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saphstories · 1 month ago

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Chapter Eight: Prepare the Way

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Sonic yanked the pillow over his head with a groan and curled into a ball in the center of his massive luxurious bed. Go away, go away, go away. He chanted pleadingly. In the back of his mind, he wondered the reason for his reluctance, then recalled what Sarena had said the previous night at dinner.

“The Swords didn’t just choose you as the Three Sovereigns. They used their own Chaos Energy to reach inside your souls and Awaken the dormant power sleeping within.” The Chief Healer had smirked. “The three of you are going to pass out before your heads hit your pillows, I guarantee it.” She’d been right. Sonic had staggered, dead on his feet, through his nightly routine before collapsing on his bed and crashing thoroughly into dreamland.

The knocking had yet to stop. Sonic grumbled in annoyance and snuggled into the warm silk sheets.

THWACK!

Sonic yelped and tumbled from his blanket cocoon onto the chilly hardwood floor in a tangled heap of silk and limbs. Above the blue hedgehog, a gleaming silver longsword with a glowing sapphire within its spherical golden crossguard hovered above him. “Up, Knave!” Caliburn’s fierce disapproval rang so loudly in his head that Sonic wondered if the Sovereign Sword really could speak aloud. Maybe if it did, Sonic could figure out how to shut it up.

Even so, Sonic popped up from the mess of sheets and blankets with a glower at his blade. “What part of sleeping in does no one in this kingdom understand?” He grumbled, surreptitiously rubbing his bottom where the flat of Caliburn’s blade had smacked him.

Caliburn descended to float directly in front of Sonic. “A King rises with the sun to guide his kingdom as the sun guides the world.” He lectured sternly. “And your kingdom awaits you, Knave, so up you get! You have already wasted valuable time, the other Sovereigns are most likely waiting for you! Tardiness is unbecoming of a King!”

Sonic groaned and heaved himself off the floor. He wondered if Arondight or Zirael lectured Shadow and Silver like this. It’s only been a few hours since the Swords’ sentience awakened, after the Beacon alerted Elysia that the Sovereigns had indeed arrived, but Sonic was ready to pull his quills out. Caliburn never shut up; always criticized every little thing Sonic did. He was a Sovereign, a future King, shouldn’t Sonic have the freedom to do whatever he wanted?

“Absolutely not!” Caliburn snapped. “There is much more to being a King than getting your way all the time, Knave, so get that thought out of your head this instant!”

Sonic banged his head against his wardrobe door. “My name’s not Knave.” He muttered and slammed the bathroom door before Caliburn could follow him. No one told Sonic that being Chosen as a Sovereign meant having an uppity sentient telepathic sword griping in his ears all day. Sonic heaved a sigh and dragged his feet towards the gigantic jacuzzi bathtub in the corner of the grand washroom. At least the perks were awesome. His own apartment-style suite in the Imperial Wing of the Palace, outfitted with every luxury Sonic could ever need: a sitting room, small kitchenette, private study, and gigantic bedroom with a huge four-poster bed, all decorated in hues of blue trimmed in gold. Sonic didn’t even care that Shadow and Silver had been given their own chambers in the same hall, or that Shadow had gotten the largest and grandest of the three as the future High King. Sonic had managed to pull strings and get Tom, Maddie, Tails, Knuckles, and Ozzy their own suite in the Wing, citing that as they were his family, they were technically royals, too.

Sonic sped through his bath and morning routine—ignoring Caliburn’s scoff of derision at his outfit choice of a hoodie, jeans, and his favorite sneakers—and strapped the Sword to his belt before hurrying to the door, the knocks on which had not ceased since they’d begun. “Alright, alright, I’m coming!” Sonic snapped, then paused.

A young rabbit girl with honey-colored fur, big brown eyes, a bright orange sailor dress, and a little blue creature with a big red bowtie beamed up at him. “Lord Sonic!” She cheered, then hastily dropped into a curtsy, the little creature bending over in a bow. “My name is Cream, and this is Cheese the Chao!”

“Chao chao!” Cheese chirped happily.

Cream giddily bounced in place. “We’re so happy to meet you, Lord Sonic, and can’t wait until you become King and beat those mean Black Arms and end the war-!”

“Cream, dear,” Sonic glanced down the hall to find his family, Shadow, and Silver waiting alongside a much older female rabbit with the same coloring as Cream, her darker brown hair tied back into a neat bun, who was shaking her head with a smile. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

“Oh, right.” Cream curtsied and Cheese bowed again. “If you will follow us, milord, we shall escort you to the dining hall for breakfast.”

“Er, thanks.” Sonic followed the little rabbit as she skipped down the hall and joined the older rabbit, grinning hopefully at her.

“How was that, Mother?” Cream whispered loudly.

Maddie hid a grin as Cream’s mother patted her daughter between the ears with a smile. “Very well done, Cream.” The matron rabbit lowered into a curtsy, smiling respectfully at Sonic. “Lord Sonic, allow me to introduce myself: I am Vanilla, the palace governess, and it is an honor to meet you, milord. My daughter is not the only one eager for your coronation in six days.”

Sonic cocked his head. “Governess?”

Vanilla nodded. “I oversee the maintenance of the palace and its grounds and supervise all staff.” She explained. “Cream is training to take my place one day. Should you ever need or want anything, please let either of us know.”

Sonic gave a thumbs up. “Will do!”

Silver’s stomach growled, and he turned hopeful golden eyes on Vanilla. “So, breakfast?” Cream giggled behind her hands, and Vanilla dipped her head and beckoned the group to follow her.

“Miss Ivy makes the best breakfasts!” Cream gushed, skipping alongside her mother. “Her pancakes are delicious, but she won’t tell me the recipe. Says it’s a ‘family secret’, even though I promised her loads of times I’d never tell anyone…”

Cream had been right. The breakfast served that morning in the dining hall had been incredible. Stacks upon stacks of pancakes oozing with golden butter and amber syrup, heaps of bacon and sausage still lightly sizzling, every method of eggs imaginable, and a variety of juices in tall crystal pitchers, joined by shiny pots of fresh coffee and steaming teas. Everyone present—Shadow, Sonic, Silver, Blaze, Sally, Tom, Maddie, Tails, and Knuckles—helped themselves to the feast with gusto. Even Shadow had enjoyed moderate portions of fried eggs and bacon with seemingly endless refills of black coffee.

“And you thought I had it bad.” Tom muttered to Maddie, pointedly sipping his own mug. Maddie just shook her head at him.

Princess Blaze cleared her throat. “I hope milords and lady rested well in their new quarters?” She prompted, gaining several nods and thanks, which she waved away. Blaze shared a look with Sally, who nodded, and both princesses rose to their feet.

“If my Lords are finished, we’ve important matters to discuss with you.” Sally requested. “Regarding the plans for the next six days until your coronation.” Shadow, Sonic, and Silver exchanged looks of surprise and confusion, but each stood and followed the regents out the door. Sonic waved over his shoulder at his family.

“Guess we all should get going, too.” Tom sighed, then grinned at Knuckles. “Wanna walk your old man down to the Knight Courtyard?”

“You’re sure you can make it to the EORTA offices on your own, Tails?” Maddie fretfully adjusted the backpack on her youngest’s shoulders.

“Course, Mom.” Tails agreed, hugging her. “I’ll see you at dinner; don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.”

Tails was most certainly not fine. The twin-tailed fox leaned against the wall of some hallway within the Palace, huffing with exertion and absolutely and utterly lost. What was he thinking, not asking for an escort? His mother was going to have his hide, if Chief Rotor didn’t use it for some experiment first! Tails groaned and facepalmed. What a genius he was!

His ears twitched, and Tails looked up. A girl with leafy green hair and pale green skin, adorned in a dress that looked like a blooming flower in the same shades of green as her features, walked down the corridor towards him, carrying a wicker basket of tiny seedlings and humming to herself. “Hello.” Tails greeted.

The girl startled, blinking surprised blue eyes at the fox. “Oh, I’m terribly sorry!” She apologized. “I didn’t see you there.”

“It’s okay; sorry I scared you.” Tails returned. “I’m Tails.”

She giggled and waved at his namesakes. “Fitting.” She approved. “My name is Cosmo; I’m the palace gardener.”

Tails frowned. “The palace is huge; isn’t that too much work for one person?” He pointed out.

Cosmo grinned and set her basket down, waving her hands over the seedlings, which danced and swayed under her fingers. “Not if you have a talent for it.” She giggled at Tails’ awed expression.

“You can manipulate plant life! That’s incredible!” Tails exclaimed.

“It’s a common gift for a Seedrian.” Cosmo shrugged, her cheeks tinting bright green. “Do you have a gift?” She wondered.

His tails drooped. “Not really. I mean, I can fly-,”

“You fly?!”

“With my tails.” When Cosmo gaped at him, Tails grinned and twirled his tails, hovering in the air and zooming around her playfully, eliciting joyful laughter from the girl.

“That’s amazing!” She cheered. Tails blushed, and his tails curled in delight. “Are you going to be a pilot?”

“I’m actually going to be an EORTA apprentice.” He winced. “That is, if Chief Rotor doesn’t fire me first.”

“Why would Chief Rotor fire you?” Cosmo tilted her head.

“It’s my first day, I kinda insisted I could find the offices myself, and now I’m lost and late.” Tails confessed, ears flat and tails drooping in shame.

“Don’t worry.” She patted his shoulder comfortingly and smiled at him; his cheeks burned. “Chief Rotor is very understanding and kind. I’m sure you’ll be fine.” Her blue eyes brightened, a grin stretching across her face. “Why don’t I escort you?”

Tails gestured towards the basket of seedlings. “Don’t you have work to do? I don’t want you to get in trouble.”

“Oh, these seedlings are going in the Knight Courtyard. If we go another route, we’ll pass right by the Cortex EORTA entrance.” Cosmo snatched up her basket, grabbed Tails’ hand, and tugged him down the hallway. “Come on, I even know a shortcut!”

Cosmo led Tails through the twisting halls, pointing out markers that the fox could use to guide his way if he should ever be lost again. After a few minutes, the Seedrian led him down two flights of stairs, the warm sunshine diminishing the deeper they descended. “The Cortex is the central hub of Elysia.” Cosmo softly explained. “It’s located under the Palace for extra security, because it houses not only the EORTA, but the Ring Port and the ECI, and only the ones with top clearance or are invited can enter there.” She halted in front of a set of sliding glass double doors with the words ‘Elysian Office of Research and Technological Advancement’ printed in gold.

“Thanks for the help.” Tails grinned. “See you around?” He asked hopefully.

Her cheeks turned deep green. “Definitely.” Cosmo smiled back. “Good luck with Chief Rotor.”

“Good luck with the seedlings.” Tails replied. Cosmo giggled and hurried back the way she came, waving to Tails as she vanished up the staircase.

Tails faced the door, his heart hammering in his chest. He rolled his shoulders, took a deep breath, and pushed forward. The doors automatically slid open for him, and the breath rushed from his lungs.

He’d had a makeshift lab before meeting Sonic and becoming a member of the Wachowski family. His dad, once he saw Tails tinkering in the living room at home in Green Hills, gave Tails his own section of the garage and a workbench for his inventions. But neither of those spaces ever compared to this.

Bright white lights illuminated the large square space and reflected off the white tiled floors and crisp white wall, the one furthest the door painted with a golden phoenix wearing a tripoint crown on its head. Mobians and humans in white lab coats either sat at desks and typed away at computers with eyes glued to the program codes flashing across multiple screens; mixed foul-scented chemicals within glass beakers with protective gloves that extended over their elbows; or bent over circuit boards and other tech with sparking wires and silver tools. Tails knew he was grinning like an idiot, but he didn’t care. It was chaotic, noisy, and amazing.

“Like what you see, champ?” Tails startled, his namesakes fluffing up behind him, and Rotor apologetically chuckled. “Whoops, sorry. Didn’t mean to scare ya.” The walrus lifted his black goggles off his eyes to rest on his forehead and grinned at the fox. “I was expecting you a bit sooner, Tails.”

Tails averted his gaze to his shuffling feet. “I got lost.”

Rotor nodded in understanding. “No worries, kiddo. Happens to all the refs. Now,” He clapped his gloved hands together and grinned at Tails, a twinkle in his eye. “Whaddaya say we get to work, huh?”

“You have got to be kidding me.” Shadow glowered at the beast in front of him, arms crossed tight across his chest and body rigid as a statue.

“Sorry, Sunshine.” Sarena apologized, no hint of remorse in her voice. When Shadow snapped his venomous gaze at her, she grinned and patted the horse’s neck. “But it’s expected. The coronation will be held in four days at the Cathedral in the kingdom square, and all Elysia will be crowding the streets to see the Prophesied Sovereigns take their rightful places as Kings. Vector thought the best way to get you three there without anyone getting trampled would be on horseback, and the Court agreed.” Her smile widened. “Besides, it’ll be fun! Why not give the kingdom the chance to properly celebrate the day they’ve all waited centuries for with a parade?”

“I am not humiliating myself riding on a stupid horse when I can think of at least four alternative ways!” Shadow snapped. “And why aren’t the other two here getting this lecture?!”

“Lord Sonic already knows how to ride, and Lord Silver had this natural connection to Fisher over there.” Sarena nodded her head to a handsome buckskin mustang drinking from the trough in the corner of the stable. “One hour of instruction, and those two were prancing around like they’ve been riding together for years. He knows well enough for a smooth ride to the Cathedral and back.”

Shadow raised a brow, momentarily forgetting he was objecting to this ridiculous plan in his curiosity. “Do people normally learn that quickly?”

Sarena shrugged. “Some do. Some have an affinity with animals in general; horses are great judges of character, and Lord Silver is very sweet-tempered…but this seemed like more. I can’t say for certain, but Lord Silver may have a gift that made it easy for him to connect with Fisher. You’ve seen how that flicky of his refuses to leave his side for even a second.” Shadow snorted. “Now, milord, get over here. I’ve got four days to teach you how to properly ride and we’re burning daylight.”

“I’m not climbing on that beast just so it can toss me right back off!” Shadow sneered.

Sarena glared at him. “First of all, ‘it’ is a horse, ‘it’ is a she, and she has a name. Remember how I said horses judge character? You’re displaying extremely poor taste, mister!” The periwinkle hedgehog put her hands on her hips and disapprovingly glowered down her nose at Shadow with scorching teal eyes.

Shadow met that disapproval for all of ten seconds before he cowed. “Fine. I’m not getting on that horse just so she can toss me right back off.”

Sarena immediately softened. “Sunshine, I hate to tell you this, but that’s part of riding. You’re gonna get thrown or you’re gonna fall off.” Shadow opened his mouth, but Sarena held up a finger, silencing him. “But I’ll make you a promise, okay?” She stroked the mare’s pretty blonde mane with a smile. “I raised Peaches myself from a filly, and she’s a very sweet and kind lady. She won’t throw you just to throw you. I’ve ridden her since she was big enough to ride and she’s only ever thrown me twice, both times because something spooked her.”

“I’m not afraid.” Shadow protested.

Sarena furrowed her brow. “Then what?”

Shadow shifted on his feet uneasily, then sighed. “You know what I was created to be.” He muttered. “The Ultimate Lifeform, the key to immortality, meant to be perfect at everything set to me. And now I’m meant to be the High King of Elysia, prophesied to end a war that’s lasted two thousand years.” Shadow slowly exhaled and met Sarena’s gaze with vulnerable scarlet eyes. “How am I supposed to prove any of that if I get thrown like an idiot on the way to my own coronation?”

“Sunshine, no one is ever perfect at anything straightaway, Ultimate Lifeform or not.” Sarena gently argued. “Everything is learned and mastered in its time; even those with talents must be properly taught to hone those talents to achieve mastery.” She snubbed her nose with a smirk. “And it just so happens that I’m one of the best riders you’ll find in Elysia.” She proclaimed. Shadow regarded Sarena and the mare at her side with uncertain ruby eyes, and she smiled encouragingly. “Trust me, Sunshine. I’ll have you riding like a pro in no time.”

“Fine.” Shadow relented.

Sarena beamed and waved him forward. “First thing you need to always remember is that a horse is a prey animal, no matter its size.” She informed him. “So, you need to remain calm and attentive when handling a horse. No sudden movements, loud noises, or general things that may spook them and cause an accident if you can help it. Horses are incredibly inept at sensing their rider’s moods, so if you’re distressed, upset, or angry, they will pick up on that, and it will make their behavior erratic and create a dangerous situation where you or the horse will be possibly harmed.”

“How do I avoid that?”

“Remain calm, confident, and compassionate. Remember that your horse has thoughts and emotions just as you do, only with a different method of expression. Remember that this is a living thing, not a toy or transport to be used then discarded once you’re finished with it. Simply put: treat her like you’d want to be treated in her hooves.” Sarena’s expression hardened to stone. “Listen to me very carefully, Shadow Robotnik: I don’t care if you’re High King or court jester, if I ever hear anything of you mistreating a horse, whatever you’ve done to them, I’ll inflict tenfold on you. Are we clear on that?”

Shadow did not quiver in his skates; he absolutely did not. But he did nod solemnly in response. “Crystal.”

Sarena’s expression smoothed into a smile. “Good. Now, come here and say a proper hello to Peaches.” She patted the palomino mare’s neck, and the mare tossed her head to nibble at Sarena’s hand affectionately.

Shadow remained where he was. “Hello, Peaches.”

Sarena chuckled. “She won’t bite, Sunshine. Peaches is the gentlest mare we have in the stables. Besides, we gotta get her used to you, and you to her, before the coronation. You’ll be riding her for the parade, remember?”

“I don’t know how-,”

“Hold your hand up to her.” Sarena instructed and pushed Shadow’s arm up at the wrist and turned it, so the back of his hand was aloft just inches before Peaches’ muzzle. “Just like that, then let her come to you. When she does, you have her permission to touch her. Think of it like a handshake: You’re saying hello.”

Shadow swallowed, but remained perfectly still as Peaches gazed at him with curious dark eyes. There was no denying she was a gorgeous animal, with a smooth cream-colored coat, a soft golden mane and tail, and a small white patch between her dark eyes. Her warm breath tickled Shadow’s gloved fingers, and something like wonder melted Shadow’s ruby eyes as Peaches curiously nosed into his palm. “Hello, Peaches.” He whispered reverently, the tiniest of upticks on the corner of his mouth. Sarena beamed and joined him, showing Shadow the best places to stroke and pet her, and the periwinkle hedgehog laughed when Peaches snuffed out her nose on Shadow’s forehead.

“She likes you.” Sarena explained at the concurrent questioning look. “It’s called blowing, and it means she’s happy and likes what you’re doing. Like how we purr.”

Shadow nodded, but with an odd expression on his face. “Right.” He shook his head. “What now?”

Sarena smirked. “Now the real work begins.”

A tall cathedral of gleaming white stone stood proudly in the center of the Elysian Square, decorated with shining blue tile roofs and glistening golden windows, the pillars and walls sculpted in bricks of quartz. An ivory fountain sat before the marble steps leading to the glittering gold arched entryway, the water shimmering in the afternoon sunlight. Four pairs of eyes from across the cobblestone street observed the Cathedral, three with wonder, one with reverence, until the leading otter nudged his companions down the sidewalk.

“You’ll get a better view tomorrow during the coronation rehearsal.” Scratch promised. “We’ve more pressing matters to attend to.” He pointed down to the opposite side of the kingdom square, where a modest little building, painted a cream white trimmed with baby blue, sat on the corner. “Threads of Grace. The best boutique in all of Elysia.” The otter smirked, his amber eyes twinkling behind his glasses, at the three hedgehogs trailing behind him. “Certainly a fitting place for such an important affair.” He snickered.

Sonic facepalmed. “Don’t quit your day job, Scratchy.”

Scratch chuckled. “You sound just like Sarena.” The otter nimbly dodged a pack of kids bolting down the sidewalk, shaking his head with a laugh once their less-than-melodic tune reached his ears. “Haven’t heard that ditty in a while.” He mused.

Shadow cocked his head, straining to listen even as the children raced away. “… ‘Smeared with oil like David’s boy’?” The black hedgehog questioned incredulously.

“O lei, o lai, o lord.” Scratch sang and barked a laugh at the Three’s perplexed looks. “It’s an old Solennian folk song. ‘There will come three Rulers, whose brows are laid in gold. Smeared with oil like David’s boy, o lei o lai, o lord.’” Scratch raised his brow at Shadow, Sonic, and Silver, an expectant grin on his muzzle. “We weren’t kidding when we told you all Elysia has been waiting for you.” The three hedgehogs exchanged a look, and Scratch waved them forward towards Threads of Grace’s entrance. “Come on, best not keep them waiting.”

A soft tinkling resounded above the wooden door, and a voice with a hidden owner called. “Just a moment!” Scratch grinned and motioned Shadow, Sonic, and Silver inside, quietly closing the door behind him.

The interior of the boutique matched the outside; small, but neat and charming, with sandy wood floors, pale cream walls trimmed in soft blue, and racks upon racks of clothing lining the walls. Men’s fashions on the right, women’s on the left, increasing in age the further along the walls one searched. The center floor was reserved for alterations, with two pedestals on either side surrounded by a triage of tall mirrors and a small section of cozy armchairs each. At the very back of the shop stood the reception desk, with a singular desktop computer and silver bell atop it, and a swinging saloon door beyond.

Scratch winked at the three hedgehogs, strode towards the desk, and tapped the bell. Ching!

“A moment, please!” The same voice requested.

Scratch bit back a snigger and tapped the bell twice more. Ching ching!

“Bellamy Fireheart, if that’s you ringing the damn bell, scram!” The voice shouted. “We’ve got VIPs coming any minute now,” A lovely maiden fox with an irate scowl poked her head around the doorway and shooed him away. “So away with you, mister!”

Scratch leaned on the desk and blinked innocently at her. “Even if I bring clients?”

“Unless they’re the Three Sovereigns themselves here for their Coronation fitting-,” The fox stepped out and put her hands on her hips, her bushy tail swishing behind her, the evergreen of her off-shoulder blouse and soft blue of her jeans a pleasant contrast from her bright orange fur.

“Funny you should say so, sweetheart, but-,” Scratch stepped aside and gestured a ‘ta-da!’ with a sweep of his arm at Shadow, Sonic, and Silver. “That’s exactly who I’ve brought.”

The fox gaped, her striking green eyes popping out of her head, and Scratch bit his fist to keep from outright laughing. “I-you-my Lords-,” She fumbled, then promptly threw a roll of fabric at the sniggering otter’s head. “Bellamy Fireheart, you scoundrel! Mama’s been working herself into a fit and you just-!” She spun on her heel and marched back the way she came.

“Someone’s in trouble.” Sonic muttered.

Silver furrowed his brow. “Bellamy?”

Scratch shrugged. “Old family name. Jem only uses it when I’ve managed to ruffle her fur.”

“Which you make a habit of doing, young man.” A portly mouse with long whiskers, a streak of silver around his nose, thick round glasses, and a curved wooden cane that he leaned heavily on as he limped around the desk to raise a brow into the hem of the brown leather flat cap resting between his large ears. He playfully jabbed the tip of his cane into Scratch’s chest. “It’ll come back to bite once you marry her, and marriage makes it all the worse, boy.”

“She makes it too much fun, Mr. Grace.” Scratch grinned.

Mr. Grace shook his head, then leveled his blue eyes—enlarged by his spectacles—at Shadow, Silver, and Sonic. “So, you’re the ones, eh?” He hummed. “The Three Sovereigns.”

The three of them exchanged a look. Sonic nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“Which of ya did Arondight choose?” Mr. Grace leaned forward interestedly. “No, no, no, don’t tell me.” He waved his paw and hobbled closer, peering at each of the hedgehogs closely, until he paused directly in front of Shadow. “It’s you, innit? The future High King? Arondight’s Chosen?”

Shadow wanted to demand just how this old mouse knew, but the words died on his tongue the longer he held those firm, yet kind blue eyes. He blinked as Mr. Grace’s eyes shimmered with light, and he nodded slowly. “Yes, sir.” Shadow wasn’t sure how he knew, but he could see it plainly: Mr. Grace was a mouse of great respect…and so deserved Shadow’s.

“Thought so.” Mr. Grace’s whiskers twitched, and those eyes twinkled. “How’s that Sight treatin’ ya?”

Shadow frowned. “Sight?”

“What Sight, Mr. Grace?” Scratch demanded.

“Come now, boy. Surely as someone with Vision, you musta seen it in him.” Mr. Grace smirked. “It’s clear as day in his eyes. Our future High King has Sight. What sort, I can’t be sure. But it’s there.”

“Lord Shadow,” Scratch gently pushed past Mr. Grace to stand in front of Shadow and quirked his brow. “If I may?”

“May what?” Shadow narrowed his eyes.

Scratch shot an inquiring look at Mr. Grace, and the old mouse waved his paw dismissively. “Mr. Grace was the General of the Elysian Knights several years back; he’s Antoine’s predecessor.”

“Would still be leadin’ if not for this bum leg.” Mr. Grace tapped his left boot with his cane. “Though Twan’s doin’ a right good job as General.”

“Okay, but what does that have to do with Shadow?” Silver asked.

“I got a bit of a knack for spottin’ gifts.” Mr. Grace shrugged one shoulder. “Scratch there thinks it’s a gift of my own, but I think it’s ‘cause I’m old and learned what to look for in people over the years.”

“I want to examine your Chaos Energy and see if I can discern what Sight Mr. Grace believes he spotted.” Scratch explained.

Sonic whistled. “I thought you could only see visions.”

Scratch shook his head. “There are many facets to a Seer’s talents, just like any other with Chaos abilities. My most powerful ability is my Prophetic Sight, which does grant me the ability to See through Time, but it’s not the only gift I have at my disposal. All Seers, myself included, have Discernment: the ability to examine another’s Chaos Energy and verify the abilities that person has. Admittedly, I’m not the best at it, but I should at least be able to Discern what Mr. Grace saw.” Scratch raised his brow at Shadow. “Your permission, milord?” Shadow paused, debating for a long moment, before nodding slowly. “Relax and keep your eyes on me.” The otter instructed, tucking his glasses away into his sweater vest pocket.

Scratch’s inquisitive honey eyes met Shadow’s reluctant scarlet. The otter’s irises shimmered and expanded, filling Shadow’s vision with swirling honey speckled with golden pinpricks like stars.

Then, as quickly as it began, Scratch blinked and grinned, slipping his glasses back onto his face and stepping back. Shadow shook his head, ears popping like he’d been submerged underwater, everything returning to the sharp clarity he knew. “Well?”

“First, to make sure I’m right.” Scratch pursed his lips. “Lord Shadow, my full name is Bellamy ‘Scratch’ Fireheart; I'm a survivor of the Solaris Event; I’m engaged to Jemina Grace and we’ll be married this spring; my best friend is Chief Healer Sarena Grace, who is also Jem’s sister and the Grace’s youngest daughter; and I’m called Scratch because of a hideous scar with a rather embarrassing story about climbing a tree and falling over ten feet when I was a pup.”

Shadow blinked, startled at the slew of information, then frowned, narrowing his eyes. “You’re lying.” He accused.

“About which part?” Scratch pressed, brow raised expectantly.

Shadow paused, considering. He tilted his head, scrutinizing the Prophet of Elysia, and his eyes began to glow, the shining ruby of his irises engulfing his black pupils until his eyes were flat scarlet disks, shimmering with power. “You’re not a survivor of the Solaris Event; you and Jemina won’t be married in spring; and you aren’t called Scratch because of a scar with a ridiculous story.”

Scratch beamed. “Well done, milord.” Mr. Grace chuckled at Shadow’s confounded expression as his eyes returned to normal.

“How-?” Silver wondered.

“It’s called True Sight, or more commonly, Star Sight.” Scratch explained. “Thankfully, you won’t need to worry about prophetic visions, Lord Shadow. Instead, Star Sight makes you immune to deception, able to See through any lie to the truth.”

“So, I’m a walking lie detector.” Shadow deadpanned.

“Essentially, but your powers have only just Awakened.” Scratch reminded him. “Which leaves room for growth. There’s no telling how powerful the three of you may become. Star Sight’s a rare gift, even for Seers. The last record of a Seer with it was over a century ago.”

The conversation was stilled by the fox and a female mouse with coal black fur, a neat silvery bun, and a long-sleeved blue dress with a white apron tied around her waist walking out from the back room. The fox marched straight for Scratch and flicked him on the nose. “Ouch!” Scratch wiggled his nose and shot a wounded look at the fox. “Easy, Jem, I only have one of those!” He complained.

“Rascal.” Jem rolled her eyes but kissed his cheek. “Why do you insist on irritating me?”

“Why do you rise to the occasion?” Scratch countered with a grin, then covered his face when she made to flick him again.

“You’re spending too much time around Sarena.” Jem informed him.

Scratch wrapped an arm around her and kissed her cheek. “I’ll take you to dinner after their fitting to make up for it.” He promised.

“Jake’s?” Jem hopefully suggested.

Scratch chuckled. “Only if you agree to share the nuggets.”

“Better stay in for supper, then.” Jem decided. Scratch laughed.

Mr. Grace shook his head with a grin and put his hand on the female mouse’s shoulder. “My lords, might I introduce you to my lovely wife, Olivia Grace, and our eldest daughter, Jemina.”

Jemina and Olivia lowered themselves into curtsies. “It’s a great honor to be dressing you for your coronation, my lords.” Olivia dabbed her eyes with the corner of her apron, the white fabric darkening in pinprick spots. “Forgive the tears, but…never in our wildest dreams did we think we’d live to see this day.” The elder mouse sniffled but beamed at the three hedgehogs with glistening brown eyes.

Sonic shuffled on his feet and shared an uncomfortable look with Shadow and Silver. “Of course, ma’am.”

“The honor is ours.” Silver agreed. Shadow inclined his head.

Jemina clapped her hands. “Now, two of you pick a pedestal and hop it! We’ve got a lot to do to make you look perfect for your kingdom, so let’s not waste time, eh?”

The cool night air ruffled his blue fur, bristling in response to the chill. Sonic closed his eyes and sighed, leaning on his elbows onto the balcony railing. Beneath him, the lantern lights that dotted the kingdom glimmered like fireflies, warm and comforting. Sonic’s gaze shifted upward, but only saw the deep indigo of the night sky above. Not a single star shone, only the hazy outline of the crescent moon.

The coronation was tomorrow. Sonic knew he should be excited; he was being crowned a King, but…he could feel the weight pressing down on his shoulders, see the bars closing tight around him. To be a King meant responsibility, it meant constriction. Sonic wouldn’t just gain a kingdom tomorrow, but a war. A war that had raged for two thousand years, a war he was somehow destined to end.

“Lord Sonic?” Sonic let out a squeal and jumped a foot in the air, his spines flaring. Blue lightning crackled in his fingers, but when he whirled around, he found a remorseful but amused pink hedgehog with her short quills tied back and her body wrapped tight in a fuzzy dressing gown. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” Chief Rose raised her hands in surrender and cocked her head at him. “Can’t sleep?”

Sonic forced his heart to slow and quills to flatten. “Not really.”

A twinkle shimmered in her soft green eyes. “Excited?”

Sonic’s own emerald eyes lowered. “Not really.”

Chief Rose bit her lip. “May I join you, milord? Or would you rather be alone?”

Sonic considered it. His thoughts were spinning, faster and faster with no signs of stopping for even a second. “Company would be nice.” He agreed. Chief Rose smiled and strode forward to join him, inhaling the crisp night air and folding her hands on the stone railing.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” She nodded to the kingdom below. “A shame we can’t see the stars, though.”

“Why can’t we?” Sonic wondered, then gestured to the lantern light with a quirked brow. “Ambient lighting?”

“No, it’s the Smoke Screen.” She informed him, frowning when his expression turned blank. “Sally and Blaze should have—didn’t they show you three all the classified zones?” She demanded.

Sonic winced. “Yes?”

Chief Rose’s expression fell into a deadpan stare. “You weren’t paying attention, were you?”

“I was!” Sonic protested. “It’s Caliburn’s fault!” Sonic felt no remorse pointing the blame—because it was Caliburn’s fault! The Sovereign Sword had been in Sonic’s ear during Sally and Blaze’s entire tour, hissing at the hedgehog and making it difficult to focus.

Chief Rose shook her head bemusedly. “The Smoke Screen is the illusion barrier that hides Elysia from the Black Arms.” She explained and pointed at the moon’s hazy outline. “It isn’t a full shield; if the Black Arms were to find our coordinates, the Smoke Screen wouldn’t stop them from passing over the borders. But the illusion obscures us from any sort of tracking technology, including plain sight, but the unfortunate side effect is it also obscures outside visuals from the inside.”

“It blots out the stars.” Sonic murmured in understanding.

“The sun and moon get through because they’re close enough and radiate enough light.” She agreed. “Shame, but there’s no way around it. Rotor tried for months, but I’d rather not see the stars if the alternative is sacrificing our people’s safety.”

“Do you really think we can win the war?” Sonic blurted.

“Yes.” She didn’t hesitate.

“How?”

“I don’t know.” She shrugged helplessly. “But I believe in the Prophecy, and that means I believe in you, and Lords Shadow and Silver.”

“What if it’s misplaced?” Sonic ducked his head. “I’m up for any adventure, and I’ll help in any way I can, but becoming a King and ending a 2,000-year-old war? That’s a tall order. How can you be sure we’re the ones? What if the Prophecy is wrong?”

Chief Rose chewed the inside of her cheek, then hesitantly laid her hand over Sonic’s. “I don’t have any of those answers, and I’m not going to pretend I do. But,” She smiled at him. “I’m sure because I have faith. I have faith in the Prophecy. I have faith in the Swords. I have faith you’ll go into the Cathedral tomorrow a nervous boy and come out a courageous King. I have faith Antoine is going to train the Three of you until you’re better warriors than him. I have faith that the next time you meet the Black Arms in battle, you’ll make them quake in their scales. I have faith that one day soon, you’ll greet Black Doom, then destroy him forever. I have faith that one day soon, that name will be nothing but a memory. I have faith that one day soon, Elysia will finally be at peace. And above all, I have faith that all will be because of you, of Lords Shadow and Silver, the Three Sovereigns of Elysia.”

Sonic stared at her a moment, then grinned. “Yeah. Thanks, Chief Rose.”

The pink hedgehog playfully nudged him. “Call me Amy.”

“Amy.” Sonic corrected himself. A massive yawn stretched his jaw wide, and Amy giggled.

“Bedtime, milord.” She instructed and shooed him with her hand. “Can’t have you fall asleep during your own coronation!”

“Yes, ma’am.” Sonic lowered himself in a bow and vanished in a gust of wind, the door to his private suite slamming shut behind him. Amy giggled behind her hand and shook her head. “Oh, we’re in deep trouble, aren’t we?” She gazed out upon the kingdom below, smiling softly. “Prepare the way, Elysia. Sovereignty is finally come.”

CREAM!!!! CHEESE!!! VANILLA!!!! HI GUYS HI HI GUYS!!!!

Cosmo and Tails are so stinking cute I can't with them 😭

The folk song the kids and Scratch are singing is actually a 3S rendition of Soldier, Poet, King. Specifically the sped-up Reno version here. I love the tune of it and had to include it in 3S. 🥰

Thank you so much for reading Chapter Eight, I so hope you enjoyed it! See you next Wednesday, 2/26, for the FINAL chapter of Act One: The Chosen...Chapter Nine: Sovereignty is Come!

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catsafari25 · 1 year ago

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A/N: Hello again, and with this I think (?) I may have succeeded in writing enough bionicle fic to get it out of my system (unless another plot bunny hits me like a cannonball, but... eh, we'll see) and thus, here is the companion piece to the Vakama & Roodaka oneshot.

This time, exploring the scene where Vakama entered the Great Temple, from his side of things! This was also partially inspired by the scene in Challenge of the Hordika where Nokama is almost physically repulsed in trying to enter the Great Temple :)

In the tunnels beneath the temple, Vakama must stoop.

At first he shuffles, mutated arm tucked against him and his sole hand brushing only briefly along the floor to steady himself, but the passages are dark and deep and lined with creatures which seek out the weak. The eyes that watch him are not hungry. They keep their bellies too full for that.

In the end, it is easier quicker to drop to all fours, to share the weight between claw and tool that feet alone cannot. His altered form folds into the new stance with frightening familiarity. It's comfortable.

Natural.

The crown of his mask grazes the tunnel's ceiling, but only in passing. His gait is sure. Well. Surer than the ungainly slouch it had been before.

It was said – back when Matoran were awake to say such things – that even the strongest swimmers of Ga-Metru would hesitate before plunging into the depths of the protodermis sea. Not because the creatures there had any fondness for the taste of Matoran. In truth, it was thought that the rahi actively disliked the flavour. No, it was because the way Matoran swam was indistinguishable from the rahi's usual prey. Only when they had sunk tooth and jaw into their meal would they realise their mistake.

It was an annoying, if harmless mistake for the rahi.

Matoran couldn't say the same.

Vakama's early crawl through the passage had been like that of a Matoran swimmer: functional, but slow and indiscernible from wounded prey. Creatures drag themselves down into these depths to die, in hopes that they will be devoured only when they are too far gone to feel it. The eyes are patient. They will wait to see if this newcomer is similarly inclined.

And so when Vakama drops to his haunches, the eyes blink. Reassess. He moves less like the hunted and more like the hunter now, more predator than prey, and the eyes – and teeth – keep their distance after that.

The path Vakama stalks through was once a protodermis pipe, made obsolete even before the cataclysm. Newer conduits had been built, more efficient, more resilient, and this one had been disconnected but never dismantled. When he reaches its origin, it takes some effort – and his blazer claw – to break the seal across the hatchway, but when he does, one of the temple's protodermis purification chambers looms above him.

The room beyond is quiet.

Unmarked.

He doesn't realise he's stopped until the chittering of his audience draws closer. The snarl he throws back echoes off the pipe's walls, and the eyes retreat, but do not leave.

Vakama curls his hand around the lip of the hatch, and then falters.

Something is wrong.

It's not a pain, because the feeling does not hurt as it ought, but something is undeniably, fundamentally wrong. It causes his breath to catch, his hand to flinch, and it would be so easy, so easy, to turn and walk away, only...

Only he came here for a reason.

The wrongness flares, amplified for a moment, and then he pulls himself up. The eyes watch, but do not follow. Do they feel it too? Can even such base creatures sense the innate malice the temple exudes?

He clambers out of the purification chamber – empty and abandoned now – and stumbles upon his landing. He catches himself, but does not rise back to his feet.

Wrong.

This is wrong.

And at the edge of the wrongness there is a strange sort of terror. It dreads the same way the fire fears the sea, the same way the prey fears the predator; it is the meeting of two primally antithetical forces where only one can survive. It whispers turn back through his mind.

He moves into the next room.

It's one he knows well. Light filters down from the rot-stained windows, centering – as it had the day he'd first seen it – on the suva, and casting long sentinel shadows of the columns standing to attention around it. A crack mars the suva, its stone dome now split cleanly in two from the quakes, and – drawn by some desire he cannot identify (instinct, curiosity... nostalgia?) – he approaches.

It seems so small now. Even bowed and altered in his Hordika form, he looms over the Ta-Metru symbol he'd once had to stretch to reach.

Unbidden, his hand moves to the niche where once he'd placed a Toa Stone – where once he had though himself chosen, duty-bound, destiny-gifted – and falters a breath from the stone.

The wrongness spikes.

Screams.

And with a twist of something he will not call horror, he understands it is not originating from himself.

But from the temple.

It is repulsion. It's alienation. It's recognising him, but as other, as rahi.

It's disgust that a monster would dare enter its sanctuary.

In the Ta-Metru carving, stone once polished to the point of fragmented reflection, he sees a glimmer of his own face. Neither Toa nor Matoran. Nothing blessed by Mata Nui.

Vakama recoils.

And then a wave of his own disgust, propelled by that fury that runs so close to the surface now, rolls through him. If you didn't want us as the Toa, you should've stopped Makuta from choosing us, he thinks, and digs his claws into the stonework.

The wrongness sings.

But he knows it for what it is now, and his morphed, clawed hand gorges scars through the carving. The stone is soft. Its makers had never imagined someone would take a blade to it.

There comes a tapping from across the room, echoing brazenly off the ancient stone walls, and Vakama retreats instinctively into the shadows. A Rahaga enters.

Norik?

No, this Rahaga's armour is more akin to a Po-Matoran than a Ta-Matoran's, the colour of dust and stone. Vakama tries to recall the Rahaga's name – and then dismisses the attempt.

It won't matter, in the end.

The Rahaga walks as he always has, stooped and slow, but clearly unhindered by the temple. He passes by the suva and runs one gnarled hand across the stonework, his movements marred by curiosity rather than reverence.

The rage arrives a fully-formed creation. It drowns out the wrongness, floods the apprehension, and he is moving before he's decided that this is the path he wants.

It is not pain, for it does not hurt as it ought.

But it does still hurt.

Whatever the Rahaga might once have been, they are old and weak now. Four are captured before Vakama's rage has a chance to cool, but the ire is no less dangerous when it does.

(That's the thing about Ta-Metru; it's not a place of fire so much as it is of magma. And magma doesn't extinguish with the cold; it sets. It moors itself into place, an unmovable, burning force.)

The rage settles, solidifies around his heart and lungs and carves a home between his breaths.

(Magma is not fire. It does not leap blindly from one source to the next. Instead it advances. Slowly. Steadily. It finds a channel, a destination, and it engulfs all in its path until it reaches it.)

He finds the last two remaining Rahaga, pathetically ignorant to their brothers' fates and still scavenging the temple for answers. He hears the way Norik appraises his sister's translation, relief clear in his voice that they are one step further on this wild rahi chase. Relief, surely, that the Rahaga are one step closer to regaining their Toa form.

(And Vakama's anger has found its destination.)

He does not descend on the Rahaga's leader the way he has the others. No. Norik will know what's coming for him first. He gets to fear. Vakama waits until Gaaki has gone, until Norik is alone, and then he circles. The wrongness thrums in his veins, weighing him down and labouring his breaths. It doesn't matter. Let Norik hear his approach.

Norik doesn't try to run. Vakama will give him that much. (A wise choice. Vakama intends for this encounter to last, but if Norik runs, Vakama cannot be sure he won't chase.) Instead, the malformed once-Toa calls out and actually tries to approach him. Stupid. Doesn't he know that he won't win any fight, transformed as he is? As both of them are? No, instead, he tries to talk. As if they are equals, as if Norik has done anything to deserve his respect rather than his scorn. As if he has earned the temple's forgiveness for his trespassing.

Even when Vakama raises the fate of Norik's fellow Rahaga, Norik attempts to sway him with the illusion of reason, talking of duty and unity, as if he's not using the other Toa Hordika to chase after a rahi myth for his own desires. As if their roles are in any way comparable, both Toa of Fire once, both leaders, it's true, but Vakama hasn't forgone his duty to chase after selfish needs.

And it stops now.

Vakama circles closer, and Norik is still talking, unease in his voice, but not fear. Still searching for the right words to turn Vakama to his bidding as he has the other Toa Hordika. Ever the voice of two-faced logic.

Why won't he just shut up?

Does Norik think him to be as gullible as the others? As quick to desert his duty as them?

And Vakama knows he wants – needs – to shake that assurance, that arrogance out of Norik. Needs to see that facade of self-righteous wisdom crumble into the terror of his situation.

The growl begins deep in his chest and, unleashed, it becomes a roar. He rears out of the darkness, into the weak sphere of light surrounding Norik – and there, there he finally sees true fear fill the old fool's eyes.

Something slams into Vakama and he reels, his roar cut short. His hand reaches automatically, defensively, to his mask. He finds only water there. It clings to him, imbued with some sort of power – he can feel something other in it – but otherwise impotent.

"Leave my brother alone," Gaaki snarls. She stands in the doorway, small and hopelessly overpowered, but her shoulders are tensed with a stubborness Vakama recognises. Already, her spinner is powering up for another shot.

Well. Two can play at that game.

Vakama's rhotuka fires into motion, but the water has seeped into the mechanism, and dowses the fire before it has a chance to catch. He gives it a withering look, before turning the expression onto Gaaki. "Very clever."

Another water spinner hits him, but this time he is braced for it and all it does is wash harmlessly off him.

"Is that all you have?" he asks. His blazer claw splutters, but the claws on his hand flex. After all, there's more than one way to defang a muaka...

Gaaki steps back. Good. She knows she's outmatched. "It's a devastating attack underwater," she offers, and her words are strong but there is a cracked edge to them.

"Then you'd better start finding a puddle," Vakama growls, "before my claws find you," and he drops into a run, feet pounding and fangs bared and that ever-present wrongness humming about him.

She doesn't flee. Just like Norik, she stands her ground, gnarled fingers wrapped tight around her staff. Her eyes are hard, but he sees the way her hands shake.

How long will her resolve last, Vakama wonders. Before or after the claws find their mark?

He never finds out.

He's knocked off his feet before he reaches her, and when he hits the ground, ropes of energy pin him to the earth, like a water-bound rahi caught in a net.

What–

Norik.

He'd forgotten Norik.

He thrashes against the restraints, but they hold strong – for now. His blazer claw splutters again, but it does nothing to the energy that binds him.

He stills as he hears footsteps approach.

The two Rahaga hobble into his line of sight. Gaaki is breathing hard, as if only now is she allowing herself to feel the fear. "You left that late, Norik," she says, and even the breath that follows sounds more like a shaken wheeze than a nervous laugh. "Almost too late."

"I only had the one shot. I couldn't afford to miss," Norik replies. "He's got our brothers. Gaaki, go find–"

"I'm not leaving you alone with him," she retorts. "I only went for a moment before, and look what would have happened if I hadn't returned."

Vakama tilts his head as well as the energy net will allow. He grins at the Rahaga, anger curdling it into a sneer. "Yes, Gaaki, you're very good bait, congratulations." He shifts his gaze to Norik. "But you've always been so good at getting others to do your dirty work, haven't you, Norik?"

Norik doesn't even have the decency of guilt. Instead, he simply looks tired. "Whatever you think you know–"

"I know the truth! You don't care about the Matoran, you only care about yourselves!" He strains against the ropes, and although they do not break, there's a little more give in them than before. He slumps back to the ground, breathing hard. "You might have the other Toa fooled. You might even have the temple fooled, but not me," he growls, and the temple's hatred presses down on him, straining his last words.

Gaaki places a frail hand on her brother's arm. "Norik," she says, and there is such unbearable sorrow in her voice. "He looks in pain."

"It's not my doing," Norik assures her softly. "My snare spinner only binds."

Vakama snarls. "I don't need pity from the likes of you. I know what you are."

"We're allies, Vakama," Norik says, in that insufferably reasonable way of his. "Friends."

"You're frauds," Vakama snaps. He twists against his restraints. They slacken, just a touch. "Liars. You don't deserve to walk these floors."

And the Rahaga stand there, unburdened by the temple's hate, strangers to this land, to Metru Nui, and yet it is Vakama the temple repulses? After everything he has forgone, the life he's abandoned, the friendships he's lost, Mata Nui punishes him?

His rhotuka fires off a fire spinner, and it goes wide, cracks a wall. Norik and Gaaki stumble back, Norik preparing another snare shot, but the energy net holding Vakama snaps. Vakama lurches forward, suddenly free, and slams into Norik.

The snare spinner wraps itself around a column. It lights up the room with crackling energy.

A blast of water grazes past his shoulder, too shy of hitting Norik to commit to taking the easy shot, and Vakama reels towards Gaaki. He fires with a snarl, but hears the snare spinner coming again and ducks at the last moment.

Again his own attack misses and the shot cleaves clean through a wall. Something on the other side begins to smoulder.

Then it begins to rumble.

It's a low sound at first, as deep as the earth and just as vast. Almost like a distant growl. But then the cracks begin to spiral out across the roof, along the columns, and the room buckles.

The light flickers. The frames of the high windows above collapse.

The world becomes fragmented, filled with flickering images. Falling masonry and toppling pillars and dust – but the sounds never relent. Even in the depths of the passing darkness, the thunder continues.

And when the dust settles, so does an awful silence.

Vakama straightens, or does his best approximation of it. Fragments of cracked protodermis fall from his shoulders, his head, his back. He withdraws the hand which has somehow found itself raised above Gaaki, knocking aside the stone slab caught against his arm.

Where's Norik?

Both Hordika and Rahaga stand side by side, that quietness disturbed only by the skittering of stone shards settling. There is wrongness in his breath, his head, and it's impossible to separate where the temple's ends and his begins. But any moment now, Norik will reappear from the wreckage, bearing that ever-same holier-than-thou look, and the anger will rise anew in Vakama.

Any.

Moment.

Now.

"You've killed him," Gaaki says, and her voice breaks that terrible stillness. She draws in a half-breath that cracks into a sob. "You've... oh, Norik..."

No.

No, it was an accident. He hadn't meant to– Norik had simply been in the wrong place. It wasn't as if he'd taken a blazer claw to Norik, or hit him directly with a fire spinner. He'd only meant to... what? What had he only meant to do?

Something swings towards him and he grabs the staff before he even registers what it is.

"He's not dead," Vakama says, and maybe if he says it, he might even believe it. He snaps his gaze to Gaaki, as if her grief is bringing it to pass. "He's not. He's not as easy to kill as that. When the others– when the Toa find him, he'll be fine. Fools like him always find a way to survive."

Gaaki attempts to pull her staff free, but her strength is no match for Vakama's. He wretches it out of her grasp and tosses it aside.

"Stop that."

She doesn't listen to him, only steps back and charges up her rhotuka. The grief in her eyes fogs into hatred.

The water spinner hits him but does little more than rock him.

"Stop."

Gaaki screams, a sound of rage and anguish, and releases a volley of spinners as ineffectual as the first.

Vakama's patience – or whatever had held him in place until now – snaps. He lunges forward. His claws close around the joints of Gaaki's rhotuka and pins the mechanisms harmlessly into place, in the same manner one might pick up a baby ussal crab by the widest edge of its shell. She thrashes, but Vakama's grip holds.

"I said, stop," he snarls.

She's breathing hard, her gasps sharp-edged with agony. "You killed him," she says, voice hoarse and hateful.

His insides twist, and – Gaaki hauled by his side – he starts the ascent to where the rest of the Rahaga are trapped. He doesn't look back to the rubble. Doesn't glance for one last glimpse of Norik's resting place.

He's not dead. He's not dead he's not dead he's not

The wrongness, the hatred, has woven so deep into him, it's almost a part of him now.

Toa don't kill. Vakama can't remember who taught him that (he recalls, briefly, the flash of a gold mask, but it comes with pain – grief – and he pushes it aside before it can take root) but it gnaws at him like a trapped stone rat. Toa don't kill.

But he was never meant to be one.

And if the Great Temple – if Mata Nui – thinks a mistake was made in Vakama's destiny....

Well. That's somebody else's problem.

The Hordika that returns to Roodaka is different from the one she sent out. There's something new in his eyes... or perhaps something lost.

"How was the temple, Vakama?" she asks when it's just the two of them.

He looks to her. Beneath the anger, beneath the rahi, there's almost a haunted look to those eyes. It vanishes a moment later, but Roodaka never doubts her own eyes.

"Unwelcoming," he replies, and Roodaka smiles. She could have suggested Vakama pick the Rahaga off one by one in the chaos of Metru Nui, outside where her Visorak could have been an aid... but the temple had been too good an opportunity to miss.

"Good." She sets a hand on his shoulder. "You owe no loyalty to Mata Nui, Vakama. Not anymore."

He rolls his shoulder, but not sharp enough to dislodge Roodaka's hand.

"One thing I do not understand," she says. "What happened to the sixth Rahaga?"

The Toa growls. It is a gutteral sound, rooted deep in the chest and at home in a way it wasn't before. "You wanted a message left for the other Toa. I needed a messenger."

"Alive?"

Vakama shrugs his shoulder again, and this time she lets him roll her hand loose. "Does it matter, so long as they understand?" he growls.

No, Roodaka concedes as she surveys the remains of the Toa before her. She supposes not.

#bionicle #cat writes #lego bionicle #do i have a weakness for the hordika arc? you'll never know #(yes. look i was a well behaved 12year old kid who loved plots about characters going feral. i ate the hordika plotline up)#(and two decades later or there abouts i still have nostalgic fondness for it)#heya so how do we feel about vakama returning to the temple and finding it is repulsed by him?#a discovery that might not only confirm he wasnt chosen by mata nui but has been forsaken #and yeah this was the fic i technically titled 'damned'#but also casually thought of it as 'god called to let you know he hates you personally'#because that's definitely a normal thing to name a fic #also yes i like the idea that roodaka pushed vakama to enter the temple knowing he would feel abandoned by mata nui #and thus helps sever the 'destiny' part of the three virtues #i like the idea that just like matau had to invoke the three virtues to get vakama back #roodaka worked on severing vakamas ties to the three virtues to get him to turn his back on the others #and while she succeeded with unity and destiny #duty she could only derail or corrupt rather than sever entirely #and that (esp since duty is vakamas whole shtick) is why matau reminding him of his duty finally worked #i'll probably add this and the stasis tube au to ao3 in time #but for now it goes here

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