Chapter 12 is up! I've been keeping to my schedule, which is great. Enjoy!
Veor Hrdenda: Thanks for your review! I can see why you think I messed up the twist. It's hard to strike the fine balance between obvious and foreshadowed but not expected.
Here I shall answer your questions:
It's G1 but I have a few elements (get it :3?) from G2. For all intents and purposes, it's G1.
Po-Koro being gone is my own little twist that I made. Do you like it?
The Toa Nuva have their adaptive armour by now and the matoran having an 'inferior' (IDK what word to use) version of the adaptive armour is, again, a little thing I added. I thought of it myself but, after some searching, I found I am far from the only one to think of it.
Chapter 12: The Vestigial Po-Koran
The desert is your home no longer.
"Why didn't you tell me that my home is gone? My kind, gone?"
The words that I spoke echoed through the cave for a few seconds, but it felt like an eternity. The silence as warm as the torches around us was gone, replaced by an ominous silence that snaked at our feet. The sombre air threatened to crush us as the quiet continued uninterrupted. I doubted that even Gashema could lift the mood now, the cave eternally stained with melancholy.
"What do you mean?" she asked.
What did I mean?
My home was gone. Po-Koro was gone, never to be seen again. My kind was scattered. We were lost to the whims of the cruel powers that dictated time. He was right; it was my fault. I was the reason why Po-Koro entered an eternal slumber beneath a maero of sand. The reason why my kind dispersed, never to be seen again. I was to blame for this. And I was serving the consequences – the punishment– for my actions.
"It's gone, Gashema. My home is gone. My friends are gone…" I heard my voice grow louder. "My kind are gone! All of them! Everyone I've ever known! All of it! All of them!"
Gashema was clearly taken aback by my rage-filled tone. The echoes taunted me and allowed me to hear what I – what he– had just said. But I knew I couldn't blame this on him.This was myrage.Gashema said nothing, knowing there was little to say after an outburst as animated as what she had just witnessed. To see Gashema speechless was a rare sight but it didn't help to diffuse the tension. She stayed silent, not answering my question. Why didn't she tell me? Surely, it would have been better to let me know at the beginning. Despite the fact that hiding my sadness was a futile effort, I still tried. The feelings flowed like the waterfall I had seen at Ga-Koro. Ga-Koro. Gashema. We were both away from our homes with no definite way to return. To return to the way things were. Before all of this. Gashema could only remain silent through all of this.
The endless torrent of negativity was interrupted by a voice in the cave. Not Gashema's. Not mine. Not his. It was an elderly voice. A voice that spoke with wisdom, that made the very walls of this tunnel stand to attention and the echoes themselves resonate with authority.
"Well, what have we here?"
We were greeted by the presence of someone of a similar size to Gashema and clad in a Noble Ruru; a mask that gave the wearer night vision.
"What is wrong, Matoran of the sands?" he asked.
How did he know? My armour was still miscoloured (I checked). My face said it all.
"There's more to being a Po-Koran than the colour of your armour!" he stranger said.
Ignoring Gashema's questioning look, he passed her and gestured for us to follow. We slowly began to follow behind him after exchanging puzzle glances.
"I knew you'd arrive. Nuju told me so. As much as I disagree with his fascination with the future, it does serve us well to be able to read the stars. I know the answer to your question..." He paused for a name.
"He's Porauku. And I'm Gashema," Gashema told him. "And you are?"
"I am Turaga Whenua of Onu-Koro. I couldn't help but overhear your conversation. It sounds like quite the predicament. I'm sure you'd agree with me when I say the Hotoke Contingency, as they called it, was bad – "
"Bad doesn't even begin to describe it," I interrupted. Disastrous, awful, painful – these were a few of the words that more accurately described the situation.
"I collected my research on it and found out the true extent of its damage. A few Po-Matoran came through here as a matter of fact. They all asked about a 'tall, quiet Po-Koran' – I would assume that is you."
Whilst he talked, I merely watched the torches pass me by as I, too, pondered that calamitous event. I had heard others talk about it in hushed tones. The Hotoke Contingency. A term that had become drenched in infamy across the island. These thoughts drowned out the Turaga's words to the point that I didn't notice his question. He peered over my shoulder and repeated himself.
"I said, where do you plan on going from here?"
Out of the corner of my eye, I spied Gashema asking herself the same question in her head, only to arrive at the same conclusion – we didn't know. I could not return home. She could not return home. With an awkward chuckle, Gashema answered his question:
"We... don't exactly know. Not anymore, anyway..."
"Something tells me that things will work out. Do not go to where you need to go. Go to where you are needed." As wise as those words were, they didn't clear things up as much as they raised questions.
The rest of the journey to Onu-Koro was short and filled with a contemplative silence. What did that mean? Where were we needed? Nowhere needed us. We were two outcasts bound together by the cruel hands of fate.
"Tell me, travelers. Have you ever been to Onu-Koro before?"
His question was answered by a 'no' and a shaking head. The light peered out from around a corner, anticipating our arrival. Peeking past the corner, I was met with the sight of the underground village. Onu-Koro. I was awestruck by the homely aesthetic of the place. Glowing hands of flames caressed the walls of buildings sculpted out of the very rock that surrounded us. A stream passed through the middle of the village, filling the air with serene whispers that welcomed us with open arms. Doorways and windows were holes in the sides of domes with a radiant light emanating from them. Travelling through the middle of the cavern, we headed towards Whenua's hut. Upon arrival,
"Are you two aware of a certain prophecy?" Whenua asked.
Even with my memories I had no clue. Naturally, Gashema spoke up.
"Of course. The Toa will return and save the island from evil."
"I mean the other prophecy. A sibling prophecy, if you will."
Gashema's eyes met mine as we exchanged a look of confusion. I didn't know and nor did she. Chuckling, the Turaga explained.
"It would take place at the same time as the first prophecy, but at a different place. It is said that a group of Matoran would defend this island in the Toa's absence. The Turaga and I talked and we believe it is time we let you know."
"Know about what? We were in the dark the entire time?" I exclaimed, taken aback by this prospect.
"The Turaga thought it would disturb the Prophecy's path to have you know. They gave me the responsibility of telling you." Whenua explained with a shrug.
Gashema was part of a prophecy? I was part of a prophecy? Could I be trusted with such responsibility... again?
"I can see you are unnerved, but let me tell you one thing. Believe in your abilities. The Great Spirit selected you because you have something no one else has. What it is, is up to you to find out."
The fire crackled as if ready to burst from the anticipation. The pressure in the room threatened to crush me. Why me? Was I really up to the task? Gashema seemed to be taking it in her stride (or she was hiding it well). One question remained, though…
"What's the prophecy?" asked Gashema, intrigue in every syllable.
"To tell you would ruin everything, make mistakes repeat themselves. We know what happened last time," Through his Ruru, I think I saw him spare a glance at me. Was that a trick of the light? This whole conversation was confusing so I let myself stand idle while Gashema talked to Whenua. I wasn't cut out for speaking.
"But I can tell you how it begins. 'On the crypt of one legend, two more shall be born.'" He said.
The meaning of the prophecy took a while to decipher. Where were we needed? Whilst I thought about those words, I continued to survey the village of earth through the window, as did Gashema. It looked beautiful in its own way. Maybe that was just the inner rock-appreciator talking, being from Po-Koro.
Po-Koro! Everything stopped as I realised a burning from deep within my heart, one that was telling me where I needed to go this entire time.
I was needed back home. Our destination was to stay the same as before. It was time to return...
To Po-Koro.
The final destination is clear and the path is just as clear as the two continue onwards to where it all started. It will be 'concluded' in the final chapter in 5 days! (there'll be an Epilogue...)
Hotoke = Maori for 'winter'. 'Winter Contingency' is a Halo: Reach reference. I usually avoid things like this but I feel like this works for me. I couldn't think of a name and Bionicle used the maori language for names etc.
Thanks again to Sumi-Sprite for beta-reading and giving me her input on a few choices made in regards to the plot.
That was no typo, I said 5 days. It has been written but I need to make sure that the next chapter is perfect. Don't be surprised if the chapter is longer than usual. Now that I have raised your expectations to levels I can never satisfy, I shall take my leave...
See you in 5 days!