'Go left.'
"Why left?"
'There's less light.'
"But we're trying to reach the surface."
"Hey, who are you talking to? I don't see anyone but us."
Onua blinked, glancing back over his shoulder to look at Pouks. "Hm? Oh, just talking to the voice in my head."
Apparently that was the wrong answer, as both Pouks and Bomonga gave each other worried glances, the latter grimacing as he looked to Onua and asked, his voice laced with uncertainty. "And what does this voice in your head tell you to do? Does it sound like one of your friends?"
"No?" Onua replied, sounding rather confused. "He sounds like a grumpy version of me."
'I resent that statement.'
"Well," Bomonga responded, thinking it over very carefully and clearly not sure how to respond. "I suppose that's a good thing?" He looked at Pouks for affirmation though – aside from mild agitation at the hold up – he seemed just as perplexed about it as Bomonga was. "Did this voice tell you a direction we were supposed to go in?"
Onua nodded. "Yeah, he said we should go left. Said it was a good idea because it was darker." He looked between the two Rahaga, and then to Baku. The foursome had been wandering for some time now, and as it was they'd had quite a few near-miss encounters with not only several Visorak patrol units, but highly tempermental Rahi as well, many of which already mutated or at the very least wounded from previous battles. Baku had nearly died twice by this point, and he'd generally been kept out of the line of fire whenever it was possible. As such, it was predictable that the others were disinclined to accept the suggested direction.
"It's probably an Oohnurak." Pouks griped bitterly. "They play mind games with everyone to lead them astray. There's no chance on this condemned island that I'm going to trust a disembodied voice; not now, not ever."
"I agree with Pouks..." Baku said quietly. "We don't know what put the voice in your head; it could be a trap, and I've had enough encounters to last me a lifetime."
Bomonga seemed torn. Onua could tell he wanted to give him the benefit of a doubt, though the facts were compelling him to side with the others. Eventually, he sighed and shook his head. "I'm sorry, Onua," he said grimly. "but I can't see trusting the voice as a good idea. It's just too dangerous to risk."
"It's fine." The Earth Hordika assured. "You have a good reason to doubt, given the circumstances. We'll go down the right path."
'That's what they'll expect. Don't go that way unless you want to get yourself killed.' The voice in Onua's mind cautioned. 'The Visorak are playing off the predictability of that choice.'
Onua tried to ignore the voice as he and the others proceeded down the lighter tunnel. They were probably right in their uncertainty; they had a lot more experience with the Visorak than he did, after all, and there would be no mistaking Pouks' grave tone as sarcasm or jesting. And yet, with every step further, the more foreboding a feeling he felt. His tail flicked in agitation as he looked around, listening, watching, waiting for things to go horribly wrong. "Hey guys?" He said quietly after a few minutes of silent trudging. "I think that voice was right about which direction we should have gone in. Something doesn't feel right about this situation at all."
"You're being paranoid." Pouks stated roughly. "Hearing voices is never a good thing, and listening to them is even worse."
"Seriously, I don't like the vibe I'm getting from this tunnel." Onua persisted. "Something feels wrong."
"Perhaps we should listen to him." Bomonga suggested, grimacing as he eyed their surroundings. "Now that he mentioned it, something does seem a bit off. It's too peaceful to be right."
"Oh please," Pouks groaned. "not you too. Look, peace is a good thing; it means we aren't being chased by anything."
"No, it means we're likely being stalked instead." Onua growled, blinking afterwards and looking highly confused. "Did I just say that?"
Before anyone had a chance to answer him, however, the ground began to shake, the walls and ceiling of the tunnel cracking as dust shook into the stale air. Onua found himself stumbling backwards, barely avoiding what would have been a lethal tumble down a newly created fissure, whilst the others scrambled forward to avoid falling. Chunks of stone began to drop from the ceiling now, forcing the separated companions further away from each other, the fissure only pulling open more and more widely.
By the time everything was still once more, Onua couldn't even see the others, a large pile of rubble blocking any chance of seeing past the cavernous hole in the ground before him. Coughing and shaking his head to try and clear the dust from his nostrils and windpipe, the Hordika struggled to his feet, staggering as he fought to regain his balance. Eerie silence had settled over the remaining tunnel; the sort of silence that would make someone fear the worst had happened. "Bomonga?!" Onua asked as loud as he dared, not wanting to set off any more chaos. "Pouks?! Baku?! Can you hear me?!"
Straining his ears, Onua could make out the faint sounds of people trying to call his name. Somewhere beyond the rockslide, the others were still alive... And then the screaming began. The cries ended almost as abruptly as they came, and as the silence settled once more, the Hordika could make out the faint sound of something clicking. He knew all too well what that meant by now. After all, what creature other than the Visorak were on the hunt for them?
"No..."
'I told you to go left.' The voice in his head growled. 'I told you they would expect you to go this way. But nobody listened, did they? Nobody thought it was wise to go with logic and gut instinct.'
"Who are you?" Onua asked shakily. "And why are you in my head?"
The voice began to laugh darkly, and this time Onua was startled to find that he was the one who was laughing. "Silly Toa... I am not some stranger. I AM you. You cannot shut yourself out of your own mind. And now, we're doing things my way." Before he fully registered what was happening, Onua found himself running back along the passageway, retracing his steps and veering off down the previously controversial path.
'Where are we going?!'
"Somewhere a lot safer. Now be quiet."
Onua didn't regain control of himself for quite some time after that, and each attempt prior to it had failed spectacularly. "Where is this?" Onua asked grimly, his body feeling mildly fatigued from the involuntary running he'd just done. "Where did you take me?"
'We're underneath Ga-Metru.' The Hordika explained. 'That other tunnel would have led you to the Coliseum.'
"And why didn't you tell me that part?"
'It would have seemed like a poorly fabricated lie. You do realize you know everything I do, right? Every memory you possess is crucial; do you not remember how many times you wandered these tunnels as a child? You used to know these corridors as well as the archivists.'
Onua closed his eyes, trying to draw up memories from his childhood. Slowly it was coming back to him, recollections of landmarks he used to navigate when he was a little boy. Even as he opened his eyes, he found himself identifying the chamber he now stood in. "I know this place... My parents died in here. I used to come here all the time and talk to them. Or at least, pretend to. Why take me here of all places?"
'Because this was always your safe haven. And you know about the hidden passages to get out.'
Onua considered this carefully before recalling what his primal side was talking about. However, before he could act upon it, the sound of scuffling and clicking became audible. Instinct kicked in, driving Onua to duck for cover, hiding behind several rather old crates and watch as four Visorak came into view, dragging a mostly limp figure behind them. His Hordika side took over again, prompting him to change his hiding place, relying on cracks in the walls to get him up into a corner of the chamber, silently moving along the narrow walkway to get a better look at the Visorak and, more importantly, their captive.
He was a tall, solidly built man, his jet black hair short enough to call a military style, and his eyes – from what Onua could tell – a dark, blood red. In spite of having a healthy weight and build, however, the man's skin was pale and sickly, and a strange mask that looked like some sort o breathing apparatus covered the lower half of his face, the occasional hiss, like air escaping a balloon or punctured tire, coming from the small vents on the front of it. Judging by the clothes he wore, this strange man had, at some point, been important, or at least of high status. But if he was someone important, what were the Visorak doing with him down here? Why weren't they taking him to the Coliseum?
"Unhand me!" The strange man snapped through the mouthpiece, struggling feebly against the webs that bound him. "I am your king!"
"Apparently not anymore."
A second person was being dragged in now, more webbing used to bind him than had been for the first. Then again, this one had massive, scaly, pale blue wings and sharp, blue-scaled talons rather than normal feet. Silver, plate-like scales decorated his exposed chest, light icy blue ones patterning his arms, shoulders, and face. His eyes were a feral and vibrant shade of blue, and the long, reptilian tail he had was twitching on occasion, a display of agitation as well as an attempt to regain mobility. "Face it, Sidorak, they only obeyed you while Roodaka willed them to; you are as doomed as I am right now. Say your prayers and hope you don't suffer for long."
Now Onua understood the situation. The two captives were in Roodaka's bad books, and apparently bad enough that there was no saving grace or act of mercy to spare them; these men were destined to die, and Onua was the only chance they would ever have. The only problem was...
Could Onua kill eight Visorak on his own?
