Happy Bionicle Day! Here's a new story in honor of it! Disclaimer: I do not own the Bionicle intellectual property, nor am I in any way officially affiliated with the Lego Group.
Artist Credits: Isaiah Burt, the Lego Group
There were many who thought that the Visorak were incapable of feeling. Cyrida had encountered many such beings. A grin formed under her warped Kanohi mask, rendered powerless by her Hordika metamorphosis, as she stared into the glazed-over gaze of the Boggarak face in her grasp. The spider’s mandibles were splayed wide as though it were about to strike. A few moments ago, the Visorak had been intending to do exactly that. Now, as Cyrida released her grip on the Boggarak’s face, the spider tumbled unceremoniously to the ground in the same deathly obeisance that had been inflicted upon its surrounding kin. There had been twelve in total.
Now, there were thirteen.
Cyrida rose to her full height and flexed her limbs, a rare luxury in the ever-changing web of dilapidated buildings, streets, and tunnels that the former Toa of Psionics had called home for the past…
Thousand years?
Ten thousand?
Cyrida banished the thought to her subconscious or, as she called it, her lower mind, that part of her where the old Toa still lurked. Her higher mind, the one that governed her actions in the waking world, belonged only to the hunt, as it had been since the Hordika “affliction” settling into permanence within her. That had been the last happening of any real significance to her, and she had celebrated that day as she had every other since: with a bounty of Visorak souls reaped mercilessly by her psionic claws.
On that day, she had been reborn, and on that day also, the Visorak had proven that they were capable of feeling.
On that day, the Stealers of Life had known fear.
A shudder of pleasure ran down Cyrida’s spine as she indulged the remembrance. Her psionic power allowed her to recall every aspect of it, every sensation, with perfect clarity as though it had happened only minutes ago. Never had the Visorak bested her.
The faint dripping of liquid from behind snapped Cyrida from her memory; she whirled around. There was only darkness. There was always darkness. With an inkling, not even a full thought, Cyrida’s vision became layered in the comfortable ultramarine of her psychic sight. It outlined and defined every feature of the subterranean ruination around her, right down to the last grime-covered rock. Everything became oceanic, but only for her.
When no shifts came in the metaphysical eddies, Cyrida allowed her sight to regress into the pitch-blackness of normalcy, and she chided herself. She, of all beings, knew how quickly absence could turn into presence; a momentary lapse of focus was all it took. Just to be safe, the Hordika sent out probing tendrils of her will, reaching for any minds that might still be hidden before her.
The result was the same as her psionic sight: nothing.
Taking no relief, Cyrida shunted her focus back to the thirteen Boggarak corpses strewn about the surrounding ruins. Visorak were indeed capable of feeling. These Boggarak had felt pain before their deaths, and their equally wretched kin would surely feel a need for vengeance, atavistic and primal. Even in Visorak, creatures known for treachery, blood called to blood.
Cyrida welcomed it, hoped that the Visorak would find her in an attempt to sate their blood-urges. A trio of lopes put the latest of Cyrida’s kills out of sight. Out of mind. Already, the Hordika’s eyes were narrowed into a lethal glare; the huntress searched for her next prey. The tunnel stayed straight for a few bio, about twenty, by Cyrida’s estimate. Suddenly, she saw a myriad of bulky, angular shapes multiplying in the darkness beyond, tantalizing her until she found herself salivating beneath her mask, growling with anticipation, indulging the beast.
Had there been any Matoran present, they would have run away screaming. Had there been any Toa present, they would have readied themselves for battle, their weapons flaring with elemental might as they glutted themselves on self-righteousness.
Cyrida’s grin widened as she perceived a flash of movement in the darkness ahead. Even without the aid of her psionic powers, her vision was nearly as honed as the scopes found on so many Kanohi Akaku, and she augmented it with the ultramarine of her psionic sight. A deep indigo sphere, slightly darker than the surrounding ultramarine, confirmed what the tightening in Cyrida’s gut had already told her:
There was another mind concealed in the rubble ahead, probably Visorak. It never hadn’t been.
Cyrida crouched, her gaze ever-fixed on the frontmost boulder, and a low, rumbling growl had the Rhotuka launcher between her shoulder blades whirring to life. A sound like a thunderclap split the air as crackling tendrils of psionic energy surged from the chinks in Cyrida’s armor. With a tingling sensation that was as natural to her as breathing, a Rhotuka spinner formed, bathing everything around the Hordika in blue-purple light.
Another grunt from Cyrida sent the Rhotuka hurtling forward, wailing as it sliced through the air. A second thunderclap came as the spinner slammed into a boulder and shattered it. Still, no Visorak emerged from beyond.
Confusion followed. Cyrida knew that she had seen ripples of another mind. There could be no doubt.
She exerted her psionic might to wreath her hands in long, savage claws of blue-purple energy, the same as the Rhotuka. The claws’ humming and crackling set the tempo as Cyrida stalked forward, her gait long and bestial.
A moment later saw the Hordika half-leaping through the remains of the shattered boulder, and her vision pierced the darkness to reveal a Visorak sprawled out across more rubble beyond. Its carapace was black, and its limbs were orange, revealing the spider to be an Oohnorak, another sub-breed of Visorak.
Strange… Cyrida said to herself. Other breeds of Visorak were not unheard of in this place, but the majority of the spiders she had found had been Boggarak. They had multiple hives all to themselves.
Focusing on the Oohnorak before her, Cyrida reached out with a tendril of her will. A dim, fettered consciousness hummed within the depths of the Visorak’s mind. It was alive, but not by much.
Help me. it groaned.
Cyrida struggled not to laugh. “Why?” she replied in fluent Visorak. Millennia of hunting the spiders had yielded an intimate knowledge of them.
Zivon… the Oohnorak wheezed. Zivon… coming… Boggarak… gathering…
“Right.” Cyrida smiled. As desperate as the Oohnorak sounded, Cyrida knew well how they used their telepathy and knowledge of the Matoran language to trap their foes. That had happened to her.
Once.
Cyrida raised one of her psionic claws to deliver a coup de grace. The metaphysical weapon seethed with anticipation; its baleful light gave Cyrida a diabolical countenance.
Please… The strain in the Oohnorak’s voice intensified. Please, believe me.
Cyrida’s claw let out an unliving rasp, showering the Oohnorak in blue-purple sparks. The urge to slay the spider burned within Cyrida. Their kind, their venom, had taken everything from her. Why shouldn’t she continue to reap vengeance for her fallen friends?
Still, the Hordika found herself pausing. She had never encountered a Zivon before but knew enough about them to know that she didn’t want to encounter one. They were Rahi of an apocalyptic scale and vision, hulking behemoths of fangs and carapace complete with a need to destroy that burned like an inferno within them. But if the Oohnorak’s words, however unlikely, proved to be true, Cyrida knew that she would be forced to either deal with the Rahi or leave her home.
And she would be hard-pressed to face a Zivon alone.
Durogar would know what to do. The thought manifested in Cyrida’s mind unbidden. Memories of the Toa of Gravity’s plots and strategies came back in flashes. From them bubbled up a memory of them sitting together on a forlorn cliff face. “One of the first rules of warfare is this, Cyrida,” he had said, “Never refuse an ally. They are hard to come by.”
As the echoes of Durogar’s words slipped back into the mnemonic void from which they had come, Cyrida found herself left with a brooding sadness.
She smothered it in frustration. Fresh malice swirled in her eyes as she found herself glaring upon the Oohnorak; both of her psionic claws snarled.
Still, Cyrida could not strike. Her lower mind stopped her higher one from giving the command. Instead, Cyrida shifted her gaze so as to look directly into the eyes of the Oohnorak. They held a faint light that mirrored its consciousness. Looking up, Cyrida activated her psychic vision. The results were the same as before; there was only her and the Oohnorak.
A Zivon is coming, you say? Cyrida asked.
Yes… the Oohnorak replied. It had held on to life only through sheer force of will. A Kahgarak is already on its way to summon it. The Boggarak have enslaved many other breeds, and they are killing any who try to stop them.
And you were one of the ones who tried to stop them. Cyrida said.
The Oohnorak did not respond with words, but rather by surrendering a memory of it and its kin locked in desperate battle with a swarm of Boggarak. It was a riot of fangs, screeches, and Rhotuka spinners; many were the corpses of dead spiders strewn about the battlefield.
Cyrida’s next question would have been to ask why the Oohnorak was telling her all of this, but the query answered itself: the Visorak had no other options. It was alone; the others of its pack were either dead or forsaken.
Cyrida could say the same.
The Hordika gave a sardonic grunt. Never had she believed that she would find so much common ground with one of her mortal enemies. Destiny seemed to have a unique sense of humor regarding her.
Please… the Oohnorak whispered. Its voice was fading fast now; what little life remained in the Visorak would not be there long.
Where is— Cyrida began.
Before she could finish her question, the Oohnorak fell limp. Dead.
“Great,” Cyrida hissed.
Or…
In an instant, Cyrida drove all of her will into the dead Oohnorak, hoping that its brain had not yet fully succumbed to oblivion.
She received nothing. Tension gripped her chest as she fought back a howl of frustration. Reflexively, Cyrida whirled around and drove one of her psionic claws into a nearby boulder. The claw snarled and seethed as it slid effortlessly through the rock, shattering it. Growling, Cyrida picked up the Oohnorak corpse and slung it over her shoulder. At the very least, it would hopefully deter any other Visorak hoping to attack her. She took her first step forward, and as she looked into the darkness, she felt a gelid sensation under her armor that urged her to remain where she was.
She ignored it. Loping through the dilapidated tunnel with speed and grace, her path soon expanded into a slanted crossing. She immediately turned left. As Cyrida continued, telltale signs of Visorak activity appeared: strands of webbing, fragments of shed carapaces, and, perhaps most importantly, tracks. They were fairly fresh, perhaps a day old, and the heavy indentations that they had made indicated they likely belonged to Oohnorak. Most of the carapace fragments were black, too.
Emboldened, Cyrida continued. The tunnel opened into a cavern that was about one hundred bio in diameter and festooned with green Visorak webs, yet none of the spiders were present. No other tunnels linked to this cavern, either. The only entrance and exit was the way by which Cyrida had come.
Had she stumbled upon a dormant, or perhaps extinguished, Visorak hive?
Cyrida set the Oohnorak corpse on the ground with a gentleness that surprised even herself, at which point she walked to the center of the cavern. The silence that came in response to her actions was a surprise, too. She had not fully wrapped her head around the fact that this cavern, this hive, was entirely devoid of Visorak.
Unless…
The whole of the cavern was wreathed in Cyrida’s psionic sight before she had consciously willed it. There were only waves of shimmering ultramarine. The psionic ocean was as empty as the cavern.
Cyrida’s confusion intensified, and her energy claws snarled. Her psychic sight had never failed her before, but…
The sound of falling rubble overhead drew Cyrida’s attention immediately; her psionic sight unraveled right as three purple blots appeared. They belonged to the three Vohtarak leaping toward her. The spiders’ Rhotuka launchers cracked as they spat spinners at Cyrida.
Lurching forward, the Hordika launched her own Rhotuka. The blue-purple spinner collided with the center-most Vohtarak spinner; they mutually annihilated each other and left behind a thin cloud of white smoke. Cyrida was already moving again, too, whirling through the air powered by a strength that had long ago mutated beyond that of a Toa. Both of the other Vohtarak spinners streaked past her and slammed harmlessly into the back wall of the cavern. Cyrida’s feet hit the ground a moment later, putting her closer to her foes than before.
The Vohtarak hissed as they lashed out at Cyrida with their fangs. A low growl emanated from the Hordika’s throat as she reflexively stepped back, and her claws darted up to cover her chest. Trying to strike the Vohtarak now was useless; the freneticism in their movements and the bolder crimson hue of their carapaces showed clearly that they were in the thrall of the berserker rage for which their breed was known.
“Kill!” one of the Vohtarak shrieked in its own language as it darted forward to drive its fangs straight toward Cyrida’s face.
The Hordika kicked the spider back with a sweeping blow. Another of the Vohtarak leaped forward, throwing all of its weight at Cyrida in an attempt to knock her down. She pivoted and drove her shoulder into the Vohtarak’s underbelly, throwing it back. Even though she could not wound her foes, she was still stronger and heavier. A sardonic grin formed under her deformed mask. The spiders’ venom had been good for something, at least.
A flash of movement and the crack of a Rhotuka launcher heralded the intense, searing pain that slammed through Cyrida’s body and overwhelmed her other senses. The whole of her field of vision was washed in white; she could barely hear her own cries of pain, let alone of the crackling of her psionic claws. She wanted to be in a cool, dark place, alone and away from the ever-intensifying torment, and she struggled to form the thought. All of the mental might that had been second-nature to her only a moment prior now seemed to be a thousand bio away, out of reach and out of sight.
Even while in the thrall of the Vohtarak spinner, Cyrida still felt the sharp, punching pain of one of the spiders striking and the following rush of air as she was thrown to the ground. She heard only high-pitched ringing as she collided with the rock, and broken shards dug into her armor. The Hordika lashed out with her psionic claws but met only open air.
A tide of bewilderment-powered rage, the sheer need to survive, reared up from Cyrida’s lower mind, and her psionic sight came like a rushing wave to banish the blinding whiteness in cleansing ultramarine. Amid the deep blue tides, Cyrida could easily make out the purple forms that marked the presence of the Vohtarak. The purple spots were larger than normal, too, marking not only the brains of the spiders but the spiders themselves. Already, they were skittering forward, and their fangs clicked and snapped with anticipation. Cyrida did not need to see the death-lust swirling in the spiders’ eyes to know that it was there. They did not call themselves the Stealers of Life for nothing.
Faster than what should have been possible, Cyrida’s body carried her upward with a powerful leap, and the surge of psionic vigor turned the burning pain of the spiders’ Rhotuka spinners into a distant husk of what it had been. Cyrida threw a glance down as she passed over the Vohtarak, soon landing behind them and forming a Rhotuka of her own. As Cyrida did, her psychic might ran freely through her limbs, and a baleful wail heralded the Hordika’s Rhotuka flying forth.
The spinner slammed into the back of one of the Vohtarak and unraveled into a jagged dome of ultramarine energy that barred the three Visorak from approaching. They had been reduced to glaring at their foe and snarling angrily. Cyrida snarled back. It wasn’t the victory cry of a Toa but rather the sound of a Rahi asserting its dominance. Already, she was stalking forward to drive her psionic claws straight through the spiders’ brains.
I would prefer you not kill them. The voice had the distinct hissing shared by all Visorak, but it was far more collected and coherent. Under the bestial façade lurked a cold cunning.
Show yourself, Cyrida replied, and I will consider it.
She threw a glance over her shoulder and saw that she and the Vohtarak were still the only ones in the cavern. Still, the Hordika knew better than to believe that there wasn’t a fifth monster lurking in the shadows. She turned on her psionic sight. It revealed nothing new, and for her efforts, Cyrida received a chorus of un-Matoran laughter that cut through both the air around her and the frustration roiling in her mind. The emotion continued to pile upon Cyrida with nowhere to release it.
Except the Vohtarak.
Cyrida turned her gaze back upon the spiders. Their carapaces had dulled, and they did not struggle against their psionic cage. Still, their glaring eyes glowed with primal hatred. Their kind had been bred to kill Toa, and, whether Cyrida liked it or not, the spiders considered her to be one. She smiled despite herself; the expression dripped with malice.
Before her hatred of the Visorak could act for her, the sound of dozens of strands of Visorak webbing snapping at once drew her attention toward the ceiling. From a large, jagged crack that hadn’t been there before descended an enormous Visorak suspended by a strand of putrid green webbing that was as thick as Cyrida’s arm.
The Visorak bore the black carapace and orange limbs that marked it as an Oohnorak. Great slabs of muscle and carapace had fortified its four primary legs, and two smaller limbs constantly swayed and twitched about its underbelly. Rather than two fangs, this Oohnorak had four, and its yellow eyes swirled with a savage intellect. The atavistic urge for predation borne by all Visorak was not entirely absent from its gaze, either.
Cyrida immediately dropped into a crouch, and a Rhotuka spinner wailed into existence between her shoulder blades.
The giant Oohnorak touched down directly in front of the Hordika. It was but an arm’s length away, and she could hear the spider sucking back its own venomous saliva.
You are still a Toa at heart. the Visorak said. Its mental presence became increasingly foreign to Cyrida; the Visorak was a monolith of darkness in the ultramarine eddies of her mind. It simultaneously demanded and rejected her focus.
I have not held that title for thousands of years. Cyrida hissed back as she straightened her posture. As if to corroborate her statement, her psionic claws gave a fresh bout of seething and crackling.
The Oohnorak laughed; it was a series of frenzied clicks. And you still you came here.
Is that your brother over there? Cyrida gestured to the Oohnorak corpse she had left at the entrance of the cavern.
As a matter of fact, the mutated Oohnorak replied, he is, and I am grateful that you have returned him to me. Lurker was always a dutiful younger sibling and a true servant of the brood. Was he able to tell you what we are up against?
We? Cyrida’s mind indignantly blurted out the word, independent of her conscious thoughts.
Did you not take Lurker in hopes of finding more of us? Confusion slipped into the voice of the mutated Oohnorak.
Only so long as you understand that I am not one of you. Cyrida found herself growling. I will never be one of you.
The mutated Oohnorak gave no response; silence fell in between it and Cyrida as the Hordika glared into the eyes of the spider. The crackling and thrumming of psionic energy all around, from both within and without, was a song of temptation upon Cyrida’s ears and mind.
You are Cyrida. the Oohnorak finally said. I am Apex.
Cyrida gave a sardonic grunt. She wasn’t surprised that the spider knew her name; she had certainly slain enough of its kind. Why are you called Apex?
Because I am exactly that: the Apex of the Oohnorak, the Apex of Visorak kind. The mutated spider did not speak boastfully, but rather matter-of-factly. Now, would you care to answer my previous question about my brother?
Cyrida’s gaze softened; her psionic claws dimmed. For an instant, a new notion manifested: was she really that different from the being before her now? She reflexively met the question with disgust. No. She was not at all like the Visorak, would never be like them. She had said that only a few moments ago. Still, the Visorak could feel fear just as any Matoran, and, apparently, they had brothers and sisters. Was the latter really so different from the camaraderie that Toa shared amongst each other and the Matoran they protected?
As twisted as it was, Cyrida was sure that she wouldn’t be able to remove her mask even if she had wanted to, and she was glad for that. It meant that Apex couldn’t see the doubt that was worming its way onto the Hordika’s face, though she had little doubt that the telepathically active Visorak could feel it.
Cyrida spoke her next words with crafted neutrality. The Oohnorak, your brother, did tell me about a Zivon, if that is what you are referring to.
His name is Lurker. Apex replied.
Cyrida ignored the correction. Do you desire my aid or not?
Apex clicked his fangs together pensively. Only so long as I know that you are not going to turn on us as soon as the threat has passed.
I have the same concern.
Apex gave a clicking laugh. You will surely forgive my Vohtarak for their zealousness. They know well how many of their kind have died to your claws.
How do I know that you’re not behind the plot to summon the Zivon?
Neither I nor any of my brethren have any desire to become the next meals of that monstrosity. Apex sighed as it sent an image taken from a memory of watching one of the Zivon’s feasts. We simply wish to live freely in this place as we have since the death of Makuta Teridax and the dissolution of the Brotherhood of Makuta. Spherus Magna is as much our home as it is everyone else’s. Apex paused. The Boggarak would not listen to us. Even with the death of all the Makuta, they are still loyal to the cause of the Brotherhood. They would see every being degenerated by mutation and then subjugated.
That is an interesting choice of words. Cyrida spoke stiltedly as she continued to hold Apex’s gaze.
You were lucky. the Visorak replied. You benefitted from our venom.
At that, a flash of anger reared up within Cyrida. There was no denying that the Hordika mutation had made her faster, stronger, and more decisive, yet she all too clearly remembered Durogar calling out to her as she was pulled into the cocoon, crying for her to break free. She hadn’t been able to; it had been too late.
Cyrida took a deep breath and reminded herself that Apex was not the one who had mutated her, and she herself had allowed the Hordika mutation to settle into permanency rather than seek a cure, not that there was one to be found. She had heard the legends of the Toa Metru and Keetongu; she had never hoped to be as lucky as them.
Truth be told, the Hordika still wasn’t entirely sure how she felt about all of it, but the thoughts slipped back into the recesses of her consciousness as she exhaled.
Lurker spoke of a Zivon, Cyrida said, but he also spoke of a Kahgarak. Do you know where it is?
No. Apex replied.
Cyrida felt the sorrow and desperation underpinning Apex’s thought. The spider wanted the death of its brother to not have been in vain.
Are there others who can come with us? Cyrida asked. As much as she loathed the idea of working with Visorak, a swarm of the spiders was still better than her and Apex alone. She doubted that they could exacerbate her mutation anyway.
Apex gave a trio of low clicks and shook its head. To bring the rest of the brood would only invite their destruction, and they must remain behind to protect the hatchlings.
Cyrida felt a flash of confusion. She had never encountered a Visorak hatchling before, which was fortunate for the spiders. Still, the nightmares on legs had to make more somehow. When do you wish to depart, then?
I would ask you first to free my Vohtarak brethren. They have been loyal guardians of our brood, and it is my will that they remain so.
Cyrida threw a glance back at the spiders with red carapaces. Their hatred had subsided into vigilance. Grazing her will across theirs, Cyrida could feel only a desire to protect the hatchlings of which Apex had spoken. There were many larvae as well, apparently.
With a wave of her psionic claws, Cyrida unraveled the prison she had created for the Vohtarak. The spiders immediately skittered away and climbed up various strands of webbing, soon disappearing.
Cyrida turned her focus back on Apex. Happy now?
The Visorak gave its kind’s equivalent of a mirthless grin. Let’s go, Toa.
Lead the way. Cyrida found herself bristling at having been referred to as a Toa, but the bristling became shudders running down the Hordika’s spine as she saw the gleam in Apex’s eyes. It was neither anticipation nor thirst, but rather something in between.
Lead on. Cyrida said dryly, trying to conceal her ever-growing uncertainty. All she knew for sure was that she did not like it, did not like any of this.
* * *
Cyrida’s uncertainty had only increased; anxiety loomed at the forefront of her mind. These tunnels were larger than the vast majority of those she had encountered during her millennia among the ruins. Apex crawled through them with ease despite being more than three bio long, which was about twice Cyrida’s own height, and the Hordika herself followed close behind. She hadn’t had so much of as an inkling of these tunnels’ existence until her present companion had shown her.
They were as much in thrall to ruination as all the other tunnels, though. Piles of debris clung to the sides like rocks in a river, along with shattered fragments of armor, weapons, and equipment, yet Visorak webbing was largely absent. Based on the mental map Cyrida had constructed of the complex, she was beneath her normal hunting grounds.
The sound of crumbling stone echoed off in the distance; Cyrida paused mid-step and threw a glance over her shoulder. There was only more darkness and more rubble.
You’ve been doing that nearly every time. Apex said as it swept away a pile of rocks with its fangs.
I am not accustomed to being in the heart of Visorak territory. Cyrida replied frigidly.
Then you will be delighted to know that we passed through what could be called the “heart” of my territory hours ago. Apex looked around and lifted its head as though it were sniffing the air. These tunnels were carved by a Kahgarak and its Boggarak attendants a few days ago. They’ve enslaved many among the other breeds as well.
How do you know? Cyrida cocked her head to the left.
I can still smell them.
Cyrida tried but could not. Her psionics had largely replaced her olfactory senses. Still, it was a new lead, and it explained the presence of such large tunnels. It also explained the lack of Visorak, too. The spiders were already long gone.
As Cyrida and Apex continued, they used their telepathic power to dull the strength of their mental presences, subconsciously telling all nearby beings, Visorak or otherwise, not to look for them. They continued their trek in silence, and Cyrida ruminated about everything that had happened so recently. Millennia of being a solitary huntress, living as a Rahi but at once far above them, had turned into working with her mortal foes. Yet, she found herself with no ill will toward Apex. The Visorak had never so much as threatened violence upon Cyrida, and it seemed to loathe the other Visorak, those loyal to the Brotherhood, as much as any Toa. In the end, Cyrida could not argue that Apex’s goal was the same as her own; both she and the Visorak wanted nothing more than to live in peace and solitude.
Even now, as Cyrida turned her focus fully upon Apex, she felt no malice within the Visorak. There was only entwined determination and desire to protect its kin; the spider was as a Toa but for its own kind.
Cyrida found herself pausing, watching intently as Apex cleared away another pile of rubble. Each of its movements was focused and purposeful.
Can I ask you something? The tendril of will with which Cyrida posed the question was surprisingly gentle, as though she were addressing a Matoran.
Yes? Apex replied.
How did you become as you are?
How did you? Apex’s tone was bland, laconic.
Visorak venom… Cyrida’s voice trailed off into uncertainty.
Exactly.
That’s it?
Apex gave no response. Cyrida allowed the next moments to pass in silence before posing her next question:
You were mutated by the venom of your own kind?
Yes. Apex replied before stopping for a moment, glancing up at the crack-riddled ceiling, and continuing to walk forward.
Cyrida paid the motions little mind; Apex would tell her if there was anything of importance. Still, the act of trusting a Visorak left the Hordika with a twist in her stomach.
How? Cyrida asked.
How what? Apex replied. An undertone of irritation now lurked in its voice.
How were you mutated by Visorak venom when you yourself are one?
It was an experiment.
An experiment?
Once the threat of the Zivon is nullified, I will tell you more. Perhaps.
Cyrida nodded. She found a feral respect for Apex blossoming in her chest; the emotion bolstered her well of psionic power. She could even say that she was looking forward to fighting alongside the spider.
The tunnel forked into three separate paths. The central one was by far the largest, wider than the tunnel through which Cyrida and Apex had been traveling. The left fork was as small as the central fork was large; it could barely accommodate a Matoran. The right fork was somewhere between the other two, though it wasn’t large enough to allow Apex to pass through. At least, not comfortably.
Cyrida activated her psychic sight. She saw only ultramarine but could also feel a strange darkness beyond. It was like curled talons scraping at the very edges of her expanded consciousness, and there were no purple spots to indicate where any of it was coming from.
Do you feel that? Cyrida whispered to Apex.
The Visorak gave the telepathic equivalent of a nod. I think they tried to summon the Zivon here but failed. The boundary with the Zone of Darkness is thin here.
You say that like you’ve experienced it before. Cyrida replied.
Apex said nothing more.
Cyrida focused more upon her psionic sight but could glean no new information. There was ultramarine and there was black and there was nothing else.
What do we do? Cyrida allowed her psychic sight to unravel.
A trap has been set for us. Apex replied. We must spring it.
Apex entered the center tunnel. Cyrida followed. A harsh bend greeted them almost immediately, taking their previous surroundings out of view, and the darkness around them became thicker and blacker. Suddenly, a sharp crack shook the whole of the ceiling, and a tide of rocks fell upon Cyrida and Apex.
Flailing its forelegs and fangs, Apex deflected most of the tide as Cyrida conjured a barrier of shimmering blue psionic energy over herself and her companion. She savored the sensation of the power humming through the living fibers beneath her armor.
As the rest of the rocks shattered themselves against Cyrida’s psionic canopy, Apex was already moving forward. From the tunnel beyond came the faint hisses of other Visorak. Cyrida threw a glance down at the fallen rubble and saw minuscule strands of green webbing clinging to them. The Hordika grinned under her mask; this had indeed been a Visorak trap.
Lovely. Cyrida kept the thought to herself, enjoying her own sardonic mirth.
Cyrida easily caught up with Apex. After only a few more bio, the tunnel narrowed, and a cluster of dark shapes moved toward the Hordika and the Visorak. A moment later revealed the shadows for what they were:
Boggarak.
The first of the blue Visorak leaped forward; Apex caught the spider in its fangs and dashed it against the tunnel wall. A sickening crack followed as stone triumphed over carapace, leaving the Boggarak limp and lifeless.
Already, the other Visorak were charging. Their Rhotuka launchers cracked as they spat wailing Rhotuka spinners at their foes, coming at Cyrida and Apex like a crashing wave.
A moment was all Cyrida had. A moment was all Cyrida needed. The Hordika’s lower mind overtook her upper. With a bestial howl, torrents of screaming psionic energy burst from her outstretched claws to obliterate the Rhotuka volley. A chorus of explosions followed; Cyrida threw her arms toward the ceiling as she reveled in the destruction.
Apex drove a foreclaw straight through the back of one of the Boggarak. A wet crunch followed. Three more Rhotuka wailed toward the gigantic Oohnorak as it shredded another Boggarak with its fangs.
Cyrida unleashed a burst of three of her own Rhotuka spinners, destroying those of the Boggarak in midair as she stalked forward. One of the Visorak threw itself at her; she ended its life by driving her claws straight through its underbelly. With a snarl, she tore the corpse apart and continued her perilous advance.
Together, Cyrida and Apex dispatched the rest of the Boggarak by fang and claw and Rhotuka, all the while filling the air with grit and dirt as tunnel walls became rubble and rubble became dust. Cyrida let out a howl of victory as the last of the enemy Visorak fell limp.
You do realize that you just alerted every being in these ruins to our presence, right? Apex asked dryly.
The vicious gleam in Cyrida’s eyes betrayed the savage grin that had formed under her warped mask. Let them come. A Rhotuka spinner hummed between her shoulders, and her psionic claws glowed brighter. The exertion of battle, purposeful battle, had brought new vigor to her limbs.
And she wanted more.
You may yet live to regret that. Apex said, not turning to look at Cyrida as it made its way through the shattered Boggarak corpses into the next stretch of tunnel beyond.
Don’t tell me now that you are becoming afraid of your own kind! Cyrida laughed.
As was the spider’s habit, Apex said nothing back.
* * *
The next leg of the journey was paved in shattered Boggarak, snapped webbing, and the din of Rhotuka spinners. After slaying the first wave of spiders, Cyrida and Apex had received perhaps a few minutes of respite. The next wave of Visorak had come in greater numbers, and they had not relented since. Cyrida and Apex were enrobed in death and darkness and pain.
And by fang and claw, they had pressed on.
Oh no… Apex hissed.
Cyrida nodded and found herself glad for the fact that she and her companion had not yet been spotted. The Hordika and the Visorak clung to the right side of the tunnel. Their telepathic dampening auras were as strong as ever.
The cavern before them was a vast tableau of green webbing and vigilant Visorak. Spiders of all breeds were present, and the stone which constituted the cavern was visible only in the barest patches. A dozen Vohtarak were closest to the entrance while vicious Keelerak hung from above. All others formed loose, concentric rings around the hulking Kahgarak at the center. The behemoth of a Rahi dwarfed even Apex, and a seething Rhotuka spinner that was blacker than black crowned its carapace.
Do you have a plan? Cyrida asked. Already, she had an inkling of Apex’s answer. The Visorak had been trying to conceal its growing anxiety with a stony façade, but fatigue brought on by continuous battle had cracked it.
There can be no plan. Apex said. We either need to stop the Kahgarak from launching that Rhotuka or we will have a Zivon to contend with.
Cyrida was already moving; psionic energy slammed through her whole body, amplified by both anger and necessity. The Visorak and their ilk could not be allowed victory. With a leap forward, Cyrida fired a Rhotuka spinner at the ceiling. As it ascended, the Rhotuka unraveled into a carpet of psionic webbing that tore through the hanging Keelerak and their webbing. Spiders, webbing, and rock fell in equal measure, and the sound of crunching Visorak carapaces mingling with the spiders’ death-shrieks was music upon Cyrida’s ears.
The Vohtarak at the front of the cavern charged Cyrida. The spiders’ carapaces had turned resplendently crimson with berserker rage. Death-lust swirled in their eyes.
The crack of Apex’s Rhotuka launcher was as the roar of a Muaka. A flurry of spinners soared toward the Vohtarak. The spiders charged on; six tumbled to the ground as they were struck, paralyzed by the Rhotuka. Apex let out a baleful shriek, hurtled into the cavern, and met the remaining Vohtarak head on, beating back the spiders with sweeps of its fangs and legs. The sound of carapaces cracking shredded the air.
And Cyrida was in awe. Apex fought with such ferocity, such will. The former Toa of Psionics found herself smiling for a moment before reality snapped her gaze to the Kahgarak. It had not yet launched its spinner, and Cyrida was grateful for that. She knew she didn’t have any longer.
The Hordika crouched down and dredged up all of the psionic power she could muster. The whole of her form glowed fluorescent blue as she catapulted herself over Apex and the mob of lesser Visorak that had gathered around him. As Cyrida soared higher, Rhotuka spinners dogged her feet and billowed out from behind her like sinister cloak. She clawed and kicked at them as she twirled, knowing that she could not afford to be struck even in passing. At best, she would be paralyzed. At worst, dead.
Mind over matter. Cyrida threw out her arms as she descended toward the Kahgarak. From her claws burst a carpet of psionic lightning, Cyrida’s wrathful will made manifest. Like flames before tallow they fell upon the Kahgarak’s black Rhotuka and shredded it, leaving nothing behind. Cyrida landed before the Kahgarak only a moment later, immediately swiping at it with one of her claws. The weapon rasped and snarled against the Kahgarak’s carapace, sending sparks showering all around but inflicting no real harm.
In that moment, all of the Visorak charged Cyrida, crying out a single phrase in their own guttural tongue:
“Kill the Toa!”
Cyrida raised her arms, and a sheet of psionic energy surged from her claws, soon forming into a dome that sealed her off from all of her foes.
Except the one that mattered.
“Foolish Toa Cyrida,” the Kahgarak hissed, “My plan was never to summon the Zivon. It was to claim you, and now you have made that easier than ever. You will be a most valuable asset to the Brotherhood Reborn.”
Here I am. Cyrida snarled as she drove a spike of her will into the Kahgarak’s mind. While the Kahgarak was stronger of will than the rest of its kin, Cyrida had been too quick. Already, she was biting into her foe’s consciousness.
Hissing with rage, the Kahgarak brought forth a shadowy Rhotuka spinner and launched it at Cyrida. She was too close to dodge. The Rhotuka slammed into her chest and sent her to the ground as it enshrouded her in complete darkness. Her whole body throbbed with pain, and she could neither see nor hear. There was only blackness. There was stone beneath her, but it was too smooth to be that of the cavern. She had been sent somewhere else.
Suddenly, Cyrida’s sides exploded with pain as she was lifted into the air. Nausea followed as the pain intensified. A moment later came the blunt agony of being dashed against the floor again and again. The oblivion of unconsciousness beckoned to the Hordika.
She refused it. With a command that she struggled to give even in the confines of her own mind, the Hordika’s psionic sight flared to life and banished the darkness with a field of ultramarine. The area directly below Cyrida was almost entirely indigo; it was the Kahgarak holding her in its fangs. The Hordika let out roar that only she heard, and psionic energy exploded from all parts of her, bathing the indigo blot that marked the Kahgarak in ultramarine. A moment later, the rush of air told Cyrida that she was falling. She landed on her feet. The Kahgarak now stood directly in front of Cyrida, and she slashed at the spider with her psionic claws. A grin came as she felt her claws slicing through the spider’s carapace. She wished that she had been able to hear its screams of pain.
The movement of the indigo form betrayed the Kahgarak’s attempt at retaliation. With savage elegance, Cyrida dodged each of the strokes and delivered two in return, throwing all of her force into each blow. Again and again, ultramarine shredded indigo until no indigo was left. Amidst it all, the crack of the Kahgarak’s Rhotuka launcher sounded off.
A moment later, the darkness that blocked Cyrida’s sight and hearing fell away. She was back in the cavern. Her psionic dome still stood, and battle raged around it. Apex had already dispatched many of the Visorak and was now locked in a final battle not far from Cyrida. Before the Hordika lay the corpse of the Kahgarak. It fangs were snapped and twisted, and its eyes had been gouged out.
You’re still alive. Apex said as it drove its fangs through the head of a Roporak that had come too close, too fast.
So are you. Cyrida replied. Never before had she thought that she would be glad to be speaking to a Visorak.
Would you mind helping me finish the stragglers?
Cyrida dismissed her psionic dome and darted over to Apex. A lesser Oohnorak fired its Rhotuka spinner and darted forward to bar Cyrida’s path. She cut the spinner out of the sky with one claw while driving the other through the Oohnorak’s mouth. Casting the corpse to the side, Cyrida roared and brought forth a psionic storm overhead; barrages of ultramarine lightning ravaged the Visorak. Those that weren’t struck dead tried to flee only to be caught by Apex’s fangs. The battle ended a few moments later.
Cyrida raggedly exhaled. Her whole body burned with exertion. The Kahgarak is dead.
It is. Apex replied. I suppose here is where we part ways.
Perhaps, but… Cyrida paused; her about Apex curiosity returned. I still don’t know why and how you were mutated with the venom of your own kind, and you did say that you would explain it to me.
Apex shrugged. One of the Boggarak convinced Roodaka that it would be a good idea.
Cyrida’s eyes widened. When was that?
I can sense that if I answer that question, there will be many more.
Cyrida didn’t need to verbalize her answer.
You are strong, Apex continued, and you have a good heart. Come with me and help me protect my brood. Then, I will permit you to ask all the questions you desire.
Yes. The word sped out of Cyrida’s mouth before she had registered the thought. A sense of rightness permeated her body. I will help you protect your brood. Larvae and hatchlings weren’t Matoran, but Cyrida wasn’t a Toa anyway, not that a Toa would agree to such an arrangement. The Hordika smiled. No, she wasn’t a Toa at all.
She was half-past it.
The End
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