Disclaimer: Bionicle is property of the LEGO Company. The following is based on characters, places, and situations already established in the Bionicle franchise and fandom (both G1 and G2).
The Temple of Time had seen better days. Once the most revered place in all of Okoto, it turned into a giant block of stone. As Torren walked up the stairs, blue cloak billowing, he had a closer look at the damage. In the five centuries after the death of Ekimu the Mask Maker, snow, wind, and rain cracked the sturdy rocks, so much so the stairway appeared to have veins. If an army went up the steps, the entire thing would crumble and join the stubs of obelisks below.
For Torren's lonesome self, he reached the top and saw five other figures waiting waiting under the arches of the Temple's doorway, their distinct and respective cloaks wrapped around their bodies. Their oh-so colorful masks, and their moods, turned from each other to the latest arrival.
The first to speak was Ferra, the Protector of the Stone Tribe. "Punctual as ever, Torren," she said sardonically, her eyes sneering behind her brown mask.
Torren, Protector of the Water Tribe, a hand over his heartlight and humbly bowed his blue mask. "I do apologize," he told her, and the others. "I was delayed back home."
"Trouble with the boys?" Ruka, Protector of the Jungle Tribe, said lightly like her green color.
"Yes, Waya and Mizu are quite a handful. It took me forever to just keep them still. Plus, the walk through the frost took time," Torren chuckled at his lie. In truth, his sons were placed under guard, and his journey had been short. The Temple of Time was between the Region of Jungle and his home in the Water Region, but Torren delayed himself to see if any of the Protectors would answer his call.
Protector Ignar of the Fire Tribe, the tallest and most notable in his red mask, shook under his fine cloak and growled. "Alright, we're all here, Torren, as we agreed. Now, let's hurry inside."
Now, Ferra narrowed her gaze on Ignar. "What's the rush? Afraid you'll be a block of ice?"
Ignar turned to the black-clad Protector hunched beside Ferra. "Hanu, tell your friend here to shut up!"
As always, Hanu of the Earth Tribe was steady and silent under his rugged cape. The unanswered Ignar growled again. "If they don't shut up, we'll all freeze to death!"
"Not all of us will," the deep, chilly voice of Hunarr, Protector of Ice, said from his isolated corner.
"Quiet you!" Ignar snapped, shooting a red glare at his white, icy counterpart.
"Maybe not freeze to death. Maybe catch a cold an' burn up!" Ruka exclaimed with a 'tee hee.'
"Protectors, please, please!" Torren cut in. "We're all here for the same purpose! Please, just this once, let us do this without fighting!"
Silence fell over the others quickly, and those with sneering or joking expressions stared stoically at Torren's impassioned blue mask. At last, Hunarr said, "Very well."
"Just this once," Ignar begrudgingly agreed, and so did everyone else, to Torren's relief.
One by one, the Protectors entered the ancient structure. As they walked on the ancient floor, the cold breeze touched their masks' curved extensions. No one noticed, their glowing eyes focused on the elevated platform in the center. It remained in the dark as ever, since the temple no longer radiated as it used to. The Protectors knew that would change, if only for a moment.
The six spread out until they formed a ring around the platform, and each was presented a staircase. For Ignar and Hunarr, they strode up in powerful steps. Hanu hobbled on the rock while Ferra's feet thumped on it. Ruka skipped a few steps. Torren stepped gently and gracefully upward. Reaching the top, the Protectors stood on a symbol of their respective element and stared at the small pit in the center. "Is everyone ready?" Torren asked from his symbol.
Ignar huffed. "Let's get this over with."
Torren turned back to the pit. Ready, or not, it did not matter. This was perhaps the only chance they had. This had to be done, or else… that Torren did not want to think about right now.
The Protectors faced their metal palms to the pit. As one, they recited the ancient prophecy that had been passed down, from one Protector to the next. Five hundred years ago, it brought their world's saviors. Now, the Protectors hoped it would do so again.
As the chanting continued, colorful light lanced from the Protectors' hands and into the pit. Inside the pit, their chanting, their message, began to take root. Blue water gave it life, and red fire lit it, as white ice honed it to a tooth. Yellow stone and purple earth set the groundwork and hardened its fiery core, and green jungle covered it with the finishing touches.
The pit glowed, and had the Protectors turned, they would have seen the writing on the walls glow too, speaking of heroes long past and yet to be known. Their eyes were not on that, but in front of them. Down in the pit, from whence their message beamed upwards in white light.
The light went higher, through the open roof and into the skies above. Six masks watched the trail of light thin until it disappeared into the dark sky. Then, Hunarr asked, "Now what?"
"Now, we wait," was all Torren said as he went for the exit.
The Protectors followed Torren's example. They already had much to worry about, and they now knew they would have more on their hands. As they left, however, they were unaware of the lightning flashing in the distance.
AN: LEGO's short-lived reboot of its Bionicle franchise was always a strange fascination for me. Even when it ended, its potential storytelling had me wondering what tales could be told about the island of Okoto, especially given the world and whatnot. Hopefully, this story will interesting to you all when it's published (that is, if I do publish it at all).
Raika out.