Bionicle Alternatives: Empire of Makuta V, Chapter Four

CHAPTER FOUR

The smoke exuding from the factories choked the atmosphere. In the distance, one could hear the clashing of metal and sizzling of iron as the Vortixx endlessly toiled away with their labors. The island of Xia knew no rest; to be inactive was to die, as the saying went.

Whether anyone was aware of the meeting that was taking place on Xia’s shores, Toa Helryx was not certain; nor, for that matter, did she care. With everything that was happening in the universe at the moment, she was no longer concerned with maintaining secrecy. Lives were at stake and this meeting was either going to make or break the future of the universe.

She stood patient and vigilant as the four Dark Hunters made the journey from their ship to where she and her party awaited them. To her left, Tobduk shifted uneasily, toying with the dagger sheathed on his hip. Johmak, on her right, was not quite as restless but was nonetheless regarding the Dark Hunters with a careful eye. Behind the three of them, unseen by all but acknowledged only by them, was the invisible Jerbraz. Although she couldn’t see him, Helryx knew he was as anxious about this meeting as the others were.

The Shadowed One moved across the beach with an air of confidence befitting the leader of the Dark Hunters. He was flanked by two of his most trusted servants: Sentrakh his bodyguard and Ancient his confidant. The latter, of course, Helryx knew to be the Order of Mata Nui’s mole within the Dark Hunters, though of course she would not acknowledge that fact in the presence of his leader. Trailing close behind the other three Dark Hunters was the Shadowed One’s living shadow Darkness. Whether the Shadowed One had brought Darkness along or Darkness had simply followed him here was anyone’s guess. In any case, whether the Shadowed One knew it or not, they were equal in terms of numbers.

The Dark Hunters soon came to a stop, standing within seven feet away from the four Order members. For a moment, each group regarded the other warily, as if waiting for the other to make a move. Eventually, the Shadowed One seized the opportunity to speak first.

“You must be the ‘contacts’ Ancient has spoken of.”

“And you must be the one they call ‘the Shadowed One,’” Helryx replied. “We would like to thank you for agreeing to meet with us.”

The Shadowed One chuckled darkly. “You Toa are as cordial as ever. Shall we cut to the chase?”

“I’m sure you already know why we are offering to form an alliance with you.”

“I suppose it has something to do with the Brotherhood of Makuta gaining dominance over the universe,” the Shadowed One said. “Unless you’re here to discuss the weather.”

Ancient glanced at him. “There is no need to be facetious, my liege,” the blue-and-gold Dark Hunter said quietly. “I assure you that this will not be a waste of your time.”

The Shadowed One sniffed. “So you say.” He then motioned to Helryx. “Go on, then. What is your offer?”

Helryx eyed him carefully as she spoke. “The Brotherhood has taken over Metru Nui. The island of Destral itself has teleported into the dome of the Great City.”

“Metru Nui.” The Shadowed One spoke the name with a spiteful tone. “That place has been a thorn in my side on more than one occasion. I have no love for it. Let Makuta do what he wills with it.”

Helryx frowned. “If the Makuta continue to reign over Metru Nui, the rest of the universe will suffer for it. The Dark Hunters will be no exception. Join forces with us and together we can repel the threat Makuta and his Brotherhood poses.”

“In exchange for what?”

“Your survival.”

The Shadowed One let out a bitter laugh. “And then what? The Dark Hunters continue to be regarded and hated by all as a band of thieves and murderers?”

“That is what you are,” muttered Johmak.

Helryx motioned her to be silent before turning back to the Dark Hunters. “We can discuss your organization’s status in the universe after the fact. Right now, we must ensure there is a universe for us to be in after all is said and done.”

The Shadowed One tapped his chin thoughtfully. “You talk a big talk, Toa. I’m almost convinced that you know what you’re talking about.”

Helryx sighed, slowly losing her patience. “Are you with us or not?”

The leader of the Dark Hunters was silent as he seemed to consider the Toa of Water’s words. He glanced at Ancient who met his gaze but said nothing, his face a blank slate. Turning back to Helryx, the Shadowed One regarded her for a moment before dipping his head slightly.

“You make a sound argument,” he said. “While I do not care much for the Matoran, I despise Makuta even more so. If invading Metru Nui means seeing to his end, then I will gladly lend my Dark Hunters to the fight.”

Helryx was about to let exhale in relief when the Shadowed One added, “I do, however, have one condition.”

The Toa of Water narrowed her eyes at him. “And what would that be?”

The Shadowed One’s face became a grim one as his eyes glowed red. “You and your friends are free to kill as many of Makuta’s ilk as you like… but Makuta himself is mine to kill.”

Helryx was slightly taken aback at first but did not show it. Although she found the idea of the Shadowed One surviving a clash with Makuta Teridax to be a highly dubious one, she nonetheless nodded in agreement, if only for the sake of this alliance.

“We have a deal then,” she said. “And, hopefully, you might just get your wish.”

The Shadowed One laughed. “Oh, my Toa friend. Dark Hunters always get what they wish.”

*  *  *

No one spoke a word as Takua and the six Rahaga followed the mysterious Matoran into the realm of Karzahni, escorted by Manas crabs. With each step they took, Takua heard screaming though he couldn’t tell if the screams were coming from somewhere else... or from the ground itself.

The land truly was a manifestation of the terrifying legends Takua was accustomed to. In the distance, searing ice spewed from volcanoes while dust poured down from waterfalls. Lightning flashed in the sky while the gentle cool breeze was accompanied by the sound of thunder. It was hard for him to imagine that anyone could live in such a nightmarish location. Evidently though, some people already did.

They eventually reached the heart of the island, where Takua began to see more Matoran at work. Like the one guiding him and the Rahaga, they were all in varying states of despair, wearing unfitting masks with hollow expressions. Up ahead laid a dark fortress that loomed over the toiling Matoran. As the party of eight grew closer, the front gates opened and a large figure stepped out. Standing far taller than the average Toa, the being had a twisted and battered appearance. Chains cascaded from his green-and-purple clad body while a tattered cape flowed behind him. His mask was unlike any Takua had seen before and it bore a horrible grin that made his stomach twist into knots.

“Visitors,” the being said, his voice sounding like blades grinding together. “Such a glorious sight.”

It was Norik who spoke the monster’s name, though it sounded no louder than a whisper. “Karzahni.”

“You know my name,” Karzahni said, fixing his gaze on the red Rahaga. “And yet I do not believe we have met.”

“I am familiar with the legends,” Norik replied. “We have all heard the tales of Turaga sending Matoran to your land for repairs, only for them never to return.”

“My reputation precedes me then.” Karzahni then took a moment to regard the six Rahaga. “Tell me... what kind of Matoran are you? You have no masks that I recognize....”

“We are the Rahaga,” said Gaaki. “We were once Toa in a previous life, but—”

“Toa!” Karzahni threw his head back as he let out a wicked laugh. “You are the heroes Matoran think so highly of? Reduced into such puny forms?”

“Our bodies may have changed but our spirits have not,” declared Kualus. “Toa or Rahaga, we remain strong and are not afraid of tyrants like you.”

Karzahni tilted his head. “You think me a tyrant? You’ve only known me for no more than a minute. Don’t let the legends deceive you; they are exaggerated to a great extent.”

“Then how do you explain this?” asked Pouks, gesturing to the working Matoran. “Why do you have innocent Matoran slaving away in your realm rather than having them returned to their homes?”

“They were sent to my land because they were no longer wanted,” snarled Karzahni, his mood abruptly turning sour. “I am giving them a home. A purpose.”

“Yet you give them bodies that are less than subpar. How is that—”

“Enough!” Stormed forward, Karzahni swung his arm and sent Pouks flying back. The other Rahaga reacted in alarm before readying their Rhotuka spinners, targeting the mad ruler.

Karzahni sneered. “Your pathetic little toys will do you no good.”

“Let’s test that theory, shall we?” said Kualus.

Before the Rahaga could fire their spinners, Karzahni’s mask flashed and all six of them instantly froze, their expressions becoming vacant. It was as if they had suddenly been placed in a trance. As Takua looked worriedly at them, the Matoran guide stepped over to him and grabbed his arm, unperturbed by everything that had just happened.

“This way,” the Matoran said as he started to drag Takua away from Karzahni and the entranced Rahaga.

“No.” Takua wrenched his arm free. “I’m not leaving them. This isn’t right. What’s going on?”

The Matoran frowned slightly, showing the first shred of emotion Takua had seen from him thus far. “You do not ask questions. You must simply do what is told of you.”

“Well, I didn’t agree to this. We didn’t even want to come to this place. Let us leave so that we can find the Toa of Light!”

A shadow fell over Takua, filling his heart once more with dread. “There is no escape for you, little one,” growled Karzahni. “Only death if you continue to defy me.”

Mustering all his courage, Takua turned around to look up at the mad ruler, meeting his cold eyes. “I’m not afraid of you,” he said quietly.

Karzahni chuckled, though his laugh lacked any sense of mirth or cordiality. “In time, you will be. After all, your stay has only just begun.”

Transformers Regenerated: Pax Cybertronia XII, Chapter Seven

THE LONG GAME

Starscream watched the devastation from the safety of his personal quarters.

He couldn’t decide what he was most impressed with: the giant green-and-purple combiner attacking Fortress Maximus, or the fact that the Autobots had brought in every possible flier and soldier to combat him. Sure, some of his Seekers were present, but that was mostly for show. He wouldn’t want to come to the next council meeting and be assaulted with accusations of not doing enough to help.

That is… if there was a next council meeting.

He had to admit, this was a big decision for him to make here. He had no idea who these Decepticons were working for or why, but the fact that they were pulling out all the stops — such as a giant combiner — to attack the Autobots’ most heavily fortified base on Cybertron had to mean they were working towards something important. And he wanted in on whatever it was.

Scratch that then. It was an easy decision for him to make here.

Turning away from the window, Starscream made his way over to his desk. Laying on its surface was a datapad that had been given to him a year ago by a certain someone. Even now, as he stared upon the device, he could still hear the last words Megatron had ever said to him as clear as day.

I do hope you appreciate it, Starscream. I worked hard on it.

Since that day, Starscream had not dare switch on the device to view its contents, even after Megatron had given him permission to do so upon his demise. There was still a part of him that was paranoid about it being a bomb or something that would kill him one way or another. After all, it would be the perfect payback for all the times Starscream had tried to usurp command of the Decepticons.

Would Megatron have pulled such a trick, though? It was something he would have done, certainly. But Megatron tended to be a bit more… overt with his actions. Save for the “amnesiac” ploy he did back on Earth two years ago, the Decepticon leader had always been direct and blunt when delivering punishments to his underlings. If he wanted Starscream dead, he would have blasted him in the face a year ago as soon as he had stepped foot in the Seeker’s office. It wasn’t as if the Autobots would have cared if Starscream was murdered….

By this point, the curiosity was becoming overwhelming. Even if it was a bomb, Starscream had to know. He had to know what it was Megatron had worked “so hard on” and was willing to bestow to him. A year had become long enough for putting this off.

Picking up the datapad, Starscream braced himself before switching it on. The screen lit up and Megatron’s face appeared before him. The Seeker’s spark began pulsing quickly.

“Starscream,” the Decepticon leader said from beyond the grave. “If you are watching this, it means that I am dead or soon will be. Knowing you, you’ve probably put off watching this for a year, maybe ten years, before mustering the courage to view it. Or maybe you’ve destroyed it by now. I suppose I’ll never know.”

Starscream felt as if all his joints had locked up. The Decepticon leader knew him far too well for his liking.

“In any case, I want you to pay close attention. If you turn this off before I have finished speaking, or you decide to chuck this datapad across the room, then you will have one second to escape before it detonates.”

Starscream squawked but quickly sealed his mouth shut as Megatron continued speaking.

“Optimus Prime and I are about to depart for Luna One. I know not what we will find there; all I know is that I will not be returning. In order for my plan to work, I need to be taken out of the picture.”

The Seeker shuddered at the word “plan.” Was this yet another one of Megatron’s long games? Was the leader of the Decepticons still making plans even from beyond the grave?

“I’m assuming the Decepticons are under your command by this point, and that you are still making peace with the Autobots. Even if neither of those are the case, it is irrelevant. The pieces will fall into place regardless. Your first course of action is simple.

“On this device, you will find an encrypted message that, once sent, will be received by all Decepticons. This message will provide you and the others with your next orders, and you will proceed from there.”

On the screen, Megatron’s expression darkened. “You would be wise to obey my orders, Starscream. Even in death, there is no command but my own.”

With those parting words, the screen went blank and Starscream was left with Megatron’s cold voice haunting his audio receptors. Outside, Devastator continued his rampage, swatting away Autobot and Decepticon planes alike.

The time had come for him to make his decision.

And so he did.

*  *  *

“Deathsaurus has been freed, my liege. What are our next orders?”

Quake stood tensely before the stoic form of Ratbat. The leader of the Ultracons stood on the edge of an escarpment which oversaw Iacon and Devastator’s assault on Fortress Maximus. He had not said a word since the Ultracons had begun their attack.

“The other four have been freed as well,” Quake quickly added. “Shall I order them to form Liokaiser and proceed to the next step?”

Ratbat remained silent, keeping his gaze focused on the devastation below. It was at that moment Quake heard the distant rumble of a ground vehicle approaching. He turned to see an armored blue and silver truck rolling onto the ledge on which they stood. Quickly determining its identity, Quake drew his gun and aimed it at the truck as it transformed into the robot form of Soundwave.

“Don’t come any closer,” Quake growled.

“I am not here to fight,” Soundwave replied. “I have come to speak with Ratbat.”

Ratbat shifted as he looked over his shoulder at Soundwave. “And just what is it you seek to accomplish by speaking with me?” he asked in a monotonic tone.

“I wish to understand what has happened to you,” said Soundwave. “Ever since you sent me that warning, I have been unable to regain my connection to you. You gave me coordinates to the Ultracon base, but it was already abandoned by the time I got there.”

Quake glanced at Ratbat. “Is this true, boss?”

“It is,” Ratbat said flatly. “It was a mistake my past self made before I was fully enlightened. A mistake I was quick to fix, hence why I had us relocate.”

“But something has happened to you,” Soundwave said. “You were warning me that someone was ‘playing you’ and using Shockwave’s Regenesis ores. Who were you trying to warn me about?”

Ratbat turned around to fully face Soundwave. His yellow visor, which took up his entire face, began to glow. “Our loyalties lie with the Grand Architect. Everything we have done has been dedicated to furthering his agenda.”

“Who is the Grand Architect?” Soundwave asked. “Why are you working for him?”

Ratbat inclined his head to Quake. “Kill him.”

The maroon-and-blue Decepticon raised his gun at Soundwave but hesitated to pull the trigger. Something about Soundwave’s queries were striking a chord with him. Why were they working for the Grand Architect? Sure, Ratbat had made a convincing argument in aligning themselves with him… but they didn’t know anything about him. How did they know this Grand Architect wasn’t using Ratbat to deceive them?

“I said, kill him.”

Before Quake could even make a decision, Soundwave released a deafening sonic boom from his chest. The blast sent Quake flying backwards and off the edge of the escarpment, falling to the ground below.

Unaffected by the assault, Ratbat unsheathed his double-bladed sword and lunged at Soundwave. The communications officer dodged the first swipe before throwing his fist into the side of Ratbat’s head. The Ultracon leader did not so much as grunt from the blow and quickly delivered a slash across Soundwave’s chest with his blade. As Soundwave keeled over, Ratbat thrust his knee into his abdomen before kicking him onto his back. He then readied his left arm cannon and pointed it at Soundwave’s head.

“Nothing can stop the agenda,” Ratbat said coldly. “Our transcendence is inevitable.”

Soundwave groaned as the barrel of the cannon glowed. He stared into the visor of his former master and servant in one last ditch effort to probe his mind.

Nothing. All he found was nothing.

Suddenly, the ground began to shake violently. Ratbat lost his balance and started to stagger backwards, his arms flinging wildly. Seeing an opportunity opening, Soundwave struggled back to his feet and threw himself at the Ultracon leader, sending them tumbling off the edge. They broke apart when they hit the ground, with the smaller Ratbat rolling several feet away from Soundwave. Waiting for him as he came to a stop was Quake, who had his arms poised to deliver another seismic attack.

Looking up at the Decepticon tank, Ratbat said, “Now is your chance. Finish him.”

Quake looked from him to Soundwave, who had yet to pick himself off the ground. After regarding the other Decepticon for a moment, Quake returned his eyes to Ratbat… and brought his fist back down, smashing it into the Ultracon’s head.

“No!” Soundwave cried. “We need him alive!”

Quake stopped himself from pummeling Ratbat further, though the damage was already done. The leader of the Ultracons laid before him with his visor totally shattered and his cranial unit crashed inward. It would have been a miracle if his brain module was still functioning.

Getting back to his feet, Soundwave walked over to join Quake, regarding the battered Ratbat with a somber look. “What made you decide to attack him instead?” he asked the tank Decepticon.

“He was closer,” Quake replied.

Soundwave sighed but dropped the subject. He couldn’t help but notice that things had gotten awfully quiet. It was then that he realized that Devastator had abruptly ceased his rampage and appeared to be frozen place, almost as if in shock.

That was when he heard it.

“Decepticons, this is your Emperor speaking.”

*  *  *

“For too long have I been laying low, cooperating with the Autobots while they push on with their useless quests and endeavors.”

Krok sat in the deserted Swerve’s with Spacewarp and Nickel. Everyone else on the Lost Light had since migrated onto Metroplex, but the three of them had stayed behind on the ship. They simply weren’t in the mood to continue interacting with Autobots and having to explain their presence for the nth time. This was probably for the best, as otherwise this would have been difficult to explain.

“Since my return from the grave, I’ve been waiting for the perfect moment to strike; for when the Autobots would become weak enough for us to move in and claim what is ours.”

“That better not be who I think it is,” Spacewarp muttered.

“This has to be some kind of joke.” Nickel glanced at Krok. “Right?”

But all Krok could do was listen to the message as it continued playing in his audio sensors.

“That moment has come.”

*  *  *

Scorponok seethed with rage while Banzai-Tron, Shatter, and the other Ultracons present stood in a state of astonishment. All of them could hear the voice of the departed leader of the Decepticons as he somehow spoke to them all from beyond the grave.

“It is time for us to gather as one once more! To abandon our alliance with the Autobots and assert ourselves as the true rulers of Cybertron!”

“This is a hoax,” Scorponok snarled, flexing his claws. “There is no way he can be back. He’s already died twice!”

“The signal it’s broadcasting from is legitimate,” murmured Banzai-Tron. “I would recognize it anywhere.”

Scorponok refused to believe it. If Megatron had indeed returned, it would throw a spanner into not only his plans but that of the Grand Architect’s. All of the progress he had made was about to be flushed away by a ghost of the past. He would not have it.

Storming up to Banzai-Tron, Scorponok grabbed his shoulder and forcibly turned the other Decepticon around to look at him. “Ignore it,” he growled. “Megatron is dead! You all work for me, now!”

“We never worked for you,” said Shatter, her voice deadly quiet. “We were simply working with you to further our own plans. But if Megatron has returned—”

“He hasn’t!” Scorponok bellowed. “You are being deceived! Prepare the Talisman for use; the Autobots should be here any minute now!”

The message continued playing, undeterred. “Your first course of action is simple.”

“Don’t listen to it! Obey my command!”

“Converge on Earth.”

Scorponok lost his composure at this. He had been expecting the message to direct the Decepticons back to Cybertron, not here on Earth. What interest could Megatron — if this was indeed him — possibly have with a planet such as Earth?

But the message did not offer any answers, for it had ceased playing.

A large shadow fell over them, eclipsing Scorponok and the others. He looked up to see a massive Titan hanging in the sky of Verenya.

The Autobots were here.

Transformers Regenerated: Pax Cybertronia XII, Chapter Six

RESCUES AND ESCAPES

“I’ve found her.”

A hand fell over Jetfire’s shoulder as Elita-One stepped up behind him. “You have?” she asked, leaning over to look at his monitor.

“She’s in Verenya.” Jetfire pointed at a spot on his screen, which showed four spark signatures pulsing from the same area. “Not only that, but I think those other three are Jazz, Mirage, and Cliffjumper. They register as Autobots, in any case.”

“Then that must be them,” Elita said. “It must also be where Scorponok’s hiding as well. Any Decepticon signatures?”

Jetfire checked. “A handful. Not a lot, though. There’s certainly less of them than there are us.”

“Then let us not waste any time. Set course for Verenya.”

Standing near them, Springer shifted uncomfortably. “I don’t know about this,” he grunted. “It seems a bit too easy.”

“I agree,” Elita said. “But at this point, I’m done playing games with these ‘Cons. If they want us to spring their trap, then we will. They’ll just have to count on over a hundred Autobots springing that trap.”

“Point taken,” Springer conceded. “As long as they don’t have a Titan and a combiner of their own, the odds should be in our favor.”

*  *  *

“So, how does this work?” Thunderclash asked as he fit the teleportation gauntlet over his hand.

“What you’ll want to do is to clench your fist — NOT RIGHT NOW!” Brainstorm snapped as Thunderclash was about to do just that. “You’ll clench your fist so it can charge up. While it does that, whoever is going with you will grab your arm and they’ll teleport along with you.”

“So which one of us is that going to be?” asked Nightbeat. “We probably shouldn’t send too many so that Skids has room to come back with them.”

“I’ll volunteer,” said Whirl. When the others looked at him in surprise, the ex-Wrecker shrugged. “What? Out of everyone in this room, I’m the one with the most guns and the most bloodthirsty. I’m perfect for a daring rescue.”

“Will that be enough, though?” asked Nautica. “Tyrest’s sure to have beefed up his security now that we’ve rescued Rung.”

Brainstorm looked over to Perceptor. “Is there anyway we can teleport them right where Skids is at?”

Perceptor rubbed his chin. “Perhaps. If I can retrace the direction of the particle matter dispersion from when Rung came back to us, I might be able to direct a route right to where Rung was when he teleported off of Tyrest’s ship. That would presumably bring them close to where Rung had been locked up and thus in close proximity to Skids’ location.”

Brainstorm looked back at the others, who all looked confused. “Translation: ‘Maybe.’”

“If it helps,” said Rung, “we were right next to my cell block when Skids gave me the gauntlet. Of course, it’s possible Tyrest has moved him to a different block….”

“It will have to be close enough,” Perceptor said. “Just give me a minute.”

While the scientist went to work, Brainstorm glanced over at Wheeljack, who had not yet joined in on their project. For whatever reason, the engineer was completely engrossed in his “Sumdac investigation,” murmuring to himself about how Elita was going to have her mind blown. Brainstorm was tempted to ask why and how this Sumdac could be so much more important than the life of a fellow Autobot, but he knew that the answer wasn’t going to clear much up.

When Perceptor spoke up again, he sounded oddly quiet and distracted. “That’s odd….”

“What is it?” Nautica asked.

“I’m detecting a surge of energy that’s similar to that of a Transwarp device in use.”

This caught the attention of everyone in the room, even Wheeljack. “Say what again?” the engineer asked.

“Somebody’s teleported here,” Perceptor murmured. “And they’re headed this way.”

Thunderclash stepped over to look at his monitor. “Can you get any readings on who they are?”

Before Perceptor could respond, a knock sounded at the lab door. All of the Autobots (save for Rung) immediately deployed their weapons and spun to face the door. Another light tap came. Keeping his guns raised, Thunderclash slowly moved his hand to the control panel and pressed the door open. It slid open to reveal a winged Vehicon plated in silver armor along with a spindly bot that was unmistakably the Decepticon Viral. In front of them both, on his knees, was Skids with his arms binded in stasis cuffs.

“Hello, Autobots,” the silver Vehicon said cordially. “We would like to make you an offer.”

*  *  *

Cliffjumper hated it when he didn’t know what was going on.

It all stemmed back to when he had been first forged. His spark had ignited from the same hot spot in Iacon as his good friend Bumblebee, no more than an hour apart. However, by the time he had come online, everyone was in a panic because a whole bunch of protoforms had been abducted by someone named “Zizza” and nobody had the time to assign him a caretaker. Before he knew it, someone was plugging a cable into the back of his head and feeding him everything he needed to know about Cybertron in the span of a second. It would be another month or so before he found out what exactly had been going on. By that point, he was no longer in need of a mentor to show him around.

Since then, he had grown to hate being left in the dark. He always had the nagging feeling that something was going without him knowing about it, and that that “something” would negatively impact him in so way. It certainly didn’t help matters when he was forced to work with Autobots like Mirage who could literally turn invisible and do things without him knowing about it. He would never want to admit to being as paranoid as Red Alert… but he certainly felt like it, sometimes.

Right now was no different. Jazz had yet to return. The Decepticons were clearly doing something to him, but Cliffjumper had no idea what. He couldn’t take it anymore; he didn’t want to wait for the ‘Cons to open up the cell door only to throw in Jazz’s smoking corpse.

Having spent the past few hours to muster all of the energy he could, Cliffjumper gave the chains he was hanging from a mighty pull. He heard what sounded like stone cracking. Encouraged, he gave it another pull. Then another. Soon, the whole wall gave way and he fell to the ground, stone bricks falling on top of him. As he burst out from the rubble, he heard footsteps coming from outside, followed by an angry voice.

“What’s going on in there?!”

Cliffjumper grinned to himself as Dropkick came into view. Upon seeing the Autobot and his newfound freedom, Dropkick stormed up and kicked the cell door open, drawing a pair of guns. Not waiting for the Decepticon to make a move, Cliffjumper hefted up the chain still tied to his wrists and swung it at Dropkick. The blue-and-gray bot’s green optics widened just as the chain struck him in the face, staggering him. Cliffjumper then swung the chain again only for Dropkick to grab it this time, pulling on it to hoist the small Autobot up in the air and bring him closer to his face.

“Any last words, Auto-brat?” Dropkick growled as he pressed a gun to Cliffjumper’s head.

“Just two.” With that, Cliffjumper swung his legs forward and locked them around Dropkick’s waist. He then pulled down on the chain and brought the two of them onto the floor. With Dropkick on top of him, Cliffjumper proceeded to bash his fists into the Decepticon’s head, scrambling his systems. As Dropkick’s body started to go slack, Cliffjumper rolled them over and wrenched the Decepticon’s gun out of his hand. After blasting off the cuff at his wrist, he started to tie the chain around Dropkick, making sure to bind his arms to his body.

Once he was sure the makeshift constraint was secure, Cliffjumper pointed the gun at Mirage’s chains and blasted them, freeing the Autobot spy. Mirage then rushed over and helped Cliffjumper pull Dropkick up and drag him into the corner of the cell, slumped against the rubble.

Dusting off his hands, Mirage turned and smiled at Cliffjumper. “A job well done.”

Cliffjumper glared at him. “You didn’t tell them anything, did you?”

The smile dropped, replaced with a look of confusion. “What?”

“I swear, if you told Scorponok and his cronies anything that would do us harm, then I’m leaving you in here with him.”

Mirage sighed in exasperation. “Cliff, come on. Now is not the time for this.”

Cliffjumper gritted his teeth but bit back what he wanted to say. He hated to admit it, but Mirage was right; now was not the time to start being suspicious of everyone. “Fine,” he grunted. “Let’s go get Jazz.”

With that, the two Autobots transformed to their car modes and peeled out of the cell.

Bionicle Alternatives: Empire of Makuta V, Chapter Three

CHAPTER THREE

Krika had made sure to disable or remove all of the traps he had set up to prevent anyone who visited Artidax from finding Miserix, as well as to prevent Miserix himself from escaping. As such, the trek from the shore of the island into the volcano that contained Miserix was uneventful. Still, he could sense that Spiriah was at unease, as if he suspected Krika of leading him into a trap. After all, most of the Brotherhood wanted him dead. This would have been the perfect opportunity to kill him.

But Krika was in no mood to kill a fellow Makuta. If he was, neither of them would be here now, doing what they were about to do.

The pathway Krika had created thousands of years ago led them deep underground through a winding maze of caverns. After bypassing the dormant traps, they soon reached the vast chamber that contained Makuta Miserix, former leader of the Brotherhood of Makuta.

Yet all they found instead was a massive red dragon.

Krika froze in his steps, Spiriah stopping right behind him. The latter Makuta looked over his brother’s shoulder to regard the reptilian monstrosity. Standing forty feet tall and surrounded by small Klakk bats, it wore the red and silver armor that he associated with Miserix, but he certainly didn’t recall their former leader being this large. If that had been the case 78,000 years ago, then Teridax never would have dared attempt dethroning him.

“I can see why you were afraid to kill him,” he said wryly.

Krika ignored the remark, staring in astonishment at the sight before him. He watched as a shadow hand shot out from the dragon’s chest and grabbed a Klakk circling above its head, absorbing the small Rahi into its body. That was all the proof Krika needed that this was indeed Miserix... after thousands of years’ worth of body augmentation.

“At this point, Teridax doesn’t stand a chance,” Krika said quietly to himself.

Suddenly, the dragon shifted and the two Makuta were soon recipient to its baleful gaze. Its eyes flashed red as they landed on Krika.

“You....” The ground seemed to tremble when Miserix spoke, like an avalanche waiting to happen.

Krika cleared his throat, bowing his head slightly. “Makuta Miserix. It’s... it’s been too long.”

Miserix snarled in disgust. “You are a bold one for showing your face here after so long.”

“My liege, please understand. What I did was for the sake of protecting you from the wrath of Teridax—”

“I would have rather died than suffer the fate you subjected me to!” Miserix bellowed, causing Krika and Spiriah to shrink away. “Give me an honorable death, not this mockery of a life!”

“I told you he wouldn’t be happy to see us,” Spiriah muttered.

Krika stepped closer to the dragon, flinching only slightly when the larger Makuta growled. “We need your help,” he began.

“Oh, isn’t that rich,” Miserix said. “Only now, when it best suits your needs, do you realize the error of your ways.”

“Teridax’s plan is accelerating faster than anticipated,” Krika went on. “The Brotherhood has seized control of Metru Nui and already has nearly half the universe under its rule. Teridax has grown mad with power.”

“And it’s only taken you this long to realize this?”

“At the very least, it’s taken me this long to realize that his plan will do more bad than good. That’s why we need you. The Toa have failed and the Matoran are helpless; you are the last resort.”

“Oh, I am so honored,” Miserix said snidely. “And just how do I know that this isn’t some kind of ploy to kill me?”

“Search our minds,” Krika said. “You will find no deception.”

“Also, have you looked in a mirror recently?” Spiriah asked. “You’ve become a bit harder to kill in the last several centuries.”

Miserix stared intently at the two Makuta and Krika could feel the larger Makuta’s mind probing his. After a few minutes, the dragon let out a snort.

“You may still be naive and foolish,” the former Brotherhood leader said. “But at least you are honest about it.”

Satisfied with this response, Krika raised an arm and fired a bolt of energy at the dragon’s chains, shattering them. Miserix let out a triumphant roar as he burst free from his constraints, flexing his limbs after nearly 80,000 years of disuse. He then cast his gaze back down at the other two Makuta, a wicked grin displaying itself across his monstrous visage.

“Now then... where is Teridax?”

*  *  *

Vakama stood nervously before the doors to the Coliseum’s throne room, feeling the cold glares of the two Vahki Nuurakh standing behind him. Next to him stood his fellow Ta-Matoran Jaller, the newly appointed Captain of the Metru Nui Guard. Even under the Makuta’s rule Jaller remained in the position Turaga Dume had given him weeks ago, though Vakama could tell from the dour expression on his mask that he was not particularly happy about that fact. Still, neither of them could say a word on the subject while in the presence of the Vahki, let alone being so close to the Makuta himself.

Behind the doors, Vakama could hear voices. One of them sounded like Turaga Lhikan’s while the other spoke with a terrifying voice. It sounded like they were debating over some sort of matter; whatever it was, Lhikan’s desperate tone indicated that he was not a fan of the subject at hand.

Vakama had lost track of how long he had been standing here. He was too afraid to ask Jaller for fear of the Vahki reacting negatively. He spared a glance at his fellow Ta-Matoran and the Captain briefly met his gaze. An undetectable shrug was all he could convey to the mask maker.

At that moment, the voices beyond the doors went silent as they swung open without warning. Before Vakama had a chance to react, the Vahki Nuurakh began ushering him into the chamber.

“Thank you for your service, Captain,” rumbled the terrifying voice he had heard earlier, coming from a dark figure sitting upon the throne of Metru Nui. “That will be all.”

With that, the doors slammed shut, sealing Jaller outside. As the two Vahki took up flanking positions on either side of Vakama, the mask maker took a moment to take in the scene before him. To either side of the throne, he saw Turaga Dume and Lhikan standing there, no longer carrying the Firestaffs that had been their badges of office. Both of them wore fearful expressions behind their masks though neither spoke a word.

On the throne itself was a large figure clad in black and gold armor, with red energy seeping through its cracks. Adorning his face was an ornate Kanohi mask of a design that even Vakama did not recognize; it had a long crest extending from its top while two ridges flayed out on either side. Red eyes glowed from behind the ebony shape and Vakama was instantly filled with a feeling of fear.

“It is an honor to be in your presence, mask maker,” said the Makuta of Metru Nui.

Vakama swallowed hard, frozen in place and unable to divert his eyes from the Dark Lord’s intense gaze. “I... I beg your pardon?”

A sinister grin stretched itself across Makuta’s horrible visage. “Are you not the most proficient mask maker in all of Metru Nui?”

Vakama did not have an answer for that, nor was he sure if answering either way would incite Makuta’s wrath. Not waiting for a response, Makuta gestured with a clawed hand and Vakama found himself stepping closer to the throne, against his will.

“I would like to make a humble request.”

Vakama gulped, his heartbeat quickening. “A... a request?”

“I am sure you are familiar with the legend of the Mask of Time,” said Makuta.

Vakama’s eyes widened. In his peripheral vision he noticed the two Turaga shift uncomfortably but still he could not move his eyes to them. Somehow Makuta was forcing the mask maker to look at him and only him.

“I have heard of the legends, yes,” he said quietly.

Makuta chuckled, a sound that made Vakama sick to his stomach. “Then I am sure you can guess what it is I desire from you.”

“Makuta, with... with all due respect, no mask maker has ever successfully crafted such a powerful mask. Even mask makers better than me.”

“But you are the best mask maker left in Metru Nui. Your dear friend Nuhrii is no longer with us, and the other Ta-Matoran... their skills simply do not compare to yours.”

Such compliments coming from a being as horrible as Makuta served only to make Vakama feel dirty inside. Still, Makuta’s request was clear and it would be suicidal of him to decline it.

“I... I will see to it that it is done, my liege,” Vakama murmured, his head dropping to his chest as if weighed a ton.

“Most excellent,” rumbled Makuta. “And fortunately for you, I have all the materials you will need.”

Vakama’s head snapped up as a group of six Vahki entered the room and marched up to him. In their hands was a Kanoka disk, each representing one of the six Metru. To Vakama’s surprise, all the disks had a power level of nine; the highest he had ever seen on a Kanoka.

“These are the Great Disks,” said Makuta. “The most powerful Kanoka in all of existence. I am sure you will find them to be most useful in crafting the Mask of Time.”

As the Vahki handed the disks to Vakama, Turaga Lhikan spoke up. “Vakama... you don’t have to do this.”

“Oh, but he does,” Makuta said. “If he values his life, of course.”

“You won’t get what you want,” growled Turaga Dume. “The Mask of Time is a myth, nothing more.”

“I suppose we will all find out for ourselves in due time.” Makuta kept his gaze on Vakama as he spoke, filling the Ta-Matoran with the unshakable sense of fear once more. “And if it is... you will all suffer the price of failure.”

Bionicle Alternatives: Empire of Makuta V, Chapter Two

CHAPTER TWO

“Does anyone else feel like there’s something fishy about this whole thing?”

Standing at the bow of their ship, Lesovikk did not turn to look at Seldaan who had just spoken out. None of the other Toa Tenebrae said anything at first until Zaria quietly cleared his throat.

“Why do you say that?” asked the Toa of Iron.

“Just think about it,” Seldaan replied. “This secret organization, whom nobody’s ever heard of, gathers a bunch of Toa who nobody likes to send to an island where no one’s ever returned from to bring down a tyrant who is the subject of legend. They have a Saevta who can teleport to anywhere in the universe and snap you in half just by glaring at you… yet they send us to deal with Karzahni. Does no one else see the flaw in that logic?”

“To be fair, it sounds like they’ve got plenty of other issues to deal with,” said Chiara. “I don’t know if you’ve heard, but the Makuta are kind of in control at the moment.”

“Still, they’ve got a Saevta. They should already have Karzahni in the bag by now.”

“Maybe this is a test for us,” Zaria said. “Like you said, we’re all — well, except for Varian — Toa who nobody’s really fond of. This could be our chance to prove ourselves.”

Seldaan snorted. “Justify it all you want. I still think there’s some ulterior motive to all this.”

“Well, I think you’re being paranoid,” said Chiara. “Right, Lesovikk?”

Lesovikk grunted in response. “Sure.”

Without looking at them, he could tell that the others were staring at him, exchanging uncertain expressions. He could also tell that both Orde and Varian were trying to get a read on him.

As if on cue, Orde said, “Are we nearing Karzahni?”

“We just passed through Zakaz’ sea gate,” Arctur said before Lesovikk could answer. “Karzahni’s should be next.”

“That’s only if they gave us the proper directions,” Seldaan muttered.

Lesovikk’s grip tightened over the edge of the boat. His heart beat the rhythm of a war drum against his chest. Already he could hear the dying screams of Matoran, the maniacal laughter of a deranged tyrant….

“Is he all right?” He could barely hear Varian through the noise of his own thoughts.

Orde slowly rose and stepped over to Lesovikk, resting a hand on his shoulder. The Toa of Air did not so much as flinch or budge, keeping his gaze on the destination ahead.

“Don’t let yourself be blinded by revenge,” Orde said quietly. “It won’t lead you anywhere good.”

“He needs to be brought to justice,” Lesovikk said under his breath.

“To justice, yes. In one piece. I don’t think the people who recruited us want him dead.”

“You think I’m going to try to kill him?”

“I mean… if you don’t keep your anger in check—”

“Don’t talk to me about anger!” Lesovikk snapped, swatting Orde’s hand away as he spun around to face the Toa of Psionics. “Not after what you did to the Zyglak!”

A dark cloud fell over Orde’s face as he stepped back. “You know that it was not my intention to—”

“It doesn’t matter,” Lesovikk growled. “Point is, you and I have both made severe mistakes. Everyone here has. We are not heroes; just failures. Failures who are expendable.”

“That’s a way to boost morale,” Arctur muttered.

Without warning, Lesovikk stormed up to him. “You’re a Toa of Gravity, aren’t you?”

Arctur let out a startled yelp. “Uh-um, yeah?”

“If I were to give you the order to crush Karzahni with your powers — if it were to come to that — would you do it?”

“Uh….” Arctur’s eyes darted to the others, making eye contact with anyone but the irate Toa standing in front of him. “Maybe…?”

“What do you mean maybe?”

“I mean, it would depend on the situation—”

“Listen here,” Lesovikk said quietly, leaning in closer to the Toa of Gravity. “This being — this demon — that we’re dealing with dedicates his life to torturing Matoran and rebuilding them into broken, lackluster bodies. If we bring him down, no matter the cost, think of all the Matoran we would be sparing from that fate.”

Zaria coughed. “Kind of a moot point, given the Makuta are—ow!” He was silenced by Chiara elbowing him in the gut.

Ignoring the exchange, Lesovikk kept his gaze locked on the nervous Arctur. “I don’t know how long you’ve been a Toa, but in case you’ve forgotten, it is our duty to defend the Matoran. All of them. If we don’t stop Karzahni, how many more are going to suffer at his hands?”

Arctur didn’t answer him nor did he meet his gaze. Grunting with annoyance, Lesovikk turned and returned to the bow of the ship.

“I failed to save the Matoran of my homeland from being sent to a terrible fate,” he muttered. “This is my only chance to make up for my failure.”

“But if you break the Toa Code in the process, can you really say you’ve redeemed yourself?” asked Varian.

Lesovikk sighed as he lowered his head, staring at the silvery sea as it carried them to their destination. “I stopped being a true Toa a long time ago….”

*  *  *

A large gust of wind sent the Manas crab flying over Takua’s head, causing the Chronicler to duck to avoid getting hit. He felt someone grab his arm as Rahaga Norik pulled him away, activating his back rotor to fly away from the chaos of the action.

A second Manas advanced towards Toa Orkahm, its claws snapping viciously. The Toa of Air brandished his arm blades and assumed a defensive position, waiting for the right moment to strike. Once the Manas was less than a few feet away from him, Orkahm jumped and landed onto the back of the crab’s carapace. As the Manas began to spin wildly, searching for its opponent, Orkahm extended one of his blades and plunged it into the Rahi’s head. It let out a blood-curdling scream as it hurtled aimlessly towards a cliff edge. Orkahm jumped off just as the Manas drove itself off the cliff and into the raging seas below.

Takua heard Norik make a disgusted sound as they watched the battle from above. “Barbaric,” he muttered.

Having heard him, Orkahm shot the red Rahaga a nasty glare. “The Toa Code doesn’t extend to Rahi when it comes to killing,” said the Toa of Air. “Besides, what would you have us do? Let them kill us?”

“There’s more than one way to tame a Rahi,” said Rahaga Iruini as he launched a Rhotuka spinner from his back. It made its way to a Manas that Toa Vhisola was dealing with and conjured an energy net that snagged around the crab’s legs. As the Manas fumbled around, Vhisola created a wave of water that launched the Rahi up into the sky and sent it flying into the distance.

This did little to even the odds, however. More Manas were coming up from the canyon, replacing their fallen brothers. Vhisola attempted to create another blast of water but succeeded in only creating a few droplets. Her damaged mask, leftover from their fight with Umarak, was starting to take its toll on her.

As if noticing her weakened state, one of the Manas advanced towards Vhisola and swung its claw into her chest, throwing her back. Orkahm cried out her name just as Rahaga Bomonga fired his Rhotuka spinner, freezing the Manas where it stood. Orkahm then activated his Mask of Telekinesis and lifted the paralyzed Rahi off the ground before throwing it into the path of three others. They all scuttled to avoid being hit, though the center one still ended up being smashed upon impact.

Still, the Rahi were not deterred. The Manas pressed on their attack, dodging the Rahaga’s Rhotuka spinners and Orkahm’s elemental attacks. As the Toa of Air clashed with one of the crabs, another came up to attack him from behind. Takua’s verbal warning came too late as the Manas struck Orkahm in the back and sent him sprawling to the ground. Despite the Rahaga’s efforts to impede the Rahi, the Manas proceeded to surround the defeated Toa and lift him off the ground. Others did the same with Vhisola before turning to carry the Toa back into the canyon whence they came.

“Where are they taking them?” Gaaki asked as she launched another spinner at the retreating Rahi.

“Great Spirit knows,” said Kualus. “But we have to stop them!”

“There is no stopping the inevitable.”

The voice had come from a lone figure that had suddenly appeared at the top of a slope up ahead. The size of a Matoran, his body was warped and twisted. His arms were long and thin while his legs were short and looked almost like stumps. Adorning his face was a haunting mask that obscured his eyes in darkness while the mouthpiece made it seem like he was hallowing in pain. He carefully regarded Takua and the six Rahaga from where he stood, making no move to greet them.

“Do you know where they’re taking them?” Norik called out to the newcomer.

The strange Matoran ignored the question as he said, “Follow me. Our master awaits.”

“We have no interest to meet with Karzahni,” said Pouks. “Tell us how to save our friends so that we can leave!”

“There is no leaving Karzahni. If you are wise, you will follow me.”

“And if we refuse to do as you say?” asked Iruini.

The Matoran shook his head. “You have no choice.”

As if on cue, a new horde of Manas crabs appeared behind him. They dispersed until they had the Rahaga and Takua surrounded, leaving no room for escape.

“This is your home now. Our home.”

Bionicle Alternatives: Empire of Makuta V, Chapter One

Because having just one in-progress story isn't enough for me.

CHAPTER ONE

“You better have a good reason for summoning me, brother,” Makuta Spiriah growled as he landed on the black sands of Artidax.

“If I didn’t, would I be risking my life to meet you here?” Makuta Krika retorted sharply.

It had been several years since Krika had last seen Spiriah. After the disastrous results of his tampering with the Skakdi species, Spiriah had gone into hiding after the Brotherhood had declared him a rogue agent. Krika had to admit he was surprised Spiriah had even responded to his call, though it was possible the Makuta of Zakaz considered Krika more forgiving than most Makuta. After all, Krika had been the one who decided to spare Makuta Miserix.

When Teridax seized control of the Brotherhood, Krika had been one of the last to join him. Having reservations about the Plan, Krika had spared Miserix rather than kill him as ordered, in case the former Makuta leader was needed should Teridax’s plan turn out for the worse. For better or for worse, it seemed that Krika had been right in his judgment.

“I must admit,” Spiriah said as he walked up to his fellow Makuta. “I would have thought you’d be back at Destral, invading Metru Nui.”

Krika frowned. He had not been to Destral since the Hand of Artakha had attacked. He had hoped leading Mallake and his followers to Destral would have impeded the Empire’s conquest at least somewhat. Clearly that was not the case if they were already taking back Metru Nui.

Noticing his brother’s hesitation, Spiriah tilted his head. “Unless… you are no longer on speaking terms with the rest of the Brotherhood.”

“You could say that,” Krika murmured. “You do realize where we are, correct?”

“Of course I do. It’s where we brought Miserix. Where you decided to do the stupidest thing a Makuta could do.”

“If you knew of my treachery, why didn’t you do anything about it?”

Spiriah snorted. “And just who would’ve believed me? You outrank me whereas I’ve always been the laughing stock of the Brotherhood. I would’ve only made more of a fool of myself had I told anyone.”

“Perhaps you have a point.” Krika fell silent for a moment, casting his gaze to the active volcanoes of Artidax. Finally, in a low whisper, he said, “You realize why we’re here.”

Spiriah frowned. “Do you actually think it will work?”

“No. But it’s all I can think to do. Teridax must be stopped and Miserix may very well be the only one who can stop him.”

“He won’t be pleased to see us.”

“I know,” was all Krika said as he began making his way towards the central volcano.

*  *  *

Macku held her breath as she watched the squad of Rahkshi and Vahki Zadakh march past her. Behind them trailed over a dozen Po-Matoran, all held in shackles as they were taken to the prison in the Canyon of Unending Whispers. She scanned the group to see if Hafu was among them but did not spot the carver.

Once the entourage had passed, Macku made a dash for the hideout, quickly squeezing herself into the alleyway and crawling through the crack in the wall, just big enough for a Matoran to fit through. As soon as she had gotten through to the other side, she was greeted with an armful of Po-Matoran.

“Thank Mata Nui you made it,” Hewkii said as he tightened the hug.

Macku managed a grin despite her insides being crushed. “Those… Vahki… wouldn’t know what.… Okay, you can let go now.”

Hewkii apologized as he released her. Once Macku had recomposed herself, she looked around at the other Matoran in the former Toa Metru hideout. Nuparu was huddled in a corner, tinkering with some kind of machinery. In another corner, a red Ta-Matoran was moving slowly in one place, though Macku had no idea what he was trying to accomplish. Finally, standing in the center of the room was the Ko-Matoran Matoro, studying some kind of tablet in his hands. He lifted his head to give Macku a nod of acknowledgment before returning his attention to the tablet.

Turning back to Hewkii, Macku said, “Have you heard word from the others? I already know Nokama won’t be able to leave her occupation….”

Hewkii shook his head. “Nothing. Matau was supposed to be here by now, but he obviously hasn’t made it yet. Matoro tells me that the Vahki in his Metru have Nuju in their thrall. Great Spirit knows where Vakama is….”

Macku gestured to the slow-moving Ta-Matoran. “Wouldn’t he know? He’s a Ta-Matoran, isn’t he?”

“His name’s Kapura, and he says he hasn’t seen Vakama since the invasion began.”

Macku slowly nodded as she regarded Kapura carefully. After a moment, she glanced back at Hewkii. “Do you know why he’s…?”

“No,” he muttered. “I’ve been too afraid to ask.”

She let out a sigh. So far, this resistance wasn’t shaping up to be as strong as the one she was a part of back when they first rose against Makuta. It didn’t help that they now had the entire Brotherhood on their shores, with endless hordes of Rahkshi, Vahki, and Visorak at their disposal. It was honestly a miracle that enough of them had escaped capture so far given how swift the takeover had been.

Shifting her attention to Nuparu, she walked over to the Onu-Matoran and took a moment to regard the machine he was working on. It looked like some kind of walker with long arms ending in hooks and a small cockpit for a Matoran to fit inside.

At this point, Macku was well-aware of Nuparu’s history with mobile machines. Between the Kralhi, the Vahki, and the short-lived Kralik, the inventor had not had a good track record for machines that didn’t turn out bad for the Matoran. She could only imagine the amount of pressure he had weighing on his shoulders at this very moment.

As Macku struggled to think of something to say, Nuparu spoke to her without even looking up from his work. “Don’t worry. This one won’t have a mind of its own.”

“Come again?” Macku asked.

“This one can be operated by a Matoran. It won’t be like the Kralhi or the Vahki or the—”

“Nuparu.” She placed a hand on his shoulder. “Stop beating yourself up over those things. You know that none of us blame you, right? Especially not for the Vahki; that’s all Makuta’s doing.”

“You did, once,” Nuparu replied.

Macku closed her eyes as she exhaled deeply. “That was before I realized how big this situation really was. This is… this is bigger than any of us. And we all need to stick together if we want to have any hope of getting through this.”

“Dang, that’s pretty deep,” said Kapura, appearing right behind Macku.

The Ga-Matoran let out a yell, nearly falling into Nuparu and his work. “Mata Nui! How did you— I didn’t even hear you walk up to me! You were way over there!”

Kapura beamed. “You mean it worked? My stealth technique was successful?”

“If by ‘stealth technique’ you mean ‘scare the living daylights out of me,’ then yeah, it was really successful.” Macku rolled her eyes. “Seriously, don’t ever do that again.”

Kapura was still smiling as he walked back to his corner. Shaking her head, Macku turned back to Nuparu to see him staring at the Ta-Matoran with a curious expression.

“What is it?” she asked him.

“Nothing,” he murmured, rubbing his chin. “Just thought I had an idea….”

“Well, we’re going to need some kind of plan if we want to move forward,” chimed in Hewkii. “I’m having Matoro try and decipher tablets Kodan left behind when he was Chronicler.”

Macku tilted her head at the Ko-Matoran. “Why do you need to decipher them?”

“Kodan always wrote in a special language he made up so that no one could read his work and copy it,” Hewkii explained. “Kodan was strange like that.”

“And Matoro can translate it?”

“I’ve always had an interest in different languages,” said Matoro. “Whenever I visit the Onu-Metru Archives, I like to study how the Rahi communicate with their kin.”

“And what exactly is it that Kodan’s written that could be of use to us?” Macku asked.

“Toa Mangai battle plans.”

Macku blinked, shaking her head. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Kodan followed the Toa Mangai wherever they went,” Matoro went on. “He would observe how they operated as a team and how Toa Lhikan would plan out their missions.”

“And… you really think we would be able to pull them off? We don’t even have elemental or mask powers like Toa do.”

“Obviously we would have to modify them to account for our limitations,” said Hewkii. “Think of it like an Akilini game; different matches call for different strategies.”

Macku frowned. “Except we’re not going up against another team of Matoran. We’re going up against the entire Brotherhood of Makuta.”

“Hey, since when did the Toa Mangai ever go up against another team of Toa?” Hewkii pointed out. “If they could bring down the Kanohi Dragon, then we can take down the Makuta.”

Macku did not feel quite as optimistic as Hewkii was, but she couldn’t bring herself to argue with the Po-Matoran. “I suppose any form of action is better than inaction,” she admitted. “So long as we’re all in this together.”

“Agreed,” said Kapura, appearing right behind her.

Macku didn’t even bother stopping her fist from flying into the Ta-Matoran’s face.

A WORLD OF DARKNESS

Transformers Regenerated: Pax Cybertronia XII, Chapter Five

Boy, this chapter's been long in the making...

DEVASTATION

--Cybertron--

“I’ve got a lock on him! Skydive, Slingshot, form up behind me!”

The two Autobot jets took up flanking positions behind Silverbolt as they advanced towards the giant green-and-purple combiner attacking Fortress Maximus, leaving smoke trails in their wake. Once it was within firing range, the three Aerialbots unloaded on the gestalt, pelting its armor pelting with bullets and blaster bolts. The combiner made a grunt of annoyance as it shifted its attention away from Fortress Maximus’ central tower and swung a massive arm at its assailants. Silverbolt immediately pulled up, just missing the massive purple fist, while Skydive and Slingshot split up and flew in opposite directions to get out of the arc of its swing.

“That barely left a dent in it!” Slingshot exclaimed as he and Skydive moved to rejoin their leader. “At this rate, Iacon will already be in ruins by the time we bring it down — if we ever do!”

“We’re going to need a different course of action,” Silverbolt grunted. “Fireflight, any word from the Council?”

“Starscream said he’d be sending his Seekers shortly,” answered a red and white jet flying below the other three Aerialbots. “I haven’t seen any yet.”

“Are we really going to trust Starscream of all bots to send us help?” remarked Skydive.

“Like it or not, Iacon is just as much his city as it is everyone else on the Council’s,” Silverbolt replied. “If we lose Iacon, Starscream loses whatever seat of power he has his grip on. He will defend Iacon if it’s the last thing he—”

“Look alive, Autobots!”

The four Autobot jets all scattered as a hail of purple fire came out of nowhere and rained down on the combiner. As the gestalt let out a roar, Skywarp teleported into view and fired upon the giant again, zipping in and out of existence before it could do anything to attack him.

“Man, somebody please tell me they recorded that,” the black-and-purple Seeker cackled over the Aerialbots’ intercom. “Did you guys see how they—”

“Focus, Skywarp,” came the morose sound of Thundercracker’s voice just as the blue Decepticon jet arrived with a squadron of Seekers. “You can brag about it after we’ve cleaned up this mess.”

While Skywarp continued to play games with the combiner, the Seekers formed up with the Aerialbots. As they began to circle their way back to Fortress Maximus, Thundercracker flew up alongside Silverbolt.

“You don’t seem happy to see us,” the blue Seeker commented.

“We’re simply focused on the mission,” Silverbolt answered stiffly.

“Uh-huh. So do you guys have a plan on how to take this thing down?”

“So far, all I’ve got is to just keep shooting at it.”

Thundercracker chuckled at that. “Funny. I think a lot of us were thinking the same thing.”

*  *  *

Battletrap cringed as the ceiling made a terrible noise over his head. The whole facility was shaking as the combiner outside — “Devastator,” it called itself — dealt with the fortress’ defenses and any Autobot (or Decepticon) that stood in its way. Sometimes, though, Battletrap wondered if Devastator had forgotten he and the other Ultracons were still inside and would just keep hitting Fort Max until it collapsed in on all of them, rendering this entire operation moot.

He couldn’t dwell on that, of course. The Autobot in charge of the place was trying to trap him in with walls and blast doors; he had to keep moving if he wanted to find those he had been sent to free and make it out in one piece (or at least two functioning components).

As another blast door slammed behind him, just narrowly missing him, Battletrap took a sharp left and saw an elevator at the very end of the hall. Speeding towards it, he deployed his rotor blade and sawed through the door before jumping down into the shaft. After passing one or two floors, he grabbed onto a ledge and swung himself into an open hallway. Mere seconds after he was through, the door slammed shut and would have cut his arm off had he not moved it away in time.

“Sweet spark,” he muttered to himself. “This Autobot sure means business.”

“Battletrap?” the voice of his operator — Quake — crackled into his audio receptor. “What’s taking so long? Where are—”

“Coming right up, boss!” Quickening his pace, Battletrap navigated his way through the corridor, avoiding bisection by blast door along the way, before finally coming across the cell — or cells, rather — that he was after.

On either side of him, protected by enforced ray shields, were two Decepticons who had made up the combiner Liokaiser during the Thunderwing War. To his left were Guyhawk and Killbison while Drillhorn and Hellbat occupied the one on his right. All four of them looked less than excited to see him.

“Hey, guys!” Battletrap said in an overly cheerful tone. “I’m here to break you out!”

“Is that what this all is?” Guyhawk asked as the building shook violently.

“I know it’s not exactly the most clean rescue operation,” Battletrap said, getting to work on the control panels. “But at least it’s working so far, eh?”

“’Working?’ We’re not even out yet!” snarled Killbison.

“Hold on to your equinoids, I’m nearly there.” After bypassing the first shield layer and getting to work on the other, Battletrap glanced furtively between the two cells. “Say, which one here has Deathsaurus in it?”

“I think he’s at the very end,” murmured Hellbat. “Where they’re keeping Overlord’s corpse.”

“Oh, slag, Overlord? Why haven’t they smelted him for parts already?”

“Stop asking questions and get us out of here already!” Drillhorn snapped, slamming his fist against a wall for punctuation.

“Alright, alright! Nearly there!” After another minute of hacking his way through the control panel, Battletrap finally brought down the last firewall and the ray shields began to dissipate. Allowing himself a proud grin, the Duocon pivoted to head down the hallway. “There! Now, let’s get ol’ Deathsaur—”

“I don’t think so.” Coming up behind him, Killbison threw his fist into the back of Battletrap’s head and sent him sprawling face-first onto the floor. “We’re making our own escape plan.”

“What?!” Battletrap turned onto his back and looked up at the four Decepticons in shock. “But… Deathsaurus is your leader! He’s, like, one of the oldest warlords!”

Guyhawk sneered. “Yeah, and look where that got us. I think it’s by time we make our own decisions.”

“But, guys, Ratbat needs all five of you to form Liokaiser so we can—”

“Ratbat?!” Drillhorn snorted. “Since when was Ratbat in charge? That’s like… that would be like making Hellbat leader but worse!”

Hellbat glared at him. “Hilarious. Now are we going to get out of here or what?”

Killbison scratched his head. “Uh… how do we get out of here?”

Battletrap scowled as he got back to his feet. “Well, maybe if you guys would listen to me, we could—”

“I’ve got it!” Shoving Battletrap back down, Drillhorn deployed a large drill from his arm and pointed it at the ground. “All of the chaos is coming from outside and above. Naturally, that only leaves down!”

“Are you sure this is the bottom floor?” Guyhawk asked.

“It’s not!” Battletrap screeched.

“Then we’ll just have to keep drilling until we get there!” Drillhorn said.

“No! You’ll just make things worse!”

Guyhawk laughed at him. “Relax, genericon. Drillhorn is a strategist. He knows what he’s—”

The pink Decepticon was cut off by a blast door falling between them, cutting off Battletrap from those he had just rescued.

“Finally!” he heard Cerebros say through the intercom. “I’m just about fed up with all of this!”

“Oh, yeah?!” Scrambling to his feet, Battletrap started to run towards the end of the hall. “Wait until I activate my secret weapon!”

“Secret weapon? What are you—”

Battletrap answered by separating himself from the waste. His upper half instantly transformed into a white helicopter and began to fly its way towards the cell at the very end. Battleslash could hear blast doors closing behind him in attempts to stop him, but the helicopter was too fast for the Autobot to react in time. While he lost Roadtrap along the way, Battleslash soon made it to the pair of cells waiting for him at the very end of the corridor. He transformed to robot mode just as the last blast door fell down behind him, too late to capture him.

Rubbing his hands with glee, Battleslash looked up into the cell containing Deathsaurus. The former Decepticon warlord was still in his monstrous “combiner” body, looking not all too dissimilar from the Autobot Sky Lynx. Battleslash wasn’t sure why this was the case but he also didn’t have time to care. Flying himself over to the control panel, he got to work as he had the last one. As if noticing him for the first time, Deathsaurus lifted his lizard-like head from its resting position and inclined his head towards the Duocon curiously. Momentarily meeting his gaze, Battleslash grinned and waved at the warlord.

“Hi! This is a rescue!”

Smoke exhumed from the dragon’s nose as Deathsaurus snorted. “Is it?”

“Yup! I apologize for my over-excitement; I’ve never met a warlord face-to-face before, especially one of your status. My name’s Battleslash, by the way.”

“Charmed. Are you about done?”

“Just about—” Before Battleslash could even finish, he felt a large hand fall on his shoulder. Before he had a chance to react, he was wrenched away from the control panel and thrown across the room, crashing into a wall. Rolling onto his back, he looked up to find himself staring down the barrel of a gun.

“Choose your next action carefully, Decepticon,” growled the Weaponizer known as Cog. “Because it just might be the very last thing you do.”

Battleslash said nothing as he glanced furtively between the gun and Deathsaurus in his cell. The former warlord met his gaze with an impassive look on his serpentine face. Battleslash searched it for some kind of hint as to what he should do next, but found nothing. Returning his gaze to the Autobot, the Duocon reluctantly raised his arms.

“Smart.” Keeping his gun trained on Battleslash, Cog raised a hand to his audio piece. “This is Cog Unit-826 to Control. I’ve got the other Duocon in the bag.” He stood there for a moment, as if waiting for a response. When he spoke again, the tone of his voice was laced with confusion. “Control? Do you read—”

A cacophony of noise silenced everything and everyone as a giant purple fist tore through the walls. Light poured into the chamber as metal was parted to reveal a titanic green combiner looming over Fortress Maximus. Jets of all kinds zipped around and fired on it but dealt little damage on the giant. Cog spun around and unloaded his guns on Devastator, as if he thought they would do any good. Devastator made an irritated grunt before bringing his fist down onto the Weaponizer, smashing him into pieces. As Battleslash backed up against the wall, not wanting to get smashed in the process, he noticed that the ray shield to Deathsaurus’ cell had dissipated and the warlord was calmly stepping out. It was as if this whole thing had been orchestrated by him.

“Relax, my friend,” Deathsaurus said to Battleslash. “The tide has turned in our favor. Today… the Decepticons rise again.”

Ardan-Gaea: Aetan's Journal

AETAN’S JOURNAL

Greetings, traveler. If you are reading this journal, it either means that circumstances outside of my control have forced me to abandon my writings and thus this journal… or I am dead. In any case, I hope that my work provides you with sufficient information on the world we live in and the dangers that may lurk within it. Hopefully it will prevent you from making the same mistakes I made.

Hopefully.

ENTRY #1: THE ANCIENTS

Let us start from the beginning.

According to what most believe, the world of Ardan-Gaea was created by a race of omnipresent cosmic beings known as the Ancients. These gods were divided into two separate pantheons: The First Pantheon, also known as the Great Ones, and the Second Pantheon otherwise known as the Dark Ones. The First Pantheon had more of a hand in the genesis of our world, as creation was more in their nature than their lesser, darker compatriots. When the first races were born, they instantly took to worshiping the Great Ones and named their world after the King and Queen of the Pantheon, respectively. These races were said to share many aspects and characteristics with the gods that had created them, such as Gaea’s beauty, Ardan’s strength, Kronon’s knowledge, Virlux’s wisdom, and so on.

The Dark Ones did not take too kindly to the level of worship and praise their counterparts received. Desperate to achieve the same gratification, the Dark Ones attempted to bring life of their own into existence. However, because of their inherent destructive nature, these creations ended up twisted and imperfect, lacking the positive qualities the Great Ones’ creations possessed. These horrifying creatures barely registered as sentient and were laughed upon by the gods of the First Pantheon. 

Enraged by this insulting treatment, the Dark Ones turned against the Great Ones and their creations. Paving a wave of destruction across Ardan-Gaea, the Dark Ones defiled Ardan’s beautiful forests and poisoned Gaea’s serene oceans; they dismantled Tonza’s statues and burned down Virlux’s temple of worship. The Great Ones did everything in their power to repair the damage the Dark Ones wrought but their efforts were frequently rendered futile as the Dark One’s simply destroyed what they fixed again.

Things would eventually take a turn for the worse when something unexpected happened: two members of one of the first races, a male and a female, had found a way to procreate and ended up giving birth to a child. While this was a pleasant surprise to the Great Ones, it was taken as an insult by the leader of the Dark Ones; how could these fragile, mortal creatures be able to create life when he – a god – could not? The birth of the Firstborn pushed the Dark One over the edge and he ended up killing the infant out of revenge. 

This unspeakable act was the breaking point for Ardan of the Great Ones; enraged beyond all belief, he unleashed his fury on the Dark Ones, who had not expected such anger from who they saw as a peaceful deity. Ardan focused most of his anger towards the one who had committed the act itself, delivering him a fate that was so horrific that the other Dark Ones were sufficiently cowed and forced to retreat to parts unknown.

When all was said and done, Ardan was left a weak and broken shell of his former self. While what he had done to the Dark One had drained him of all his power, the loss of life that had spurred him to this point left him hollow and inconsolable. Despite the others’ best efforts, Ardan shut himself off from the rest of the world, refusing to ever speak to anyone – god or mortal – ever again for fear of growing too attached to them only to lose them as he did the Firstborn. The other Great Ones were also affected, as the once-perfect world they had created was forever tarnished. While they did what they could to repair the damage that had been done, they would eventually depart for their realm as well, ceasing all contact with the races they had brought into existence.

Not fully understanding what had happened, the first races continued to praise and worship the Great Ones for all they had brought them, in the hopes that one day their prayers would be answered and that the gods would return to bestow upon their gifts of creation once more.

They would be waiting for a very long time.

ENTRY #2: THE FIVE KINGDOMS

In the initial years that followed the Ancients’ departure, the first races were joined as one society, helping one another survive in the primitive world. As time went on however and these races started to further develop, differences between the races quickly arose. The tall, beautiful children of the Sky Goddess Exalta desired to live high above the land; they saw themselves as more akin to the gods than any of the other races and therefore deserved to live as close to the Great Ones’ realm as possible. The short and hard-working children of Ardan, on the other hand, advocated that they be closer to the world the Ancients had given them and to become one with nature. Still others had different ideas, such as the quiet people of Gaea who thought they should live in their Mother’s oceans as they were sure to be stronger than Ardan’s land after the Great Father had used up all of his energy.

It soon became apparent that none of the races could agree on anything. Small disagreements turned into squabbles which then escalated into fights. Before long, lines had been drawn and the first races had become divided. Many ended up simply retreating to their preferred location and left the others behind: 

the Children of Exalta broke off a piece of land and used their magic to propel it into the sky. This floating island was named Caelus and the people who lived on it became known as “elves” (derived from the term “the elevated ones”);

the Children of Ardan began creating tunnels that led beneath the earth, where they built underground cities from stone and other valuable materials they discovered, building an entire economy around these precious minerals. These people would come to be known as “dwellers” or “dwarves”;

the Children of Gaea dove into the oceans, which was a realm much more accommodating to their prehensile, snake-like lower bodies. Overtime, they would evolve to have bodies not unlike the fish and other marine life that shared their domain. They would become known as “gaeans” after the Goddess they worshiped, though some races would coin the term “mere-folk” (translated to “people of the sea”).

When all was said and done, the only race left dwelling on the surface were the last race to have been created by the Ancients. Brought into existence by the talentless Marn, they lacked the beauty of the elves, the grace of the gaeans, and the strength of the dwellers. According to a legend circulated among the elves, when Marn had presented his creations to his brothers and sisters, they had looked upon the lackluster race and deemed them inferior to the other races. Undeterred, Marn placed his creations into the world of Ardan-Gaea and gave them the name “humans” — a word which is rumored to roughly translate to “simple being” in the tongue of the Ancients.

With the other races having departed, the humans decided to make the surface their home and began developing their own cities. However, they were not alone on the surface; the creations of the Dark Ones also still roamed in the wilderness, living off of wild creatures and such. Overtime, they would begin to evolve into an intelligent race although the other races, including the humans, looked down upon them. These dark creatures would be given a variety of names: orcs, ogres, goblins, and other names that are best not repeated here. What they called themselves is a mystery, though the civilization they came to establish would become known as the Xal Society.

Before long, close to a thousand years after the Ancients had departed from their world, the Five Kingdoms of Ardan-Gaea had been established; the Sky Kingdom ruled from high above, the Iron Kingdom dwelled in the underground caverns, the Sea Kingdom swam in the gorgeous seas, the Mountain Kingdom of the Xal ruled from terrain mortals dared not travel, and the human-ruled Kingdom of Ardan ruled what had not yet been occupied.

Thus, began the Age of the Five Kingdoms. 

ENTRY #3: THE WIZARDS

The word “magic” has a varied range of connotations depending on who you say it to. Some will laugh at you, others will give you a blank look, and even a few will threaten to rip out your lungs if you dare speak that word to them again.

But just what is magic? Magic is the universal word for the unexplained; to describe the powers of the Ancients that run through Ardan-Gaea and give the world life. But the Great Ones were not the only ones to have wielded this power; once, during the height of the Five Kingdoms’ age, there was an entire order of beings who could wield this magic and were dedicated to preserving the revered knowledge of the Ancients.

No one’s quite sure how these “wizards”, as they were called, could wield such power. Many believe that they were specially chosen by the Great Ones to carry their energy and use it to protect Ardan-Gaea in their stead. However, there are quite a few skeptics who think that the wizards were merely entertainers who used elaborate tricks to fool the world into thinking they could do the impossible. The fact that most wizards kept to themselves and rarely interacted with others didn’t do much to quash such rumors.

While it is said that a being of any race could wield magic (save for the twisted creations of the Dark Ones), most recorded wizards have been human. The reason for this is unknown, though some speculate it may have to do with their origins; perhaps Marn had sacrificed anything that could have made them standout in order to give them such abilities. However, such speculation is simply that and nothing more. After all, there are tales of a small order of elven wizards who maintain the power source keeping their island afloat, safeguarding it from troublemakers.

Naturally, the creatures of the Xal resent these wizards for wielding the power of the Great Ones and will go to great lengths to kill one if they ever cross paths with one. However, not all wizards necessarily use their powers for good; some, in fact, have tried to tap into the powers of the Dark Ones and learn their forbidden knowledge. To date, only one wizard has ever come close to succeeding, and it is because of them that the Five Kingdoms came together for the first time since the departure of the Ancients…. 

ENTRY #4: THE WICKED SORCERER

For the first five centuries of their existence, the Five Kingdoms had little to no contact with one another. Every once in a great while, a human child would claim to have spotted a gaean relaxing near a waterfall, or a dweller would catch a glimpse of an ogre from within a cave in the mountains; but for the most part, each of the kingdoms lived in their own individual bubble.

That is, until, they were brought together by a single individual: The Wicked Sorcerer.

As mentioned before, most wizards tended to use their powers for good. But Waldis the Wicked was an exception to this rule; he desired to use his magic to reach limits that had been never before dreamed. He wanted to tap into the essence of the Dark Ones and discover their secrets. Shunned and exiled by his fellow wizards, Waldis ventured out into the wilderness and came upon a settlement of wild creatures. The animals and insects which populated Ardan-Gaea had been created by the Ancients to maintain the world and provide food for the five races and were never intended to be much more beyond that. They lacked the intelligence necessary to form a society.

Waldis sought to change that.

The Wicked One used his powers to invade the creatures’ minds and bend them to his will. Dragons, serpents, and other such kin fell under his control and came to obey his every command. With this new army, Waldis launched an attack on the Ardan Kingdom, seeking to dethrone the ruling King and take the crown for himself.

The Kingdom itself never saw the attack coming. While there had been whispers of a rogue sorcerer plotting his revenge, such rumors had been dismissed by King Immor. In his eyes, the wizards were a band of fools who posed no threat to his kingdom. He and others who thought like him soon learned the hard way how wrong they were when a dragon dropped upon Castle Ardan and tore through the stone walls. Disturbed from his slumber, King Immor rushed out of his bed chambers to see the dragon seconds before it consumed him in a column of flame.

In time, the Kingdom had fallen to Waldis’ control and the castle was surrounded by dragons, threatening to devour anyone who tried to enter or leave the grounds. To the people of Ardan, all seemed lost. But a glimmer of hope remained as the King’s son, Prince Galen, had been away on a journey at the time of his father’s demise. Upon hearing word of what had been befallen his Kingdom, Galen did the unthinkable and sought out help from the outside world.

The first people he approached were the gaeans. He was familiar with the mer-people as a group of them had saved his life as a child when he nearly drowned while fishing with his uncle. Meeting up with his former savior, Galen gave her a message to deliver to the Sea Kingdom, imploring the Sea-Lord to provide aid to the Ardan Kingdom. He next set out for the Mines of Narud, the only location where dwellers were willing to meet with humans to trade valuable materials. Galen payed one of the dwarves nearly half of his gold to deliver a message to the Iron Empress, before setting out once more to gather any straggling rangers and knights he could find.

It is likely that, had things gone differently, the Sky and Mountain Kingdoms would have never become involved in the conflict. But Waldis, as it happened, had become overly confident with himself thanks to his successful ousting of Immor that he decided to strike at the Sky Kingdom by sending one of his dragons to the floating island of Caelus. This would prove to be a mistake as the dragon was instantly spotted by the elves and just as quickly shot out of the sky (By what, few can say, though some believe it was caused by the elven wizards supposed to exist on the island). When the fallen dragon touched ground, it created a quake that could be felt throughout Ardan-Gaea.

This encounter brought the elves out of their isolation and the Elven King sent his Sky-Riders down to the Ardan Kingdom to strike back. While birds and dragons clashed talons, the Sea and Iron Kingdoms agreed to the Prince’s demands, especially once the quake caused by the fallen dragon gave them proof enough as to what was happening. This quake also stirred the Xal from their hiding and their forces marched onto Ardan’s grounds at the same time as Prince Galen’s resistance.

Surrounded and outnumbered by people from all five of the kingdoms, Waldis the Wicked could only watch helplessly as his army of dragons and beasts was swiftly subdued. Not wishing to face the repercussions that were sure to befall him, Waldis took his chosen dragon steed and fled from the Kingdom, disappearing into the wilderness.

In the aftermath of the battle, which would go down in history as the Unity War, Galen was crowned as King Ardan V, a dynasty name that was reserved only for monarchs who proved exceptional skill in service to the Kingdom. Seeing the worth in an alliance, the five rulers pledged their loyalty to one another and agreed to come to each other’s aid when it was required.

Thus, for the first time in five hundred years, the Five Kingdoms had come together.

ENTRY #5: MALUMARBOR

This would not be the last time “dark magic” would pose a threat to the Five Kingdoms. Despite his defeat and subsequent exile, Waldis’ actions merely opened the gateway for possibilities previously unheard of. It wasn’t long before other aspiring witches and wizards were inspired to test the limits of what magic was capable of and use it to create things never before thought of.

One of these opportunistic individuals was a young witch named Natia. Raised by her mother, who wielded magic as well, Natia had an affinity for nature and was mesmerized by the beauty it created. When she first learned as a little girl that things such as trees and plants were alive, she asked her mother why they were incapable of moving or communicating the same way people and animals were. Her mother’s answer was simply, “That is simply the way things are.”

Unsatisfied with this answer, Natia sought to find a way that would make things such as trees able to act and live the same way people did. Once she came of age and had fully developed her magical talent, she headed off in search of knowledge that would provide her with the means of accomplishing this goal. Her quest inevitably led her to the forbidden teachings of Waldis the Wicked, and her attention was instantly drawn to the spells Waldis had used to control the minds of the dragons. After purchasing a tree sapling from a merchant, Natia ventured into Ardan-Gaea’s wilderness and planted the sapling. Then, she got to work.

Over the course of several months, she used her magic to not only accelerate the tree’s growth — reducing its span from several decades to less than a year — but to also tap into its essence and, essentially, give the nascent tree a mind of its own. The exact mechanics of what Natia did to the sapling and how she accomplished those feats remain a mystery to this day. After countless hours of work, Natia soon achieved what she had set out to do. By the time the sapling had fully grown from its adolescent state into an adult tree, it had gained a mind of its own.

This quickly proved to be the worst and last mistake Natia had ever made in her life.

Many speculate on what exactly went awry in Natia’s experiments. Some like to think that Natia’s spells had, rather than create a consciousness for the tree, summoned Waldis the Wicked’s spirit from the World-That-Lays-Beyond and imbued it in the tree itself. Others wonder if perhaps she had somehow transferred her own soul into the tree. Whatever the case may be, the end result was that Natia was dead — whether out of exhaustion or a result of murder — and Malumarbor was born.

After having not heard from her daughter in quite some time, Natia’s mother hired a bounty hunter to go looking for her and to bring her back home. Venturing into the wilderness, the hunter searched high and low for Natia, calling out her name and telling her that he meant no harm. He eventually reached a wide clearing, which was surrounded by foliage and dominated by a large dark tree planted in the center. Laying at its roots, resting peacefully with her eyelids closed and her hands folded over her stomach, was the recently-departed Natia.

Upon coming across her body, the hunter swore aloud and declared, “By the Ancients! What in the heavens could have happened to this poor girl?”

The tree answered him: “I did.”

The hunter was taken aback, not just from receiving a response but also the fact that it had come from the tree. After making sure he was not dreaming, the hunter said to the tree: “Did you kill her?”

The tree answered: “I am responsible.”

The hunter asked, “How is it you are a tree who is capable of speaking?”

The tree responded: “Because I exist.”

“How did you come to exist,” asked the hunter, “and deprive this poor girl of her life?”

The tree was silent for a moment. At the hunter’s feet, the ground began to tremble and he started to see roots sprouting out from beneath the soil, snaking towards his boots and coiling around his ankles. He opened his mouth as if to speak, or to scream, but another root suddenly sprang out and wrapped itself around his neck.

“Because,” the tree said after some consideration, the first of its kind to be capable of such thought, “I am Malumarbor.”

The hunter could only gaze at the tree in terror in the few seconds he had before the roots pulled him back down into the ground, burying him beneath the tree’s soil for all eternity.

When Natia’s mother did not hear from the hunter, she sent another one to find both him and her daughter. After they met the same fate, she sent another one; then another one; then another one. With each man or woman Malumarbor devoured, the larger it began to grow, its roots spreading all across the forest and sprouting out to form new trees. In time, the clearing in which Natia had planted her small sapling had grown into a full forest all of its own, which quickly overlapped with the rest of the wilderness and merged the other trees with Malumarbor’s consciousness.

Legend has it that Natia’s mother never stopped sending hunters until the day she died, wanting her daughter back more than anything else in the world. Legend also says that Natia’s body continues to lay peacefully in the center of the forest, cradled by Malumarbor’s roots and looking as young and serene as she ever had.

In fact, some say while venturing just on the outskirts of Malumarbor’s forest, if one were to listen closely, you would be able to hear what sounded much like weeping.