Moana, The Southern Island, Crystalline
20 Years Ago

Toa knew he had to move. Knew he had to at least speak up, say something to help Awiyao and his companion out of this mess. Yet his body remained stock still next to Kaihautu, stood unmoving a little behind his father, his eyes fixed on Awiyao and the elderly Kadasan man—their spiritual leader, Toa thought to himself, albeit unsure—held still before the crowd, their hands bound behind them by ropes. Half a dozen Moanian men—some Kaihautu and Huatare's hunting companions, some warriors of their tribe, Toa recognized—stood close to each of the so-called intruders, holding them in place, a hand pressing down on each of their shoulders, one hand grasping each of the ropes that kept their arms tied at their backs.

    Toa opened his mouth in an effort to speak, yet no sound came forth, the words—an incoherent chaos of them—never making their way past his mind, blocked out from forming any sort of syllable in his throat.

"So tell us, Kadasans," Rangatira Kamaka was saying, "what brings you here to our land without prior notice?"

    The Kadasan spiritual leader—Toa was sure it was him now, the same one who had found him and Awiyao walking in the woods at night, after the Peace Festival, years ago—turned to Awiyao and spoke to him in a low voice, in their own language, then turned to face the Moanian chief and said, "Two of our villages were attacked. Enemies from across the ocean had laid waste one of our villages at the base of the Golot Mountains, and soon after our own village was attacked late last night by the same adversary, an army of them. Awiyao—my companion, Chief Dag-iw's son—and I had managed to escape as the battle began—"

    "How cowardly of you," interrupted a voice amongst the Moanians. Toa turned to Kaihautu, who went on to say, "The enemy has come into your village and the battle rages on, yet you both choose to flee and leave the rest of your brothers to fight for your people and your home. I tell you, Kadasans, if you wish to find refuge here, we have no room in our tribe for cowards who—"

    "Let them speak, Kaihautu," Toa said, before he could stop himself. And knowing he couldn't take back those words, and that everyone had heard, he said, "Perhaps they have good reason for being here. I think we better listen to what they have to say before we judge."

    Kaihautu opened his mouth to protest, but Rangatira Kamaka held a hand up, silencing his sons. "Enough," he said, the tone in his voice stern. "Kaihautu, Toa, now is not the time for an argument. I wish for no more disruptions after this." The chief then turned back to the Babaylan and Awiyao, and in the assurance of complete silence, he said, "Continue."

    The Babaylan drew in a breath, then said, "Chief Dag-iw, his wife Fas-ang, and I had decided that we must send Awiyao to Sanctuarium as soon as we could. It is only in Sanctuarium where we believe he will be safe, for that island, as we all know, is set apart for Elohim and the people he has anointed as spiritual leaders, a place for them to learn and train. All the nations of Crystalline had agreed and still keep to the treaty that Sanctuarium shall for ever be a land of peace and spiritual growth, a land where no battle shall ever take place, a land where no man or woman or child shall ever be slain by another, a land where those treated cruelly and without a home may find refuge. In hopes to preserve Chief Dag-iw's bloodline and in hopes of future redemption for our people, it is only the best decision that Awiyao take refuge in Sanctuarium until the enemy ceases to attack our land, or in Elohim's will and time Awiyao shall redeem the freedom of our people. Yet in the goodness of Awiyao's heart—"

    Toa caught Awiyao choke back a laugh, the edges of his lips turning up slightly into a little smile. At that, Toa held back a snicker, tried to keep a straight face. Yet no one paid him or Awiyao any mind; perhaps had not even noticed as the Babaylan went on—

    "Yet in the goodness of Awiyao's heart," he was saying, "he decided to head south first to warn you all of this impending danger." A pause as the Babaylan looked round him, at the Moanians who surrounded them. "You have to believe us," he said, his voice pleading, "please, before it is too late."

The place now fell silent; everyone seemed to stand completely still, eyes seemingly frozen upon the Kadasan men who were looking back at them wildly, terrified, waiting for a response in the tense quiet, hoping the best, fearing the worst and its consequences.

Then, from the corner of Toa's eye, someone moved, stepped forward.

    All eyes turned to the Tohunga, who walked over to where the Babaylan stood and halted right before the Babaylan's still, nervous form. A moment's stillness, a moment's silence, as though the world stood frozen, then the Tohunga leaned forward, pressed his nose against the Babaylan's, their foreheads touching; the quiet and the stillness then grew deeper, felt deeper, flooding the place and the people who stood there in a mingle of wonder and puzzlement and disbelief.

    Watching this, the edges of Toa's lips turned up into a smile, then into a full-toothed grin; he could feel tears well up in his eyes as a lightness bloomed in his chest, a feeling of immense joy, colorful and bright and almost tangible.

    The Tohunga turned to the crowd, the expression on his face grave, and said, "These men of Kadasan have come here with good intent. I believe they speak the truth. Rangatira"—he turned to the chief, looking him in the eye—"the day has come, the day our ancestors had feared, the day we have feared. The enemy has come upon the land, and we must move swiftly or risk greater destruction."

At these words, the smile upon Toa's face faded, replaced with a look of confusion and worry. He then turned to look at his father, and for a moment, Rangatira Kamaka said nothing, his eyes wide and glued to the Tohunga and the Babaylan standing next to each other, his hands trembling at his sides. An expression of horror, a look of dread, pervaded his face.

    "Papa . . .," Toa began, but Rangatira Kamaka strode over to the center, where Awiyao, the Babaylan, and the Tohunga stood, and turned back to the people gathered around them and said, in a voice thunderous and authoritative, "Men, ready yourselves and your weapons! Kaumatua," he said, turning to the group of elders he had stood amongst moments back, comprising mostly of elderly men and women, a few of them men and women in their middle age, "after the women and children collect their belongings and their provisions for the journey, make certain every one of our people is gathered here by the tenth hour, for we must leave before the sun sets, as soon as we could."

    At these words, there came a wave of voices, utterly terrified and woken alert by the severity of the event that was to come; with that, feet shuffled across the grass-strewn ground and out of the field, some directed toward their respective wharepuni to collect their belongings, some heading over to the pataka to gather food for their families for the journey ahead. And whilst some of the elders left to do the same, Rangatira Kamaka and the Tohunga remained standing in the center of the field, speaking to the Babaylan and Awiyao, whose wrists had now been unbound upon the order of the Rangatira.

    Toa found feeling in his legs again and walked over to his father, to the Tohunga, to his friend and his companion. Started off with slow steps that felt strange to his legs and feet, feeling the grass caress his soles, feeling soft green blades brush against his calves, and he walked on and on till he came right before Awiyao, pulling him into an embrace, patting his back; Awiyao reciprocated the gesture.

    "For a moment I thought you'd be in deep trouble," said Toa when he pulled away, holding Awiyao by the shoulders. "Thank Elohim my father and the Tohunga realized you were speaking the truth. I'd rather not think of the consequences if they thought different. Despite all that has happened, I'm glad to see you, my brother."

"And I'm as glad to see you," said Awiyao. His eyes scanned Toa's chest, upper arms, and chin. He smiled. "Looks like you've completed your training."

"You can say the same about yourself, brother," Toa said, jutting his chin toward the symbols etched into Awiyao's chest and upper arms. "We're men now, aren't we?"

"Yes, but at such a time as this . . .," Awiyao trailed off, the smile fading from his face, from his eyes.

    "I know," Toa said, glancing at the movement of people around him, then turning back to Awiyao. "The responsibility that comes with being a man at this time, it scares me as well."

    "Besides that," said Awiyao, shifting his eyes from the ground to Toa, "the knowledge of it all. With the years come an understanding, deeper as you grow older. As a child, secrets are kept from you, despite your stubbornness of wanting to know. But as you reach the age of manhood, you understand, you know by observation, you know by the things told you, finally revealed to you, and you know the circumstances surrounding you, and you begin to question the cruelty of this fallen world. And that makes everything a whole lot more terrifying than seeing things in the eyes of a child, where in such a circumstance it is all confusion and fear and nothing more." Awiyao glanced up at the sky, looked back down at the ground, watching the grass sway in the wind. He released a sigh, and said, "It scares me to think my father is dead. And my mother, I do not know what has become of her, or the rest of my people."

    Toa placed a hand on Awiyao's shoulder. "You heard what the Babaylan said: the time will come when you will redeem your land and your people. Difficult as it is, but all we can do is wait, and perhaps prepare for that day as we do so; it's too late now to go back and undo what had happened. And I promise you, brother," he said, gently patting his friend's shoulder, "I'll be there with you when the time comes; I'll help you fight against this enemy for your land and for the freedom of your people. We Moanians have this concept in our culture of extending kindness, and of reciprocating kindness when given to us. You have done us a great deal of good by warning us of this impending danger, and I hope my people agree with me that it's only fitting we help you save your people in return. You will see your father and mother soon, Awiyao, and I hope they still live when you make your return, but for now we wait, but not idly; I'll be readying myself for that day with you, the day you reclaim what is rightfully your people's."

    Awiyao looked up at Toa, holding back tears that threatened to spill. "Thank you, Toa," he managed to say.

    Toa opened his mouth to speak, only to be cut off by the Tohunga saying, "And why do you both simply stand there? We must move, quick! Gather your belongings, Toa, only what you need, and you, Kaihautu, Huatare, and the Kadasan prince shall meet me in the whare whakairo as soon as possible. Sanctuarium is far up north and a long way to go; we must not waste time. And I have so much to tell you all along the way, so much to explain. But now move, hurry, go!"

And with that, Toa moved briskly, turning around and taking his steps toward his family's respective wharepuni; Awiyao fell in stride with him.

"So," said Awiyao, glancing over his shoulder to see they were out of the older men's earshot; Rangatira Kamaka, the Babaylan, and the Tohunga still stood in the middle of field, discussing amongst themselves, now small shapes in the distance. Awiyao turned to Toa. "This day the Tohunga was talking about, this day he and your father and your ancestors had always feared . . . what does it all mean? What shall happen on that particular day? By the looks on their faces and the tones of their voices, it seems an utterly grave matter."

Toa looked at Awiyao, the expression on his face just as puzzled as his Kadasan friend's. "I'm completely honest when I say I've no idea of such a day, that I've heard nothing of it before." He turned his sights forward, the thatched roof and carved posts of the wharepuni coming to view, its doorframe engraved in elaborate Moanian designs of fearsome-looking humanoid men, a similar design to those larger ones fashioned into the posts at the entrance of the structure, each face of the carved beings embedded with smooth glossy white stones for eyes. Toa watched people, mostly women and children, move in and out the door in a terrified rush. "And I don't think anyone else from our tribe knew about it, either."

"I don't know if you felt it, too," said Awiyao, when they came under the shade of the wharepuni's entrance, "but it seemed to me the Babaylan and the Tohunga understood each other. They both seemed to know this was coming all along, before anyone else did."

"It must have something to do with the spiritual realm, then," Toa said, "considering they are the highest spiritual leaders of our tribes. Elohim's Servants might had told them beforehand, or he himself might had given them some sign. Yet I do not understand why I never heard of any of this before today." He looked to the door of the wharepuni, catching sight of a father, a mother, two older children, and a toddler in their mother's arms walk briskly out of the structure, the older children and father's arms full of the belongings they would need for the journey ahead. "I'll have to gather my things as well," said Toa, turning to Awiyao. "We'll talk more about this when I get out and when we make our way back to the whare whakairo." And with that, Toa slipped into the doorway to the inside of the wharepuni, and Awiyao waited outside, ignoring the eyes that glanced his way.