Lloyd crouched in front of the lit fireplace, watching as the doll ignited. Its limbs curled grotesquely, the stitches of its mouth burning away so it gaped open. The sawdust inside was lit only for a brief moment until it, too, burned away. The falcon was perched on the edge of the coffee table, his eyes unblinking.
Despite the warmth from the fire, Lloyd still found himself shivering. He looked over at one of the boxes beside the coffee table, reaching inside and pulling out an old photo album. Sighing, he flipped through the pages.
Images of his parents at his birthday parties with him were everywhere, bright smiles on everyone's faces, as if they didn't have a care in the world. He swallowed thickly, wishing that for even one moment he could be back in those times, not alone and afraid of some supernatural being. It was only once he reached the middle of the photo album that the photos grew scarcer, less time for pictures with family and friends.
He managed to flip the pages all the way back to the beginning, tracing the photo in the centre with his finger. In a hospital bed was a tiny baby, barely the size of the stuffed puppy he was lying beside, his mouth wide open in a soundless wail. The words "Our little miracle" were written beneath it.
Lloyd closed the photo album, no more tears building up in his eyes; he'd cried all that he could. As the fire died out, he looked up at the bronze teapot on the mantle, standing up and lifting it. He cradled it in his hands, dusting off the little phoenix symbol on the side.
"They're not coming back, are they?" Lloyd asked, not looking up. "Mom and Dad?" His grip on the teapot tightened. "Not on their own, anyway." He narrowed his eyes, straightening up as he gazed at the falcon. "I know what I have to do."
Going up to his bedroom, Lloyd got himself ready. He put his old green jacket over his pyjamas, and picked up a satchel he was planning on using for school. Putting on his rain boots, he went downstairs.
He grabbed the garden shears by the door, and took his hat off the coatrack. Lloyd pulled open one of the drawers in the cabinet, taking out a candle and a box of matches. Thinking he was prepared enough, he set off towards the parlour.
He didn't make it far before he remembered the candy and the bell that his neighbours had given him. Running back upstairs, he dug through the pocket of his jeans, which he left on the floor the previous night.
Lloyd turned the objects over in his hand. Hesitating, he put them both in his satchel, hoping they would come in handy.
Returning to the parlour, the falcon waiting patiently in the same spot on the table, Lloyd crouched down to the little door. Unlocking and opening the door, he lit the candle and held it in front of him as he began to crawl through, leaving the key behind in the lock.
The tunnel felt different this time. It wasn't soft and silky anymore, but more like dry skin, completely lifeless beneath him. The walls around him had gone brown, no light shining, like he was truly crawling through a rotting, dying creature. Trying not to gag at the thought, he continued on, holding the candle out far so he could see where he was going.
Soon, the falcon spoke, his voice returned, "You know…you're walking right into his trap."
"I can't leave my parents behind," Lloyd insisted. "I have to go back…for them. I'm the only one who can save them."
"In that case… Challenge him," the falcon said. "He won't play fair, but he won't refuse, either. He has a thing for games."
Lloyd thought back to the first time he went to the Other World, when the Other Father wanted to play a game with him. He nodded. "Okay."
Suddenly, the door at the end of the tunnel clicked open, a cool breeze wafting through. The candle blew out, the falcon disappearing into the darkness. Lloyd squinted, trying to get his eyes to adjust, when he saw a figure appear at the end.
"Lloyd?" The voice of his concerned father rang clear through the tunnel.
"Dad?" He squinted more, and gasped as he saw it was indeed his real father, the neck brace recognizable anywhere.
"Lloyd! You came back for us!"
Smiling brightly, Lloyd dropped the candle and ran the rest of the way. He emerged through the other end, and immediately wrapped his arms around his father in a tight hug.
"My son… Why would you run away from me?" Lloyd's eyes widened in alarm as he heard his voice shift, and looked over his shoulder in time to see Garmadon's hand suddenly blacken and grow.
Lloyd shoved the Other Father away, watching with fear as he grew back into his true form, his skin turning pitch black and his red button eyes bursting out of what should have been his real eyes. Grinning, he ripped off the neck brace, throwing it to the side. The parlour brightened to an eerie purple, the bug furniture coming back to life.
Glaring, Lloyd forced his fear away. "Where'd you put my real parents?"
The Other Father's eyes glimmered mischievously. "Goodness, I have no idea. Perhaps they've grown bored of you and run off to a nice vacation spot?" He smiled again, his teeth bright against his skin.
Lloyd didn't back down, defiantly stepping forward. "They weren't bored of me, you stole them!"
"Oh, don't be so difficult, Lloyd," Other Garmadon chastised, wagging a finger in his face. "Wasn't that why you came here in the first place? Perhaps you should have a seat, so we can talk about it." He looked over Lloyd, giving a quick nod.
Before he could react, Lloyd felt two hands gripping his arms, and he turned to see Other Misako, her face and hands more wrinkled than it was in the real world, a hissing wheeze passing through her lips. Her skin had paled to paper-white, as if she, too, were an origami creation from her garden. She led him towards a bug-shaped armchair, sitting him down as the bug-leg armrests secured him into it.
The Other Father kneeled in front of the little door, and clapped his hands. After a brief moment, an enormous snake slithered out of the tunnel, a key clasped between its jaws. Lloyd sank in the chair. I should've taken it with me…
Smiling tauntingly over at Lloyd, the Other Father shut the door and locked it. The beetle armoire assumed a guard position in front of the door, and Other Garmadon lifted the key above his head. Tilting his head back, he dropped it into his open mouth, swallowing it.
"Don't you have your own key?" Lloyd spat.
Other Misako shook her head, shuffling so she was in front of him. "Only one key…" she rasped, her voice weak.
The Other Father shook his head, reaching over and crumpling Other Misako's lips like scrap paper, silencing her. "Hush, my dear. Don't you think you should be out in your garden?"
He dragged her away by the hand as she nodded slowly in response, the only noise from her being the hiss that Lloyd heard before.
Once he was alone, the bug arm chair released him, and he stood up, holding his satchel close. A soft squeaking sounded from somewhere in the room, like the one he'd heard from the mirror. Lloyd looked around, searching for any sign of his hidden parents.
"Mom? Dad? Where'd he hide you?" he whispered.
The door leading to the backyard slammed, and Lloyd heard the Other Father call from the kitchen, "Breakfast time!" Stiffening, Lloyd went to the kitchen, the smell of bacon and eggs no longer so enticing.
He paused in the doorway, the sight of the Other Father in an apron comical, despite of his situation. Lloyd took a deep breath. Be strong, he thought to himself, before he took his seat at the table, his back to the kitchen sink.
Lloyd could smell cinnamon buns baking in the oven, the bacon and omelette sizzling in pans on the stove. At the centre of the table, rather than the usual bowl of fruit, was the box with his button eyes, needle, and thread. He gulped, feeling a bead of sweat roll down his forehead. He quickly wiped it away.
"How about…we play a game?" Lloyd asked as casually as he could. "I know how much you like them."
"Everybody likes games," said the Other Father matter-of-factly, not turning around.
"Yup."
Other Garmadon flipped the bacon in the pan. "What kind of game would it be?"
Lloyd thought quickly. "A… An exploring game. A finding things game." He saw the Other Father shift somewhat, his fingers drumming on the counter, his sharp nails clicking.
"And what exactly is it that you'd be finding, Lloyd?"
He hesitated, thinking of what he wanted the most. "My real parents."
The Other Father laughed. "Far too easy." He folded the omelette in the pan.
"And," Lloyd added quickly, "and the eyes of the ghost children. You remember them, don't you?"
"Huh." Perhaps it was wishful thinking, but Lloyd thought he almost sounded interested. He placed the omelette and bacon on a plate, placing it in front of him. He grinned at Lloyd. "What if you don't find them?"
Of course he'd think of that first. Lloyd didn't have to think for too long; he knew just what the Other Father wanted. "If I lose, I'll stay here in this world forever, and let you love me." Looking over at the box, he sighed. "And I'll let you sew buttons into my eyes."
Nodding, Other Garmadon folded his arms across his chest, smirking. "And if you somehow win this game?"
"Then you let me go," Lloyd said firmly. "You let everyone go. My real parents, the dead children, everyone you trapped here."
Grinning maliciously, the Other Father extended his hand. "Deal."
Lloyd narrowed his eyes at him, not moving. "Not until you give me a clue."
The Other Father snorted, his expression souring as his fingers curled into a fist. "Oh. Right." He stood behind Lloyd, and spoke as if he were talking to a small child, making gestures in front of his eyes with his hands, "In each of three wonders I've made just for you, a ghost's eye is lost in plain sight."
Nodding, Lloyd turned around to face him. "And for my parents?"
Other Garmadon chuckled, and leaned back against the sink, tapping his button eye with a fingernail as he smiled wickedly, his mouth full of razor-sharp teeth.
Lloyd shrugged, turning away, the tapping still sounding behind him. "Fine. Don't tell me." He groaned, and turned back around, extending his hand. "It's a deal—" He gasped quietly, seeing that the Other Father had disappeared, and the tapping sound was just water droplets from the faucet hitting the sink.
He stood up, staring at the dripping faucet. "What does he mean by that?" he murmured to himself. "Wonders…?"
Through the window, a soft golden light shone from afar. Lloyd looked up, and saw that the writing garden had lit up. He furrowed his brows, and nodded to himself.
"Let the game begin."
AND SO THE REAL FUN BEGINS
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