Act I: Hunger: Light
Celestia had a philosophy when it came to dealing with foreign powers that had proven effective time and again. Treat them well and you will be treated well in return; kindness- however exploitable between individuals- was much harder to meet with foul behavior on the world’s stage. So sitting across a table from someone scheming how to get around this had long since stopped unsettling her.
The schemer in question was Antroz, flanked by two of his companions, Mutran and Gorast, who didn’t seem nearly as consumed in thought as he. Boredom played across their faces in contrast with the intensity of Antroz’ sightless gaze as they entered the room. They had come seemingly equipped for war, cruel blades strapped about their bodies. That wasn’t what had Celestia slightly off balance, shows of arms were always common when it came to first contacts.
No, what concerned her was that Antroz had brought the two most obviously transparent of his companions to sit in on their talks. It wouldn’t be an issue if she believed that they had pure intentions, but Mutran in particular had a hungry gleam to his eye as he looked across the room that didn’t play towards that hope. Whatever Antroz was planning, he wanted an audience that would prove his words. Or he wanted the most volatile elements of his retinue on hand should his plans turn sour.
But Celestia was equally well versed in remaining aggressively placid when faced with unpredictability. It was actually a bit of fun to be unsure of the other party’s intent at the meeting table for once.
As Antroz walked up to the table he gently elbowed the shorter of his companions, causing her to shoot him a quick glare. Mutran rolled his eyes at the display and pulled out a chair. Antroz grasped at one of the arms of it as he sat down and gestured for the others to do the same. Mutran obeyed, pulling out the chair on his left and putting his feet up on the table as he set himself down; if the slight twitch in Antroz’ concentration was anything to go by it had not escaped his notice but wasn’t a fight worth having at the moment. Mutran’s sly smirk confirmed her suspicions.
Gorast declined to sit, her gaze darting between exits before coming to settle on Celestia herself. Though this chamber had an open side facing the gardens she gave off an air of confinement and suspicion that Celestia couldn’t help pitying her for.
“Now then,” Celestia cleared her throat, prompting Antroz to correct the direction of his gaze to rest on her. “I believe introductions are in order, I am Princess Celestia, acting Triarch of Equestria, and you?”
“I am Makuta Antroz of Xia,” he said quickly, cutting off the question quite obviously forming on Mutran’s lips. “My siblings, who have accompanied me here are Makuta Mutran of Rama, and Makuta Gorast of the North.” Gorast cast him an expectant glance that shifted to a frown as he continued, evidently there was more to her title. “We have come seeking asylum while our brother, Krika recovers.” His gaze had lost a bit of its intensity, softened by a smile that, were it not framed by no less than five fang-like protrusions, might have been disarming.
“With that out of the way, would the three of you care for some tea?” Celestia offered, keeping her face and voice a mask of simple friendliness, “the saying is business before pleasure, but I find all parties are more agreeable if their places are reversed.” Antroz didn’t react, which in and of itself was enough to tell her he was suspicious of her, but Mutran and Gorast displayed a short burst of confusion, their eyes darting towards Antroz.
“I see no reason why not,” he said carefully after a few moments, his own mask of a smile not shifting. “I apologize, the words escaped me, the language is still new to me.” Celestia hummed her understanding and gestured for one of the guards to go fetch them a pot and some cups.
“While we wait for that to arrive, I can tell there are questions eating at your companions, and I’m sure I can think of some of my own.” Celestia watched for a break in Antroz’ expression, the movement of Mutran taking his feet off the table catching the corner of her vision. Seemed she at least had his attention. “As my guests, I will gift you the first question.”
Antroz’ brow twitched a moment, possibly at her wording, but Mutran spoke before he could so much as adjust his gaze.
“You said Triarch, who are the others?” He steepled his fingers as he continued, “and why have they not joined us here? Should we be insulted to have received an audience with the lesser, or flattered to have the attention of the greater?” One of Antroz’ hands twitched as he turned his placid smile on his brother, who was quite staunchly not looking at him, the smugness in his own smirk wavering a moment.
Celestia studied him. His face resembled nothing more than a spider's, four green fangs jutting from a black plate that contained his scarlet eyes. His claws were enormous, three metallic forefingers with an almost hidden black thumb behind them. He shared the faintly glowing orange orb like the one set in Antroz' chest. They were built quite similarly, though Mutran was more jagged, his wings smaller, sleeker, and silvers replaced the reds present in Antroz' armour.
“That’s two questions, but I can answer them both.” Celestia started, hoping to break the tension she felt forming between the two Makuta. “The others are my sister, Princess Luna, and an ex-student of mine, Princess Twilight Sparkle, I assure you that you have all of our attention. You will likely be meeting with Luna sometime after she wakes at dusk, and Twilight within the week once she’s managed to open up her schedule a little.”
“Scheduling issues,” Mutran nodded with understanding, showing a degree of wisdom in not pressing his question of rank. “Never enough time in the day.” Antroz shifted his gaze back down to the table, feeling for the edge of it before pulling himself closer so he could rest his elbows on it. “I believe it’s your turn now, Celestia?” Antroz’ fingers went downright hooked at that, his claws a hair shy of digging into the table.
Celestia chuckled, a little caught off guard herself, apparently Mutran’s informal behavior had not been part of Antroz’ plan. If the way Mutran’s grin deepened was anything to go by he was perfectly aware of and relishing this fact. Seemed Antroz had bitten off more than he could chew with his choice of council.
“It’s quite alright, Antroz, familiarizing ourselves with one another is the purpose of this meeting.” Mutran blinked as Celestia waved his imagined offense away, “my sister is a bit more of a stickler for those sorts of things, but I have always appreciated a measure of informality.” Antroz’ eyes flashed a brighter red for a moment and Mutran let out a chuckle of his own but Antroz still relaxed a bit.
Celestia gave her hooves a quick tap to ensure she still had their attention. “Now then, I’m curious, what would happen to be the rest of Gorast’s titles?” Mutran let out a groan, a hand coming up to cup his forehead with a grimace. “She seemed quite disappointed you stopped when you did.” Gorast, for her part, seemed a little bit disarmed by the question, standing up straighter and throwing another expectant glance Antroz’ way.
“I can never keep them all straight,” Antroz admitted with a long-suffering sigh.
“More like it’s not worth trying,” Mutran interjected, folding his arms and putting his feet back up on the table to ensure his displeasure at this turn of events was well broadcast.
“Regardless, Gorast will need to tell you.”
“I am Makuta Gorast,” she started almost as soon as Antroz named her, “Mistress of the Tren Krom Peninsula, Conquerer of the Visorak Horde, Vanquisher of Kalmah of the Six Kingdoms, Slayer of the Abomination’s Caravan.” The list continued on for longer than Celestia had honestly expected. One could only accrue so many titles before they started making them up in her experience; but it was entertaining to watch Antroz attempt to keep a straight face through them all, Gorast puffing out her chest with pride while Mutran started mouthing along to entertain himself.
Celestia took the opportunity to inspect Gorast. She was shorter than the other two, just over half their size. She couldn't have been more different from them if she tried. Though she shared the three silver forefingers Mutran had, instead of being almost hidden away, her two thumbs were quite prominent, streaked with green as well as black. Her armour was primarily green instead of the almost shining blacks of her brothers, her chestplate was a solid grey. Silvery insectile wings hung close to her shoulders, starting halfway down her arms. Her legs were digitigrade, more familiar than the plantigrade style her brothers seemed to favour, only two toes to her brother's three, but more viciously serrated for it. Her faceplate was long and flat, with a single crest along the top as it jutted forwards and down into her, frankly enormous, mouth. Two fangs extended from her bottom jaw up between her golden eyes, and her chin was capped with what looked to be some sort of barbed stinger.
She also learned something quite informative towards the Makuta’s intentions from Gorast’s expansive list of titles, or rather conquests. She was dealing with a true race of Warriors here; who, unlike the Griffins, experienced conflict often and seemingly with relish if the nostalgic cast Mutran’s gaze had taken on at a couple of the names was any indication. The tea had arrived by the time she was done and Celestia took the liberty of pouring them each a cup.
When she was sure Gorast had exhausted her list Celestia drifted the cups over to them, drawing a moment of surprise from both Mutran and Gorast, though Antroz remained still until his cup hit the table with a soft clink and he made to pick it up. The others shared a glance, waiting until Antroz had scooped up his cup before picking up their own. Curious, they seemed to have no knowledge of magic, or it took a different form where they were from.
“Thank you, Gorast, that was quite informative,” Celestia gave her a gentle smile. Antroz shifted in his seat, his other hand moving to cover the top of his cup as he inspected it with his fingers, drawing them back when he felt the liquid within. Celestia took a sip of her own tea, drawing looks of realization from Gorast and Mutran. Mutran said a word in their tongue before bringing his cup up to his mouth and downing it in one go, a hollow sort of splashing and sizzling sound coming from his armour as he did so. Gorast, for her part, was more restrained than her brother, bringing up the cup to the stinger on her chin and seeming to take in a draught. A moment later she grimaced and put the cup down, swallowing heavily. Antroz’ cup boiled in his grip as even the porcelain crumbled to ash between his fingers. Celestia was suddenly very glad she never brought her favoured china to meetings like this.
It must have shown on her face, for Mutran grimaced, giving Antroz a swat on the back of the head, his face went crooked as he was shunted forwards and Celestia was suddenly confronted by the fact that all three of them were wearing masks. Antroz’ mask contorted into a grimace for a moment as he straightened it on his face and made to stand, grabbing at his brother’s arm. “Peace,” Celestia said firmly, causing Antroz to almost jolt like he’d forgotten she was there, and Mutran’s free hand to retreat from the handle of the sword strapped about his hip. “Cups are easy to replace and this table is a simple affair to clean, there is no harm done. Violence in this room, however- to my subjects, myself, or my guests- will not be tolerated.”
“Right,” Antroz cleared his throat. The armour of Mutran’s arm creaked in his grip a moment before he released it, shooting a quick string of their tongue at Mutran before sitting back down.
“I believe it’s your turn to ask a question,” Celestia said, taking another sip of her tea. Antroz seemed to regard her a moment, folding his hands in front of his chin.
“There was a… phenomena, we experienced when we arrived.” He started, his eyes narrowed and suspicious. Celestia crooked an eyebrow, he seemed at once hesitant and eager, like he’d seen something he wanted but worried it may be a trap. “Some force swept through the area, it may have just been an echo of our entrance, but I doubt it. It was Light- our kind can feel it- Light channeled into power. None of the others in the area seemed to react to it, so my question is, what was that?”
“It happened just before sunrise, almost coincided with it,” Mutran said quickly, “but it was not the sunlight, otherwise we would still feel it.” Celestia’s expression softened.
“That was me,” she said. Antroz twitched, Gorast’s nervous glances towards the exits returned and Mutran nearly toppled back out of his chair. Celestia’s eyebrow went back up, was there no Sunbringer where they came from?
“You?” Antroz asked, one of his claws dragging along the wooden table, leaving the slightest of scratches.
“Yes, I was raising the sun,” Celestia watched them carefully. Were they afraid? She wondered as Mutran went incredibly still, Gorast’s silvery wings started to buzz nervously. Antroz sat, his brow knitted in concentration, a second claw joining the first in etching lines across the table. “I take it no one does this where you come from.” That seemed to break them from their stupor.
“No,” Antroz half growled, “someone does.” His claws properly embedded themselves in the table with that. He jolted a little and removed them, murmuring an apology. “The question is yours.”
She had been saving this question for the end of their meeting, but she could tell that was fast approaching, and the way they were eyeing her now was just shy of outright hostility. Things had gone downhill quickly.
“Why did you arrive here?” Gorast looked like she was about to shout before Antroz silenced her with a firm gesture.
“We fought a war, and we lost.” For a moment Celestia thought he was going to leave it at that as he rose to his feet, but he’d only been gathering his thoughts. “The being who controlled our Suns, the Great Spirit, Mata Nui, was powerful beyond measure. Everywhere we went, everything we ever saw was under his power. But he was neglectful, he created us to be his servants, to take care of the messes the others within his world created, and then left us without guidance.”
Gorast gave a warning growl as Antroz continued, “he cared nothing for those who he created, or those who he’d left in our care. As long as the wheels kept turning it wasn’t worth his attention. We fought wars to protect his functions so he could continue his Work, created beasts to stabilize his ecosystems. For a long time, thousands upon thousands of years we were content to maintain his world, so long as the wheels kept turning.” He stopped for another moment, turning his head like he’d prefer to be pacing but didn’t know if it would be safe to do so.
He let out an irritated sound as he continued speaking, “but there was a problem, a flaw innate within us. The others within Mata Nui’s world made up stories to justify it, spun tales to make it our fault, but we are not creatures of Light, never were.” He raised a hand, with a pop like electricity his hand went dark, a red-rimmed swath of shadow hanging in the air around it, “we are born of the Dark, and so we command it.” Gorast’s low growl escalated to a snarl as she moved to place herself between Antroz and Celestia. Antroz waved his hand and she stood stock still for a moment, glaring daggers at Celestia. “They feared us, despised us, it meant little to us at the time, we only needed to concern ourselves with them when they threatened the Work. We should have known better than to ignore their fear.”
He turned his back on Celestia, gently pushing his chair out of the way, “we began to die.” Gorast snapped at air, her teeth ringing like steel as she glanced between Antroz and Celestia. Mutran looked bored, like he’d heard this story a thousand times and it’d lost its luster. “There were so few of us in the beginning, and we lost many all at once. We realized we were unsustainable. So we set about creating more of ourselves, a second generation.”
He turned back to Celestia, “this was a step too far for the other inhabitants. In the first and only time we’d ever seen them work together properly they came to our leader at the time, the spineless, crowd pleasing fool Miserix, and told him to put a stop to the project. He gave in to their demands, and went further. He decreed that all products of the second generation be destroyed. Many of us refused, but we were disorganized, scattered, we called to Mata Nui, our creator, to aid us, his most loyal servants. He remained silent, aloof and uncaring. He didn’t lift a finger as Miserix murdered his younger brothers and sisters, but he made enemies of the rest of us. We overthrew Miserix and placed a new leader on the throne, Teridax.”
He let out a mirthless chuckle, seeming to slump a little, “and Teridax had a plan. Mata Nui had ruled unchallenged for too long; if he wasn’t going to protect us, if he wouldn’t keep the others in line, then we would. We declared our own war, crushed his workings and attempted to supplant the neglectant Great Spirit. We failed, the six of us escaped Mata Nui’s retribution by breaking through the walls between worlds.”
“We don’t know that!” Gorast snapped, stepping forwards to posture in Antroz’ face for a moment before seeming to remember his blindness and scoffing. “We were trapped by an energy storm when the Great Spirit’s body was revived, but everything went according to The Plan, we shouldn’t have failed. Teridax should be the new Great Spirit!”
“For how long?” Mutran drawled, sliding his spear between Gorast and Antroz, gently pushing her away from him, “by my calculations almost three months.” Gorast went quiet, baring her teeth for a moment longer before turning away with a huff. Antroz cleared his throat with a hollow coughing noise.
“Regardless, we are here because, whether we succeeded or not, there was no rescue coming. It was either escape or die, we chose escape. Much to the displeasure of the… fanatics among us.” Gorast snapped her teeth again but remained silent.
Celestia took a moment to mull over the new information, her eyes flicking to Mutran, who once again seemed bored; yet still, that hungry glint in his eyes remained as he scanned across the room. She’d missed something. Some piece of the puzzle that, as she looked across Antroz and Gorast’s faces she felt she’d been given but just hadn’t recognized.
Antroz still hadn’t sat back down; a challenge, he wanted her to decide the question of asylum now. The first piece slipped into place, he was attempting to ply her sympathy and force her hoof on the decision to ensure they would be allowed to stay. She’d been given much of the past, but little of the conflict that found them here. They’d done something. Something they worried she would find intolerable. Something they didn’t want her to know.
She glanced to Gorast, who’s claws bristled, her eyes still scanning the exits. They didn’t just expect her to deny them, they expected a fight. They’d been expecting once since she revealed she controlled the Sun, controlled the Light. The second piece fell into place. She was of the Light, they were of the Dark, where they came from such things had no tolerance for one another, and they assumed much the same of Equestria.
They had come in with a plan, they were off script, and growing anxious because of it. That hunger in Mutran’s eyes faltered as she met his gaze and she saw it, fear. She let out a sigh, she was planning to discuss this with Luna already, but now she felt it necessary before she even began to consider what to do with them.
“I do not believe I have the authority to make a decision on your request for shelter alone.” She said, watching as the three of them blinked in confusion. “Know that we will allow you to stay until a decision is made, you have shown us no true ill will, but you will have to meet with my sister before the decision becomes official in any manner. You fall more under her domain.” She chuckled to herself. “If you are truly of the Dark, it’s only fair that the Princess of Darkness decide what is to be done with you.”
She allowed herself a bit of a smirk as their confusion became even more apparent, “Dark and Light may be at odds in your home, Makuta,” she stood, giving them a respectful nod, “but here they stand as equals.”
______
Antroz didn’t let his guard down until they’d made it back to their room in the barracks, but once they did he let out an almost disbelieving chuckle.
“Gorast, Mutran, you did well,” he said, giving them each a firm pat on the shoulder. Gorast grunted at him dismissively, but he could tell Mutran was preening a little under the praise.
“Off script is what we do, Antroz,” he said, his haughty arrogance seeping into his voice. “Hard to keep your cool around a Light wielder though, I know Gorast didn’t.” Gorast gave him a low growl at that, “maybe, as a reward you should let me…” He trailed off expectantly, though Antroz couldn’t see it he could almost feel the extended palm.
“Oh no you don’t, not before I get one,” Chirox snarled from his place next to Krika’s bed. “So, do we have their trust?”
“We’re well on our way,” Antroz grinned before stopping a moment. Something was off, the air felt empty in a way it shouldn't have, “where’s Vamprah?”
“He’s not still here?” Chirox murmured in response. “Gorast, Mutran, do you see him?”
There was a rustling and a few scrapes of wood across the floor, Antroz thought he heard one of them check the adjoining rooms.
“He’s gone,” Mutran finally sounded off. Antroz couldn’t help the savage growl that came up his throat.
“Gorast, Mutran, find him. Before he ruins everything!”
______
Something was calling him, Vamprah didn’t know what, and for some reason he cared. He hadn’t cared for a while, not since-
He cut off the train of thought with a quick jerk of his head. It had been hard enough to keep his concentration in that bubble against the apathy that thought brought with it, to not let it collapse around them whenever it was his turn. What would it have mattered? They had failed, and even if they hadn’t, he had.
The emptiness didn’t matter right now, though, the Call did. It was sweet, low and dark. It sang out to him clear as anything. The others didn’t hear it, of course they didn’t, Chirox hadn’t even heard him slip out. They’d hardly been blind a month before the storm, before the noise that had nearly rendered even him deaf. He’d been blind much longer, he’d learned to listen. Every place will tell you its story if you know how to listen.
Yet this was new, and new was important. Nothing had ever called him like this before, the Dark was pushed away, never pulled in.
He stopped and listened, clinging to the arching stone that made up the underside of the ceilings in this place. He could hardly have asked for better clawholds. The Call came from above, ringing on and on, but it had cautioned him not to approach from outside. He couldn’t he caught now, he needed to avoid prying eyes.
He listened a moment longer, the Call whispering directions to him. To the left for three halls, then right, and up a stairwell. He let out a quiet click, well beyond the range of hearing of anything else he’d ever encountered, but enough to let him listen for any who could give him away. There was someone below, but he was well out of sight. Few of these creatures looked up indoors, fewer still would have been able to see through the camouflage he was slinking around in.
There was no alarm raised, all was the shuffling not-quiet of a day going as usual. He moved on, following the directions the Call whispered to him.
He felt the arching upward swing of a staircase just as the Call told him he would and ascended, swift as he was silent. There was another door at the top of the stairs, he let out a silent sigh at this, the door into the castle proper had nearly gotten him caught. Letting out another supersonic click he waited for it to echo out.
There were two guards next to the door, perhaps two paces in front of it. Good, too far away for them to catch the door moving in the corners of their eyes. The door had a handle, a simple lever affair. Vamprah hated those, they were so much louder than knobs. He slipped himself as close to the door as he could and let his camouflage drop, he swallowed on the mist of his throat, he knew his eyes would shine as he did this, so he closed them.
He had to be precise, casting the Silence over only the door, but not what lay beyond or the guards. He worked fast, his claws teeming with shadows as he reached out with the darkness and pushed down the lever, letting the door slide open without a sound. He slipped inside and closed it just before letting the cloak of Silence fall away.
Nestling into the ceiling near the door he waited, but there were no sounds of alarm from outside or in, only the Call, and the gentle, slow sound of something breathing in its sleep.
The hunter in him zeroed in on the breath in a moment, thrilled that the Call lead him to such easy prey, but something stayed him before he could make it all the way across the ceiling, before he could drop down and snuff out the life of whatever poor fool slept below. The Call intensified the closer he got to the sleeping sound.
He dropped down from the ceiling, hitting the floor with hardly a sound, and let out another click. The Call was leading him to the sleeping figure, tucked into the bed he had come down in front of. As he listened more closely he came to a slow realization, the Call was the sleeping figure. This being was his Liege, like Teridax had been, like Icarax had tried to be. Chosen by the Dark.
He set his teeth and leaped back into the ceiling. He would wait, until this Kraahkan awoke.
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This shows promise, tracking.
Due to their current state all Makuta no longer require rest, food or drink.
9062937
No, but Celestia doesn't know that, and there's no real reason for them to shove aside a gesture of goodwill by revealing tactically important information to her.
I was actually quite careful to make sure they revealed as little of what they were capable of as possible while still making it look like they're giving away a lot.
9068178
Oh okay.
Great start so far cant wait for more
plz moaaaar!
9072900
Makuta "I never lied, per se" Antroz.
Antroz was lying about their history right? I don't remember some of that history. Then again it has been awhile since I last read Bionicle, but a check of the wiki does not mention any of Antroz's exposition. What's going on?
9073473
And that’s why they make lawyers look honest.
9073473
Why am I laughing at this?
In fairness, that's just his face.
There's that, but also they're the only ones who can see. Antroz isn't any happier about it than you are; if he could have justified it, I'm sure he would have preferred blind-Chirox and unconscious-Krika as his backup.
The entire meeting between Celestia and Makuta-Antroz-and-the-Makutas was a beautifully written and deeply readable stretch of character interaction, but this part in particular stands above even the high plateau of the rest. In every other crossover, this is the moment where the immigrant setting reacts with shock and utter disbelief at Celestia's role in local Cosmology. But Bionicle is a world of equally ridiculous physical rules and the Makuta immediately accept Celestia's existence as perfectly reasonable, and are instead projecting cross-setting grudges onto her role. Its a minor, but fantastically executed detail.
Noticed this again on the reread. STOP HURTING MY HEART!
Good News, Luna! You have a
brand newhundred-thousand-year-old serial killer puppy! Hooray!10026331
I smiled in amusement at that last one.
Ooh dear...is Luna the one that Vamprah senses? Or the OTHER her? Nightmare Moon...?
I looked at a bunch of images of gorast to try and figure out where you got this design from, only to come around to the original box art illustration, because the eyes do look a bit golden with their Photoshopped faux glow, and it appears you interpreted the two structural ridges on the front of the face as underbite fangs, with the stinger being on a protruding chin
Is she also doing a general grievous connected arm thing? Because it has not yet mentioned that she has four arms, but the features of both sets are present on one hand. With the three silver claws on the upper and the two long green and black serrated claws on the lower, but mushed together at present
11361859
You are correct on both fronts.