Author's Note: We do not own Bionicle, or the Lego corporation. Any time you see a number in paranthesis, like (1), it refers to an item in the Index. The Index is the last chapter of the fanfiction, where more obscure terminology is given an explanation.

THE BRITTLE CROWN

Chapter 1 - Metastasis

ANTROZ - LHARIS

Magnificent, Antroz thought, as he stood upon the bow of a Xian warship. Through a telescopic lens mounted on his Kanohi Jutlin, he watched the battle before him unfold. The last of a rabble of holdouts, now trapped on the island of Lharis, in a crumbling Makuta fortress, surrounded on each side by battleships, and a thousand Rahkshi of fear. The atmosphere itself was thick with the scent of terror, leading Antroz to take a deep breath. The enemy - some rout of Dahkini (1) who felt dissatisfied with Teridax's authority - were likely contemplating surrender already. Not that we would oblige them… He thought to himself, watching the Rahkshi skim over the surface of the water, nimbly dodging sharpshooter fire. Disobedience was already a severe crime, but rebellion could not be tolerated. Fear would wear off, and the Brotherhood could not afford to lose a universe once it had gained control.

6 Years, 4 months, and 9 days had passed since the order had been given; since the day Antroz, and the rest of the Makuta, had been granted a Kanohi Olmak, and set upon their dark task. Since that day, under the leadership of their acting commander, Icarax; Antroz, Chirox, Vamprah, Gorast, Bitil, and Krika had slaughtered hundreds of thousands, in a quest for multiversal dominance. By their talons, and the forces of four hundred and twenty thousand Rahkshi (along with Skakdi, Xians, and mercenaries from all species), no less than three different universes had fallen to the flag of the Kraahkan.

Turning away from the battle, Antroz disengaged the scope from his mask, and tossed it aside to a nearby Ihidauri (2), who treated the object with the utmost care. Heading towards an open space on the deck, Antroz's mind's eye turned back, towards the battle in Karda Nui, and the Toa. How bold and confident they had been, contending with the will of the Brotherhood.

"Insolent fools," he murmured to nobody in particular. He remembered his talons, cutting through the Toa of water, and her lifeless body falling into the brackish swamp water - her eyelights dimming as she sank into the murky depths - the roar of rage as the Ta-Toa lept towards him, only to be impaled upon one of Bitil's longswords. The makuta had snuck up behind the Toa, naturally; it was in his nature to pursue the safest and least honorable route. Still, even with two of their numbers dead, the Toa continued to throw themselves into the outstretched claws of the Makuta. Perhaps they hadn't noticed their teammates' death. Or perhaps their courage blinded them. It concerned him little. By the end of the battle, there was nothing left for them in Karda Nui, but blood, and death.

Teridax had seemed surprised to see the Makuta return. Nonetheless, he commended them for their success, for he had achieved his plan. With the Toa's eyes turned towards the Makuta of Karda Nui, he had managed to achieve his domination of the universe, and written in the stars throughout every dome of the great spirit robot, Antroz's commander announced his victory.

The weeks after had been difficult. Several holdouts remained, and had to be stormed by force. Once again, the Makuta proved their loyalty and devotion, and scores of Matoran, Dark Hunters, and the few remaining Toa would fall underfoot. Some would become slaves. Others were not so lucky.

With the entire universe under Teridax's control, it took less than a month for the Makuta to realize how painfully unnecessary they had become. With the entire universe in their fist, things had become, for lack of a better word… boring.

It was then that Teridax's scheme grew and changed, encompassing obstacles with ease like it had done many times before. The new great spirit made a new decree, demanding another task of his Makuta. Presenting before them an Olmak, his order was simple.

"Go forth, my brothers, and take what is ours."

The Makuta leapt at the opportunity to finally utilize their skills. No more would they hide in the shadows - they were going to war. Stepping through the portal, the Makuta took with them hundreds of Rahkshi, Skakdi warriors, and put the first universe they arrived in to the torch. Such rage, and battle-lust did they feel, that they left few survivors. Entire islands were wiped off the map - species wiped out entirely. In less than a year, they butchered an entire universe of beings, took what slaves and soldiers they could, and continued their march. Behind them, they left an agent loyal to them, and began the construction of a permanent gate between the two dimensions. Not even staying long enough to oversee its finalization, the Makuta continued with their forces to yet another dimension. This one was substantially different to the last - the Barraki were still in control, and the brotherhood had been destroyed centuries prior. Nonetheless, the Makuta cut through the League of Six Kingdoms, stripping the Barraki warlords of all titles and ranks, and grew their army tenfold.

This universe was much more trouble.

A universe where the Matoran wield elemental powers, Antroz thought. What a stupid idea.

Where in previous universes, islands had fallen without anyone to protect them, here, each island was a massive hurdle. Each battle took weeks, not days; Metru Nui even took months. In all that time, the Makuta grew weary of this universe, eager to shred the last of its rebels, and depart sooner rather than later.

Finally arriving at an open deck, Antroz unfurled his wings, as the crew of the ship parted to make room for him. None dared so much as to make eye contact, which thrilled the Makuta immensely.

Then they have learned their place, he thought, before a flap of his large, bat-like wings sent him flying into the air. Without looking back, he sailed through the air, towards the fortress itself. By this point, the Rahkshi had landed on the fortress walls, and dispatched most of the forces manning them. Flying overtop the fortress, Antroz extended a single talon, and with incredible speed, cleaved an ornament off the roof of a tower. It exploded into pieces, which spiralled into the sea below. Descending into the courtyard, Antroz landed amongst the Turahk, who had begun to pound furiously on the keep's reinforced gate. The sons of makuta shrieked into the air, battering the gate with their staves. With a wave of Antroz's hand the Rahkshi dissipated, clearing a path. As his Kanohi Jutlin began to glow, the entire gate buckled, dust shaking from its edges. Cracks began to splinter throughout the wood, and Antroz took another step forward. Finally standing before the door, Antroz extended a single hand, and pressed it into the gate. With a splintering noise, the entire construction collapsed in on itself, as the Rahkshi spilled in around him. He could hear the sound of terrified screams from within, as the creatures began to subdue the last of the enemy. A single Dahkini approached, falling upon his knees before Antroz, pleading.

"We surrender!" He begged. Antroz looked down at the pitiful being, whose eyelights were flickering with fear and terror. The display of weakness disgusted him.

"So?" Antroz asked, as Rahkshi set upon the high steltian, mercilessly savaging him. Turning away from the gruesome sight, Antroz once again unfurled his wings, and took to the skies. His companions were waiting for his report in Metru Nui, and he was eager to get it over with. His troops could deal with the holdouts in the fortress - he and the Makuta had business to attend to.

ICARAX - METRU NUI

The once bright and vibrant Coliseum sat empty. Where one day, Matoran in the thousands had crowded the stands, enthralled by feats of valor and matches of Akilini, there now hung silence. Upon the Turaga's perch sat a hulking, black and red armored being, with a solid gold mask upon their face. They wielded a titanic, two-sided sword in one hand, and a bladed shield in the other. His name was Icarax, and he was the Lord of Shadow, Seneschal of Makuta Teridax. He looked down upon the other, lesser Makuta assembled beneath him in the arena. Each had been an instrumental part in the conquering of several realities, and yet…

What a dismal collection, Icarax thought, glancing over his siblings.

The closest was Bitil, a conniving and contemptuous being. None of the Makuta trusted him, and all knew his nasty tendency to stab others in the back if it meant advancing his station. Even in the prime universe, Icarax had considered raising objections towards Bitil's inclusion, though he had eventually decided to keep Bitil on a short leash - a fact that meant little to the yellow Makuta. After all, being kept alongside Icarax afforded more opportunities to prove his worth. At every opportunity, Bitil would engage on risky and impossible campaigns, and seize victory, if only to prove his skill. Through sheer luck, or some hidden stroke of brilliance, he had not yet been killed for his efforts, though many of his troops were not so lucky.

Next was Krika, another being that Icarax had little faith in. Once again, Icarax doubted the icy white Makuta's ability to aid in their quest, but for entirely separate reasons. Where Bitil would scheme and plot to his own ends, Krika had little stomach for the sort of violence the group had been assigned to carry out. Though the Makuta did not know it, Icarax was well aware of his sullen brother's cowardly and weak-hearted nature. It was a necessary tax that Krika would have to be assigned to missions alongside stronger-willed Makuta if he was to complete his goals in a timely manner. Left to his own devices, his campaigns would be long, drawn out, and would leave many enemy survivors when the ghostly Makuta finally would spring his trap - despite Icarax's disinterest in taking prisoners.

Standing alongside him was Gorast. Where Krika suffered from a lack of willpower, the poison-green Mistress of Acid suffered from a dismal excess. Though he admired her outstanding devotion, and the fact that her raging campaigns of terror were among the most poignant victories the brotherhood had ever seen, it did not endear her character to him. Her mercurial personality and complete devotion to Teridax grated even the most staunch of his supporters, and she was a constant force demanding minute changes to his vision. Had she not been an integral part of his collection of rabble, he would extract great pleasure in ripping apart her armor, piece by piece. Alas, Teridax's word was law, and Gorast would continue to be her capricious, irritating self - constantly sticking to the letter of her master's plan, like a loyal energy hound, even when nuance and intent would be lost.

Opposite to her was Chirox. The black armored Makuta stood, bored. The cruel rahi scientist was a useful tool, no doubt, but his insistence on using Rahi to solve every problem the group came across had resulted in equal parts success and failure. Indeed, thought Icarax, if he could be motivated to cease his fixation on teeth and claws, he could be an asset. Such an ask was unlikely to be well received, and thus went unspoken. Still, of all the Makuta, he at least was the easiest to satisfy; so long as he was given a steady supply of unwilling victims, his voice was quieted.

And speaking of the quiet, next to Chirox stood Vamprah. The stoic deep blue Makuta stood, eyes transfixed upon empty space. The nigh-mute Makuta was a skilled hunter and assassin, and had personally claimed the lives of a great deal of valuable targets. Similarly, the Silent Hunter, as he was dubbed, managed a great network of double agents, turncoats, and mercenaries. Though no words passed through his fangs, nothing slipped past his ears either. Every morsel of information was hungrily seized by Vamprah, and piece by piece given to the rest of the Makuta.

As if on cue, the last member of the group descended from the sky above the coliseum. Landing with a flourish, Antroz stepped forward to the center of the group. Clad in his black and red armor, the Makuta of Xia was both a cunning warrior, and a skilled negotiator - his time amongst the Xians had forced him to learn such a skill. As the Makuta landed, the group parted for him.

"What news, Brother?" asked Krika, in a chilling tone. Each syllable sounded like ice crystals forming on one's breath in the cold air. Antroz knelt before Icarax, and spoke.

"The rebels were driven to Lharis by the Xian Persuader fleet. Minor damage was sustained to the Spindrift by virtue of an Ursare sapper, but I'm told damage was contained, and the saboteur was killed by a team of Ekedax aquamarines. The 14th Turahk legion stormed the fortress at minimal losses, and was given the order to accept no capitulation. Admiral Cordaka of the Good Business will be returning by tomorrow, with the Persuaders and 14th legion in tow."

Icarax listened intently as Antroz delivered his report. As he finished, Chirox scoffed.

"What good is it bringing along an entire Xian fleet, with all of their guns that they're so eager to use, if you waste Rahkshi on a ground assault?"

Before Antroz or Icarax could respond, Gorast interjected, with a biting, scathing tone.

"A quick death of fire and heat is too good for the traitors. Antroz was correct to fill their final moments with fear… and with pain."

Antroz nodded along with Gorast, with a lack of certainty in his eyes. Nonetheless, the answer did not satisfy Chirox.

"If you wanted them to die painfully, there are better ways than Rahkshi. I should know - I've created several of them." His sadistic glee shone through his words.

"Silence." Said Icarax calmly. "Only victory matters, not the means by which it is attained. We have ended the insurgent presence in this universe."

Suddenly, a hum filled the air, and the sound of a thousand distant wings fluttering was heard in the Makuta's minds, sourceless yet omnipresent. A whisper permeated the silence. Despite being a familiar voice, it nonetheless sounded alien and unknown, like an unwanted splinter in one's brain crystal.

"Eliminated the insurgent presence that we know of. There will be others." Whispered Vamprah, psionically.

"Nonetheless, between the forces we leave behind, the slave gate, and the leaders you have installed, I expect order will be maintained even in our absence. Until then, nobody will dare raise a fist against us while we remain."

"Do not be so sure, Brother. There are whispers. Foolish, but brave Matoran. Their spirits are not crushed completely."

"Can these whispers be silenced?"

"It will take time, Brother. Precious time."

"Time we do not have. This universe proves more troublesome by the second… Raise security patrols throughout the city - concentrate on the slave gate. I will not tolerate sabotage while we stand in this city."

"As you wish, Brother."

A deafening silence filled the assembled Makutas' minds, as Vamprah's presence exited from their minds. Despite psionic communication being a talent offered to all the Makuta, only Vamprah seemed to prefer the intruding and invasive form of communication over simple verbal speech.

"I do wish you wouldn't burden us with your petty silence, Brother. Your refusal to speak was not endearing in Karda Nui, and it hasn't grown on me since," complained Bitil, glaring in Vamprah's direction.

With a wave of a hand, Icarax silenced the impetuous Makuta, and once again turned the attention of the meeting towards himself. The concept of rebels in Metru Nui weighed little upon his mind - any being foolish enough to make a move against him, or the Brotherhood, would soon meet with the wrath of seven Makuta. Many beings would gleefully choose death over such a short, painful existence. And should any issues arise after the Makuta's departure, the healthy amount of Rahkshi and Skakdi left behind would take justice into their own hands. There was little in the way of a legal system in Metru Nui, beyond the will of a puppet Turaga, painstakingly selected by Vamprah - meaning that any miscreants would be dealt with in highly exemplary fashion. The group had not received any reports of rebellion from prior universes, and Icarax expected he would receive none from this one either.

"Siblings, we are behind schedule. This universe has cost us time. We are upon the precipice of our departure into a new one - I will accept none of the same mistakes that occurred here. The next campaign shall be quick; it shall be quiet; and it shall be decisive. I intend to conquer the next Matoran Universe within one year's time. Tomorrow evening, we shall open the gate once more. I expect you all to have your expeditionary legions, Rahi, and slaves prepared accordingly. You are dismissed."

GORAST - METRU NUI

Turning, Icarax exited the podium, retreating into the shadows beyond. The various Makuta in the arena stood down, no longer at attention. Within seconds, Bitil, Krika, and Vamprah were gone, leaving Antroz, Gorast, and Chirox lingering in the Arena. Gorast extended her four, transparent, insectoid wings. While many of her comrades preferred more bat-like forms, the insectoid body she had found herself briefly trapped in suited her such that she chose to keep facets of it. With a buzz, she began to lift off, though behind her, she could hear Chirox begin to speak. Slowing her wings, she maintained a hover above the arena, watching the two Makuta below. The black armored Makuta turned to the red Makuta, and narrowed an eye.

"I do hope you have not forgotten our argument, brother," taunted Chirox. Gorast sighed - Chirox often let his personal tastes outweigh his loyalty to his master. Were he a matoran, she would have thrown him into the slave corps without a second thought, but as not only a makuta, but one that Teridax had specifically instructed for her to work alongside, she would not dare make a move against him.

"Your Rahi take time to produce, Brother," Antroz spoke from below. "Perhaps you could have made some horrid abomination capable of delivering a swift-winged and well-deserved death to the enemy. But the Rahkshi are available. We have thousands of them on demand, at our beck and call. I would not permit the rebels time to escape or regroup, not while I held the noose so tightly to their necks."

"Nonetheless, the Turahk are hardly fighters. Their talents lie in terror and disruption. The 16th Panrahk would have been better-"

"The 16th Panrahk were not available." Antroz snapped. "Bitil's insipid campaign upon Odina has worn thin their usefulness - a victory, yes, but a pyrrhic one. Had I taken the 16th into battle with me, I would not be reporting success as I so did." Antroz took an angered step towards Chirox, who returned the favor. Clearly a conflict was brewing, and one that Gorast would prefer not to let continue. With a buzz, she fell to the ground between the two, stunning them both.

"You two squabble like gukko birds over a berry. Chirox," She shot a look towards the black Makuta. "Antroz is a competent commander. His decision to use Rahkshi will not be questioned any further. Perhaps if you put down your viruses for long enough to remember our goal, you would not be such a disgrace to our master's name. You discredit Teridax with your insolence."

Chirox, taken aback, stepped away from Antroz - for a moment, he seemed ready to draw his hooked blades, and reply to Gorast in a way she would understand, but he thought better of it. In silence, he unfurled his wings, and shot into the air, far away from the two Makuta. Antroz let out a sigh.

"I do not need you to rescue me from Chirox, sister. I can manage his fits of rage."

"I did not come to your aid out of mercy. I came to speak the truth - Chirox, along with the rest of the Makuta, have a responsibility. We are the divine instruments of our master's will. These arguments are not."

"Attacking him like that will not smooth his temper. He will stew for days, and weeks, and when he finally shows himself again, he will still feel the same way about it."

"Then I will teach him another lesson. A more painful one."

"Sister, your temperance amazes even me," Antroz spoke in a mocking tone. Gorast sneered at him, lifting off the ground once again. Hovering in the air, she glanced down at Antroz beneath her, and shared her parting word.

"The Makuta are not temperate. Even Icarax fails to achieve the true intent of our master's will. You will see - as long as a single dissenting spirit remains unbroken, our work will never be over."

Fluttering away, Gorast sailed through the skies of Metru Nui as a torrent of thoughts ran through her mind. I would have expected better from Antroz, of any Makuta. The fool is Icarax's lapdog, and he obviously lacks the conviction required to enforce our master's will, she thought. A brief flicker of rage passed through her mind, and a vision of her standing above Icarax's corpse. The thought brought a smile to her face, though she suppressed it immediately. I dare not - He is the Lord of Shadows, and our master's second in command. To insult Icarax would be an insult to my master.

Despite her resolute confidence, the image remained in her head for a moment longer. Soon though, it was replaced with another image - the image of yet another universe under the flag of the Kraahkan. Yes, she had a job to do, and she was going to see it done at any cost. She would eclipse every universe under the divine shadow of Teridax, and she would return to his side, ever his faithful servant.

She could not wait.