as though oil had been frozen instead of water.
“That wasn't me,” Kopaka murmured, as the ashy ice collapsed with a quiet shimmering noise.
Onua backed away. “There might be fungus down here, Kopaka.”
“What?”
“Fungus. We could be hallucinating, if we breathed something in.”
Kopaka shifted uncertainly. “I suppose. Or there could be a Rahi of some sort, and the threat needs to be dealt with.”
“The Matoran don't come down here much anyway. I'll tell them to stay away and we can at least speak with Turaga Whenua to see if he's ever heard of anything like this before we worry about something with these powers.”
“Alright,” sighed Kopaka, picking up his lightstone. The circle of light on the wall behind them did not move. “I suppose that's wise.”
Onua nodded and led his brother back towards the entrance. He didn't have a clue what was responsible for the moving darkness, but his intuition was telling him they weren't prepared to deal with it effectively. He was glad it was Kopaka, and not one of his more reckless brothers, though he praised their courage as much as he respected Kopaka's instincts.
“You should come with me to see Turaga Whenua,” Onua suggested as he reached for the door handle. “I doubt you've seen much of Onu-Metru. Some of the buildings are very cleverly done.”
He stopped short. The handle wasn't budging. Then it crumbled to ash in his hands.
Onua gasped and turned to look at Kopaka, only to find that his brother had disappeared entirely. “Kopaka,” he hissed.
There was no reply. Onua put all his formidable strength into trying to push the doors open, but they had become impenetrable.
Once again, Onua became aware of a soft slithering noise, but it no longer came from Kopaka running his hands over the dusty tomes of the Archives. Something else was moving down the row of books towards him, something much larger than an Ice Toa. Its shadow fell into the blue circle of light still hovering on the wall. The figure had long, curling horns growing from the back of its mask and spikes along its arms, and Onua gripped his weapons tightly.
“You understand I can't just let you leave,” came her soft voice. “I was gracious til now. A couple Matoran came through here, with light and sound. But I forgave their intrusion. I was merciful. They never even knew I was here.”
“Who are you?” asked Onua. “What are you doing down here?”
“But when Toa came along... well. I knew you'd be back, and with more of your kind. So loud. So bright. I can't have it. It's nothing personal. I mean, I do hate you and all your kind. But coincidentally, this is just business.”
“Where's my brother?” the Toa Nuva of Earth demanded.
“He's just an Ice Toa. He doesn't know these halls. He can't bring down this ceiling or tunnel his way out. I'll deal with him once I've finished you, little earth-shaker.”
The figure was close enough now that Onua could make out the blazing red color of her eyes. Her armor was black like oil soaking into the earth.
“Stay away from me,” warned Onua. “Why don't you tell me why you're down here?”
“Shh,” she told him softly. “Choose your last words carefully.”
Onua lifted a hand and the earth between them erupted, exploding into the creature's face. She shrieked, sounding more annoyed than hurt. Onua followed it up with a sharp kick at her stomach.
With her concentration broken, the shadows in the room returned to normal, and three shelf aisles away, Onua saw the blue light of Kopaka's lightstone.
The creature recovered with worrisome speed and reached out to grab Onua's arm. He yelled as a sharp jolt of electricity burned through his structuring, and he cursed his lack of preparation for a fight. He had expected a peaceful day in the library.
Once again, Onua kicked, but she was ready for it this time and kicked back, trapping his foot. She swung with her clawed hand and Onua opened up the earth beneath them. She fell down hard, and he burrowed.
Combining strength and elemental power, he was under the ground and out of her reach before she could react. He was careful not to fall through to the next level of the Archives and prayed that he wasn't harming the foundation of this floor. As he dug a hasty path towards where he had seen Kopaka's light, his mind raced.
Powers of shadow. Powers of lightning. Height. Strength. Masked, though not with something Onua recognized. She was barely shaken by his attacks and not only was she sentient, she was intelligent. She was no Rahi. She was too tall to be a Toa of Lightning, and Vortixx like Roodaka did not wear masks, from what he understood. Why would anything with her power be in the Archives? All he knew was that she was dangerous.
He burst out of the shallow earth with Kopaka at his side. The Ice Toa was stretched out on the ground, his body still jerking a little due to an electric shock strong enough to lay him out. Onua picked him up and checked his heartlight, which flickered steady enough. The Earth Toa scooped up his lightstone and readied his weapon, expecting the creature to dart towards them at any moment.
But, ominously, the room had gone still again.
The shadows shifted. They were left in darkness as the light from Kopaka's stone shone on the ceiling fifty feet above.
Onua stared up at the distant light, panting. If Kopaka was not here, shifting painfully in his arms, he would be sure he was hallucinating this. Where had she gone?
“What happened?” mumbled Kopaka, barely intelligible, blinking woozily from the shock.
“There's someone in here,” Onua replied, very quietly.
“Who?”
“I don't know. Can you get up?”
Kopaka glanced at his left leg, which was twitching, but dragged himself to his feet. Onua noticed raised red lightning on the musculature of his neck and flinched. “She grabbed you by the throat. Hope that doesn't scar.”
The Ice Toa touched the burn marks and grimaced. “What do we know?”
Assessing the situation before acting. Onua was grateful for his level-headed intelligence. “She's larger than us, with horns and a mask. She has powers of electricity and shadow manipulation. I struck her in the stomach with my mask engaged and she barely noticed.”
Kopaka didn't seem to have any more ideas than he did. “Where are the Matoran?”
“There are many on this level, most days, but they've avoided the library thus far.”
“You won't get a chance to save them.” Her soft, careful voice drifted from the top of the bookshelf and Onua glanced up slowly to see the blue light catch on her sharp eyes. “I didn't want to have to do this, you know. Why can't you Toa just leave me in peace? Always hunted. Hunted by you, hunted by my own kind... just leave me to the darkness.”
“This place was our home once.” Onua turned to face her fully. “And it will be again. You have no right to these halls. And even if you could defeat us, we have many more brothers and sisters and a whole city of Matoran that will come looking for us.”
“Toa. Matoran. Cities. I have torn them apart before, and I will do so again.”
“Who are you?” asked Kopaka. “And what?”
She chuckled, genuinely amused. “A Toa that doesn't know the sight of a member of the Brotherhood? Have you been living lower down in these Archives, and never seen the light of day? We're natural enemies, little ice-weaver. You should know even a humble member like me. But Kava who once grew dragons is chased out and forgotten now.”
Kopaka's eyes narrowed. “Brotherhood of what?”
“You're boring me,” sighed Kava, and Onua saw her begin to creep slowly down the bookshelf, her claws hooking into the books as she moved on her belly towards them. That shadow like sand followed her. “It's time to extinguish your brave bright lights. But you've given me an idea, little lights – if no one finds your body here, no one has to realize I was here at all.”
Her speed picked up. Kopaka and Onua exchanged looks in the near-darkness, and then the Earth Toa gently, carefully, quietly set Kopaka's lightstone on the nearest shelf.
Kava leapt at them like a Muaka cat from the shadows. The force with which she hit them was impossible, fueled by a power over gravity neither had anticipated. Next to Onua's hastily dug escape, it was no surprise when the floor gave out.
As he fell, Onua twisted, intending to grip Kava and ensure that if they fell farther, she fell with them. But instead he found that the creature was standing away from the gap, one hand held towards them and a cold, dangerous look in her eyes. They were falling, and hard. He barely had time to formulate the thought before something struck the back of his head.