Beginning Editor's Note: I do not claim to own the Bionicle characters or the majority of these plot points. The material here is simply an edited and compiled version of original Bionicle material. Comics and video games etc. have been transcribed in novel form and fully integrated into one chronological read. The poetic liberties of novelization and editing are all I can claim.

Feel free to use forum I made to discuss any questions and feedback on this project, and be sure to keep following/favoriting so you know when a new story or chapter is posted. Reviews are always welcome for reactions, questions, concerns, or general feedback.

These parts constitute material from the story year of 2005, constituting what I've called "Phase 04: Deliverance." Please enjoy.

Sequel to "Bionicle - Phase 03: Provenance - Part V: Voyage of Fear"

Turaga Nuju walked alone down a winding, rocky pathway that led to the sea. He had no doubt he would find Vakama on the beach, gazing out at the horizon. For a Turaga of Fire, Vakama spent an awful lot of time by the water.

Nuju felt uncomfortable. Ordinarily, he never ventured forth without Matoro, his assistant and translator, by his side. In the centuries since Nuju had abandoned the use of the Matoran language, Matoro's full-time job had been rendering the Turaga's speech understandable to others. The Matoran had been present for even the most confidential councils of the Turaga. He had heard things that must have shocked him. But he never repeated a word of what he had heard to anyone.

Matoro's sense of duty to his Turaga was so strong that he never even asked why Nuju was going somewhere without him. Perhaps he realized it was not intended as any insult, but was rather an act of mercy on Nuju's part.

He carries a heavy burden, thought the Turaga. To know so many secrets and be forbidden to share them with his friends, even when that knowledge might benefit them. In that way, Matoro has the strength of a Toa. I will not add to his burden today.

Nuju came over a rise and saw Vakama standing at the edge of the sea. For the last several days, the elder of the village of fire had been sharing tales of the past with the Toa Nuva. He had related how six Matoran were mysteriously turned into heroes, the Toa Metru, and fought to save their city of Metru Nui. When the city was badly damaged and its population cast into an endless sleep by the actions of the evil Makuta, the Toa Metru had escaped with a small number of Matoran and made it to this island.

But the Toa Nuva were not satisfied with what they had learned. They wanted to know how the rest of the Matoran escaped Metru Nui. And Vakama was preparing to tell them.

Up to now, I have been content to let him share his tales, thought Nuju. But he is about to go too far. The Turaga of Ice stalked across the sand, whistling and chirping angrily.

Vakama turned, surprised, and held out his hands. "Slow down," he said. "You know I can't understand you when you shout."

Nuju made a series of violent slashing motions in the air, followed by a short burst of whistles. When he was finished, he glared at Vakama as if daring him to disagree. "I know it is probably not wise," the Turaga of Fire answered. "l am on the verge of sharing stories of a time we would all rather forget, myself most of all. But wisdom and necessity often do not walk side by side."

Nuju chirped loudly five times in rapid succession. To anyone else, it would have sounded like the language of the birds in the trees of Le-Wahi. But Vakama knew the tone was one of frustration about to boil over. "No one says you and the other Turaga must sit in council while I tell our story," he said. "But you may be called upon to explain your absence someday."

The Turaga of Ice picked up a rock and hurled it with all his might into the water. Then he walked away, eyes on the ground, as if wrestling with an enormously difficult decision. When he turned back, Nuju looked directly into Vakama's eyes. And for the first time that Vakama could remember in many, many years, Nuju spoke a Matoran word. It was a mere three syllables, but it was a terrible sound, a word not uttered by any Turaga in over a thousand years.

"Hordika."

Vakama's reply was a whisper. "Yes. If I must…the Toa Nuva will learn the truth about the Hordika."

Nuju shook his head and walked away.

Vakama was left behind to wonder if their friendship had just come to an end.

X X X

The Toa Nuva waited impatiently around the Amaja Circle for Vakama to arrive. At the Turaga's request, the only Matoran present were Matoro, who translated Nuju's clicks and whistles into speech, and Hahli, in her role as the new Chronicler. Takanuva, Toa of Light, sat next to Hahli, looking uncomfortable. Not having been a Toa for very long, he still felt strange about being part of these councils.

Pohatu Nuva, Toa of Stone, noted that his Turaga was absent. He couldn't imagine why Onewa would not have wanted to be here, or why Turaga Nuju sat apart from the other elders. But it seemed that ever since Vakama had promised to share at least one more tale, there had been a great strain among the Turaga. It filled Pohatu's heart with apprehension. What were they about to hear?

Vakama stepped out of the shadows to take his seat. Yet, to Pohatu's eyes, it seemed he did not leave the darkness completely behind. His mood was grim. He nodded to Tahu Nuva, but never once looked at the other Turaga.

"Hear, then, my tale," he began softly. "When the Toa Metru first beheld the island we now call Mata Nui, it was like nothing we had ever seen before. Peaceful, beautiful, bathed in sunlight, we could not have hoped for a more wonderful home. But even as we explored, we knew that duty would soon require us to leave this place behind…."

X X X

1,000 years ago…

Toa Matau had a secret, one he had not even wanted to admit to himself. It was a dark and shameful fact, something he hoped none of the other Toa Metru would ever learn: He had gotten lost.

For a native of Le-Metru, transport hub of Metru Nui, to lose his way was completely humiliating. A Le-Matoran could track a chute from one end of the city to the other, or keep an airship on course just by spotting landmarks far below. And now here was the Toa Metru of Air, already wandering and confused after only a day in this new land!

It had started out simply enough. Each of the Toa Metru had gone in a different direction, looking for the best place to eventually settle their Metru's Matoran. Only Nokama had remained behind, content that their original landing spot was the best place for a new Ga-Metru. Matau had made immediately for a lush, green part of the island. To him, it seemed to most resemble the controlled chaos that was Le-Metru.

As it turned out, "chaos" was accurate, "controlled" was not. The ground was soft and clung to his feet, making walking a chore. The ceiling of branches was so thick that he could not fly through it. Worse, it cut off the sunlight, making the journey akin to wandering through an Onu-Metru mine.

Then Matau saw reason to smile. He spotted what looked like a long, green cable with a red stripe down the side, similar to the ones that fed magnetic force into Metru Nui chutes. Any native of Le-Metru knew that following a cable would eventually lead to a control center. So Matau kept his eye on the cable as it snaked through the tangle overhead, traveling deeper and deeper into the heart of the jungle. Confident that this clue would lead somewhere worthwhile, the Toa paid little attention to where he was going or how far he had walked.

After a few hours, he reached the end of the cable. But the discovery he made was an unpleasant one: it wasn't a Metru Nui force wire, it was a vine. It didn't lead to chute controls or anything like that, but just to more trees. Now here he stood, lost in a dense jungle and unsure what would be worse, roaming around with no idea how to get out or having to shout for help.

This is not Metru Nui. It will never be Metru Nui, he said to himself. I had better start remembering that.

X X X

Nuju stood at the summit of a huge mountain, looking out over a snow-covered land. He had been intrigued to discover that the peak was not made of crystal, like the Knowledge Towers back home, but was rather rock covered with ice.

He triggered the telescopic lens built into his Mask of Power to take a closer look at his surroundings. He was at a loss to explain the varied terrains and climates present on this island. It was almost as if the island had evolved with the needs of the Matoran in mind.

Down below, he spotted a snowfield protected from the worst of the elements by an overhanging glacier. This, he decided, would be the perfect spot for a new Ko-Metru. Although, since it will be more a stand-alone village than a part of a larger city, he noted, perhaps "Ko-Koro" would be a more accurate name.

Satisfied, he began the long trek down the side of the mountain. As he did, he remembered the words of the Ko-Matoran sage who had first recruited him for work in the Knowledge Towers. Nuju had been wondering how long it might take him to become a seer, a position of great importance in Ko-Metru. His mentor had simply smiled.

"You are mistaken, Nuju," he had said. "All of life is a journey, and the journey is not about how high you climb or how far you walk. It is about what you learn on the way, and how you choose to use that knowledge. Use it to help others, and the glory of Mata Nui will live inside you. Use it only for yourself, and though you may walk among us, you will have no more spirit than a block of protodermis."

My journey has certainly taken some unexpected turns, thought Nuju. And none quite so overwhelming as this, having to build a civilization from a wilderness. But the words of my mentor will be my guide. And if I should forget them, this peak will serve to remind me.

Nuju turned and looked back up at the summit. "In the memory of a friend, who now sleeps the sleep of shadows," he said to the mountain, "I give to you his name. From this day on, you will be Mount Ihu."

X X X

Vakama moved carefully across a sea of molten protodermis. His eyes scanned the landscape with a very particular goal in mind, one that went far beyond simply the best spot for a new settlement.

He paused on a rocky ledge and pondered. He and Onewa had discussed at length what life might be like on this island in the years to come. Neither Toa Metru believed they had seen the last of Makuta. Even if they succeeded in bringing the Matoran from Metru Nui to this place, and somehow awakening them, they might still never know peace. If Makuta escaped the prison they had created for him, he would not stop his efforts to dominate the Matoran.

That was why, when Vakama looked around, he did not see simply rock and fire. He saw points of vulnerability that would need to be better protected, perhaps by walls or a moat of some sort. He noted spots that could be easily defended, even by only a few well-trained Matoran. By combining the natural terrain with the ingenuity of Ta-Matoran, Vakama was sure he could create much more than a village.

This will be a fortress, he told himself, one whose gates will never be breached. The Matoran will learn how to do the job of the Vahki, defending their homes against any threat.

Even as he thought those words, pain ripped through his mind. It was another of his visions of the future. They had plagued him all his life, but had grown worse since he became a Toa Metru. This time, it produced not so much a visual image as a feeling, as if he were being drained of all energy. It passed quickly, but not before he realized exactly what it was he was experiencing: the loss of his Toa power.

Even after so long, Vakama was unsure just how accurate his visions might be. But if this one was true—if, somehow, he and possibly the other Toa Metru were going to cease to be Toa—then something would have to be done to ensure the safety of the Matoran.

But it will not be easy, he knew. And it will not be something I can do alone.

He fitted his disk launcher on his back and mentally triggered its rocket pack function. The metallic, decorative flames leapt to life and boosted Vakama into the air. Then he soared into the sky and headed for the rendezvous point, wondering how he would convince his friends that their time as Toa might soon come to an end.

X X X

Onewa was pleased. He had succeeded in finding a portion of this island that closely resembled Po-Metru. There was plenty of room for a village and scores of caves in which carvings could be stored. The natural canyons would give the new Po-Metru some protection and be a reminder of home for the Matoran.

Now he had more practical matters to worry about. In order to escape the Vahki, Onewa had been forced to use his power to destroy the subterranean waterway that led from Metru Nui to the island. A rain of stone had been enough to down the order enforcement squad, but it had also effectively blocked the Toa Metru from ever returning to the city that way. If they were going to go back and save the rest of the Matoran, a new route would have to be found.

The caves are the key, he thought. Who knows how far underground they might extend? It's always possible that one of these will lead all the way back to Metru Nui, and if so, I'm going to find it.

He chose to first explore a cavern whose mouth was high up on the slope of a mountain. He had thought to take one of the lightstones from the transport. Now it provided a dim illumination as he entered the cave.

It was empty. There were no signs that anyone had ever passed through here before, nor that any Rahi had ever made it their home. After only a short distance, the ground began to drop sharply. Onewa smiled. Down was exactly where he was hoping to go, after all.

He heard a scuffling sound up ahead. Something large was heading toward him at a rapid pace. Onewa glanced around, but there were no side passages or recesses in the wall in which to take cover. Whatever was coming, he would have to face it head on.

The Toa of Stone braced himself and held up his lightstone. The sounds grew louder. Suddenly, a massive shape came into view, claws and stinger-tail gleaming in the light of the crystal. Onewa gasped. It was a Nui-Jaga, one of the nastier Rahi of Po-Metru, a powerful scorpion-like creature capable of shattering a stone sculpture with one swipe of its tail.

Onewa forced himself to relax. His Kanohi mask was designed for just this sort of situation. He reached out with its power of mind control to take over the Nui-Jaga.

The Toa reeled as if he had been struck with a hurled boulder. His mental probe had slammed into a solid wall of raw emotion in the mind of the Rahi. The impact shattered the efforts of the mask to claim control of the Nui-Jaga and it was only with supreme effort that Onewa remained conscious.

The Rahi now had the perfect opening to attack. Instead, it rushed past Onewa, knocking him off his feet, and continued to race for the surface. Recovering his wits, the Toa pursued. He was amazed that something as big as a Nui-Jaga could move so fast.

Onewa rounded a corner to see the creature rushing toward the cave mouth. Without slowing, without making any effort at all to stop, the Rahi shot out of the tunnel and plunged into space. The Toa made it to the opening in time to see the Nui-Jaga strike the rocky ground far below. There was no need to go down and check the body. The Rahi was dead.

I've never seen anything like that, Onewa thought. What could have made it run so hard it went off a cliff?

Then he remembered the overwhelming surge of feeling he had encountered when he reached into the Rahi's mind. That held the answer, or at least part of one. It hadn't been anger, or hunger, or even madness that had driven the Nui-Jaga to race to its death.

It had been stark terror.