Mavrah sighed as he lowered his weary body against a black rock. Blinking exhausted tears out of his eyes, he looked around the massive cavern that was his home. A silver river of protowater rushed through, high cliffs dotted the higher walls, and a fifty-foot high arch in the earth lay at the far side of the cave, leading to other places.
Not for the first time, he brooded on his uneventful life and the actions that had led him to it. He wondered if he'd made the right choice, all those years back. He closed his eyes and images and scenes floated to life behind the lids. It washed over him as if it had just happened yesterday. Whenua... Onepu... they were standing on a cliff over one of the First Rahi, great sea beasts credited as the first ever brought into existence. There was mourn and loss in their eyes, as they looked at the creature and over the destruction it had wrought, and bid their goodbyes. He remembered Turaga Dume's banishment of them and permission to have any killed by the Vahki should they come near. He remembered his decision - fueled by his love of creatures and research - to follow the Rahi, and soon to live with them. Never had he seen the Great City or his friends again. Never felt the cool wind on his shoulders, the excitement of burrowing deep underground for the Archives, the challenge of studying a strange Rahi they had come by... never to talk with Whenua, to deliberate things with Onepu, to pass by the Coliseum and marvel.
A tear formed behind his eye and he forced his reminiscing to end. He opened his eyes and knuckled them dry, then looking around. A massive serpentine beast, one of the First Rahi he'd named Khau, arched its horned head out of a lake at the far side of the great chamber and droned at Mavrah. Close up, the sound would've stunned a Matoran.
"It's nothing, Khau," Mavrah muttered. "I'm just... tired."
As if understanding, the Rahi bobbed its head up and down and disappeared back under the silver water.
Mavrah sighed and turned, inclining his head to look at a small puddle of silver water. The slight breeze stirred it, making ripples, but he could clearly see his reflection. He looked old and worn. His mask was stained and scarred, his body looked frail, and the armor, once new and sparkly, was now dull and dirty. What have I done? he thought, as he'd thought many times for the past years.
Emotions overwhelmed him. Loss, grief, boredom. He was sick at Turaga Dume for his decision, but he knew it was right and he longed so much to be standing in Onu-Metru again, staring up at the giant telescreen, at the long, benevolent mask of the Turaga of Fire. He missed his friends, the company he'd had on the island, of both known and esteemed companions to strangers everywhere. He missed the laughter and the bad times, the times he'd go up and tease Midak about his love of the surface, and then be challenged to stay for an entire sunset there. But he also loved the Rahi. He loved the research. He felt he was doing just. Right now, right here, he was doing the unwritten great mission that no one else would or could take. He was doing destiny's will, he was taking the right path for himself. Or something like that.
"Only time will tell," he murmured aloud. Underneath, he felt the earth stir, and in an instant the hard soil and bedrock burst and a massive Crab Rahi easily the size of four huts emerged, looked at the Onu-Matoran, and made a sound only Mavrah knew was a chuckle. The Matoran looked at the Rahi with dead eyes, and mustered a weak smile. He reached forward and patted the Rahi on the leg. That was all he could do. It blinked its eyes gratefully and plunged back underneath.
Mavrah got to his feet and walked heavily over to an enormous hut carved into the wall, where he held all his documents and personal quarters. He opened the door with a push and dragged himself in as if his frail, worn body weighed a ton. Around him towering cases of books and tablets were arranged, all documented with information on the First Rahi. He walked through the gigantic room and finally settled down into a cool, hut-sized chamber. He fell into a seaweed bed there and grabbed out a journal tablet book and protodermis pen. He filled in the blank entry page.
My name is Mavrah. After long years of occupying research, my body and mind are worn and weary. I reminisce of the days back on the Great City. But I will not go back. I believe I have a task in all my doing, by the will of the Great Spirit perhaps? But even so, I know this:
Today would be a good day to die.
A sudden ruckus outside. Mavrah sprang up, and ran out of the chamber, just before he was about to go to sleep. He climbed up a stairwell and looked through a telescope perched at the top. He directed the long tube to a faraway window in the humungous building. He saw three Toa scuttle in with fierce looks on their masks – they were red, green, and brown. Mavrah scowled at the sudden conclusion that they were coming to bring him back, after all these years. Then a feeling washed over him that was indescribable - this was the first time he'd seen a being of relation in many long years. And then a smile tugged at his lips, but a sad, dismal smile. Perhaps his wish would come true.