The island, if you could call it that, was barely more than a windswept collection of enormous boulders with sand trapped between them. Maui could walk the whole perimeter in a matter of an hour or so. It was the most miserable, forsaken dump that he could possibly imagine. There was not a single tree on the whole spit of land, neither for shade nor for fruit. Indeed, there was little more than just a few mossy patches on bare stone and some prickly clumps of weeds sprouting from the sand. The sole shelter came in the form of cave, which was dry only when the weather was clear. When storms came, water poured through the hole in its roof and left it damp and foul. He might have died of thirst, however, had that rainwater not pooled and collected in a shallow depression, tucked into an alcove of the cavern . Starvation, of course, was also a lingering concern. He managed to stave it off, however, and survived on seaweed and what few sea creatures he could catch in the shallow water along the beach with his bare hands. It was meager rations, but he could live on it.
The stark bleakness of the island itself was nothing compared to the crushing loneliness of being stranded upon it, however. The island was truly desolate, smothered in oppressive silence without palm fronds to rustle in the wind, birds to sing in the day, or insects to chirp in the night. The silence rang in his ears. Maui was truly alone here.
At first, Maui had ignored the passage of time. This was just a minor setback, of course, and time was always so ephemeral to an immortal demigod, after all. He was no stranger to it slipping through his fingers unnoticed. Besides, surely someone would come looking for him and this uncomfortable situation would be quickly put behind him.
No one came.
Later, he began to hack crude tick marks into the stone to mark each day. It was an inaccurate count from the start, as he had no clear idea of how long it had been before he began the count. However, as what must surely be years upon years had passed by, he felt his metaphorical grip on the rudder start to slip and needed something to steady the course. Maui remembered that once it had been easy to mark the passage of time—when he could see it reflected right before him every day in the face of a friend.
He began to count.
The tick marks added up, slowly taking the shape of the one thing that could get him out of here and the one thing that made him special—his fishhook.
Where was his hook? It had been knocked from his hand by the lava demon, he knew that much. But where had it ended up? So too had he lost his grip on the Heart of Te Fiti—the prize he had wanted to badly to deliver to the humans. Both were likely consigned to the sea, sinking into the depths. Maui knew well, though, that things cast into the deep were not always truly lost. Below the sea lay Lalotai and many things overtaken by the depths would eventually come to rest there. If that was so, Maui had a pretty good idea who probably had it by now.
The thought brought him little comfort, only leading to other even more uncomfortable thoughts. Maui had been steadfastly forcing those thoughts to side for years now, even before becoming stranded on this cheerless outcropping. He'd employed steady tactics of distraction, denial, disregard, and feigned detachment to try and bury it all. Alone, however, with no one to put a show on for, it was difficult to continue lying to himself.
Still trying to avoid the real subject, Maui thought instead of Haunui—that cursed golden war club—now also rendered into the depths. The legends had clearly been mistaken about it. Rather than peace, it had brought the humans deadly strife when he had presented it to them. Mortals were so accutely susceptible to such things, it would seem. But was that all?
There was a lingering thought that nagged at him, ever since the debacle at the human village that lead to his pursuit of Te Fiti's heart. Maui cringed to even consider it, but he had no escape from his thoughts on this lonely island.
Had he been affected by the war club's toxic influence as well?
Maui knew, no matter the answer to that question, that his actions had been his own. No one had coerced him into doing the things that he had done and no curse had forced his hand. Despite this, he wondered if things might have been exacerbated at least in part by that cursed thing. Perhaps he hadn't been completely immune, but what if he had been influenced by it? It made him uncomfortable to even consider what that might mean.
Then there was the thing he couldn't avoid forever and the guilt he tried in vain to justify and explain away. The stain just wouldn't wash off. His mind was forever skittering away from it, recoiling at even the slightest stray thought in that direction or, if exposed to an audience, covering it up with bluster and boast. Even now, he skirted those treacherous reefs for at least slightly more tolerable seas.
At some point, Maui stopped carving tick marks in the rocks to mark the days he was imprisoned on the island. There didn't seem to be much point in counting the endless days anymore. He'd drawn numerous effigies of his hook with hundreds of day marks by now. Nobody was coming for him.
Was this what it had been like for Tamatoa, alone on the island Maui had pulled up for him eons ago? He probably should have gone to visit like he'd promised. He could see for himself now that the solitude, deprived of even simple conversation or company, was absolutely maddening.
Lacking an audience, Maui talked to himself. It seemed strange to talk to himself, though. The mortals would think he was unhinged if they saw him at it! So, he spoke to his tattoos instead—conversing with them as if they were alive. It was still awkward, but felt less odd than shouting to the open air.
Maui's tattoos had always been malleable, changing and shifting as he performed noteworthy deeds. They could move, animated by some elusive magic, to tell a story when he was so inspired. One even hid itself, as if in shame, behind another on his back. As such, it was unsurprising when it seemed the tattooed image of himself was responding to his lonely monologues. In truth, he was never entirely sure if it was just an flimsy effigy built by his own need for a companion or if the tattooed image had truly developed a personality of his own. Either way, it was the only company he had and so he just rolled with it.
It helped keep him distracted, at any rate, as century after wretched century rolled by without end. All he wanted was to get off this awful little island, to feel the wind beneath his hawk wings or filling his canoe's sails again. By now, he would do anything to get off this island. He would take any opportunity, no matter the cost. He had to get free. If only he had his hook. If only—
Maui awoke with a start, blinking in the strong sunlight. As the fleeting wisps of his dream still swirled around him and held him in their grasping tendrils, he very nearly forgot where he was. For a brief, heart-stopping moment, he imagined he was still stuck on that rocky little island—trapped and alone. It was only once his vision sharpened and he saw the green fronds of palm trees swaying gently overhead in the late morning breeze that the momentary flash of terror fled and he sighed with relief.
Maui was alone, but he was not trapped.
His hook rested on the black sand nearby, not far from where he had stretched out comfortably on the beach to sleep. He could leave this island at any time. One flick of his fishhook and he could be airborne, flying away to any place he desired. After more than a thousand years of clipped wings, the mere thought that he could go wherever he pleased once more was absolutely exhilarating.
Maui stood up and stretched, taking a deep breath and soaking in the beautiful island around him. The slender crescent of black sand upon which he had spent the night circled a deep lagoon of clear blue water. Verdant hillsides stretched up from the beach, rising to weathered mountains above. A riot of colorful plants sprouted from rich, dark soil and all around the air was permeated with the damp, woody smell of life and growth. Nothing could be farther from the barren rock pile he had spent the past thousand years upon.
After leaving Moana to return, bright and triumphant, to her beloved people, Maui had spent the better part of two days simply soaring from island to island for the sheer joy of it. He reveled in the feel of the wind under his wings and the sight of lush islands rising from the horizon. Unconstrained and unbound, he felt more alive than he had in centuries. It was a heady feeling and he savored every moment of it.
His heart felt lighter, too. Moana had opened his eyes in ways he hadn't expected, lifting the weight of his self-doubts. Perhaps he did have worth beyond what adoration the mortals bestowed upon him in exchange for his deeds and gifts to them. For the first time, he didn't feel a compulsion to please them at all costs. Of course, he still wanted to help them and always would, but now he didn't feel so driven to push the boundaries of reason just to win their approval.
Who would have guessed that a slip of a mortal girl like her could make such a lasting impact? She was the first friend he had had in—well, that didn't bear thinking about. One thing lingered in his mind, though—Moana was mortal. Mortal lifespans were so short and fleeting. Knowing his friend would be gone in barely the blink of an eye was a disquieting notion and one that he'd never had to deal with before. He'd have to remember to visit her often and not let the years slip by as they were often prone to.
Regardless, Maui felt happier and more carefree than he had in ages. True, he knew that eventually he'd have to repair the reputation amongst the humans that he'd shattered by his actions. He'd made mistakes and would have to work to win back their good will towards him and restore his good name. That responsibility would catch up to him soon enough, but for now he was content to just enjoy his newfound freedom and the wide, beautiful world he had longed to return to.
Naturally, this was a perfect time for something to intrude and shatter this blissful interlude. Maui looked up from his thoughts and, right on cue, that interruption was on its way.
A tall, handsome woman was walking down the hillside towards him—a woman who was wrapped in a long mantle of black tapa cloth and who had eyes that burned like embers taken from the heart of a fire.
Lalotai was not known as a charitable realm. Indeed, it was a brutal place where beneficence and friendly assistance was practically unheard of. Knowing this, however, didn't stop Tamatoa from wailing miserably for help as he lay stuck on his back, stranded on his own doorstep no less.
He wasn't even sure who he was yelling for or why. Perhaps it was just a reflexive thing, a remnant of a time when help would have been on the way. Nevertheless, he kept calling out in between increasingly desperate attempts to rock himself back upright.
Frankly, this was embarrassing. He cursed himself for being so easily misled. It was an amateur move and he'd fallen for it like an idiot. What had he been thinking? Next time, he told himself, eat the interlopers first and then chase down potential treasure. And maybe save the singing for after dinner entertainment. Though, he had to concede, it was nice to have an audience for a change. He hoped Maui had been suitably impressed by his song.
Ah yes, Maui. Admittedly, he was a bit thrown off his game by the shockingly unexpected appearance of Maui standing on his shell, hook in hand. Even after a thousand years, he had felt a stab of momentary fear and had swiftly recoiled from the sight. Of course, then he'd gotten a whiff of payback when it became clear that Maui had no control over his hook's power. Perhaps Tamatoa had let it go a bit to his head, but it was hard to resist humiliating the insufferable, traitorous semi-god, particularly in front of one of his precious humans. He hoped it stung.
All those details would mean nothing, though, if he couldn't get himself flipped over and soon. As several days passed, his plaintive pleas had trailed off to half-hearted calls for aid and dejected singing to himself. If only there was something within reach, he was pretty sure he could pull himself back over. Unfortunately, there was nothing suitable nearby. Nor had he had any success throwing his weight to scoot closer to any anchoring object. In truth, he'd been hesitant to move too far to either side anyway, considering the sheer and surely fatal drop on either side of the pathway to his home if he misjudged the distance.
He had been fortunate thus far that few monsters of a size capable of posing a legitimate threat to him inhabited this part of Lalotai. This was, of course, all by design. He'd long ago run off any potential challengers to his territory and the smaller creatures feared him enough to avoid him even when in such a compromised position.
However, this did not exactly make for helpful neighbors who might be willing to give him a bit of a push to set him upright. If anything, he thought bitterly, whatever creatures might be within earshot were probably just waiting for him to starve to death so they could begin fighting to claim his home, his treasures, and likely his earthly remains as well.
With that unpleasant thought serving as motivation, he resumed trying to flip himself upright again with renewed vigor. It was pointless, however, and he was forced to quit once again as he grew exhausted. He let out a growling, guttural yell of frustration and let his limbs fall limply again.
It was then that he heard something approaching with a quiet tapping of steps on the soft earth. Stuck as he was, he swiveled his eyestalks to try and locate the source of the sound. If he was lucky, it was something small that he could snatch up and at least get a bite to eat out of. If he was unlucky, however—well, he could be in for some trouble.
There was apparently a third option, however, and Tamatoa let out an annoyed huff as he spotted the creatures approaching. It had been centuries since he'd last encountered them, but he remembered them well now.
Two spiders of enormous size, although still only a little more than half as tall as he was these days, came into view. He had only seen them a few times and always at strangely significant moments, but they were unmistakable. Both were a glossy black, decorated in vibrantly glowing color patterns. The larger sported accent colors of purple and pink, the other in yellow and orange. What could they possibly want this time?
Herenui, the larger of the two, approached and gave him a level, long-suffering look. "When are you going to learn?" she admonished without preamble, her melodic voice tinted with mild rebuke.
Tamatoa shot her a glare filled with dislike. "When are you going to mind your own business?"
The smaller spider, Hereiti, giggled—a dissonant sound that never failed to put him on edge. "So rude when he was just yelling for help," she chirped brightly, tilting her head to peer at his inverted face. "Never seen him from this angle before, but it's not a bad view!" she said, her amusement plain as she looked him over appreciatively.
Suddenly feeling very exposed, Tamatoa curled his tail closer to his body and pulled his legs in to do likewise. That earned him another eerie laugh from the smaller spider in response. Even Herenui smirked at his discomfiture and Tamatoa silently cursed them both. Ordinarily he'd be flattered, but right now he was in too compromising a position to enjoy such attention. He had been stuck here for days, he was hungry, and his patience was worn thin. He kept his temper in check, however, as these two might be his best chance of getting out of this. After all, they had helped him once long ago. Willing help was a difficult thing to find in Lalotai and he was not fool enough to let an opportunity slip away. So, he endured their ridicule and teasing without comment in the name of potentially getting back on his feet.
Herenui stepped closer to him with long, sweeping strides, assessing his position with critical eyes from beside his head. "You've been fighting with that demigod again, we heard." She clicked in disapproval. "Have you considered that perhaps you need to rethink your strategy?"
Tamatoa let out another disgruntled huff. "I was doing just fine," he said defensively. Oh yes, just fine. Until he decided to be an idiot and chase after a fake trinket without thinking.
Herenui smirked at him, almost as if she could read his thoughts or, more likely, the look on his expressive face. "And yet, here we are."
She cast a glance over to her companion and the smaller spider came forward as well to stand on the other side of his head. He felt a quick flash of wariness, unsettled by the pair of odd spiders now in such close proximity. His antennae twitched and he opened his mouth to say something, but never got the chance.
Without warning, the two spiders swiftly bent to brace themselves under the edge of shell. He barely had time to register surprise at it when they lifted up in unison and gave him a none-to-gentle push up. Hurriedly, he scrambled to rock his weight with the unexpected boost.
With a grunt he was rolled upright at last, the impact shaking the ground and causing the tentacle palm trees nearby to sway. He blinked back a wave of dizziness and shook himself, getting himself centered once more. Then relief washed over him, immensely glad to finally be right side up again.
Tamatoa looked back to the two spiders, though, with suspicion coloring whatever gratitude he might have expressed. "Why do you keep helping me?" he asked them warily.
Herenui gave him an unreadable look for a long moment, which then faded into something more neutral. "Hereiti likes you," she said dismissively. At her side, Hereiti grinned and laughed lightly. Herenui wasn't done, however, and went on. "And I hate to see the last of any species throw their life away so recklessly."
That sparked a memory more than a thousand years old and Tamatoa's antennae swept forward. He hesitated for a moment, not sure if he really wanted to know the answer. After a moment to consider, though, he forged ahead to ask what he hadn't had the chance to centuries ago. "Am I really the only one?"
Herenui's glittering green eyes met his steadily. "I had thought they were gone long ago, but then you appeared. So we searched to be sure," she said slowly, then looked at him with sympathy. "There are no others."
Tamatoa was silent, unsure how to feel about this. True, he had never sought out any of his own kind and had little interest in doing so. Nevertheless, it was one thing to simply not go looking and quite another to realize that there was no one to go looking for.
He must have been quiet for too long, because Herenui took a step towards him and began to speak.
Tamatoa quickly cut her off, however, not wanting to hear whatever potentially consoling words she was about to say. "It's fine, babe," he said before she could even ask, adopting a smooth tone. "Now I really am one of a kind," he continued airily—a thin boast.
Skepticism was written plainly on Herenui's features at this. Beside her, however, Hereiti looked at him with a sadness vastly unlike her usual chipper self.
Tamatoa didn't need their pity. He didn't want their pity. With an irritated flick of his antennae, he turned away from the armor-piercing stare of their knowing eyes. "Appreciate the help," he said off-hand over his shoulder. "Now, get lost."
With that, Tamatoa walked stiffly away and back towards the rubble and mess of his lair. He didn't even stop to pick up the scattered trinkets that had dropped from his shell in his fall.
Maui stared with growing unease as the woman approached. He was pretty sure he knew who this was, but he was dearly hoping that he was wrong.
As she came closer, however, his hopes were soundly dashed. There was no mistaking the woman who stood before him now. She was tall and straight-backed, carrying herself with pride and easy grace. Her features were angular and sharply defined and, rather than being conventionally beautiful, possessed an aristocratic handsomeness that was striking rather than pretty. Long tendrils of dark hair flowed down her shoulders like ropy whorls of cooled pahoehoe. It was her eyes, however, that gave her away. They drifted between a deep, glossy black like shards of obsidian to the burning red-orange glow of hot coals in the dark.
"Tūtū Pele," he crooned, turning on the charm. "Long time no see."
The volcano goddess looked at him as if he were a particularly annoying insect, unimpressed. "Maui," she said, her tone brittle and plainly unfriendly.
His suave facade dissolved and he fidgeted nervously. Pele's fiery temper was legendary. Maui had just escaped the wrath of one goddess and had no desire to face another's any time soon. "Uh.. what can I do for you?"
Pele fixed him with a burning glare, eyes alight with the fires below the earth. "What can you do?" she echoed darkly. "You can fix the mess you have created!"
"Now wait, I put back the heart of Te Fiti!" Maui said, rising quickly to his own defense. "Well, I helped anyway," he amended lamely, then went on in an insistent voice. "I did fix things! It's over."
Pele laughed without humor, a sound harsh as pumice clinking across jagged stone. "Did you really think you could do what you've done and there would be no repercussions? That the price of redemption would come so cheaply? That one small act—not even wholly your own act—could absolve you of your misdeeds?"
Stunned, Maui opened his mouth to argue, then closed it again. Then gathered himself and said, "what are you talking about? Te Fiti is whole again and the darkness is gone. End of story!"
"The darkness you unleashed when you defiled Te Fiti—" she began sharply and Maui winced guiltily at her words. "—did not simply vanish with her restoration. Some of it remained behind. It soaked into the deepest parts of the earth, seeping down where men never dare to tread."
Well, this sounded like a monologue coming on. Maui kept his expression neutral and appeasing. In his experience, interrupting hot-tempered divine entities when they got a good lecture going was typically a bad idea.
"The roots of my fires are born from far below." Pele fixed him now with a piercing glare, filled with accusation. "I know what lies within the depths of the earth. I know what you planted there."
Maui flinched, eyes widening as she went on and the last traces of any amusement he felt evaporating. No, it wasn't possible. It couldn't be.
"The darkness you unleashed found it, too. And in the endless dark below all realms, that darkness found power to achieve a will of its own."
Oh. Well, that was bad. Maui could do little but listen in growing unease. So much for getting some down time.
"It rises now, seeking to consume all. It will ravage the caverns deep within the earth. When all below is destroyed, it will consume the realm between—Lalotai. Once Lalotai is stripped bare, it will find its way to the surface and lay waste to the world above. The barriers between worlds have grown thin already with your thoughtless meddling with the Mother Island." She gave him an unreadable look, then looked off into the distance. "If you do not seal them, the surface world will be consumed as well."
At this, Maui's face twisted sharply as a dire thought struck him from where it was deeply buried. He barely had time to process it all, though, before Pele continued.
She speared him with her burning gaze again. "You have created this threat with your increasingly reckless and foolhardy actions. The Ocean itself awoke because of your foolishness and even that was not enough to undo this damage. You have to make it right."
Maui faltered, overwhelmed. "But—" he started, then trailed off—his excuses dying unspoken as he looked into the goddess' eyes and found no mercy there. "I'll fix this," he assured her quickly. "I'll make it right."
She nodded, though her fiery expression did not waver. "Know this: if you fail and yet survive the wrath of this darkness you have unleashed, you will face my wrath instead. And you know perfectly well that there is no island you can shelter on where I cannot travel. I am Pele! You know what I can do," she gave him one final hard look and Maui had no doubts that she would back up her threat. "Do not fail."
Without another word, she vanished in a burst of flame, leaving only a lingering whiff of sulphur hanging in the air.
Well, the goddess sure knew how to make a dramatic exit-dramatic everything, really.
Maui stared at where she had stood, his mind reeling. This was supposed to be over! Moana had put back the heart, Te Fiti was restored, and everybody gets a happy ending, right? Well, if not a happy ending, then at least a nice vacation before some other crisis. Didn't he deserve a few weeks off to enjoy the world after a thousand years stranded?
His heart sank, too, knowing what Pele had been referring to. There was really only one thing it could have been that he had let fall deep into the earth. Why, though? Why this again? Was there some unseen hand at the rudder putting him through this? Would that cursed war club dog his steps forever? Not for the first time, he wished he had never set eyes upon it.
Then there was the rest. His stomach twisted at the thought. Pele had told him to seal the pathways to Lalotai to save the surface world. That would be simple enough to do, really. He'd closed some of those pathways in the past without much trouble, but if he did that it would doom the realm below the sea.
Maui felt a spike of pain in his chest.
It was just a realm of monsters, though. Nobody would miss them. It would be for the best. The humans would be safer with Lalotai destroyed. That's what others would tell him, he was sure, if he dared ask them. Even Pele seemed to show no remorse for it's potential destruction. For a fire goddess, she was a mighty cold woman.
Maui looked down at his hands, staring with a hollow gaze.
Just a realm of monsters.
It felt like there were bubbles in his blood and a tightness under his ribs as his very being rebelled against the idea of letting all the inhabitants of Lalotai—no, just one of them—perish this way. No, he could never allow that to happen—never!
There had to be another way. He was Maui. Shapeshifter. Demigod of the Wind and Sea. Hero to All. He would find another way.
