| abstract | - The Curtain Descends is a short story written by user Chicken Bond. It focuses on a possible future in which Mersery is murdered by Velika, a Great Being disguised as a Po-Matoran. Set after the events of Journeys of Darkness, the story occurs 100 years later from Mersery's perspective of time. He was walking. No, limping would be more precise. He was limping across the sand; the look of guilt, regret and sadness plastered on his face. His brow was troubled, and his eyes were weary, as if a great decision was weighing on his shoulders. For most of his life, his duties as a member of a secretive circle of warriors and spies had forced him to bury any feelings of regret down. But all that training was now irrelevant. He was, for most parts, emotionally shattered. Mersery had decided he was getting old. The wear and tear wrought by hundreds of battles, and the natural course and flow of time itself had taken its toll on him. Time seemed to nibble away at his life. Making him slower, weaker and vulnerable. Time was eroding him away, as the years continued to stack on him, and the physical limits weighed down on him as the passage of time continued. Yes, he decided. He was indeed getting old. Mersery looked up ahead, and scanned the dark-grey skyline as looming, crisp clouds formed overhead. For the first time in many years, he allowed himself a faint smile. Or at least, a feeble attempt at a smile. A small mercy, he supposed. At least he hadn’t forgotten that gesture too. He knew he was home. After decades of travelling and wandering, he was finally home. He had been travelling for far too long. He had been fighting for too long. Fighting for a cause sometimes he thought wasn’t worth the effort. The cause against the mighty tyrant that was Millennium, grand master of the ancient Shadow of Ages. He was no warrior. He had trained himself to be one, but at heart, had decided he was not. He was a philosopher. A scholar. But above all, he was a scientist. Even after being hardened whilst fighting the Xevthian Empire, the Brotherhood of Makuta, the Shadow of Ages, he still did not consider himself a fighter. He was so tired now. Tired of the struggle. Tired of losing everything that mattered to him. He had already lost so much. He had lost every friend he could remember, and said his goodbyes to all of them already. What were their names again? Mersery struggled to remember them. Signs of old age again. He remembered Flardrek though, and Warlock and Herkain. All of them had gone. Left in the ashes of the past. Flardrek he had been left behind to defend Spherus Magna when he had decided to continue on alone. Warlock, he had sent on a mission of his own, dividing them from each other to set past and future events in motion. And then there was Herkain. The female Mersion of his own kin, who he had been forced to tear himself away from to attend to his duty to Mata Nui and the universe. He hadn’t seen her in centuries. He forced himself to look up. The grey sky rumbled with thunder. Not the sunny day he had come to crave that would mark his return home. He had been searching for Millennium for years. He had searched for him and battled him across every plain of existence they came across, and every form of reality. Every universe that could contain their explosiveness. Sometimes, Mersery thought that not even creation itself could contain their struggle. And now he was home. Back in the universe that he had once considered his home. Back in the universe in which he had friends. Where he had been raised in. Where he had learned and studied. Yes, he was certain this was home. Mersery could almost taste it in the air. He was home, and now he was on a beach. A strange instinct of his told him this was the end. He didn’t understand the meaning of the thought, and he didn’t really want to. He walked down to the spot where the water met the sand. Where the waves crashed against the shores. He looked at his reflection in the water, and a laugh mingled with fatigue escaped his mouth. He looked horrible. He looked old. He looked battered. He looked wounded. His mask was horrendously scarred, whilst his right arm hung uselessly by its side. His once gleaming green-yellow eyes had dimmed somewhat as a result of his levels of exhaustion. Once they blazed of excited curiosity and wisdom, now there was nothing but a shell of what had once burned in his heart. His left leg was badly mangled, twisted beyond the point of healing and many aspects of his armour were dented and scrunched. He could literally be described as a walking injury. Somehow, he was unsurprised by this. So many injuries had come his way over his lifetime that he was no longer fazed by the sight of new ones. Wounds came and went. They always did. Then, all of a sudden, Mersery sensed the presence of another person on the beach. His telepathic mind felt the arrival of the individual, though he didn’t take comfort from it. In fact, he felt a strange aura of fear mix into his emotions. He refused to let that surface on his face. He felt a howling wind rush against him, and he immediately knew he wasn’t alone. Turning around to face the beach, Mersery’s eyes came upon a visitor, who stood there rooted into the sand as if some invisible force bound him. Mersery had heard of this being, but now, for some odd reason, he felt that there was something off-putting about him. Something alien and threatening. His telepathic instincts instantly recoiled as their minds brushed, bouncing back into the depths of Merssery’s mind. His physic tentacles retreated to the realm of his mind almost too eagerly. Mersery's thoughts coiled slightly. They could sense a different, powerful presence inside the body of the being before him. Mersery immediately knew he wasn’t who he had led others to believe. Striding towards the figure, Mersery stood before him and realized that something was wrong. The figure’s baleful, yet calm eyes analysed him, scanning him for something that might pose a threat to him. Finally, Mersery broke the quiet and spoke. “I did not expect to see you here.” Mersery’s tone was cautious. “How many years has it been now? I’ve lost count now.” “You’ve been gone a long time,” replied the other being. “Yet at the same time, you’ve been gone for little more than a couple of days. I sensed your journeys through dimensional space in search of that Great Beings’ folly you call Millennium. You’ve been jumping through dimensions in which the passage of time flows much slower or faster than it does in this reality. The core dimension. You’ve been stranded in some of these worlds for years now, and you’ve been hopping through dimensional gateways for how many years now from your perception?” “One hundred years,” replied Mersery wearily. “I’ve been journeying for an entire century now, all spent hunting down Millennium. But please, dismiss yourself from my presence, for I need to depart.” Mersery’s tone was frantic now. “He’s still out there, you know. Millennium. A tyrant so evil he only just falls behind Teridax. He is back on this world, and I need to go on to stop him. The atrocities he has committed are horrendous. He must be stopped. And only I can.” And without another word, Mersery began to limp off at a steady speed, though the being in front of him held out a hand and stopped him. “I’m afraid I simply can’t let you do that.” Mersery looked at him suspiciously, his eyes narrowed. “Why not?” The being chuckled. “I think you know already.” Mersery’s eyes widened. “Oh no. Oh no, you can’t mean this. It’s not time! Not yet! I’ve still got so much left to do.” “I’m afraid so,” replied the other being as he drew something into his palm. “The time has come, Mersery, and there’s nothing you can do. You’re too dangerous to my plans, and you must be removed.” “What? No?!” he cried. “Why? Why me?!” “Because you are too dangerous. I’ve heard of you, Mersery. I’ve heard of your legacy. I've heard of what you have done.” Mersery was almost tempted to laugh. “Legacy? What legacy? I have nothing to leave behind.” “Oh but you do, whether you realise it are not. The history tablets may refuse to talk about you, though you are there. You destroyed the Xevthian Empire, you defeated Millennium on Chrone, you partook in the Time Slip, you resisted against Teridax, you carried out missions for that mysterious Order of Mata of Nui. You fought on Destral and Nynrah, you were there on Metru Nui during its fortification. You have done so much, and you have threatened me. You have the potential to be a massive pain in the backside. You have the power to rally people against me. People that could destroy, and I cannot let that stand.” “So is that it? My deeds have terrified you?” “I am not the first one, though. Several of the universe's would-be conquerors have taken you into the equation, and feared what you can do to them. You claim to be a philosopher and a teacher, but what are you really? You strike fear into so many enemies, so can really still be considered the wise, peaceful citizen you claim to be?” “Psychological warfare won’t break me.” “Nonetheless, you are one of the elite warriors in the universe. You only just fall behind in the ladder of power behind Teridax and the Shadowed One and more, but you are still up there with them. You have done impossible things, and you have travelled the “stars,” so to speak. You have crossed the different plains of existence to do things no one else would. And you still think you wouldn’t be a threat to me?” Mersery was too shocked to accept it. In all his travels throughout the universe and dimensional space, he had expected to die, but not now. Not like this, and certainly not by this person’s hand. This was too unexpected. How could he ever calculate or predict this? “If you have any friends or allies around here, then it’s already too late. You’ll be dead before they can help you.” Mersery’s features softened slightly, with sadness and regret over the shock and horror that had once been decorating his features fading. Fading, but still there. “Even if they were here, I’d tell them not to interfere with something like this.” “Quite so, my friend. Quite so. Your journey is over, and you will no longer be a threat. A person as powerful as you still drifting around is too dangerous to my grand scheme. Too unpredictable. You could ruin my whole life if you wanted to, which is why I am now eliminating you here, today. You are one of the most powerful warriors in the universe, as I said, possibly in existence. You have the potential to become a massive setback in my stratagem.” “I’ve been travelling for so long now,” replied Mersery in a whispered tone. “My only friend has come to be Warlock. A being from my personal future. In my last travels with him, I realised who he was. And together, we figured what was to come for me. He foreshadowed a warning of my death. I left my friends behind so they couldn't interfere. But this is not my time! I’ve got Millennium to destroy, and only I can do it.” “Millennium is already unstable,” replied the being. “He will destroy himself when the time is right. He cannot contain himself, and he will unwittingly bring about his own death. He is a virus that is about to be terminated. Though I need him, Mersery. I need him for my plans to succeed. He serves a purpose that will benefit my plans.” “What purpose? What could he possibly assist you with?” “He is powerful and dangerous, and if manipulated the right way, he could either make a marvellous scapegoat, or another fool put in place by me to be obliterated when the time comes. He will be a marvellous distraction to your jolly band of heroes, no doubt. His time will come, though. He is, after all, just another pawn who has served their purpose in my game, before needing to be eradicated.” “Playing with Millennium is like playing with fire! Its dangerous!” “Oh, it’s a bit more dangerous than that. Its like trying to play with molten lava during a volcanic eruption, but no matter. Millennium will fall into place when he is given the appropriate push.” “Why are you planning with all this? Where do you think this… game will place you?” “I’m afraid I cannot tell you. But you won’t need to know. Death is knocking on your door, and I’m the person who’s delivering the message.” Mersery eye’s blinked in shock. His mind went reeling. How could this being know all of this? He turned to face the sea that was crashing on the shores. He had always dreamed of having a normal, peaceful death by the sea. He had always wanted to spend his last moments with the sound of the waters rushing and crashing on the shores in his ears. He wanted his last breathes to be ones of peace. Now, he found his request was being granted in some horrid, twisted way. “I know who you are,” began Mersery. “I know what you plan to do. I learned that much during my travels of existence. I've seen your plans play out in a hundred different timelines. You must know that you will be stopped. If not by me, then by someone of greater power.” The other being laughed hard. “Greater power? I have already killed Karzahni and Tren Krom, and you think I can be stopped? I laugh at you! Already I am heading for the Great Jungle; intent on… advancing my schedule dramatically, but I decided that I can finish you off now to prevent you from being much of a problem in the future. You’re too much of an unpredictable factor to be left unattended.” Mersery’s head dropped in sadness. He had been expecting this. He had been living under the knowledge that his death was coming for some time now. A time spent and wasted hunting down an entity that he had now just been told would destroy itself? Had he really just wasted all this time for a pointless death? All these thoughts were raging through his head at the time when he was totally oblivious as to what was in his soon-to-be killer’s hand. The dagger pierced through his chest as if it was plaster, and Mersery wheezed in shock and pain. He couldn’t stop the blade’s entry. He was unarmed. His powers were too weak. Then he sensed something else travel through his ravaged systems, concurrently with his utterly exhausted muscles. It was a poison. A very fine and refined one at that. After all, he had been poisoned enough times to know and judge which ones were sophisticated and which ones were crude. He saw flashes of imagery before him. He saw his enemies. He saw the Xevthian High-King Alxor standing in his intimidating battle stance, his legendary Magna Warlance in hand and ready to strike. His dark eyes glowed with malice and dark power, and his muscled, crimson body was tensed with anticipation. Then, strange energies swirled around the jewel-like structure encrusted into his head, and Mersery felt a wave of horrible sickness and weakness strike his head as his mental energies were preyed on. Blackness. He then saw the infamous Zeverek bounty hunter Skorr looking down at him, grinning at him mockingly, his Plasma Launcher pointed at his head. The Zeverek was chuckling away in his dark, gritty voice, and he vaguely heard the sound of the weapon being cocked, before a blast of energy struck his head and his world exploded. There was then nothing but a void of whiteness and the painful sound of his ears ringing. He saw Makuta Dredzek snarling at him, his clawed talons blackened and swirling with pure darkness as he prepared for a strike. The bat-like warrior of shadow charged forward, and the helpless Mersery could do nothing as his claws crossed his neck and a void of emptiness washed over him as his body engaged in a spasm from the strike. He felt the shadow bolt Dredzek had charged wriggle in his body like a worm, spreading corruption and curling into his very mind, purging his head of feeling and pain and emotion. There was nothing but numbness and emptiness. He then saw the Elite Warrior Skrall Tervok, his sword raised above his head, and his eyes blazing with hatred and contempt. He was screaming war cries of the disgraced Skrall race, and his buzz saw skewered his chest as his other sword sliced through his right shoulder. His body was painfully hacked apart by the enraged Skrall, and with every strike, Mersery felt his past sins lash out at him. He deserved this much. And finally, he saw Millennium. He saw his greatest foe towering above, as if he was taller than the Metru Nui Coliseum itself. His left hand was pointed at him, and violent, orange energy was blazing in his palm, directed straight at him. He was laughing. He was laughing in his malicious, dark voice. Crimson light was swirling around his eyes, and he was grinning at him. And then the world around the tyrant exploded violently like a horrible supernova, and then there was nothingness. Emptiness. Blackness. Nothing but the hollow void of what seemed to be death. Then, he saw his friends. His closest of friends. His only friends. He saw his old friend Helryx standing atop a gigantic tidal wave, her defiant, ancient eyes blazing like a raging supernova. She was holding her mace, and her other hand was outstretched to him. He tried to reach out to her with his numb hand, though the currents of the wave encompassed and shadowed the great Toa, and she was gone. Hidden behind the seas. Then, Mersery saw Falmed. He saw the friendly Fire Agori tending to his wounds, smiling back at him reassuringly as he did so. Had it not been for this brave, brave soul, Mersery doubted he would have survived his first encounter with Skorr. Mersery found himself smiling back. To aid a wounded stranger who he didn’t even know revealed a great well of generosity and kindness. He then saw the hardened Glatorian Flardrek struggling in a fight with a multitude of Rahkshi, his superheated weapon slicing through their armour like paper and tearing their staffs to ribbons. He was back-flipping, parrying, striking and dodging against all these foes, and the warrior seemed to be in perfect sync with the rhythm and pinnacle of the fight. He was perfect. Every move was perfect, and every swipe rained death upon the Rahkshi. He was a magnificent warrior, and a better friend than Mersery could have ever been. He saw Warlock smiling at him as he teased him with knowledge of his own future, a friendly arrogance in his eyes. The two’s histories were temporally complicated, and their friendship would be fairly confusing to an outside observer. But the timelines had eventually resolved themselves, and the two had become good allies. Warlock had always had advice for Mersery, whenever his own wisdom and examinations failed him, and for that, he was eternally grateful. But then he saw Herkain. His best friend. His closest friend. The friend he had lost and would never see again. She was smiling at him weakly, her eyes full of the compassion that had now since deserted her since her exile. Her gentle hand was brushing his bruised mask, and her deep green eyes were staring straight into his. Reading him like a helpless series of stone tablets. Mersery felt his emotions drop in fear. He would never get the chance to return his true feelings to her. Mersery felt something welling up in his chest. It had a name too. It was sadness. It snaked its way up into his head, his mind, his very spirit and exited through his right eye. It was a tear. A tear of the most depressed regret and deepest sorrow. Mersery abruptly snapped back to reality as he felt his killer twist his dagger around in his chest, and then pull it out again. He then stabbed him again. And again and again and again. Mersery’s body was now devoid of pain, and he felt cold. He felt so cold. A small part of him wanted to fight. The part of him that was determined, righteous, avenging and driven to see the end of Millennium and the obscene and disgusting religion that worshipped him and his actions. But he couldn’t. He knew he couldn’t. He was so fatigued, and was now drowning in his own guilt and sentimentality. How pathetic. He was now prey in someone’s else's web which he had overlooked. For much of his life, Mersery had always been burdened with knowing more than he wanted to, and because of that, he was said to never overlook anything. How ironic. Mersery felt fear run down his spine. He felt undeniably afraid of death. Oh, it was as instinctual and natural as breathing in the air around him. Death terrified the subconscious mind of all living things to a certain extent, but it was an inevitable thing. All things came to dust in the end. Lost in the sands of time. Empires and kingdoms would only ever be temporary things that perished when the eye of time itself blinked. Nothing was ever forever. No one could walk in eternity's endless grace, and Mersery was no exception. In very blunt words, he felt scared of this truth. Stars burned out into the cold shells of emptiness, the spiraling structure of space and matter broke down and decayed into other things and eventually disintegrated. All things must come to dust one day, and to look back at the remnants and legacies of past rulers and dictators who believed they would live on forever, was to look at a bitter, sarcastic, and ironic reminder that everything ends one day. It was laughable. And that laughing was now being directed at Mersery. Mersery felt his legs buckle, and he fell to the sands, still stunned. This wasn’t how he had wanted to die. His thoughts were becoming frantic now. Maybe, perhaps, due to the paradoxical nature of the last 700 years of life, he would somehow be revived if history was rectified and set back on course, but he doubted it. He sensed no temporal distortions in the fabric of time at this current moment, and he felt this moment was cemented in stone. A fixed point in history. Unchangeable. Something that couldn't be rewritten, but he couldn't be sure. And then something else came to the forefront of his thinking. Why this? Why this death? Why this mockery of a noble, peaceful death? Why this death? He knew he deserved better than this. This death was crude and degrading right to the core. He knew it wasn't fair! Then it all made sense to him. Why this was truly meant for him. This, he knew, was what he deserved. What he deserved for abandoning and leaving behind the emotionally hurt Herkain when she needed him most. What he deserved for not heeding the warnings of his friends when he left them behind. What he deserved for taking the lives of others into his own hands, and sacrificing them for the ‘greater good.’ What he deserved for ruining and destroying so many people's dreams and hopes. Yes! This ignoble, unworthy, inglorious death was what he deserved. It would end his life and pass him onto the next plain of existence. If there was any kind of place waiting for him beyond the grave. With simple-minded, depressed determination, Mersery accepted his end. He accepted this as the guilt swelled up from within, and burst out from his very soul. Mersery welcomed his death with melancholic resignation. And then, as his eyes clouded off in the wails and pains of death, he fell to the ground and his head rolled to look at the sea as the waves crashed in towards him, and he smiled sadly at the irony of his final end. His final chapter. His last line in the spotlight of the theatre. Then, the dark void of oblivion and nothingness claimed him at last. Right on schedule. His last thoughts were of the legacy he would leave behind, and of the few lives that would be affected by his death. And finally, in a simplistic, empty gesture, Mersery died.
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