Now…

Turaga Nuju sat alone in the observatory of a Knowledge Tower. All the lightstones in the chamber had been doused. He watched the stars make their flight across the sky in silence. His exaltation over Mata Nui's revival had been replaced by grief over the Toa lost in the fight.

Many centuries ago, disaster had forced the Matoran of Metru Nui and their Toa to relocate to a wild, previously unknown land. That disaster had in part been caused by the pride and overconfidence of the Toa Metru, of whom Nuju was one. After the Toa became the village elders called Turaga, they had tried to put the past behind them—all but Nuju. He adopted the language of flying Rahi birds in place of Matoran, only speaking the common language in emergencies. It was his way of reminding the others of what they had been through and the dangers of arrogance.

Of course, speaking another language meant Nuju needed a translator so others could understand him. He chose a Ko-Matoran hunter/tracker with a real respect for the natural world. Matoro had seemed taken aback by the offer, but eventually agreed to be tutored in Nuju's language.

Over the next 1,000 years, the Turaga and the Matoran would be almost constant companions. Matoro had shown himself to be efficient and trustworthy, keeping all that he heard in the Turaga's councils to himself. Nuju came to rely on him, both for his skills and for his honesty. He was a reminder of the true nobility in every Matoran.

And now he was gone.

The cold, analytical side of Nuju told him this was an acceptable exchange—one Toa for the life of the universe. It was, in fact, a small price to pay for such a monumental event. Feeling regret or sadness was not logical. After all, what was the alternative—Matoro living, and the universe dying? Would that have been better? For reasons he did not understand and never would, Nuju suddenly realized that the answer might just be 'yes.'

What sort of Great Spirit requires the death of a brave, noble hero for his survival? If a being as powerful as Mata Nui could not thrive without demanding such a sacrifice, then maybe existence needed to learn to get along without Mata Nui, he thought angrily.

Nuju sighed. No, that wasn't right. If Mata Nui was not worth saving, then Matoro had died for nothing. That he could not accept.

He looked down from the observatory to the streets below. Most of the Matoran residents of the city had not heard about Matoro yet, only that their world was not going to end, after all. They were rejoicing. Nuju felt even more detached from them than usual, for in his Knowledge Tower there would be no celebration. There would be only memories of a good translator, an honest Matoran, and—Nuju finally admitted—a lost friend.

X X X

"…and a Toa who saved a universe." Hahli stopped speaking. Unsure if she was done, Kopeke waited. It seemed as if she had forgotten he was there. Then a sad smile suddenly flashed across her features. "I'm sorry, Kopeke," she said. "I was lost in memory. That is all there is to the story. You can carve it on the Wall of History now."

"Is he truly dead?" asked the Chronicler.

Hahli nodded. "He is. But his life force brought Mata Nui back from the endless dark. So you could say that Matoro is a part of everything now—the sky, the waters, the sunlight, and every living thing that walks or flies or swims or crawls. Matoro is dead…but never truly gone…not as long as the Great Spirit Mata Nui exists."

X X X

In the depths of the Pit, Hydraxon swam alone through the wreckage of the ocean. Since all of the weaponry and technology were a collection of items from the Pit and the Matoran's creations in Mahri Nui, it was hard to tell what most of it was anymore. But he was looking for something specific.

He could not explain all that he had seen in just the last few days. Mahri Nui was destroyed; some other island sliced through the water on its way to who knew where; Toa were chasing and being chased; and the Barraki and their armies were now turning on each other in frustrated rage.

"Insanity, all of it!" the jailer muttered, recalling the recent events. "And—wait, what's that?" Nor was that the last of the mysteries, it seemed. Far below, he saw a gleam of red armor reflecting his lights. He had found what he was looking for. Nearby, Spinax prowled the sea floor, clawing at the earth as if on the trail of something. "Spinax! And beside him, what looks like Maxilos, damaged beyond any self-repair. Who could have done this?"

Hydraxon approached cautiously, in case the hound attacked him again, but the Rahi did not. He dove down to see that the armor did indeed belong to Maxilos. But it was lifeless now. "Signs of a battle with the Barraki and their armies," he deduced upon inspection. "But no sign of the Makuta who had been possessing this robotic shell." His features darkened. "So that's the mystery…is that Makuta dead? Or had he simply abandoned the robot body when it became damaged and is now hiding in another new body, waiting to strike? Or is there some other explanation?" The answer to those questions would one day rock the universe…but of course, Hydraxon didn't know that.

There was, in truth, a great deal which remained a mystery to him. It seemed he would never know that he had once been a Matoran named Dekar before the Mask of Life transformed him, giving him the likeness, powers, and memories of a long-dead hero. He would never realize that his lifelong friends had been safely concealed in the depths of Voya Nui, on their way to begin a new life without him. Perhaps it was best that way…ignorance would spare him the pain on brooding over all that he had lost.

Hydraxon gathered up the pieces of Maxilos. He would take the robot somewhere and repair it. And then they would go back to work tracking down runners and bringing them to justice—for there was no other life for either of them.

X X X

~Entry 10~

My fellow Toa and I stood in a small chamber, waiting for the one who would lead us to our next, and supposedly most dangerous, task. In the meantime, we checked our weapons and armor for any damage and got caught up on each others' adventures. It was a good way to hide any worries we might have.

"It was a golden crystal," Onua was saying, as we debriefed our missions. "About as big as Pohatu's head, and suspended in mid-air—don't ask me how. We'd been told not to let it touch the ground, and it was a good thing we listened."

"Why?" I asked.

"Heart of the Visorak, they call it," answered Pohatu. "Ever wonder how the Makuta get the entire horde assembled, like the Visorak invasion of Metru Nui? Put this crystal in the ground and they all come, no matter how far away. I guess our hosts don't want the Brotherhood able to gather them quite so easily next time."

"What about you, Lewa?" I said to the Toa of Air. "Where did Tahu send you?"

"No place," shrugged Lewa Nuva. "Some weird voice sent me up to Mata Nui—I must have been and gone just before you arrived, sister Gali—to deep-dig up a sundial, of all things, and bring it to Metru Nui."

"And do what with it?" asked Tahu, never looking up from his scorched armor. Kopaka looked even worse after their struggle to cap erupting volcanoes.

"Got me," said Lewa. "I was told to leave it in the Archives in Onu-Metru, so that's what I did. By the way, after quick-seeing our old island, never hire the Bohrok as decorators."

"It's time to go." The words, spoken softly, came from a Matoran who stood in the doorway. "We have a journey to make and little time in which to make it."

"A long journey where?" asked Kopaka. "I am getting a little tired of running around like a hungry Stone Rat with no idea why."

The Matoran just smiled. "You are being given a great honor—to set foot on the island of Artakha. Once we are there, my master will speak to you…or not…depending on his whim. He may open his fortress for the first time in millennia and welcome you in—or he may banish you forever without a second thought."

"Sounds like a party," said Pohatu. "When do we leave?"

The world suddenly blurred around the Toa Nuva. When their vision cleared again, they were standing with the Matoran on a desolate beach. "Leave?" said the villager. "Why, you have already arrived. Good fortune to you, Toa…may you live to leave the land of Artakha once more."

-Gali Nuva-

X X X

As he had for so many centuries, Mata Nui slept on. Turaga and Matoran had wondered for countless ages whether the Great Spirit could sense what was going on in his universe while he slept, or even if he dreamed. Now the answers to these questions could be revealed.

Mata Nui had been aware of the doings in his realm only in bits and pieces over the past millennium. He had sensed his own impending doom, and the absence of the Mask of Life from its accustomed place. In a way he couldn't explain, he knew that Toa had raced to save him from destruction. He felt his own death and his sudden rebirth.

And yes, he dreams now, though he had not done so in the past. Perhaps it is the result of his brush with non-existence, or perhaps something else brought on the images he views. But dream he does—long, torturous nightmares in which darkness claims the world and all who live in it and even the Great Spirit is helpless to prevent it. They are agonizing visions from which he cannot awaken.

And so, one of the most powerful beings in existence can do nothing but hope to someday wake up and find his dreams were only dreams…and nothing more.

X X X

Yesterday, the Toa Mahri saved the universe, then abruptly disappeared from the Pit. They left behind a shattered Mahri Nui, six very angry Barraki…and one being who had to clean up the mess.

"I have six cells ready and waiting…now I just need Barraki to fill them," Hydraxon said to himself, stalking through the ocean waters in pursuit. He held his Cordak blaster at the ready, wary of any attack that might come.

He was following the trail of one of the six Barraki, but he couldn't be sure which warlord it was until he got his first clue. A school of fish-like Rahi with red bodies and silver fins swam by, darting several ways at once. As fast as they could they swam around the jailer to avoid something else. Typically, they felt safe in a group, able to pester any major predator into submission or flight from a battle.

"Reef raiders, in a panic," thought Hydraxon. "And the only thing that sparks that…" Then he saw three of them, coming at him with jaws open wide, filled with teeth. "…is sharks!" The Takea swam faster, ready to rip and shred past the armor to enjoy the delicacies of meat.

But the cool Hydraxon was ready for them. "They'll find me a most disagreeable meal," he smirked, firing a rocket from his Cordak blaster and throwing a razor-edged boomerang at the same time. Angling his throw inward toward the rocket, the two collided just in front of the Rahi, causing a massive explosion that deterred the sharks and displaced them from the battlefield. The percussive forces and resulting hydrodynamics threw them far from the jailer.

"But where there are sharks…" Hydraxon turned, feeling more motion in the water. "…there's Pridak."

"Come to me, impostor!" Pridak called, seemingly amused by something. His own shark tooth blades ready to tear and around him were two more sharks as support. "The leader of the Barraki waits for you!"

Without missing a beat, the weapons master threw two more blades off of his wrist-mounted gauntlet. As they sliced through the water leaving a trail of bubbles, he answered, "Good. Saves me the trouble of hunting your miserable carcass down."

At Pridak's bidding, one shark swam in front of him to block a blade in its side while he deflected another with his own tool. "I have a gift for you, pretender," he said, as the unfortunate Rahi began to sink, struggling to fight its wound. "A little something Mantax found in the ruins of the Pit, buried in the mud, covered in death…"

Hydraxon had any number of weapons ready if this was an attack, but he allowed Pridak to continue. The white Barraki held up his tool, hilt-first. A silver helmet rested on the tool, its eyehole hooked on the weapon. A pair of olden, destroyed breathing tubes dangled from it, swaying in the ocean currents.

Pridak smiled, obviously proud of something. "Recognize it? You wear its twin on your face. This belonged to the real Hydraxon—the one we Barraki killed 1,000 years ago."

Hydraxon was intrigued, but still didn't see how that was possible. He was obviously here, alive, now. How could he have died? But then…there was never a prisoner who wore armor like that… "What are you babbling about, monster?" he asked, encouraging Pridak to continue.

The Barraki studied Hyrdarxon, mystified, as if seeing him for the first time. This new piece of evidence had convinced the warlord, too. "I don't know who you are…or what you are…but you are not Hydraxon; this proves that fact. You're a fake, a sham…nothing more than a mirage of the sea." With that, the sharks lunged forward in attack.

Hydraxon's clawed hand caught the first Rahi's underbelly and allowed him to kick it away. He made sure to place his kick right on the snout, disorienting it enough to neutralize it. He swung his remaining wrist-mounted blade at the other, landing a critical blow that defeated it, as well.

The jailer thought back to Nocturn's surprise: You're…Hydraxon!? But…Takadox killed you. I saw it. You're dead. "You're not the first to make this claim," he eventually admitted to the Barraki. "But I have Hydraxon's skills, memories, power…" he dashed forward and slammed into Pridak, landing a strong blow to his body. "…and most of all, Hydraxon's hatred of you!"

With Hydraxon's arms wrapped around his torso, Pridak struggled to find a way out of this hold. He tried kneeing his foe, but this imposter's armor was too protective. He finally found a small portion on the rear and elbowed that. Hydraxon flinched just enough that Pridak squeezed one of his blades between the two and slashed him away.

"Hatred?" spat Pridak. "Spend 80,000 years in a cell and then you can speak to me of hatred!"

Hydraxon flipped through the water, landing in a crouched position with a hand on the floor to steady himself. "You forget—I had to spend those 80,000 years staring at your ugly faces through the bars." He stood tall and strong, aiming the Cordak blaster on his outstretched arm at his enemy. "Surrender. You're going back to your prison cell…or you're going nowhere, ever again."

Pridak swung the old, decrepit helmet on his free blade back and forth. "But if you kill me, you'll never know who you really are…for I am the only one who can tell you."

Hydraxon knew he should probably just fire, or throw a knife just right to incapacitate the Barraki, but his curiosity got the better of him. Maybe if he heard the other side of the story, he would be able to puzzle together why everyone seemed to think he wasn't the jailer of the Pit when he clearly was. He lowered his arm, but kept the weapon trained on Pridak. "Go ahead, then," he allowed. "Spin your fable."

Pridak thought back to just several days ago, picturing a yellow-and-black Po-Matoran with a powerless Kiril on his face…and a much more powerful mask in hand. "There was a Matoran named Dekar, who thought the Mask of Life to be too dangerous for the hands of any being and wanted to destroy it."

The Barraki remembered Ehlek attacking Dekar, forcing him to drop the mask. "But I and my fellow Barraki found him first, and took the mask. Despite his protests, I promised the fall of the Great Spirit and organizations through the universe and stole the mask. As I did so, the mask emitted a blinding flash of light, knocking the present Barraki and Po-Matoran unconscious. Dekar came about before we did and left the cave, leaving the mask with us."

Pridak glanced down at the destroyed helmet Mantax retrieved from the original Pit, causing Hydraxon's eyes to fall on it as well. "His air bubble was thinning—his air supply dwindling. He fled into the ocean, and was never seen again." Pridak's eyes slid back up to the jailer, suspicious. "And then…you appeared."

The Barraki waited for Hydraxon to say something, but he did not. A chuckle came from the warlord, amused at the mixture of confusion and denial he was sensing. Recalling his tale, he remembered holding the Ignika high and victorious. "So what happened? Did the Mask of Life need a protector? And with the real Hydraxon dead," he speculated, "did the Mask of Life use Dekar to make itself a new one?"

Hydraxon hesitated. He had seen other memories intrude before, but now, hearing these events narrated by Pridak, they came back in growing intensity. He could remember everything clearly of his recent activities in the Pit, but when he pushed back before that, he saw those intrusive memories from before. Those memories were: hiding with the Mask of Life in a cave from the Barraki in a small, powerless form; defending the city from an army of Venom Eels, and receiving the mask from a Ga-Matoran sentry.

When Hydraxon reached back farther, he found himself unnerved by pairs of memories—memories dating back to when the original Hydraxon and Dekar existed at the same time. He saw himself winning countless battles at the same time as his life as a Matoran. Both felt real, and both really happened. To his defeat, Pridak had a good question: who was he, really? Should he resign from his job if he was never meant for it?

Pridak chose then to rush forward, shouting in anger and in taunt, "Is that all you are? An inferior copy!?" He attacked with both blades, now, the motion dropping the archaic helmet where it drifted downward through the water. "Are you simply a powered-up Matoran who doesn't know his place?"

Despite Hydraxon's internal conundrum, his practiced reflexes parried the blows out of muscle memory with his own weapons and armor. The act gave him new self-assurance and an answer as he followed in the flow of combat. Mentally launching a blade from his back, it flew forward and caught Pridak by surprise, stunning him. Hydraxon grabbed his shoulders, placed the Barraki below him, and kicked off with his feet. "I know my place, Barraki…it's here, fighting sea trash like you."

By the time Pridak had stopped spinning from the two-legged kick, Hydraxon caught him with another slice from his blade. "You don't get it! It doesn't matter who I was before. All that counts is who I am now—Hydraxon. Nothing can change that." With that, he triggered another back blade as he fired his Cordak blaster. The rocket hit the projectile blade, causing an explosion to set off right next to Pridak. The heat and force sent him rocketing through the water until he landed hard on the ocean floor beneath them.

Hydraxon swam below and hauled the dazed Barraki to his feet by his dorsal fin. "I am not a single being; I am a character, a symbol, a legend. Hydraxon was your enemy, your jailer, and your nightmare for 80 millennia; and I am still those for every day that's left to you."

Hydraxon swam away, carrying the defeated warlord in hand. "And you left one thing out of your 'fable', Pridak…" As he swam away and spoke, the ravaged helmet of the original Hydraxon finally drifted to a rest on a strip of coral, passed by a reef raider. Hydraxon left it behind, finishing, "the happy ending."

X X X

Tahu scaled the rocky hillside that led to the fortress of Artakha. Behind him came his five teammates, all strangely silent, as if awed by their surroundings.

It was hard not to feel that way. The island of Artakha was a hidden land whose location had been kept secret for thousands of years. It was said that all those who had any inkling of its location had long ago been hunted down and eliminated. Only after a recent series of quests had the Toa Nuva been given information on how to find the island, and that by a mysterious figure whose face they never saw. She had only told them that they would find something vital to the success of their mission—the awakening of Mata Nui—at the fortress of Artakha.

A surprisingly short journey over land and sea brought them there, teleported from the Order of Mata Nui base on Daxia. The island had at first seemed lush, tropical and inviting, with happy Matoran hard at work building structures, then taking them apart and rebuilding them. A gleaming fortress stood high atop a grassy hill, the sunlight reflecting off it almost blinding in intensity.

In an instant, everything had changed. The Matoran dropped their tools and ran for shelters. The sky turned dark and rain fell in sheets. The land transformed from green fields and dense forest to a landscape of twisted, dead plants, rocks, and mud. The fortress shifted as well, somehow becoming a black and forbidding place that would make even a Makuta tremble.

"Gali, Lewa, can you do something about this storm?" Tahu yelled, trying to make himself heard above the wind.

The Toa of Water and Air both nodded. Combining their powers, they attempted to dispel the raging thunderstorm overhead. After a few moments, they gave up, defeated. "Whatever is causing this is greater than our powers can deal with," Gali said. "Do you think this is the work of Artakha himself?"

"If it is, he and I are going to have a long deep-talk," said Lewa. "Fine way to treat guests."

They had reached the massive iron doors of the fortress. There was no sign of a knocker or any other way to signal their presence. As it turned out, none was needed.

"Who are you? Why have you come here?"

The voice was indescribably ancient, and yet young at the same time. It came from everything around them—the fortress, the rocks, the trees, even the air itself.

Tahu took a deep breath. This had to be Artakha talking to them. It wasn't easy to know how to answer a legend. Artakha was rumored to be the creator of some of the greatest artifacts known, from the Mask of Light to the Mask of Shadows to the Nuva masks he and his friends wore, were said to have come from Artakha's forge. Yet, if the stories were to be believed, no one had actually seen Artakha in all the millennia of his existence. Maybe that is about to change, thought Tahu. "We are—" he began, then stopped. "But you already know, don't you?"

"Does the sun know its light?" the voice responded. "You have come here to find arms and armor for your fight. I tell you that the weapon you need cannot be found here—that must be sought in the world that feeds the world. As for the other…"

The storm suddenly abated as quickly as it had arisen, replaced by a cold wind that made even the Toa Nuva of Ice shiver. Sleet and snow began to fall, half burying the Toa in a matter of moments.

"Tell me what you have done on your path to this place," said the voice of Artakha.

"Are we here to play games?" Kopaka Nuva responded. "Your name is spoken with respect in a thousand places, Artakha. I begin to wonder if those who honor you have been deceived."

Artakha's laughter was like thunderclaps. "You amuse a being who was already weary of life when you first set foot on solid ground, Toa. And there is iron behind your icy facade—that is good. You were made far better than anyone knew. But my question still needs answering."

Tahu swiftly described the Toa Nuva's most recent adventures, including the freeing of the imprisoned Bahrag, the assault on the island of the Dark Hunters, and the downfall of the realm of Karzahni. Artakha said nothing, merely listened.

When Tahu was finished, there was a long period of silence. Then the snow and sleet were gone, replaced by warmth and sunlight. When the ice melted away from the Toa, it left behind gleaming masks and armor on the ground at their feet.

"You have done all that has been asked of you, and more," said Artakha. "You have earned these masks and armor. Wear them well, for they are perhaps my greatest creation. Wherever you journey, they will adapt to your surroundings. No terrain, no climate, no wind or wave will ever again be your master. Now, you must leave here. The time has come at last for the Great Spirit Mata Nui to awaken—and you must be the ones to bring him back to consciousness so he can revisit those who need him."

"Wait!" said Tahu Nuva. "Let us see you!"

"Come with us," said Onua Nuva, Toa of Earth. "Your aid would be welcome, Artakha."

"No," said Artakha, even as the Toa Nuva's vision began to blur. "Where you travel, you must travel alone."

A moment later, the island of Artakha was gone—or so it seemed. In fact, the Toa Nuva had been transported from the island by the power of its ruler. When their vision finally cleared, they were in mid-air, high above a strange Matoran village. Somehow, their armor had shifted in a hundred ways, making it possible for them to stay aloft. But there was no time to wonder about that—all around them, a battle raged in the sky.

"Go, Toa Nuva," the voice of Artakha echoed throughout this new land. "Go and find your destiny at last!"

To be continued in "Bionicle - Phase 07: Ignition - Part I: Effulgent Harvest"...

(Death of a Hero was compiled from the book Legends #8: Downfall; the podcast Into the Darkness; the blog Gali Nuva blog; and Graphic Novel 6: The Undersea City, containing Ignition series Comics 9-11 and an exclusive comic: Battle in the Deep, The Death of Mata Nui, Death of a Hero, and Hydraxon's Tale)


Editor's Note: This marks a little less than three-quarters of the way through the canonical story. You're probably about 65-75% of the way through. Nice job on making it this far. I hope you keep enjoying.