Turaga Vakama carefully placed stones in the sandpit known as the Amaja Circle. The Turaga of Mata Nui had used this spot for hundreds of years to tell stories of the past or share visions of the future. But never before had any of the elders had to share so dark a tale.
He looked at the face of each Toa Nuva in turn, all of them assembled to hear his story. Then he glanced at Takanuva, the Toa of Light, who seemed as if he wished he were anywhere else. Next to him sat Hahli, the Matoran who acted as Chronicler. Vakama realized he had delayed long enough – it was time to begin.
“Gathered friends, listen again to our legend,” he began, moving the stones into their proper places for the beginning of the tale. “In the time before time, six Matoran were called by the Great Spirit and transformed, made mighty Toa. These Toa Metru – myself, Nokama, Matau, Whenua, Onewa, and Nuju – risked all to vanquish our sworn enemy, Makuta.”
Vakama positioned the six stones that represented the Toa so that they formed a circle in the sandpit. “We succeeded. Makuta was imprisoned, encased in impenetrable protodermis and sealed there by the combined force of the Toa’s elemental powers.
“With Makuta vanquished, we journeyed to a new and wondrous home – the island of Mata Nui – a place where it seemed the Matoran could one day live in peace. All seemed well in the world. But such a victory is not won without cost…”
The Turaga of Fire hurled the black Makuta stone into the center of the pit, letting its shadow fall upon the other stones. “Many Matoran were left behind, held in sway by the dark power of Makuta. We, the Toa, united in dutiful pledge, knew we would one day return to their old home, and rescue those we could not before.”
Vakama glanced up at the Toa Nuva. Though he was now a Turaga, far removed from the events he was relating, Vakama let on that in his mind he was back on Metru Nui once more.
“That day came all too quickly,” he said, sounding like the Toa he had been. “But the journey would not be an easy one for the Toa Metru – for Makuta did not leave the slumbering Matoran unprotected.”
Gali Nuva suppressed a shudder as Vakama continued. “Their resting place was guarded by creatures of the night, hordes of the shadows, those that would poison and deceive any traveler true of heart. Their name alone was enough to strike fear: Visorak.”
The Toa Nuva’s eyes were drawn to the pit. The Makuta stone had pierced the rock below the sand, and now a spiderweb of cracks had formed, threatening to topple the Toa stones. Vakama smiled grimly at the sight, and resumed his tale.