Archive of Our Own ^beta

It started with my birth and that’s when I found out I was born matoran.

Mama called me a kitty cat as I waddled across the street to the local water pump. It was a chromatic time, when others would greet me on the street as the repetitive frets of joyous violins and talking animals followed me home. 

I was a poor boy living on an island off Greenery’s coast. There my father left for the mainland and my mother died of dysentery. I couldn’t even cry over her lifeless body.

At the funeral service there was a portrait of a woman. Green skinned woman, not quite indigenous, but not quite foreign either, she looked like us. She wore a white robe with vegetation and animals crawling all over her,  with her arms stretched out as if giving you a hug. She wore four rings, two on each hand, each symbolizing the four elements and subsequently the four corresponding islands. Below her were numerous unidentifiable children, she was a mother, she looked like my mother, and above her were all the colors of the rainbow alongside a mask with a matoranoid on it. That was my first introduction to our sacred mother, Mata Nui, and how we depicted her. Some islands thought she was a man, others viewed her as a snake, and others viewed Mata Nui simply as the universe itself and nothing more. Personally, I never viewed myself as a religious person, but everyone else was so I had to keep that in mind. 

When I was still a kid, I learned about my island's history and replicated it with moss and mud. I spent weeks in my grandfather's yard, gathering stones, nuts, grasses, clay, anything I could find to recreate Greenery’s Eastern cities of old. I layered it over a flat bed of mud, where I pretended it was a city atop of a lake. I sat there making people with sticks and watching as they lived their lives in harmony. It’s the best I could do gathering from the pictures I’d see in the book. It was the closest I could get, yet so far from what I wanted to see. It was all gone, nothing was left. 

There was a boy named Tuuli, he was an odd fella, what others would call slow. Which meant he was a little eccentric. I first met him when his mother came walking to our door step, asking for someone to play with him around the neighborhood. Grandpa allowed him to knock on our door and he always knocked on our door. I had to tell grandpa to start ignoring him. There was just something about him, the way his hands involuntarily shook, how he ran with his head planted towards the ground, thinking it would make him go faster; I would mimic the way he acted to grandpa and it'd always give him a quick chuckle. It was just the way he is, which made others want to avoid him like the plague.

Then one day I invited my friends Makuru and Ayotli over from school, and Tuuli came knocking. He could hear us from behind the house, there was no getting ourselves out of this one, so I included him out of pity. It only took ten minutes before Makuru started locking Tuuli’s arms behind his back. Not even ten minutes passed and they already couldn’t stand him. I was the one Tuuli knew and he looked at me screaming for help. He tried getting me to look at him, but I couldn’t.

“Let him go.” I told Makuru, then I said, “He’s learned his lesson for today,” to make them think I wasn’t like him. 

Makuru did as I said and let him go. Tuuli walked himself back home, looking back at me with a saggy demeanor, looking like a battered rahi.

“We have the strength to do what you never could. Sometimes you just gotta tell them to beat it.”

Tuuli moved shortly after. A few days went by and I noticed we didn’t go outside as much as we used to. The newspapers started hammering the issue of crime in Greenery and every parent became scared, because of that our hang outs around the neighborhood became less frequent, and we as a result became more distant. Besides, It was much harder to get others to play outside when you didn’t have an annoying runt they couldn’t say no to, everyone just stuck to their own little worlds after that. Maybe Tuuli and all the other weird kids weren't so bad after all. 

My memory then skipped a few years when I was working with my grandfather. He worked selling ice cream with his dinky little cart that was old, and while he was off in the bathroom, I turned my back once and the stopper broke. Before I had even noticed, that ice cream truck was splattered at the bottom of a hill. That was his livelihood and I somehow found a way to mess it up, like everything else before. I was so scared he’d beat me, so I ran off towards the woods where a woman spotted me and took me to her place. I peeked outside her window and watched a man’s stomach get ripped open in a gang fight, slowly watching the man crawl himself next to the dumpster where he desperately attempted to put everything back inside himself before dying of a mixture of stomach acid and blood loss.

That was the worst way I had ever seen someone go out, you could visually see the history on his body. Tattoos and lockets, muscle and blood, chipping away at himself, testing the waters with how far he could go, until there was nothing left. I had watched a man kill himself that day and that’s when I promised myself that I could never let that happen again.

No one deserves the hand they’re dealt.

A decade later I’d remember sitting in university looking out the window at the devastation being done to the jungles outside, all because they wanted another location to park their gucko birds. My professor is always picking on me and pointing out to the rest of the class that I was never paying attention. I didn’t like school growing up.

There was only one thing I had remembered in school, that being an excerpt written by one of Anemite’s early diplomats to Greenery a thousand years after the great cataclysm, ‘The Garrobo state is of no fault of their own, but instead related to the generational degradations brought upon by the fire spitting race. Their cities and cultures, once as advanced as the ancient societies of Anemite are no more, instead replaced by Tapans social order, which in and of itself is far behind the rest of developed Anemite. You speak to a Garrobo today and his only distinguishable features are that he treats his wife like cattle and that he has a fierce opposition to the fire spitters who stole his wives and bred them to create the cosmic race.’ Garrobo was the name of an iguana-like rahi.

So instead I got into gucko bird racing. I never took the warning signs seriously until they caught up to me, and I fell 600 feet to the ground, where I was then saved by a familiar face. It was Iruini, the Green Knight, who returned me to the ground safely. He was a toa; tall and strong. That was the first time I ever met him.

And he came back to me like a salesman, “Hey kid, you wanna be a hero?”

What a confusing thing to ask out of nowhere, I didn’t even personally know him, “Why me?”

“Because you’re the only one who hasn’t been annoying me about it.”

“Are you nervous?” Iruini asked as he peered through the curtains.

“A little. I’ve never been on a stage before.” I could hear the announcer ready to call my name.

“Good, it’ll make the feeling that much more euphoric. Make sure to smile, you got a good one, it’ll make the ladies go coocoo for you.”

I shrugged his complement off as I tightened my suit. He got behind me as if prepping me up for a boxing match, “Remember, these will be your glory days.”

"Now give it up for Matau Corrino!” The curtains parted and I walked out. I paused as instructed, posing with my head slightly pointed to the ceiling and my hand in my pocket. Cameras flashing, I completely forgot I had to walk down to the aisle, so I abruptly started moving forward a little too late. The lights blinding, and the air nauseating, it only got worse once I got to the stands. That’s where I met the great Lhikan in his military uniform with his numerous medals of honour, Nokama whose music I’m pretty sure was playing in the background while I was walking up, and Whenua who was from the powerful Tarik family. I sat down alongside them in my tailor made throne and it still felt a little too big for my liking. Everyone else’s thrones were fine, it was only mine that made me look like a child. 

At the ceremony, they brought me to a palace radiated by the sounds of war drums and horns. I kneeled beneath Iruini along with my peers. The toa as they drew their hands on our shoulders, transferred their power from their body to ours. Iruini looked down on me as if I were his son, and I looked up at him as if I were ready to bask in his legacy. I looked around at the others, Lhikan, Nokama, Whenua, now they’re my family. And we rise on a stage above a vivid crowd. Whenua poses with his hands to his sides and a bow, clearly showing his history in theater. Nokama waved her hands with as little effort as possible, as if she were still one of them, trapped by the audience's gaze. Me and Lhikan, not knowing what we were doing, simply assumed that this was the family we’ve been looking for our entire lives. I thought this feeling would never die.

We were a new class of hero compared to the toa Hagah, often paraded as the greatest generation of toa. You could look at toa from that era and they almost had this universal look to them. They always wore the same armors or suits, you could look at a toa like Iruini and he just blended into the persona so much to where there was no Iruini left, only the mythical hero we know as the Green Knight. Even though the Green Knight had been played by many different people over the centuries, they all had the same look to them. Same masks, same proportions, they were always the jester of the toa. And that was with all the toa; the toa of fire were always the leaders, the toa of water were always women, and there was never an indigenous or mixed race toa of earth, or air for that matter. There was a timeless aura to the role that was unchanging and comfortable to the general masses. 

Then there was us, we were just a mess. I don’t know what exactly changed, but my guess is that it has something to do with the times.

“Truth is dead and no one cares,” the turaga told me. Mata Nui had been asleep for so long, she might as well be dead, hence the apathetic nature of it all. Venture west of the Rojas river, I had never seen such apathetic matoran. It’s because they had no reason to care, since it’s always been down hill from the very beginning for them. Now it’s like that everywhere, everyone’s lost hope.

Long were the days where the matoran's greatest threat were the makuta. It’s not that they were any less formidable, it’s that we’ve been fighting them for so long that they’ve lost their touch. They’ve become a constant and with that resulted in the disillusion of unity. No longer were there set in stone values of good and evil. Supposdely, crime didn’t exist  in previous toa generation, because there was a sense of loyalty to the common matoran, but now apparently we’re just as much of a threat to ourselves as the makuta. With mafias, bureaucrats, and corporations replacing the daily consciousness over the makuta menace. Which is why Iruini chose me, because apparently he saw me as the solution to all of this. 

Just from Iruini’s decision alone, he was reflecting the changing tide. I was of mixed race descent compared to my previous successors who were usually of criollo Tapan or Anemite origin, which was an immediate visual departure from the Green Knight mythology that came before. 

Another departure which I decided to make on my own was changing our color scheme from white to green. I never understood why the Green Knight always wore white armor and clothing. They said it was because it contrasted nicer to the toa of earth’s black color scheme, but it was mainly due to the color green being associated with the Makuta. Which I always found to be a stupid reason considering that green has also been the color of Greenery since the inception of its name. Our landscape is green, our people are green, and therefore our heroes should be green too.

I also abandoned the old tradition of using a scythe or axe as the Green Knights tool of choice, instead opting for two machete’s, which I thought better exemplified the culture of my island home. Yes, toa tools! Not weapons, launchers, anything. Simple toa tools. 

When I showed them my new look I got an assortment of mixed responses. Nokama thought I looked ugly, but she thought that of every man she came across, Lhikan thought similarly, preferring the traditional color scheme simply out of a loyal sense to novelty, and Whenua was the only one who enjoyed my change in style, wishing he was brave enough to do the same. 

It’s so hypocritical too, considering my peers did the same with their changes. Lhikan went by the alias Atomic, which was his island’s title for the toa of fire. He wore a heavy suit of armor, adorned with gold accents and a jetpack, it made him look taller. It was laced with numerous devices designed to kill and a helmet so sturdy that you’d break your hand trying to punch it. He always wore that helmet, most people probably didn’t even know what he looked like. It wasn’t just the suit either, he took a drug called antiplasm which turned his biceps larger than my quads and his quads larger than my waist. Usually, the toa of air brought the levity, while the toa of earth brought the brawn, but with Lhikan he just did both. He just had to be the coolest one of course. 

Then there was Nokama who became the Blue Rider, a position known for its modesty and purity. Toa of water were always known for their motherly role among the toa. Yet Nokama wore nothing but the most luxurious expensive clothes she’d usually wear for her concerts. She wore the exact same things she did when she was a matoran, just this time tailor made to her much larger physique. Similar to Lhikan, she could do anything and wouldn’t let you forget it; surfing, singing, teaching, gambling, she’d somehow be a professor while also being an Ani-pop star. It bothered me how, whether we were looking at her or not, she kept telling us to look up at her head, like we were objectifying her even though she was always doing the most, “You aren’t that confident in front of your matoran?” I told her.

She’d look at me with a perky smile and a joyous voice, “You aren’t my matoran.” It was a joke, in the way that Lhikan slapping your back was a compliment. Something felt odd and I looked at Whenua; he laughed, but I could tell he was thinking the exact same things I was thinking.

“Every toa is gifted with two inalienable traits. As you’ve noticed, gravity feels weaker, your forefeet feel jumpier. Every toa has its element tethered to the island they’re from, yours being air, allowing you to soar large distances without the use of a gucko bird. Then there’s your secondary ability tethered to your mask, also known as your soul. You must find this out for yourself.”

With a glider, I soared across Rishi lake as Iruini and the other turaga trailed behind me with their gucko birds. As my heart drummed against the idea of flying higher, I rose up and flew to the sky without a care of what the other turaga thought of me. With the thrust of air sliding through my finger tips, I kept going higher. Until it felt like time had skipped, and I came crashing down. Only to remember floating atop the lake’s surface.

“You wish to accomplish everything for them. In response, they will hate you for it and you’ll fall, but in time you’ll learn to lead alongside them. And only then will they join you in the sky, Matau.”

And I flew not by myself like the other Green Knights, but with my gucko bird, Maya, along my side. All I could remember were the sounds of a harps fretting to the color her rainbow plumage. All of it taken away by the actions of the amphibious man.

The Ghekula

Ghekula referred to a type tree frog in the Sekuli language.

‘Who would you say is the weakest member of the toa metru’

‘Matau.’ ‘Matau.’ ‘oh easy, Matau.’ ‘why that’d obviously be Matau.’ ‘Matau.’ ‘Matau for sure.’

‘Why him?’

“I don’t know how you do it without pissing everyone off,” Whenua told me, “to be frank with you Matau, I was never meant for this kind of honour.”

“You were chosen for a reason.” I say that, but how is he supposed to help others if he can’t even help himself?

“Yeah I know I know, you’re right.”

I don’t think that seemed convincing. How do I help him? “You know, I was saving coal miners from a collapsing cave a few weeks ago and one of them apologized to me, because they liked you more than me.”

“There’s no way. You have to be lying. Even if that were true, it’s a coal miner, he’s probably Jaharti and most of them think like that.”

He was just complaining a second ago that his people don’t like him, “You’d be surprised. He was from here and you know what I told him back? That you were my favorite too.”

Whenua shrugged and smiled, “That’s so corny.” He then pauses again and becomes a little more serious, “Man, you make it seem so easy. Connecting with other matoran. You have no idea that that’s the hardest part.” 

‘I wasn’t a big fan of his decision to change the color of the Green Knight from white to green. It always struck me as bizarre considering that air is clear, kind of like the color white. You don’t think of air as green. Yeah, sure, the Green Knight name doesn’t fit with the white look, but why not change the name to the White Knight instead? It has a much nicer ring to it don’t you think?’

‘I don’t know, there’s just something off about him. He doesn’t have the same charisma as the other Garrobomen, he doesn’t feel above us, like they used to.’

‘Ah well, I don’t know, he’s just kind of boring. He looks perfect, sounds perfect, always smiling, always good. There’s no nuance or anything to him, he’s just good.’

I stood atop a building looking over Greenery's many expanding cities. There I found a forgotten man; a man with hats of foliage and marked skin. His hands and mask were so hardened, it was as if he had been under the sun for thousands of years. He smelled of a sweet madu, clearly one of the poor souls working on the numerous madu plantations across Greenery. Oblivious to my existence, he stood at the edge, looking at the same city I did, then he looked to the streets below.

“It’s going to be okay.” I told him. 

He looked at me, tears in his eyes and shaking, “Why am I so different from them?”

He had trouble speaking, he was Parundi, and I spoke back to him in his native language, "None of us are different under the eyes of Mata Nui,” I place my hand on his shoulder, “We’re not as different as we think. No matter how backward they make you believe you are, we’re never as behind.”

He hugs me and in spite of Greenery’s social contract, that one must not show any affection to another man, I hug him too.

I was about to pass out, thinking I’d die, before Lhikan brought the bar back to the rack, “That’s what I like to see!”

I got up from the bench, “I can’t believe I did that.”

“Let’s go up. One rep max, you gotta do a one rep max,” Lhikan said as he was putting more weight on the bar.

“Sadly, I think that’s it for me for today.”

“What?! We’ve barely even started. Grow your damn flame and help me out over here.”

“What time is it?”

“About halfway through the day.”

“Oh I should start heading out now. I have a date later on.”

“Really?” his cheeks go red and he looks away, “that’s my man right there,” he hugs me, “I didn’t think you had it in you. Who’s the lucky woman?”

“Nokama.”

Instantly he started walking away from me, “Nokama,” he said while hunching over the bar, “Really?” I will never forget the sheer amount of disappointment I heard coming out of Lhikan’s voice.

“Yeah, what’s wrong with that?”

“You sure it’s a date?”

“Well, we’re having dinner together.”

“Women from Anemite don’t do dates, I should know considering I’m married to one.”

“You sound so disappointed.”

He looks away from me, then back. It looked as if he were trying to be a turaga, he wanted to be everything, “You can do better than that, man. Those Anemite women are nothing but misery, you talk to them and they have twenty mental illnesses minimum. They are makuta-like matoran who think they’re better than everyone else. And don’t date someone from the team for Mata Nui’s sake. You know how unprofessional that looks?”

Family is never professional.

‘But why did he have to get rid of the axe though? It’s so iconic and he just threw it away like it was nothing. That axe is so important to our history, how we used axes for the logging industry back when Greenery was being first developed. I guess matoran are too sensitive to that reality nowadays.’

On my way to my date with Nokama, of course I had to be stopped by the amphibious man. He stole an ax from a museum, the iconic axe of the Green Knight. Using it as a sick joke against the people it once protected. So I followed the trail of blood into the woods he retreated into. Standing atop the canopy, I spotted him at another treetop, “The only reason I let you go is because I want to see the real you.”

He laughed with his gigantic mouth, “I know what I am!”

We continued fighting, hopping from tree to tree like skipping stones over a body of water. From vine to vine, he swung with the intention to kill, which I simply parried with my machete. He was just a matoran, I was sign

Our endeavor eventually led us to the edge of a waterfall. Where he stood with the axe directly pointed towards me, “Good old Matau, you let ten people die all because of your silly little rule. Believe me, I know how this goes. The rule tells you to not kill them, since it’ll upset the established order, but the rule was written by those who put you in servitude. They repeat it, so that they can control you, take your land and rape your women and children with myths of progress. The only sensible way to live in this world is without rules.”

I sit down on the rock next to him, completely ignoring the axe’s blade bordering my neck, “It doesn’t have to be that way. You wield that axe, knowing the context of all the Green Knights that came before you, maybe you could do something with that. I’m not aware of all the little blows which turned you down this road, but who’s I to say, perhaps I’ll be there too. Perhaps we can be heroes, maybe you can join me.” I bring out my hand towards him.

And I looked at him, blood leaking from the pores of his scalp as he wiped it away. A hint of anger so seething behind those eyes, then completely muddled by the laughter he used to mask it, “I will never join you! I killed your bird, I’ve killed so many matoran and you want me to work with you? Oh what a funny world we live in. Let’s make a deal, if you can take back the axe without touching me, I will join you,” He jumps to the closest tree, where the careless nature of his movement immediately cuts the branch he is standing on. The axe, too heavy for the matoran’s spindly arms, falls out of his grasp. To which I responded by simply levitating the axe right to my position.

He comes back to me at the edge of the waterfall, “You cheated, give it back!”

“Follow me.”

“Never!”

“Well then I’m afraid your time with the axe is finished.” I threw it into the waterfall where he shortly followed by diving alongside it. Deep into the misty pool below and he vanished.

‘It’s those damn indigenos which got him changing the color like that. Did you know the indigenos don’t even believe in the element of air? They believe it’s plant life. Can you believe that? Idiots! And Matau justifies them by changing the color to green. What is wrong with him?’

I was eating dinner with Nokama that afternoon, at a dimly lit restaurant in a cenote. I thought it’d be cute considering it was a bridging of our two cultures, water and air. We had traditional Greenery cuisine and musicians everywhere with their maracas, horns, and powerful voices. Lhikan had a wedding where he coincidentally married Nokama’s best friend. I was tired on one of the days leading to the wedding, so I asked Nokama if she thought they were a good match; that’s how we got interested in each other. I liked her maturity, how she’d tell her friend and Lhikan how to run the wedding better than they ever could. All I could remember from that ceremony was that Nokama had to leave early while I was stuck around helping her best friend with damage control as the night went on. Their friendship fell apart after that.

At the dinner, we had one of the matoran waiters fan her while we were eating. Looking back I think even the waiter thought Lhikan was on to something. She wore a plaid skirt, a white shirt, and a brown jacket, she looked like a school girl. Here there wasn’t much of a fashion sense, most of the women here just wore as many colors as they possibly could, and I could tell from Nokama’s smirk that she looked down on them. On top of that, Greenery's cuisine was too much for her, so she resorted to putting out cigarettes on her kooto curry. 

“Most of my life I lived in the Shien province of Anemite.” She’d only speak when I asked questions about her.

“Have you ever been in a relationship before?” Nokama asked me suddenly.

“No.”

“Good, everyone’s a rahkshi anyways.” She took out another cigarette to which I quickly ignited the lighter for her, “I had two boyfriends before, both were useless. First one I met through surf betting, complete incompetent bastard, as you’d expect from one of those degenerates. The second one was a professor I met at work. He was a sweetheart, but died from kyra virus shortly after I met him.”

I started coughing from the smoke.

“I could stop if you’d like? I really should be quitting now that you remind me.”

“You’re fine.”

She decided to stop anyway, “Yeah, but anyways, don’t get tricked by everyone's pretty exteriors. They always have you think they’re so much better than you, that’s how they reel you in, then they trap you like creditors. That’s why everyone on Anemite is studying so hard nowadays, so that they don’t end up with failed husbands. Like the story of your poor mother. It’s horror stories like that which we tell our youth, so that they learn to not need a man. Relationships are something of the past anyways, they’re dead now, all they bring is hardships and misery. Don’t even get me started on marriage. Oh, that reminds me. There’s a cause for celebration,” She takes out a piece of paper and shows it to me, “I told you they’d get a divorce. I’m honestly more surprised that divorce is still legal on Tapan. You were right too, isn’t that incredible?”

“I didn’t want them to get divorced.” Lhikan’s my friend, I wouldn’t want him to go through something like that. I just wish he had the nerve to recognise that he and Kotu weren’t the right fit. All he cared about was short term gratification, because it was Tiper tradition that they get married young. 

“But you saw it coming, right? How couldn’t you? Fire spitters make horrible husbands and we knew it. I’m just so proud that even without my advice, Kotu came to her senses. I swear to Mata Nui that I’ll have this certificate pinned in her house as a reminder of how wise her decision is.”

She could tell that I was a little distraught and she put her hands atop mine, “Hey cheer up now. I get why something like this would be disheartening, but what happened is in the past now, it’s better to move on. You worry too much for others, Matau, you’re too good for them. Perhaps it’s time you focus more on yourself.”

A while ago I met her fellow Ani-pop singers and it shocked me how well they worked together. Up to that point, I had never seen Nokama work so efficiently with a group of matoran in my entire life, which makes me question, why can't it be like that with us?

It almost felt as if she was compensating for something. In Anemite culture, there was the persona of the ‘makuta hunter’. The name was hardly literal, using the term makuta to refer to all things masculine. It was a title given to the most culturally relevant matoran of the Anemite archipelago, usually defined by a sense of female empowerment. Nokama was given this title along with her sisters due to their contributions through Ani-pop and with that came the need to uphold the mythos. I have no proof of it, but I have a feeling that the ‘makuta hunter’ has something to do with it.

‘Ahhhh what’s the matter Matau, Nokama not returning your letters?’

They called him the Ghekula, because his mouth was always wide. It was Sekuli tradition to widen mouths with these wooden apparatuses they’d use during adolescence, a practice now gone to the passage of time. He was alone, the last standing member of his tribe and he wanted us to feel that.

The Ghekula really thought he could prove a point, that there were no civilized people and when push came to shove, everyone was as savage as the indigenous Le-Matoran. So he stuck natives in one boat rigged with explosives and settlers in another. Told them that only one could live with the simple press of a button. Even in the most dire of situations, I showed them that they could believe in good. No one was injured in his final gambit, and the Ghekula desperately kneeled down in front of me.

It’s been years since the start of our back and fourth, and you could tell by just looking at him. His skin was laced with blisters and bumps, his lime joints crackling, and blood running down from the pores on his scalp, washing away the mask he used for so many years. All because of the Golima flu, a story as old as Mata Nui. I tried getting him the vaccinations he needed, the medication he deserved, and he’d always deny it with the exact same point; ‘I will never take their solution to a problem they brought.’

I tried to save him, preserve his culture, find other alternatives, matoran he could connect with, but he’d always deny my help. Now he was kneeling here and I knew he was going to die. He looked up at me while he was basically melting under the sunset, “I came here to tell you… that all I was ever trying to do was make a point, that I was always fighting for this island and its matoran as much as you did. And no matter how violent or how cruel my methods were, it was always fighting for the greater good of our matoran. And because of your half measures, we have no matoran. I want you to remember that when… I’m gone. If you think that non-violence is ever going to change the universe, you’re living in a fantasy.”

He collapsed under the weight of his own upper body. Joints completely cracked, his legs and arms only holding on by threads. I didn’t care that he was infected, the blood, or that he was a killer. I still held him up with my arms and told him, “I know. You say it like it’s a bad thing. Fantasies shape us, explain our societies, and inspire us to accomplish wonders. And as long as I live, I will never stop fighting to live in a fantasy where the violence that you’ve suffered and inflicted on so many others, is something that we all deplore.”

He looked up into my eyes with his life on its final droplets, “Good old Matau, as much as I hate to admit it, you really did always see my pain as much as theirs. I just hope… that eventually one day… they’ll think like you.” I was holding his body in my hands, with his cheek next to mine and I bawled. Looking off into the distance, not caring what the others thought of me as they threw fruits and beans in my direction.

‘Anyone who cries for a literal serial killer is just a no for me, sorry.’

‘Well he supports indigeno terrorists along the countryside, of course he’s the worst.’

‘I personally view his method of hero work unsustainable. I mean, there’s always something going on around here. Greenery is the crime capital of the universe and with his ways of rehabilitation, it has cost the government millions on repairs and facilities.’ 

We were sitting at the dinner table and this man continued to wear his helmet, “Why don’t you take off the helmet, Lhikan. We all know each other here. There’s no reason to keep your mask hidden. Why don’t you show us who you really are?”

“The helmet is who I am, it is what Atomic wears, this is me,” I don’t think he was feeling good that day.

Nokama rolls her eyes as she looks at me, “Don’t disturb the alpha when he’s eating.”

I didn’t like seeing them like this and I could tell Nokama enjoys it. It’s almost as if she relishes in the idea of what Lhikan represented, as if his every moment of being was a justification of what she thought was right. Lhikan thought the same, you can tell from the way he waves his hands that he thought she was ridiculous, looking at us as if we thought that same. Both of them seeking our approval, both of them thinking they’re the leader, and both of them despising each other. With how much they get off on each other's failings, they should honestly love each other for the sheer amount of mental orgasms they gift to one another just from acting as stubborn as they do. Something needs to change.

‘I think what really gets to me is that he sees problems where there really aren't any.’

‘When did merit all of a sudden get thrown to the waistside when selecting the next Garroboman? Now they gotta capitulate to the moralists and start including everybody. At this rate we’ll have a terrorist as a toa of air.’

Iruini was gone that day, so I ventured back to the cemetery. On my way there I remember all the times I delayed meeting with Iruini and recognized I was never going to tell him what I was thinking about. I kneeled at her grave, “Hello Mama,” 

“Everything's good now, just like how you wanted it to be. I have a family now, I'm a knight, and almost have a girlfriend too. Well that’s not exactly true, I can’t really tell if she likes me back or not.”

“I could never be as strong as you and I’ve always tried. I’m sorry for all you did for me, mother. It’s just that, I don’t feel the pain as much anymore. It’s not the same as it used to be, you can understand that can you?”

Then there was a shake beneath the earth, I couldn’t believe it. The dirt moved and then it broke. My mother crawled out the earth, mostly decayed and all. Then another hand broke free and grasped onto a gravestone. Then another and another, until it became very clear that the dead had reawakened.

Liegur

The second I spotted a resurrected makuta on my island I knew it was completely over. There was no way the makuta were okay with this mess, Lhikan even told me that they wanted a ceasefire, yet he still dismissed what I was proposing. The others agreed with him, until they also started noticing dead makuta on their islands. Lhikan begrudgingly gave in and that’s when something changed between us. He was always the kind of person who looked ordinary from a distance, but when you looked closer at him, you could tell from his perpetual stare that there was something that wasn’t right about him. He never forgave and there was a judgement there which felt as if it ripped all matoraness from you. And because of my suggestion, I was no longer matoran, I was one of them. I was the reason he needed a family just as much as I did.

“One day a makuta asked the question, 'What if we could control matoran, like we do rahi?’ All it took was Liegur to formulate a blueprint based off of our previous parasitic fungi  creations, and it was done. After killing himself, he used his body as a vessel for the new parasite as it spread its spores across the islands.”

I met a makuta named Roodaka. A long slender matoranoid looking makuta with scales for skin and black hair. A makuta with an hour glass figure, “Hoooph, I didn’t know they were built like that,” I told Whenua as I elbowed his arm. He didn’t find my comment amusing. It was just a comment, I wasn’t supposed to be serious. Afterall, I wasn’t expecting much from her. I wanted to love Nokama, I wanted to tell her, but you could only be repulsed so many times before your heart gives out and your consciousness gets the better of you.

Then I spoke with Roodaka and she cared. I thought I was going nuts, but my heart knew what was true and I couldn’t express it. The realist woman I have ever known and she only lived a few islands away. She wasn’t even a matoran. 

For the first time since the great cataclysm, makuta and toa fought side by side and we won. Then just a few days later, the ceasefire collapsed and the forever war continued. For a brief moment there was synthesis there and now it was gone.

‘You know I really liked it when knights weren’t political.’

‘He’s the toa of an entire island, he’s supposed to be political. If anything, he’s not political enough.’

Ahkmou

The invention of the air conditioner was the worst thing to ever happen to Greenery. Anemite engineers had been working on a device to cool the inside of buildings for years and now they’ve finally cracked the code. I was actually a chosen test subject for one of the first prototypes of the machine and it got me sick. It wasn’t meant for us Garrobo’s, because we were already used to the humidity. All it did was help Tipers and Anemites tolerate our environment, which greatly worried me.

‘The greatest invention since the cataclysm,’ they said, ‘it will help your economy,’ they said. Like those inventions from before didn’t contribute to the great cataclysm. I’d wager that this invention is Greenery’s great cataclysm. Conservation of native wildlife and matoran are a large part possible due to the rough environment of western Greenery. We already struggle with maintaining that side of the rojas river, I just don’t see how that’ll be possible with the air conditioner around. 

Iruini was worried of turaga Lesovikk. He was the oldest turaga at the time and worried he was going to die. Lesovikk’s nervous system had developed chronic tremors and he stuttered in speech. He was alone, his toa team and wife had long been dead. All that was left were his sons, who lived far away from the island of Greenery. His oldest son was drafted to Tapans military and hasn’t gotten back to him since, most likely killed by the makuta’s rahi hoards, but no one wanted to tell him that. Then there was his second son who moved to Anemite and worked as a professor. He rarely visits Lesovikk due to his wife's fear of the supposed crime going on here. She thinks it’s a bad environment for the kids.

So I decided to live with Lesovikk for a while. I thought it would be a fun experience and I noticed his hacienda conveniently located next to a Garrobo community. I stopped to see what all the commotion was about, it seemed like the kacike was trying to make an announcement, “We will finally and forever rid ourselves of the generational trauma attributed by the fire spitting social order. As a result, this will no longer be a socialized community and we will instead divide up the lands to encourage the acquisition of private property. For the first time in the history of mixed race and especially indigeno peoples of Greenery, they will obtain generational wealth by being assigned their own lots of land, by dissolving town community councils. The age of Anemite exceptionalism is here.” Most of the people hearing the announcement seemed confused, because they didn’t see what the problem was, but since they heard the kacike railing against the Tipers; they cheered in droves.

Once arriving at Lesovikk’s hacienda, that’s when I learned how much worse his condition actually was. I could hardly understand a word he said, which really made it difficult for me to help him around the property. I then caught him whistling to the trees and asked him what he was doing. He told me he was speaking to the rahi and I told him to teach me. I thought it would be an easier alternative to speaking with him normally and after a few years practicing with him, I not only grew to understand him better, but also the world around me.

Lesovikk told me that it worried him, the condition of the younger generation. His grandson visited a few months ago and he couldn’t bear to eat the numerous tropical fruits, soups, and sauces that Lesovikk brought him. All he could eat was sushi and barbecues. I told him it was expected since he lived on Anemite, and that’s when Lesovikk asked me why they couldn’t live here. To that I answered that that was the problem I wanted to solve.

I continued helping insert the lenses back into his glasses and that was when I heard knocks on our doorstep. I opened the door to find the same kacike that ran the Garrobo community just next door, alongside with a perky little lawyer next to him. I wore Lesovikk’s broken glasses and let them in. Get them off guard. I already knew what they were going to say, but I let them in anyway. Give them a modicum of a chance to realize the crudeness of their behavior.

The kacike wrapped his arm around Lesovikk, buddy to buddy and spoke to him, “I know why your hacienda exists, Lesovikk. It’s the indigenos as you’re well aware and they have shown Greenery’s true colors unfortunately. Civilization was always the foundation of this hacienda’s establishment and I’m going to give it to them. Starting with this paper.”

The kacike has his lawyer place down a paper in front of Lesovikk, “We both want the best for our island, you know that. But in our efforts to civilize those who need it, we are short sighted at times. The methods used by the fire spitters have long been ill equipped with dealing with the situation at hand, the days of large haciendas and churches are no more and now’s a time for new methods of civilization. That’s why we’re here. With the simple signature of this paper, you will cede the lands to your hacienda, with just compensation of course, to establish a new madu plantation, where its goal will be to create strong work ethics for the indigeno and mixed race communities of Greenery’s population. Do it for the island and the numerous Garrobo’s who will benefit from your decision. This may be your last time to be a hero, the toa you once were, and do something selfless for the betterment of our society. Do it for the glory days.”

I closed my eyes, afraid of what Lesovikk would say. Then I opened them up, because I had a hunch that he’d make the right decision. He had a cheerful smile, clearly flattered and supportive of the kacikes words, as I sadly expected, but then there was still a sense of confusion and an odd nostalgia he had for the simpler times, which made him look at me. I was the person he seeked for answers, and that’s when I smiled, because I knew he made the right decision. 

I brought the two men out up front, away from Lesovikk and I spoke with them on my own. They had no shame manipulating and proposing such a ludicrous idea to Lesovikk, so I gave them the same gratitude by explaining to them all the little benefits and intricacies of the land Lesovikk lived on, getting their hopes up for a land that will never be sold. Creepily, they already knew everything about the land, making me think that they’ve already searched the property while me and Lesovikk were away. 

I continued wasting their time until the kacike finally stopped to offer me a bag of widgets, “Why don’t you go home, Matau. You’ve done your job for today, me and my lawyer can handle the rest.”

“Why are you offering money?”

“Think of it as a gift for all the hard work you've done for us as toa. Iruini would understand. We were great buddies back in his day, you should go talk to him about it. Trust us, Matau. We’re the ones with college degrees at the end of the day, we know what we’re doing. No offense, but you’ve been wearing those lensless glasses since we’ve got here.” The lawyer starts chuckling a bit, “Let us intellectuals handle this.”

I start laughing as well, “Oh these things,” I grab the glasses and take them off my mask, “And you think I haven’t noticed?” I could tell that they were starting to see where this was going, “You know what I find funny? Is how even though it’s boiling outside, both of you still decided to wear those tailor made Anemite suits. You two’ve made your point, now let me make mine. Even with all the diplomas and money in the world, neither of you could understand that this land will never be sold, because it doesn’t take a graduate to know you two are scammers. Now get along now, before you guys make even bigger fools of yourselves."

The kacike doesn't budge, “You do realize this land was stolen, hmm? It was never Lesovikk’s land, but the land of previous indigeno peoples who lived here in the first place.”

“Oh now we’re talking about the indigenous? Well let's talk about them, shall we? If I see you two trying to scam any of the other neighbors out of their newfound ‘private property’, I will personally uproot every plantation attempt you’ll ever make. When Lesovikk dies, this land will be returned to his remaining family if they want it, and if they don’t, which is very likely to happen, the land will be returned communally to the Garrobo town down the street. As it belongs.”

The Kacike and lawyer start heading on their way, “You have no idea who you’re up against little toa, you just wait and see. If you think this'll be the end of it, you have another thing coming.”

After shooing them away, me and Lesovikk sit outside watching the sunset after a hard day of maintenance, “E-Even a-a-after everything tha-that’s hhhhappened, a-after all the ca-ca-confusion, y-y-yo-you mmake every-everything se-seem so simple. The-thank you.”

‘Rest in peace to the Ghekula. He ain’t do nothing wrong.’

‘Well he’s an agent for the government obviously, why else would he not kill Ahkmou Caemon? I have a question for him: how much baby murder will you have to witness before deciding to clock the damn CEO? You don’t see Nokama or Lhikan pulling their punches?’

They told me to exterminate the species, telling me that it was moral and just cause, “Think about all the food we can make if we simply resolved the niazesk question? Why care for a makuta’s creation?”

They thought they really got me with that one, “And who made the makuta?” I asked back, "the makuta made our world the way they did for a reason. Although they’re pests, once the niazesk fly is exterminated, so will our numerous amphibian species, and before you know it, there’s an entire ecosystem on the verge of collapse.” I don’t care if it was the niazeks fault or the water pumps. We don’t know exactly how our universe collapsed all those years ago, but we might as well find solutions now, instead of later.

They told me there was no other way. That the King Garrobo, which was the size of a building, was sent from the west, by the ancient enemy, those ‘iguana-like matoran’ with their iguana beast. They told me the solution was to kill, to kill everything west of the Rojas river and resolve the island from its native question. So many questions with no real answers.

‘He is a terrorist supporting, makuta sympathizing, monster of a matoran being that deserves to die.’

The King Garrobo smacked me with its tail causing me to fly back hitting the side of a building.

“Matau!” Two civilians walked over to me to bring me up to my feet, “We have your back.”

“Thank you, but I’m afraid you two should’ve evacuated by now.”

“We must return the favor after you played kohlii with us. We must give back to you and our community as you did for us.”

“Watch out!” I carried those two out of the way before the King Garrobo hammered us with its tail. I place them down somewhere where it’s safe, “I appreciate the effort, but I work alone. Help your community in smaller ways, change happens through people like you.” I flew back to handle the King Garrobo.

‘I understand he wants to save everyone. The problem is that he’s just one little toa of air, not even the strongest at that. He needs to realize that you can’t save everyone. Sacrifices need to be made.’

‘He’s just so weak. I mean think about it. You got Lhikan who can burn you alive, Nokama who can use the water in your own blood against you, Whenua who can move mountains; what can Matau do? Fly?! That’s it! I guess he could suffocate someone, but he can't even do that. He hasn’t even unlocked his mask power yet.’

So I fly. With the most amount of air that I had ever mustered, I pushed a creature over a thousand times heavier than myself, upward into the air. Until it had lost consciousness and I carefully maneuvered its unconscious body back to the ground. I had found a way to keep the iguana alive. Many wondered, “Was this the doing of a makuta? Have the natives had their revenge at last?”

‘His no kill rule makes me want to stick forks in my eyes.’

I ripped a metallic tick-like object attached to the King Garrobo’s head and I showed it to everyone. This wasn’t the work of any makuta or native, but the doing of someone who they considered matoran. Ahkmou Caemon, Greenery’s finest billionaire, pushed through the crowd, clawing at his mechanical device as if it were his baby, “Why did you make us do this?” Everyone in the crowd looked at him confused.

“Oh so now it’s everyone's fault?”

“Yes, it always has been; all until you came along. Now you got them all confused. When we had Iruini everything was perfect; we told them private property was the future, that it was the Anemite’s way, and that it would bring great productivity to their lands. It was nondiscriminatory and fair, but no, you just had to blow it all up. You, with your morals and stubbornness, can’t you see that it’s for the betterment of your people? You do realize that when we can’t buy the Garrobos lands for fair market value, we have to resort to the native question and push further westward. Half of them already support taking their lands anyways, you can’t stop the settlers. Use your brain for Mata Nui’s sake! We’re the two most powerful men on this island, and it’s because of them!” He waves towards the crowd, “The contradictions do not make sense, the center will not hold!

The police officers took him away and despite being passed through the crowd, he continued yapping all the way back to jail. My head wasn’t really in the game that day.

‘I thought Ahkmou was gonna be the Green Knight. He worked for it so hard and they just took it away from him. How tragic.’

‘Ahkmou is a great man. I don’t know what everyone else is talking about. When has providing jobs and creating more real estate for our overpopulated island ever been seen as a crime. Besides, he actually kills the criminals, which is something Matau could never do.’

I picked up a comic and read it on my way to work. The title was ‘Atomic v Garroboman: Divided we Fall’ 

It was an alternate future, where Nokama had died, slain by my hands. Ahkmou had tricked me into killing her and it triggered something from the back of my head, some kind of primal urge from what the comic depicted, and I killed Ahkmou by ripping his heart from his chest. Later I somehow take over the brotherhood of makuta, fighting to take control of the matoran universe. I wanted to control them, spreading my tentacles like an octopus over their homes forcing them to do what I thought was right. Then there was Lhikan, the matoran's last hope fighting with his sidekick Whenua, as they fought for Ahkmou’s martyred spirit. The comic ended in a fight between me and Lhikan where he eventually won, priding himself over the fact he beat me before then dying on the floor. The last toa of fire.”

‘A comic brought to you by Flash Comics.’ a company owned by Cormound Inc. It wasn’t just a comic, it was The Comic. The one that critics praised as the greatest work of our time. I read a comment from one critic that read, ‘no comic has ever depicted our heroes in such a controversial light. It’s like engraving our future with lightning, and my only regret is that it is all so terribly true.’

It was just a fiction, a fantasy, but to many it wasn’t. This is how they genuinely viewed their heroes. This is what they thought of me.

‘He can’t even do his job properly. He’s always fighting villains like Ahkmou, the Ghekula, King Garrobo, and you know why he keeps needing to fight them? Because he doesn’t kill them! How many deaths do you think he indirectly caused, because he never finishes the job! Always letting these monsters live just so they could come back and kill us all over again.’

‘If he can’t kill the criminals or the makuta or whatever, then how is he supposed to stop them?’

‘This man can defeat literal makuta, but not Ahkmou. That makes no sense!”

“So I’m going to be charitable to you. The environmental protections and native conservation efforts I get. It might not be a knight's position to have a say in those matters, but I’m neutral on that. However, working with the makuta during the Liminal war. You were the one who first suggested it. I know it was dark times, I know we would have probably gone extinct without them, but even then, was there really no other way? Why would you ever consider working with monsters who still put us in concentration camps?”

“So to answer your first question, yes, there was no other way. The makuta counter programing efforts against Liegur’s fungus is the reason why we’re still here, if it wasn’t for that we would have definitely gone extinct. We also seem to forget that Liegur also wanted to kill his own species. So the makuta and us were on the same boat there. It’s also misleading to say that I was solely responsible for wanting to ally with them. Something that a lot of people don’t know was that Nokama came up with the idea first, I was just the first person to actively vouch for it, and even then it was Lhikan’s decision for us to even follow through with the proposition. He’s our top dog and denied my proposition the first it came along to him. It wasn’t until Nokama agreed with me when he finally decided to follow through with it,” It was dead silent. I looked around and no one was smiling except for me. 

“But still man, I gotta ask why were you the first person to propose it? We just think that decision was very strange considering the other things you’ve said on record.”

I smile, “You're not gonna like my answer Bomanga, no one is, but it’s the truth. And that’s that the makuta are simply not as bad as we think they are,” I paused due to the commotion of the room at that moment, I did not care. In the corner of my eye I see people walking out, “I believe that for multiple reasons. I first want to preface by saying that I definitely do believe that they’re fighting for an evil cause, and I do believe that it’s mostly their fault for fighting us this long. However, we’ve been fighting them for thousands of years at this point. We’ve been fighting them since the great cataclysm, do you have any idea how long that is? That’s longer than our recorded history, we've been fighting them since the days of legend and myth. We don’t even know what the universe was like before then, other than it was technologically advanced and apparently so much better than today. That’s the whole reason why we’re fighting to begin with, to return to that pre-cataclysm past.”

“That’s false, Many of us are simply fighting to protect ourselves. Also, are you suggesting that we shouldn’t protect the Mata Nui from the makuta?”

“No, let me finish. My point is that war is a two way street, and although the makuta haven’t done anything to massage relations with us, neither have we, and look where that’s brought us. The Mata Nui is dying with no solution on either side. And no, the makuta don’t want to kill the Mata Nui, they want to rule it, because they think it’s unfair that their brother Mata Nui became a god, while they were left serving us. Flawed logic, I know, but that’s what I learned when working with them during the Liminal war. Which leads me to something else and that’s that they’re much more dimensional than we give them credit for. In spite of being immortal and living before the great cataclysm, they don’t remember any of it, because they’ve lived for so long that their minds can’t recall all of it. Their minds are just as mortal as ours.”

“Isn’t that what they want you to think?”

“Maybe, I wouldn’t see why they would tell us a major weakness about themselves, but sure. Their leader is also a creep, they haven’t seen Teridax since the great cataclysm, he doesn’t even have a physical form anymore, he’s more of a ghost, and that bothers them. The main reason why they think the way they do is because of Teridax and they almost never see him. You see how that could build some distrust. When I talked to them, sure they were loyal, but I could see the cracks. Their faith in Teridax is not impenetrable. They still have souls and critical thinking skills, they’re just blinded by greed and jealousy,” I look at the audience, “You could all ignore what I just said, I understand that, but let me make this clear. This war will not be won through bodies, but through communication and understanding. Believe me when I say that they’re much more afraid of that than another battalion of matoran.”

“Now as you may be aware, there has been a recent poll where around 62% of people across the islands consider you to be the weakest member of the toa metru. Whether that’s based on heroism, raw power, or popularity. Beats me, I don’t know. My question to you is, what would you say to those people who might question your competency as a toa?” 

Damn, they even thought Whenua was better than me. Real ones know that the answer is either between Lhikan or Nokama, “Well first of all those people are wrong,” the crowd laughs, “and secondly, that’s a really interesting question. I want to start by saying that I understand why I’m viewed so poorly outside the island of Greenery.”

“But the poll says that even in your home island, you only have a 58% approval rating.”

Man, I can’t catch a break, “Right, but going back to what I was saying. My guess as to why that’s the case is purely ideological. What I learned from being a toa this long is that matoran don’t want their toa to be matoran-like, if you get my jist. They want their toa to be up there with Mata Nui. And here’s my message to those matoran. I may not be the most powerful knight, like Lhikan. Or be a popular singer, like Nokama. But I do believe that there’s more to being a toa than those things. I mean, they wouldn’t be here answering these questions. I think that’s at least something worth considering. What I want to bring to the table is an inspirational thought, that whether you’re a toa or not, you can always be a proponent of hope. That even in the darkest times, there is always someone there that makes you feel that somehow, everything will be okay. That’s what I seek to bring to the table.”

I vividly remembered that day. It was our family’s anniversary, which at that point they preferred we refer to ourselves as a team. I still liked to think of ourselves as family, at least at the time. We settled at a palace off the arid coast of Jaharat, it was one of Whenua’s many homes on the surfaceland. Getting there we traveled through miles of vegetative maze with large homes being sprawled out here and there, very different from the usual scenery of Jaharat’s golden gray coasts with small port towns edged against numerous escarpments and valleys. With their beautiful white dome-like architecture and vineyards which stretched to Jaharat’s colossal mountains, which inevitably collapsed into its endless deserts.

Here everything was forest, as if it were trying so hard to be Greenery, but can’t. So much plantlife, yet everything was so dry, even the frigid rainy season wouldn’t be able to produce such vegetation. It was so clearly made for the wealthy Jaharti elite, who you couldn’t even see past the dense greenery.

There was such a difference in philosophy compared to Greenery’s sprawling jungles. The trees felt so controlled, with wooden stakes wrapped around their trunks to make sure they grew straight. It was as if the trees only let you see what they wanted you to see, compared to Greenery’s fluid jungles which always felt like they were in a competition in showing their true colors. Reds, blues, oranges, violets, there was no shortage of color in the numerous flowering plants of Greenery’s jungle. Here there was only green and they all looked pretty. 

Foreigners always said the jungles of Greenery were creepy with all the indigenous, criminals, and rahi lurking around, but honestly I never really viewed it that way. If you just left the jungle alone for once and looked at the smaller details for once, you’d learn that there’s a science to the whole thing. That it’s teeming with life and it’s beautiful. Here it’s actually creepy, you could never look too far in one direction, because there’s nothing there. Even if you did spend time to look at the smaller details, you’d notice how artificial everything is. It was so lonely that you could never cross land like this without thinking about the people who live below, or the desert peoples starving for water just across the mountains, or whatever the elite are doing just around the corner. 

When we arrived at the gated community we were greeted by slow trumpets matching the pace of a dying noble sun, then changing to sound like the jumpy optimism of an alternate future. An opera began singing along with the trumpets and when they finished we clapped at their performance as Whenua then walked us to his front door. 

At the courtyard I remember seeing walls stretching across the entire property, walls so large not even a toa could look past them. All you could see there was the dry sun above slowly being overcast by the coastal marine layer, then you’d look down into Whenua’s pool, so static it was, probably cold too. That made me realize that I was always guilty. Then Whenua jumped in and it ruined my train of thought.

It was night by then and we were eating dinner at the bonfire. It never stopped moving, it was probably hot too. Then the topic came along on our greatest achievements. Lhikan spoke of the time he defeated three kardas dragons and a makuta all at once. Nokama talks about her research with the makuta to stop the Liegur parasite. Whenua didn’t know what to talk about, so he brought up how he discovered his mask power, which both Lhikan and Nokama belittled him for being the second to last toa to discover it. Then there was me, there were many things I was proud of during my career, but I knew they wouldn’t react well, so I simply mentioned that one time I fought the Garrobo King. I had to explain to them that the word Garrobo was used for a type of iguana that lived on Greenery, as well as being the name for the inhabitants of the island, as well as explaining that the Garrobo King was an endangered species of giant iguana. They gave me that look, as if it were my peoples fault for making it so confusing, which infuriated me since it was their peoples fault for calling us Garrobo’s in the first place. We didn’t want to be called that, they just did it once and the name stuck.

“So that’s it?” Lhikan asks.

I told them the best answer I could and they still looked at me as if there was a problem. They looked at each other as if they were obfuscating the responsibility to tell me something. Can they really not just be brave enough to tell it to my face?

“Have you discovered your mask power yet?” 

There we go, that’s what I like to hear, I just don’t understand why they have to be so serious about it. I tried moving the conversation into something else, but they were really set on this. Telling me that I need to apply myself in this, that I need to keep track of that. They told me that my people worship rahi and how that’s a problem. Because of course worshipping rahi is so much worse than worshiping Mata Nui, because rahi are a makutas creation, might as well be worshipping them instead. They thought this because rates of veganism were increasing on my island, which they’d know isn’t true if they took indigenous tribes west of the Rojas river into consideration. Which is even crazier considering that those are the main demographics where rahi worship happens. And they think I’m the one who lives in a fantasy, all because I don’t kill. Meanwhile, my own family is straight up hallucinating problems that do not exist, just so they can get on my case so that they can feel better about themselves. 

Also whatever happened to toa being apolitical? They got so mad at me when I spoke up against indigenous displacement in Greenery’s west side, and when I dared to propose we agree to a ceasefire with the makuta. Yet they sit here telling me how much of a threat veganism is to Greenery’s social order. I live on an island with billionaires and beasts, and veganism is the biggest threat because combating that is somehow combating the makuta. Then there’s Whenua just sitting there, silent, not joining in on the conversation whatsoever. I know he agrees with me, he’s just too afraid to say anything.

The clouds became denser and it started raining. As we headed inside, Whenua showed me to my room, to which I locked myself away from them. It was a familiar feeling, back when we were young they’d send us inside because of how scary they thought the times were. We begged and pleaded with them to stay outside and enjoy the green, but they’d always tell us no. I remembered when everyone just started accepting it, our natural state, when we locked away ourselves willingly, because we too eventually became afraid of the green. I was tired, I needed some time away so I stood looking at my bed as the blinds from the window left shadows on my body. I was too tired to close them, so I laid there on the mattress with droplets of water running down. I had been awake for a while now, so I got up and went to the bathroom. Looking in the mirror I saw what they saw; an iguana’s head atop of a cosmic body, with crab pincers for hands and sharp bony protrusions for legs. I looked into that thing in the mirror and asked, “What should I do?”

I put on some clothing and headed downstairs. I really didn’t want to be seen, but I didn’t really have a choice, I needed to get out. I knew where Whenua’s toa cave was, I just had to find a way.

That led me down to the streets of Jaharat’s underground city, Onu Koro, where I trudged along waiting for the inevitable. I knew they’d stop me and ask questions, but then something extraordinary happened. A matoran passed me without a care in the world, then another. There were crowds of matoran everywhere, yet they were completely unaware of my existence. I rushed towards a clothing shop and looked at the mirror to find that I was never really there. Black in complexion and no longer towering, I had become a Jaharti in disguise. It was then, when I realized that I had finally discovered my mask power, the power of illusion. It was true, the indigenous matoran were right. They told me this would happen and I never believed them. I touched my mask, it had been the first time I’d been a matoran since Iruini came to me all those years ago.

Walking out of the clothing shop, there was no sunlight, the streets were constantly illuminated by lamps on the sides of buildings. There was no distinction between night or day, I wondered if people born here had ever seen the light of sun. The base of the buildings were elevated a few feet from the streets, which I understood considering all the water and trash everywhere. The streets were perpetually under a layer of water due to the ceiling constantly leaking water, it looked like it was raining underground, probably because it was raining, but I’d bet that the sheer amount of irrigation on the land above isn’t helping much either. Then there were the matoran, men covered from head to toe in dust, using the water above to shower their bodies clean. Most of the matoran who lived here were protodermis miners, which was the main economy of Jaharat. I couldn’t even see any women. The most I heard were the cries and arguments hidden behind the walls of apartments I passed by.

That’s when I realized that the borough was much more diverse than I thought it would be. There were surprisingly a decent amount of Tiper’s and Garrobo’s among the mostly Jaharti men and that got me thinking. Our cities have been the most diverse than they ever have been, our technology has been the most advanced since the great cataclysm, so why is there still so many problems in our societies?

First there’s Lhikan, and he prides himself so much over how much stronger the average Tiper is compared to other islanders, how they just constantly repelled invasion after invasion of makuta for thousands of years. And now that there’s failure’s on the battlefield it’s always chalked up to the other islanders and their incompetence. Oh how Lhikan wishes we could return back to our mythical past, only then would we find success against the makuta menace again. Back when only Tiper soldiers fought and where the status of knight had a more mythical connotation than today. 

But would we really? Did we ever have success against the makuta? Our forefathers fought them and never ended the war. The Tipers are strong matoran, yes, but that’s only because they had to be strong or else they’d be wiped off the face of Tapan. Even with their strength, the Tipers are the least populous of all the islander groups due to the neverending war on their island. Drafting the other islanders was necessary for the preservation of their culture.

Then there’s Nokama, the only woman of the group. She thinks she’s so smart and wise compared to the rest of us, just as prideful as Lhikan. She takes in the fact that the Anemites are so different from the other islanders and flaunts that with everything she does. Showing her body and intelligence in a way to show us that we could never conquer her inherent female supremacy. Her whole thing is progress, that we must constantly be breaking away from the past, to achieve some mythical final frontier. That the Anemite’s will one day pave the path for us if we just listened to them. Now and forever will always be the greatest time to be alive. 

But is it really? Is it really progress when her Anemite contractors and sympathizers mow down an entire community? I don’t think so. She thinks it’s so much better now with all the advancement we’ve gone through over the years, but nothing has really changed. We’re still fighting the same old makuta, the universe is still dying, there’s nothing in the present or future that implies that things are getting better. And she blames us for not listening to the Anemites, even though they’ve been the strongest island since the Tapans fall from grace. They don’t have to wait on anyone, they can just do whatever they want. Maybe if they stopped stroking their own ego’s so much, then something could actually be done. They always look inward, always. 

Then there’s me and Whenua, we’re just there. No one listens to us and we’re really only local celebrities on our islands. Funny how the only time Lhikan and Nokama ever agree on something, it’s because they’re disagreeing with one of us, really only me considering how quiet Whenua is. We’re supposed to be unified, we’re supposed to be family. What a family this has been. My entire life I’ve been looking for family, that’s the one thing I’ve been trying to rebuild. I thought I could do that with this toa thing and for a while I believed that it was family, but I was coping, this is not family. It’s a job, I wouldn’t be surprised if Nokama viewed us as co-workers. That’s not what I wanted it to be, but that’s how it turned out, and now I’m different from everyone. No one joined me in the light like Iruini told me they would, they just stood there looking confused on why I was there in the first place. 

I continued walking until a newspaper came across my foot, ‘Toa Matau sued!’ That looked odd to me so I picked up the newspaper and read it.

‘Believe it or not Bomanga, I didn’t always hate the Green Knight. I wanted to be the Green Knight, I even ran the fan club. The problem is that this Green Knight we currently have, not it.’

‘But why Mr. Caemon? It has never been done before. Why would you sue one of the toa metru?’

‘There was a time, when I believed that true democracy would one day be readied for the matoran of Greenery, like all other developed civilizations. With toa Matau in the picture, I find that to be an improbability. Have you seen what’s been happening to the island nowadays? The Ghekula alone has killed over 400 matoran and that’s just one killer out of many. With how much crime is rising on Greenery, we are headed towards a state of anarchy, it is now more important than ever that Matau abides by the interest of his matoran constituents, which he is not doing. Someone's gotta take up the mantle, which is why we at Cormound inc have taken it upon ourselves to sue toa Matau. So much has already been spent on correctional facilities and government agencies, all because Matau can’t finish the job in capping these criminals. Some may be a little apprehensive in suing our toa, but to be frank, toa are a thing of the past anyways. What do they actually do to improve the lives of ordinary matoran? Lhikan is still doing his same old generalship, Nokama's greatest impact is still her musical career. I want to inspire all matoran that it’s the toa who are supposed to be serving us and not the other way around. The days of toa tyranny are no more.’

Ahkmou wasn’t wrong when he said Iruini maintained the status quo, all the Green Knights did. However, in a limp attempt to try to offset that, every turaga tells their successor to avoid the same mistakes they made. The problem was that not a single knight listened, they kept passing on the torch over and over again, mistakes on top of mistakes, until now everything’s just a giant wildfire. I truly believed that I could win the fight for Greenery’s soul if I just gave it everything I could, how silly of me, how stupid of me, because no matter how hard I try, nothing can stop monsters like Ahkmou from throwing more fuel to the flame. Those billionaires and their kacike goons, they’re bigger than me now, they’ve won.

But what kind of morale is that? I can’t just let them take control of everything. There must still be a way to stop them, maybe the problem is that I’ve looked at this narrowly. Maybe it’s broader than it seems. Maybe it’s not enough to save the matoran…

I don’t care anymore, I never wanted to be the Green Knight anyways. Ever since I’ve turned into this, I always straddled the line between what I am and what others wanted me to be. It’s about time that changes, it’s about time I realize that I can be whatever I want to be. If I’m going to make a change, it’s going to be done my way, no matter what anyone else thinks, no matter the odds.

The Ghekula                                                                                                                                                                               Liegur                                                                                                                                                                                     Ahkmou

-Roodaka-

“Who are you? Show yourself?” The makuta said in a panic.

So then I revealed myself, appeared from the middle of nowhere and showed my truest self since I was back on Jaharat.

“Matau?” They were getting ready to kill me on the spot.

“Wait guys, I'm not here to start any trouble.” They sent their hounds after me, to which I simply responded by flying in the air, “I just want to talk.”

They grab their zamor launchers and start shooting up at the sky, “I want to join your side!” I yell at them.

They stopped, got their dogs to shut up, then looked at each other in confusion, then became even more frightened than they already were, “You’re a long way from Greenery. How do we know you don’t have soldiers trailing you?”

“You know soldiers don’t go this far north.” I gently land back on the ground, “Just to prove my innocence,” I hand them my wrists, “you can arrest me right here and now. Whatever happens to me is up to you.”

They couldn’t bring themselves to do that. They were so fearful, they didn’t want to get close. They both look at each other for answers, neither of them having any, until one finally spoke up, “You’re crazy. Go back to your island where you belong, we don’t need your help around here.”

They try walking away, “One makuta is about as strong as a toa, give or take. Two of you can very easily subdue me and the matoran have no easy way of replacing that. Once an island's toa is gone, it’s gone forever, that island that was once protected is defenseless. If the two of you sent me back to your home island as a prisoner, you’d both be praised as heroes.”

Before they’d take me to their home island, they had me parade over the ghost cities of Tapan; the concentration camps which the matoran back home spoke of. This far north of the island was makuta territory and it showed. What a creepy sight it was to travel from city to city, seeing glorious tall buildings from afar, only to get closer and find out that no one lived there, other than the decrepit souls of starving soldiers captured from the war effort. It was far too cold in the north to grow anything other than golden grass, which you could tell from the technic beam-like bodies of the many matoran who suffered here. No fruits or vegetables here, only the bread of nutrient deficient golden grass sustained their labour. 

I was a trophy to the makuta, who fed me well and adorned me with makuta armors as they brought me around by chariot through the streets of these cities. I knew what they were doing, why they were treating me so well. I was forced to sit next to the matoran, to make sure that they saw me, as if their spirit hadn’t completely broken already. That’s when I met an old friend, I could hardly tell who he was past the soot, but I could tell it was him by the way he instantly recognized me. It was Ayotli shoveling through the rubble, staring right back at me. The way he looked at me, the way all the matoran looked at me, they couldn’t believe it’d get much worse, but it did, as they saw me in the same chariot as the makuta who damned them to their sub-matoran status. One of them jumped off a building the second they saw me, they knew it was over.

“Doesn't it make you wanna go back to Greenery?” The makuta said while smiling, “We don't need you here, we’ll gladly grant you mercy before things get any worse, and believe me when I say that it will. What we want is to return things to the way they were, keep it simple. Why don’t you go home before you upset any more of your fellow matoran.”

He reminded me of someone back home, “If you think showing me a few starving matoran is going to shake me to my core and shoo me away, then I’m afraid you’re not aware of how bad it gets on the other islands. I’ve weighed my options and this is what I’ve chosen. Don’t insult me with your petty manipulations.”

Before they allowed me on the whale to makuta nui, they made me eat a parasitic worm rahi just so they could keep track of wherever I was going. That’s when I came to the disturbing realization that the makuta are far stronger than the toa, they just don’t know it. Matoran might be able to match the strength of a rahi through ingenuity, but that could only go so far when there’s a specific type of rahi for any kind of scenario. The makuta use their rahi like tools and in a way they could bypass any innovation a matoran can muster. Then there’s the makuta themselves, which on that front we only defend against them through toa. Lhikan believes that we’re stronger than the average makuta and that’s so delusional. They’re not consistent in power at all and even if we were to gauge them, they are at least on the same level as us. There's also more makuta than there are toa, there are four makuta in this whale alone, that’s already enough to take on our entire toa team. I once heard from a turaga that one of the many purposes of the makuta before the great cataclysm was so they could defend the matoran; the toa were only ever meant to be a fallback. I can’t help but think that’s true, because there’s no way a species this powerful was ever meant to fight against the matoran, why even create matoran at that point? It’s so amusing because they don’t even realize it. If they bum rushed us, we would absolutely lose, no questions about it. I don’t care if the ocean currents are disadvantageous to them, or that they only control one and a half islands, they could absolutely destroy us if they tried. They just think we’re way stronger than we actually are, for some reason. 

On the mainland, they put me in a cage for weeks. It was at this point when they stopped giving me the royal treatment. I thought about backtracking what I had done, but I continued on, because I knew that what I was doing was going to pay off. When my arms were skinny and my vision blurry, that was when they opened the cell and told me to get out. I knew they wouldn’t execute me, so many of them have worked with me during the Liminal war all those years ago. I knew they’d find a way to keep me around.

At the initiation ritual they gave me my new name, Nidhiki. It was the makuta word for traitor. We’d shuffle around one thing to another, completely unaware how to do this considering it had never been done before. They finally decided to take me to the foothills of their tallest mountain as they went over numerous proclamations that I must adhere to.

“Will you accept Teridax as your leader and savior?” Antroz asked.

“I accept.”

“Rise up fallen toa, you're one of us now.” He grabbed my hand and hugged me, “Before we continue, I want you to remember that If it wasn’t for me you’d already be dead. Welcome back old friend.”

Apparently Teridax wasn’t around to make the decision, so it was put to an election where I was saved by a singular vote. I still couldn’t get it out of my head that at any moment, Teridax could reverse their decision. 

On one of the training exercises I stopped and picked up a dying kironga I found back on the trail. I held it in my hands, protecting it from the cold as I jogged back to base. When I arrived with the rahi in my hands, they looked at me funny.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you this for a while, but none of the other toa have a no kill rule, why do you?”

“Have you ever watched something die, Roodaka?”

“Yes.”

“Then you’d know that it’s a pretty horrible thing.”

“Not really, it’s natural. All things are supposed to die eventually.”

“What does that say about you then? Makuta don’t die, they get killed. Would you consider that natural?”

“Well no, because we’re not natural, we’re gods like Mata Nui, we belong in that class of existence."

“And who made Mata Nui? You see, everything's mortal in one way or another. Even the great spirit is mortal when you consider the universe as finite. Just because we can kill doesn’t mean we should, because there’s always another way.”

“You’ll never be with her.” Grekk told me out of nowhere.

“Oh yeah, why’s that?”

“Us makuta are a purposeful lot. We’re happy when we need to be, we’re loyal when we need to be, and we’re loving when we need to be. We can’t reproduce like you matoran can and because of that she’ll never need you.”

I guess he just wanted to rub it in, “If that were so true, then why recruit me into your ranks? What purpose does that serve? For whatever unknown purpose, your peers decided to keep me around. That's the logic I'm banking on when getting with Roodaka.”

“Pffh, well don’t come crying to me when it doesn’t work out.”

We were on a hike that morning , Grekk and I were the only ones shivering in our group, “Hey, weren’t you one of the makuta assigned to the tropical sector?”

“Yeah, what about it?” He walked a few feet away from me to keep his distance.

“You single handedly created over 60% of the rahi in our region. It’s because of you that Greenery has such powerful biodiversity. Thank you so much for that.”

“Thank evolution for that, my work was simply the building block for what came later. Why do you care? It’s you Le-matoran who slaughter them by the thousands.”

“I know! it’s so bad how we treat your creations. I tried stopping them from developing the region, but they just won’t listen.”

“I’m aware.”

I knew I was getting to him, “Which rahi did you specialize in?”

I saw a twinkle in his eyes that he could not repress, “Oooh, I barely remember those days. I think I specialized in insect and amphibian rahi. The amphibians were my favorite. You could do so much with them in the tropical environment, my only regret is that I wish I instilled them with some toxin resilience, considering all the pollution that happens there nowadays.”

“Do you miss those times before the great cataclysm?” It was a vague question, but a little bit too on the nose in hindsight. I had to be careful not to mention makuta Miserix.

That’s when I saw his childlike smile get wiped away from his face. It was like watching the resurfaced whimsy of an artist fade away into memory, he returned to his current self, “No. Miserix was a weak leader, he had to go. It’s not like I don’t make rahi anymore, they’re just for the war effort now. Now I’m mature and recognize that we have to be a lot more purposeful when it comes to expressing our gift.”

They took me to one of the many warehouses, where I took notes as Antroz walked me through the facility. He brought me to a giant vat.

“See that liquid in there? That’s what we call biodermis, which is a fermented form of protodermis. All the animals you see in the universe come from there.” 

“Looks like water.”

“Most of it consists of water, but I wouldn’t stick my hand in there if I were you. Not only is it boiling, but the liquid fuses to any nearby organism. It’s composed of cells without any DNA so it sticks to anything with a fraction of genetic makeup.”

“How do you make organisms from that stuff?”

“Well first we plan it with blueprints, then we screen it and approve the design. Once that’s done, we cool the liquid enough so we could mold it and then you just build it with your hands. It’s a lot harder than it sounds.”

“How does the biodermis not stick to you?”

“Makuta do not have DNA, we operate under a different kind of system, which allows us to harness the liquid and build creatures from it. If you were to handle it, I assure you, it wouldn’t go well. It’d feel like slime against your fingers until you realise that you can’t get it off, as it starts fusing to your body.”

As I was flying towards one of the warehouses to cancel production of a species, a building exploded right underneath me. I flew down there and knew what I needed to do. I leapt into the burning building, using my powers of air to blow the fire away as possible. I had to temper myself. I couldn’t break up the flames so easily, considering I had to be aware of not blowing the flames on an unsuspecting makuta. The smoke was so thick I couldn’t see who I was holding. I knew we had to get out before the building collapsed. I looked around, walls everywhere, and then the ceiling partially broke open. I flew up into the sky taking anyone I could, then going back in. I retrieved three makuta, everyone watching my spectacle. I came out with a few burns and scratches, but nothing that medical attention couldn’t handle. They clapped and cheered and little did I know that one of the makuta I saved was Grekk.

“I don’t get it. After everything we put you through, you still show us forgiveness. Why?” Grekk said as he laid on the floor.

“My journey as a living thing has taught me compassion." I grab his hand and bring him up to my level. Many makuta have the misconception that my duty is only limited to the island I’m from, I wanted to show them that compassion has no boundaries, “There is no condition to that statement, our pain despite our differences, is one in the same.”

“Thank you so much, Nidhiki.” He hugs me and the mood is immediately broken by Icarax staring at me over there. No clapping, just him looking at me like one of those giant storks from Greenery. He probably made them. Why was he here? Usually he’s on Tapan fighting or running some camp. With Lhikan you could tell there was a pain behind his eyes, at least you could understand. Icarax just looked like death. His serpent like eyes and his beady little dilated pupils, it was like this manic feeling you’d get from rushing to study a test. Like he was studying you. Absolute freak, you could tell the ones that were vehemently loyal to Teridax, because they all have the same manic look to them. It’s so bad it transcends appearance. All makuta look different from each other and yet you could still tell which were the crazy ones.

I was petting her visorak, an arachnid-like rahi, before it suddenly sunk its mandibles deep into my skin. Roodaka immediately noticed and slapped its head so hard that it started going dizzy. The poor spider started shedding tears from the pain, which Roodaka solved by erasing its memory and mind controlling it to get us glasses of water. The visorak's temperament returned to a blissful state, where it accepted its servile condition.

“You don’t feel bad doing that to him?” I ask.

“It’s a rahi,” Roodaka answered, “If you want to get your own glass of water, be my guest.”

“I’d gladly get my own water if it means avoiding slapping my pet on the head. You know, one day that makuta mind control will wear off, just you wait and see.”

Roodaka laughs, “Yeah, right."

“No matter how much you domesticate a gucko bird, it’ll still lay a few bad eggs. There’ll be a day, where no matter how hard you try to control them, eventually they’ll break through.”

We truly loved each other, but she couldn’t bear to look at me. Quick glances with her beautiful smile and watery eyes, before looking to the sides or her pillow. It was different from her, but I expected it, because I knew she felt trapped where she lived and that she couldn't separate herself from what she was out there.

After we finished I put my hand on her cheek, “I love you.”

“No you don’t.” She said it jokefully, but it almost seemed assertive. As if she were willing it upon me. I wondered why.

Then she looked at me, “Why would you abandon them? I still don’t get it. Was it really me?”

“Partially, it’s um, it’s a bit of a complicated matter. All I will say is that I saw the writing on the wall, I knew where the universe was headed, so I did this as a last ditch effort.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Mata Nui is dying, everyone knows that. What really gets to me, however, is how no one really cares. They say they care, but they don’t. Their last hope is that the kanohi ignika would one day appear for them, but honestly I don’t even think that will save them. You know it’s bad when even a toa can’t do nothing but watch as it all falls apart. I saw the writing on the wall that I wasn’t making a difference back home, so I thought that maybe I could make a difference here.”

“Well how’s that been working out for you?”

“I’m gonna be honest with you, these past few weeks have been the happiest I’ve been in my entire life.” She looked shocked by my response, then went back to looking away. I had a melancholic nostalgic feeling seeing her act that way. I couldn't describe it at the time, but it felt as if I was Tuuli all those years ago, if only I knew the warning signs, “I had a dream once, where it didn’t matter if you were matoran, makuta, or anything else. That we as a united culture stood together against the darkest times, where hope finally shined through, and we reached our destiny. Only then would we see Mata Nui rise. Now I feel like we’re closer to that than ever before.”

I woke up the next morning, no one was by my side. I knew Roodaka had to leave early, but I didn’t know I’d be left alone. I continued my routine and I thought I slept incorrectly since my pelvic torso was killing me. I didn’t know sleep could affect that.

I continued walking, everything was empty. The makuta always built towns even though there was no one to fill them. They just built them for the love of the game, probably from the hands of poor Tiper soldiers. 

Walking down the path, I remembered that one time when I met with Tapans war veterans, many of them were amputees. They told me how they’d often felt ghost limbs in places that had been amputated. I oddly felt the same. Looking at my hands I couldn’t see what my brain was telling me. I felt connections between my thumb, pointer finger, and middle finger, almost like webbing, but nothing was there. Likewise, I felt the same between my pinky and ring finger. I ignored it for now.

At the shop, Grekk looked at me before delivering my rations, “You have a good day.”

I needed to get out of there, my legs couldn’t stand it. It was as if the bones on my legs were polarized from one another as I was doing everything in my power to keep them in line, “You too.” I rushed out.

“Wait!”

Looking back, it was Grekk again. He came up to me out of breath, “They never trusted you. I’m so sorry.”

I found myself on the floor, “What are you talking about?”

“Roodaka poisoned you. They were afraid, they were always afraid that you’d upset the established order. I’m so sorry.”

I couldn’t believe him. If that were the case then why wouldn’t they kill me, “Why would you tell me? Aren’t you putting yourself in danger?”

“I’ll be fine. It’s as much of a cognitive poison as it is physical, what I’m telling you now you’ll forget eventually, and with that will go all the risk I’m putting myself through. I tried keeping it secret, they told me too, but I don’t know, I just couldn’t keep it in knowing I did this to you, and now it’s too late. You deserved better, you deserve to know before you go. Don’t worry about me. The makuta never betray one of their own, not for this kind of stuff.”

I looked at the pavement below, “That’s where you’re wrong. They won’t get you now, but they’ll get you eventually. You’re a fool to think Miserix was the last.”

Grekk had to leave. By the alley I was shaking with my hands on my head. I didn’t know what to do, there was no one there.

My legs splitting, I was trying to hold them together, like the man with his stomach all those years ago.

I will need to forget in order to live again, I can’t believe this is how it’ll end. I will always remember the Green Knight, his axe so unkempt and lean, its bearer so tender to the aging land. Perhaps they will reminisce, perhaps they will forgive, but whatever happens, I wish them the best.

Before I forget…

His eyes broke, barely reaching towards the warm distant light. It felt as if another person had been inserted into his consciousness and he moved before he had completely awakened, sweating the pain away. Immediately turning over, falling from the mattress. Shutting his eyes closed thinking it’d return back to him, afraid of any mirrors, his crab-like pincers clinging on to matoran hands, trying his best not to crush them. He cried reptilian tears, more arthropod than matoran, his skin hard and scalish, “I betrayed all of you, I am so sorry. I know none of you will forgive me, I only wish you could all understand. I’ve failed you.”

They felt their still towering friend for the first time in decades. They could not find the anger and passion in their hearts, not in the way their younger selves could. So they did what they knew was right, abandoning the treachery of the darkest times, so that they could let hope shine through, “You did not fail us, Matau. It was us who failed you.”