Turaga Vakama heard the hum of excitement throughout the boat as the shoreline came into sight. He allowed himself a moment’s satisfaction, knowing that he had fulfilled his vow to someday return.

After leaving Metru Nui for the last time, he had made his way back to the island above. He told the other Toa that he had successfully found the Mask of Time, along with evidence that proved they had been meant to be Toa Metru all along. About the events he had witnessed and been part of in the city, he said nothing. The knowledge that Makuta waited down below might have spurred them to attack, and a war at that point would have left the Matoran in dire jeopardy.

Makuta was as good as his word. One year to the day after the Toa Metru woke the Matoran, he unleashed Rahi attacks on their new villages. It was a frightening time, but Vakama knew that if Makuta had wanted to destroy the Matoran, he could have easily done so. No, he was trying to keep them off balance, afraid, and as far away from Metru Nui as possible.

It took more than one thousand years and an entirely new team of Toa, but Makuta’s plans had been undone. The master of shadows had fallen to the power of light, and the way was open for the Matoran to return to their homeland. The first step had been taken toward awakening the Great Spirit Mata Nui and restoring balance to the universe.

Ta-Matoran leaped out of the boat and pulled it the last few yards to the bank, while other crews did the same all around them. Turaga Dume and the six Rahaga were already rushing down to greet the new arrivals. Vakama could not suppress a smile as he set foot in Metru Nui for the first time in over a millennium.

The City of Legends belonged to the Matoran once more. And no one, Vakama vowed – not the Dark Hunters, not the Brotherhood of Makuta, nor anyone else – would ever take it from them again.

As past, present, and possibly even future Toa met on the shore, Vakama stood apart and watched. He could not help but wish Toa Lhikan had been there to witness this moment. Still, even if that great hero was not present physically, Vakama had no doubt his spirit was watching over them all.

“Turaga Vakama?”

Vakama turned to see Hahli, the Chronicler, approaching. “Yes, little one?”

“Do you have any more tales to tell of the past?”

Vakama smiled and shook his head. “There will always be new tales to be written and new tales to be shared. But it is time to stop speaking of the past, Hahli – we have a future to build, together.”

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