Chapter One

Kapura walked slowly along the outskirts of the district of Ta-Metru, his eyes scanning the ground. Most of the homes and factories in this part of the metru had been abandoned lately, with the residents moving closer to the heart of the district. It was Kapura’s job to make sure nothing of importance had been left behind.

He paused in front of a massive, blackened building that had once housed a forge. Here, construction tools and other equipment had been cast from molten protodermis before being sent on to Po-Metru for finishing. Now, in the interest of safety, that work had been transferred away from the outskirts by order of the city’s elder, Turaga Dume. Kapura spotted a staff used in the sport of kolhii on the ground and bent down to pick it up, only to discover the handle was cracked.

He walked on. This was an important task, his fellow workers had told him, and important tasks were best done slowly and carefully.

Had Kapura looked up, he would have seen the skyline of Ta-Metru, “home of the makers.” Cone-shaped factories, scorched by ages of use, stood next to the homes of smiths and crafters. These were the Matoran who molded protodermis, the substance of which everything on Metru Nui was made, into thousands of shapes and forms. A molten river of raw protodermis ran through the center of the district, drawn from below the city and fed into the Great Furnace. From there, it traveled to each factory to be turned into masks, tools, and anything else that might be needed.

Dominating the skyline was the Coliseum, home to Turaga Dume and the tallest building in all of Metru Nui. For as long as anyone could remember, the sight of the Coliseum had brought a feeling of safety and security to Matoran. But now…

Kapura counted slowly as he walked. Six, seven, eight — at least eight of the workers at his factory had vanished lately. Where they disappeared to, and why, no one knew. But there were plenty of rumors.

The Matoran stopped. Something had moved off to the right. It didn’t sound like another Matoran, or even a wild Rahi beast. It was a soft, slithering sound, as if something was dragging itself across the ground. The sound grew louder and seemed to multiply. Kapura felt the urge to run, but his feet would not move.

He forced himself to turn around and look. Four thick, blackened, twisted vines were snaking their way out of cracks in the ground, weaving in the air as if momentarily unsure of what to do. Then they wrapped themselves around the empty factory and began to climb, winding around again and again until they covered the building from top to bottom.

Kapura’s eyes widened as the vines started to squeeze. Solid protodermis crumbled before their strength. The building groaned and cracked, collapsing in on itself in a matter of seconds. As if satisfied, the vines pulled away and began to move toward another structure.

It was then that Kapura found his voice. But he could speak only one word, and that in a horrified whisper:

“Morbuzakh.”

In another section of the city, a second Matoran was also thinking about the dreaded Morbuzakh plant. The vines had been appearing on the outskirts of the city for some time, wrecking structures and forcing residents to flee. No one knew where they came from or how to stop them. All that was known was that everyone who challenged the Morbuzakh vanished, never to be seen again.

But this particular Matoran wasn’t worried about the damage the plant was causing. Instead, all his attention was focused on a tablet decorated with a most interesting carving. The picture showed the combined power of six disks defeating a gigantic Morbuzakh root. Disks — called Kanoka in the Matoran language — were a common sight in Metru Nui. The disks were created in every metru and used primarily for sport, as well as for defense against the wild beasts called Rahi. Disks found to be of the right purity and power level were forged into Masks of Power. But the disks in the carving could not simply be any old Kanoka, the Matoran knew. These had to be the six Great Disks of legend.

Under the picture of each Great Disk was inscribed the section of the city where it could be found and the name of a Matoran: Nuhrii, Ahkmou, Vhisola, Tehutti, Ehrye, and Orkahm.

When he was done examining the carving, the Matoran turned to Nidhiki, the strange, four-legged being who had brought it. “What is it I’m supposed to do?”

“I would think it would be obvious,” hissed Nidhiki from the shadows. “Get the six Great Disks. I don’t care how. Then give them to me and I will take them somewhere… safe.”

The Matoran frowned. “If they truly exist, these are the six most powerful Kanoka disks in Metru Nui. They would be beyond price. What do I get out of this?”

“You will be well paid, Matoran,” Nidhiki replied, smiling in a particularly nasty way. “Plus, you get one more benefit, if you’re successful: I won’t come looking for you.”

“All right, all right. I get the idea. But why is this so important? Even if these Matoran could get their hands on the Great Disks, they wouldn’t dare try to stop the Morbuzakh themselves.”

“It’s not Matoran we’re worried about,” came the answer. “It’s so-called heroes — Toa Metru. Six Toa Metru.”

With that, Nidhiki was gone. The Matoran watched him go, thinking, Six Toa Metru? How is that possible?

Moments before, they had been Matoran. Six strangers, each from a different metru, brought together by a plea for help from Toa Lhikan, the hero of Metru Nui. Now, in the heart of the Great Temple in Ga-Metru, they had been transformed. Where once six Matoran had stood, there now existed six new Toa Metru.

Whenua, once an archivist in Onu-Metru and now the Toa of Earth, voiced the thoughts of them all. “Since when are Matoran just zapped into Toa?”

Nuju, former seer and now Toa of Ice, answered, “When uncertain times lie ahead.”

Vakama, Ta-Metru’s most skilled mask maker and the new Toa of Fire, looked down at his new form. It was hard to believe that this new power had been granted to him. He remembered the city’s protector, Toa Lhikan, giving him a powerful artifact called a Toa stone and a map to a spot in the Great Temple. Then Lhikan was captured by two strange creatures, one a four-legged foe and the other huge and powerful. Heeding his last wish, Vakama had taken the Toa stone to the temple, only to run into five other Matoran with similar missions.

They placed their stones on top of the shrine dedicated to Toa. Before their eyes, the Toa stones began to pulsate and then rose into the air. Beams of elemental energy shot from them, bathing the Matoran in light, changing them, granting them power. When it was over, the Matoran had become Toa Metru, destined guardians of Metru Nui.

But are we ready for this? Am I? Vakama asked himself. He didn’t have an answer.

The other Toa had begun selecting their tools from a compartment inside the suva shrine. Vakama looked over what remained and chose a powerful Kanoka disk launcher. It was a larger version of what he had used in the past to play the sport of kolhii. The familiarity of it made him feel a little more comfortable in his new body.

Matau, Toa of Air, chucked. “Nice choice — for playing Matoran games, mask maker.”

“Hey, look at this,” Onewa, the new Toa Metru of Stone, said. He reached into the tool compartment and emerged with six Kanoka disks. Each was a different color, and each bore the likeness of a Mask of Power. But what drew the attention of the new heroes was that the masks matched the ones they now wore.

“What does it mean?” asked Nokama, Toa Metru of Water.

“Perhaps that we were not chosen at random for this?” Vakama suggested. “Perhaps this is our destiny.”

“What did Toa Lhikan say we could expect, Vakama? What are we meant to do now that we are Toa?” asked Whenua. Nokama and Onewa drew in closer, anxious to hear the answer as well.

“He said —” Vakama began.

Then, suddenly, his mind was somewhere else. He could see day being consumed by night, Metru Nui collapsing into ruin, then miraculously restored. Six Kanoka disks flew at him from out of the darkness, forcing him to duck and dodge. They shot past him, then hovered in the air and unleashed their power on the Morbuzakh plant. Before their energies, the plant withered and died. Their task done, the Great Disks merged together to form a single one of immense power, and...

Then the vision was gone. But the chill inside Vakama told him it had not just been an idle daydream. “Metru Nui was destroyed. I saw it! Six Great Kanoka Disks were headed right for me, and…”

“Thanks for dream-sharing,” Matau said, shaking his head.

“No, we must find them. They can defeat the Morbuzakh and free the city from danger. That would prove we are worthy to be Toa Metru!” Vakama continued.

The others looked at him, some doubtful, some evidently willing to believe. They had all heard the tales of the Great Disks before. It was said they contained enormous power, but the only clue to their location was that one was hidden in each metru. If the disks were used by someone with good intent, they could change the world for the better. If their user was evil, Metru Nui and all its inhabitants might be erased forever.

“Then find them we shall,” said Nokama. “I saw a carving in the temple that might help us. Something about finding the Great Disks by seeking the unfamiliar within the familiar. But the rest seemed to be… riddles. What do you think, Vakama?”

But the Toa of Fire was not listening. In his mind’s eye, he saw six Matoran, each with a Great Disk. He knew their names but could not see their faces. Worse, the shadows behind them were alive with danger. Vakama could see a pair of fierce red eyes hovering in the darkness and a four-legged creature stalking the Matoran. He had seen that figure before, in real life, struggling with Toa Lhikan. Vakama knew how powerful and evil this being was, and the memory made him shudder.

“Nuhrii… Orkahm… Vhisola… Ahkmou… Ehrye… Tehutti,” Vakama muttered. “They can decipher the riddles. They can help us find the Great Disks. But beware of a dark hunter who walks on four legs.”

“You have spent too much time at the forge, fire-spitter,” answered Onewa. “Your head needs cooling down.”

“I trust Vakama,” Nokama said. “If he believes those six Matoran can help us find the disks, then we must seek them out. When we have found them, we will meet back here. Good luck to us all.”

If my vision is true, thought Vakama, we will need far, far more than luck.

The Toa Metru said their farewells and went their separate ways. Only Nokama and Vakama remained behind, staring up at the Great Temple.

“Vakama, do you really think Metru Nui is in danger? Perhaps from something more frightening than the Morbuzakh?”

“I know there is darkness coming,” Vakama replied. “Toa Lhikan said we had to stop it. He said we had to save the ‘heart of the city.’ I don’t know how or why, but we have been chosen.”

“Then may the Great Beings protect us all,” said the Toa of Water.