Prologue

The Matoran struggled weakly against the grips of the larger beings that held him, his green eyes wide with indescribable fear. He had given up on trying to plead -the Makuta had shown that they cared little for words, and the cut on his red Huna had been enough to stop him from continuing. His gaze shifted from side to side as he wrenched his arms and flailed his short legs, although all struggle was vain. The makuta that held him, each tightly gripping an arm, were making sure that he was high: his feet didn't even touch the ground below him as they carried him. He didn't recognize this part of the Matoran universe, and the way that he had been brought here made him shiver with fear. The corridors were cold and damp, as well as dark. He could barely distinguish the colors of the Makuta on his either side, although he guessed one was green and the other black and red.

The matoran didn't understand what was going on. He had been travelling with some of his friends from the Northern continent down to the Southern continent in a ship filled with goods: tools, supplies, anything that might have been useful to other Matoran. However, as they had crossed the sea to get to it, he and his friends' ship had capsized. They had struggled to keep each other on the upside-down ship, but still one of them had sunk, leaving only the Ta-matoran and his friends, a Vo-matoran, a Fe-matoran and a Bo-matoran. They had waited for days, talking, as there was precious little else they could do but wait and hope another ship would find them.

Their luck had seemed to shine, as less than a week after the capsizing another ship had come, with a small crew of Makuta. The Matoran had explained their situation and asked for aid, and the larger beings had obliged. While their shipment was too large for the Makuta ship, they had helped the Matoran onto their vessel and began piloting it away, towards the mainland.

Yet as they sailed, the ta-matoran had become aware that they were heading the wrong way to reach the southern continent. Rather than heading directly south, they had begun moving west instead. However, they had been unable to do anything until a great island had loomed ahead of them, and once they had landed the Makuta had brought them out. When the matoran had started pushing back, feeling frightened and ill-at-ease, the Makuta had pulled weapons on them and forced them to keep moving, walking into a great dark fortress. There, they had been taken to cells, each in a separate box of metal, and left alone. How long they had remained there, he didn't know, but eventually two Makuta had come to his cell and opened it, and that was how he was being carried against his will down a corridor, towards a sickly reddish light.

He soon found out what it was, for the Makuta carried him into the room. At the far end was another makuta, one he didn't know, black and gray and a sickly green, bent over a table covered in contraptions and what looked like parts from Rahi. As the larger two, still carrying the matoran, entered, this new figure hardly turned his head, merely flashing a red eye towards the small carried figure. "Good, good, good," he said, turning his head for a moment. "Put him over there, strap him in. We wouldn't want our subject escaping, would we?"

The words were followed by a dark giggle that made a chill run over the ta-matoran's spine. As the two beings holding him carried him over and strapped him into an odd contraption that kept him almost vertical, cuffs around his arms and ankles, the green-and-black makuta reached over to what seemed a blade in the sickly red light, and a pit formed in the matoran's stomach. He only relaxed slightly when the makuta turned back to whatever was on his table, his larger shape stopping the matoran from seeing what the larger being was doing. He saw the shoulder shift as the arm moved, and a terrifying shriek was let loose by something -doubtlessly whatever the makuta was cutting into. At last he reached over and picked up a jar of an odd substance, and the shrieking stopped, although it didn't stop the matoran's ears from ringing.

Humming to himself, the makuta rose up to his feet and turned, holding a wriggling form in his hand. His red eyes turned to the ta-matoran and he grinned evilly. "This is a Kraata, nothing but the essence of a Makuta given solid form. But a bit of this... a bit of that... and I've turned it into what should well be an ever-hungry stealer of light. And guess what, little Matoran?" he added holding it up until the creature -an odd blackish-turquoise- nearly managed to touch his powerless Huna, making him jerk his head back until it awkwardly hit the solid protodermis behind him, making him let out a small cry of pain. The Makuta giggled again, then paused, turning to look at the odd slug-like creature in his vice-like grip. "Oh, we wouldn't want the poor matoran to ignore who he's with, would we?"

He grinned and turned back to said matoran, using his free hand to force him to lift his head and gaze into the makuta's eyes, the matoran's odd gree meeting the makuta's bright red. "I am Mutran," he told him. "Creator of rahi, mutator of beings, and soon stealer of your Light."

He took a step back and, with a great movement, brought the slug like creature down on the Matoran's mask. The matoran sucked in his breath and closed his eyes tight, waiting for something terrible to happen. However, he felt nothing aside from the kraata-slug on top of his mask, and even that soon began to slide over him. Tentatively, he opened one eye -the other being covered by the kraata at that moment- and fearfully looked around. When nothing happened over a few moments, he let go of his breath, just as the mutated Kraata spread its feelers and placed its open mouth down on the matoran's forehead.

The effect was nearly instantaneous. The ta-matoran felt a pit in its stomach, a growing pain that soon spread to his chest. His brow furrowed and he frowned as he tried to understand what was happening, just as another pain sprouted within his head. With this, the sensation was multiplied more than tenfold, and he tensed, letting out a scream of pure torture and pain. It was unlike any pain he had ever felt, taking over his entire body, mixed with the feeling of something being removed. He didn't know how long it lasted, it felt like decades, centuries. He wasn't even aware that the odd kraata had dropped off, for the pain remained, and only began to ebb a long time later. As his cries died, the matoran seemed to lose strength and he actually began to cry softly, hanging limply from the chains as Mutran laughed with successful glee. He didn't even hear when the makuta spoke, was hardly aware of the other Makuta who had dragged him into the room return and unbind him, carrying him away, didn't register the change from red light to nearly utter darkness. Even when he was thrown into his cell, it took him ages to realize that the pain was mostly gone, replaced by a hollow feeling inside.