Chapter Text
The underbrush cracked and broke as a tall, red-armored warrior stalked through it. He knew not how long he had walked - a minute? An hour? A week? Come to think of it, he didn’t know what any of those things even were. He knew only two things for certain: his name was Tahu, and he controlled the flames.
He turned. Over his shoulder, he could see his fires licking the corpses of fallen trees, consuming the dry grasses and ferns, parting the overhead canopy. This was more like it! It was too dark in this jungle. Tahu needed to see the sun, feel its warmth on his mask. He cut a swath through the trees, his path revealed by a tower of smoke, climbing on the updrafts.
Atop a mountain peak, the snows shifted. Something stirred beneath the frost, rising, casting off the ice in chunks. It straightened its limbs ponderously, testing the limits of the mechanical joints connecting its organic muscle tissue. Its eyes opened, blue light streaming through the eyeholes of its mask. It huffed, cold seeping through its white metal armor. It was re-energized now.
It stood up fully straight, extending an arm, at the end of which was mounted a long, flat sword. Extricating its feet now from the drifts, it stepped to the edge of the cliff, and leapt. A beam of ice shot forth from the tip of the sword, coursing straight down, building a ramp of ice. The white warrior now unlimbered a shield from its back, tossing it to the ramp, and landing hard with both feet before pushing off, riding the slick surface of the ramp down the face of the cliff.
I am Kopaka, he thought. I control the frost.
When the black-armored being that knew his name to be Onua awoke, he was stranded on a bare, sandy beach. The ground was flat and extended for miles along the shore; the sky was dwarfingly massive and cloudless, the sun staring down at his tiny shape amid the waves. Onua’s first instinct: get out of the light. He looked down at his hands - six fingers, each ending in a long, sharp, curved claw, made for pushing soil. He did what his mind demanded: he dug.
Now, Onua was many feet below the ground, his shovel-like claws carving out a tunnel through the ground, scooping dirt out from in front of himself and pushing it behind him. His weak, white eyes were well-adjusted for the dark, and he moved through the underground as though he was made to. In fact, he was made to. Aside from his own name, all that Onua knew was that he controlled the earth.
Two broad hands placed a stone atop a cairn. Carefully, it was adjusted, made to balance perfectly on its narrow end. The broad, brown mask of the one who knew his name to be Pohatu studied the stone, watched it sway gently as it attained balance. In one decisive movement, he pushed the top of the stone with one finger, tipping the entire stack to the ground. His mask, forged into the shape of a wicked grin, began to glow.
The fallen rocks of the cairn began to float slowly into the air, the effects of gravity disappearing. Pohatu reached out and manipulated them, sending them orbiting around his body as he crossed his legs and sat. He, too, began to float, closing his orange eyes and meditating. There were two thoughts in his mind: his name, and his purpose; Pohatu, who controlled the rocks.
A blue-armored warrior moved through the water, kicking with a regular rhythm, deftly swiping like a knife through the clear sea. Her yellow eyes scanned the seafloor, examining reefs, sea plants, and fish, who scattered in fear at her approach. The myriad telescopic lenses attached to her mask articulated, zooming, retracting, extending, examining independently all of the sights she consumed.
I am Gali, she thought, and I control the water. She mustered a current that pushed her forward, over a deep trench. Within, she could see monstrous marine reptiles, their sick eyes glowing in the dark of the water. She passed over, then turned upright, her mask inches from the surface. On the shore, she could see squat figures moving about, their armor the same shade of blue as her own.
For some time now, Lewa had been tracking a conspicuous quarry. He knew how to move through the jungle, unlike his brash target, who was out of place not only in the way he crashed, fell, and burned his way through the foliage, but also in the bright red armor he wore, making him stand out as much as Lewa thought possible.
Well, that, and all the fire, Lewa thought.
Indeed, as much time as Lewa had spent following the red-armored being he was tracking, he had also been attempting to extinguish the raging forest fires that his target was intent on starting. Whenever he encountered an obstacle, the fire-warrior would raise his sword, forged in the shape of a flame, and a fire would erupt, clearing his path. The being would step through, unharmed, while Lewa was left behind to extinguish it.
Lucky for me, I control the wind, Lewa thought, conjuring a gust powerful enough to choke the flames before they spread further.
Lewa didn’t know where his target was going; in fact, as he would come to find out, neither did Tahu. He wandered aimlessly, merely taking a path inward from where he awoke on the shore. It was by sheer coincidence that the spirit of Air had encountered Tahu and decided to tail him. He was beginning to wonder if he should stop the arsonist before he did any real damage.
I know what I shall do, Lewa thought, his bullet-shaped mask beginning to glow. I shall trap him. In a flash, he disappeared, moving at near-incomprehensible speed through the trees. He swung from vines, leaping from branch to branch, and eventually he crested the canopy, skipping along the tops of the trees. Once he had passed the red warrior at a distance he considered safe, he dropped back down to the ground, and began fashioning his trap.
Tahu was beginning to get frustrated. Where was he going? Why was he doing this? Where even was he?
When he awoke, he was on a beach. He was immensely weakened; he looked down at his body, and it was grey. He crawled along the sand until he encountered a mask. Its mouth was open wide in a yell of power, its eyes were set and stern. Its cheeks were lined with what looked like gills.
Donning the mask, Tahu felt power return to his body; he could finally stand and get a look at his surroundings. The color returned to his metal skin. One of the first things he saw was a sword embedded in the sand near where he woke up. Its crimson blade was shaped like a flame. When he grabbed it, the tip of the sword heated until the sand it was stuck in became glass, and then fully melted away.
He swiped the sword through the air, curls of flame erupting. I could get used to this, he thought.
Now, Tahu was using the mighty power of his sword - and his body - to cut his way through the jungle. He still was unsure of where he was going, but now, ahead, he heard a strange sound. A thick, repeating thud… thud… thud. Now he knew where he was going - he would see what made that noise.
Ahead, the jungle began to thin, and opened into a clearing. He thanked his luck that he found an area so easy to navigate. Stepping out into the warm sun, a smile spread behind Tahu’s mask.
Suddenly, the trees around him came crashing down. In an instant, he was boxed in by a prison made of fallen logs. Tahu roared in anger as his sword erupted into an inferno.
“Who goeth there?,” he yelled, his voice as yet unutilized.
Lewa heard the yell of the red warrior as his trap was sprung. Swinging his hatchet, he felled a final tree - this one aimed squarely for the red warrior’s form at the center of the clearing.
Tahu turned and saw a falling tree bearing down on him. Suddenly, before it could collide with him, his mask began to glow, and a translucent barrier appeared around him. The tree slammed into the sphere of energy, ripples spreading across its surface as the bark splintered and shattered, the entire tree reduced to woodchips in an instant. Tahu yelled again. “Show thyself, assailant!” He swung his sword now, setting fire to the walls that held him in.
A wind began to form. In fact, it was more than just a wind; in an instant, a gale was whipping through the clearing, buffeting Tahu until he fell to the dirt, his flames extinguishing under the pressure. Tahu fought to return to his feet, carving a gap through the logs with his sword that he could pass through.
Having now escaped the trap, he scanned the clearing, the gale still bearing down on him. He noticed movement in the treeline - a warrior in green camouflage moving between the trunks and bushes. Averting his eyes, Tahu planted his sword in the ground to steady himself against the wind. I’m being studied, he thought, grimacing. He tracked his attacker, who picked his way around the clearing’s edge. If I can wait, he will be downwind of me in but a moment. Then, I will make my counterattack.
Lewa, careful to keep himself just within the trees, moved around to where the red warrior now kneeled. The wind had felled him more than once at this point - not much longer until he would surrender. And then my jungle will be safe, Lewa thought with not the least bit of satisfaction.
He was close enough to study his features now. The red warrior’s mask was in the shape of a fearsome battle cry, an intense glare giving his face severity. Behind the mask, though, he was clearly in distress. His pink eyes were clenched with effort, his body tense. The end of his sword was buried in the ground to steady himself.
Thy flames shalt bend to the force of my winds, Lewa thought triumphantly, increasing the force of the gale. He saw a flash in the warrior’s eye - what was that?
All of a sudden, the warrior was up, his sword extracted from the soil, his entire body having made liftoff from the ground. He rode the wind, his foot outstretched, connecting squarely with Lewa’s chest and bowling him to the forest floor. The breath was knocked from his lungs.
“Speak thy name,” growled the red warrior, levelling his flaming sword at Lewa’s throat, boot planted firmly on his chest. “Perhaps I shall spare thee.”
Lewa, gasping and spluttering, raised the handle of his axe to cover his face. “Wait, wait!,” he managed, heaving for breath. The red one stepped back, removing his foot from Lewa’s chest. Lewa rolled over, propping himself on his elbows and knees, taking long, deep breaths. He began to stand, but the heat he suddenly felt at the back of his neck told him to stop.
“Stay. Who art thou? Wherefore hast thou attackedst me?”
Lewa raised his hands, palms open. “I don’t know thee. I merely wished to find out!”
“By killing me?”
“N-nay, I-”
“Enough.” Another voice rang out, and both warriors’ attentions were drawn to the air above them.
Standing on a pillar of ice was a newcomer, one who looked like them except for the blinding white of his armor. He brandished a sword and a shield. His mask was wide and tall, octagonal, lined with vents.
“I know not either of ye, but I sense a kinship between us,” he continued. “Look upon our bodies; we are the same in construction.” He extended an arm, flexing his fingers, before swiping his sword through the air, sending a shower of snow over the two in the clearing. It sizzled and steamed when it touched the red one’s sword.
Lewa was allowed to stand as the red warrior withdrew his sword. The white one created a staircase of ice, which he walked down to enter the clearing.
“If I am correct, I believe thine experiences will be similar to mine,” the white one spoke as he approached Lewa and his quarry. He sheathed his sword and stowed his shield. “I know not whence I came, but I know my name - Kopaka. And I know that I control the frost, the ice, the snow, and the cold.”
The red one nodded. “I am Tahu,” he spoke. “I control the heat and flames.” His voice had softened.
“I am Lewa,” Lewa said. “I control the wind and air. And I believe that this is my home,” he said, gesturing to the trees around them. “Wherefore I attacked thee, Tahu.” He pointed an accusatory finger at the red-armored warrior.
Tahu opened his mouth to speak, but Kopaka intervened. “Allow the past to pass, Tahu. May I call thee brother?”
Tahu stayed silent. He glanced between Kopaka and Lewa.
“Then never mind.” Kopaka turned to face his pillar of ice, which was beginning to melt in the sun. “If none of us know wherefore we are here, then we mote discover the purpose. When I awoke, I climbed yonder mountains, and when I made that trek I saw a vast volcano. Perhaps that is thy home, Tahu. It would do thee good to seek it.”
Tahu nodded, stepping forward, placing a hand on Kopaka’s shoulder. “Thank thee,” he said after a long pause. “...Brother Kopaka.” He turned to Lewa and nodded, before walking off in the direction Kopaka indicated.
“Be careful!,” Lewa said, trailing him for a few steps. “Do not destroy my forest any further!”
But Tahu was gone. Lewa turned to Kopaka, who was reinforcing the ice walkway he had created.
“My home is in the mountains, amidst the ice and snow,” Kopaka said, without turning to look at Lewa. "Thy home - I saw it, in this very jungle, as I was exploring.” Lewa raised an eyebrow behind his mask.
Kopaka, having mounted the steps, turned and stretched a hand out to Lewa. “Come with me,” he said. “I shall take thee thither. Just be careful not to slip.”