"I still don't see why we couldn't wake her up," Morro said in an overly disappointed voice. I chuckled as our group of four walked along in the brisk evening air. Our conversation, for once, was not surrounded by silence; as everyone in the Departed Realm was heading to the same place we were at some point in the night, we actually had quite a bit of company surrounding us. Other groups, mostly families, intermingled and sometimes even appeared to join together, although we kept a bit of distance between ourselves and the mobs of people. I was not usually very good at focusing in such large groups, but it helped to walk in the middle, with Garmadon to my left and Morro and Owen to my right.

"I told you, it's a matter of early childhood development. I want to be fully attentive to Tiya for her first few days of life, and the biggest holiday of the year is certainly not a good time for that." I resisted adding a comment about how much attention I'd paid to Zane, and how well he'd turned out.

"Hmph," Morro huffed, but there wasn't any real bite to his voice: even he couldn't stay grumpy while surrounded by so much festive cheer.

"A' we close?" Owen asked, in the same voice he'd asked three times already. He hardly struck me as an impatient child, but it did seem to frustrate him that he couldn't see where we were going through the legs of all the ghosts surrounding us. I chuckled.

"We're closer than the last time you asked," I answered with a slight smirk. Owen didn't respond and turned his head to watch one of the groups passing by.

"Actually," Garmadon announced in a gruff voice, "I think we might be closer than we thought."

Peering over the masses of people, I could see the entrance to the park just a little ways away, decked out with the same kinds of fake lanterns that decked Cash Street. The excitement in the air became palpable as other groups started pointing it out to each other, too: the holiday was starting.

"A' we gonna play anothe' game?" Owen asked, getting on his tiptoes to tug at Morro's sleeve. Morro looked at me.

"If you want to," I replied with a smile. "Although the sort of games they host in the park are much shorter than the one we played at the house."

"That was the best game!" Owen exclaimed. He mimicked a pirate thrusting a sword in the air. "Onwa'd to the t'eas'es!"

I restrained a laugh as I shared a look with Garmadon. At one point while playing Escape From Dark Island, Morro had announced in an overly enthusiastic voice, "Onward to the treasures!" and Owen had unsuccessfully tried to copy him. It was adorable, though, so we'd kept saying the phrase and now it was apparently our catchphrase for the game.

"Onward to the treasures, indeed!" Garmadon responded, pointing to the park with a smile. It was nice to see him in a more relaxed mood.

Once the slow-moving mass of people got through the brightly lit entrance to the park, we were greeted by a spectacular display of pop-up game tents, mostly themed to fit the occasion. They were still the same old games, though— pop-the-balloon, knock-over-the-cans, and the physically impossible ring-the-bottle.

"Hey, isn't that the rigged game?" Morro asked, pointing at ring-the-bottle.

"Oh, maker of plastic bricks, they have that here, too?" Garmadon asked, raising his eyebrows at the impossible carnival game.

"What's a wigged game?" Owen asked, not noticing his speech impediment slipping through.

"It's a game that's harder to win than it looks," I replied, then added, "usually because of some hidden factors that the people running the game don't tell you about."

"Yea, but I bet I can still beat it," Morro bragged, starting to walk over to the stand.

"Okay, but you're using your own credit for that," I warned.

"Not like it's transferrable, anyway!" he called back, already receiving his rigged pole from the man working the counter. The poor man kept fervently checking his watch, and I didn't blame him: those with the bad luck to have to work on DOTD were given shifts so they didn't miss the entire evening, and apparently he was anxious to get his over with.

I watched as the black-haired teen hovered his pole tensely over the rows of bottles, scanning them for… whichever one was easiest to ring, I suppose, although they were all identical.

"Hey, Garmadude," he suddenly called behind him, and the sensei raised an eyebrow at the casual-but-not-quite-rude nickname.

"Um… yes?" he asked.

"You ever seen anyone win one of these?" Morro responded. I wondered why he was just now asking, if he wanted to ascertain his chances of winning.

"Of course not," Garmadon replied, and before he could continue he was cut off by a cheerfully confident,

"Then you're about to!"

With the skill of a master pickpocket and the accuracy of a pro archer, Morro swiftly dropped the ring over the oversized neck of one of the bottles and lifted it in the air like it was a fish on a line. The man running the stand gaped as he showed it off to us. Garmadon stared for a few seconds, then asked suspiciously,

"…Did you cheat?"

Morro laughed and lowered the bottle as the still-awestruck worker rung up his credit digitally. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

"That was amazing!" Owen squealed, apparently picking up from my and Garmadon's reactions that what he'd just accomplished was actually much harder than it looked.

"And that's just the beginning," Morro laughed, walking over and rejoining our group. "The real fun of tonight starts now!"

I surveyed the entirety of the park in front of us and found that he was right. The rows of games lining the edges near the entrance were just the intro to the park's festivities: most of the crowds had already gathered in the biggest inner section of the park, talking and laughing in one big huddle. To the very left were rows and rows of free food tables, all of which were completely crowded, and in the far back was the dance stage, where a few young children were currently dancing to the music of chattering voices as their parents watched them from the sidelines. Several tall banners sporting dragons and messages like "Happy DOTD!" were placed around the park to serve as meeting spots, and in the center of the whole, vast expanse was the Central Willow. It was as tall as the night was festive, and its green leaves draped down in huge, elegant curtains, prompting several teenagers to play hide-and-seek tag by weaving in and out of them. The whole thing gave off a vibrant feeling of life, which was sometimes hard to come by in the land of the dead. Taking my gaze off the tree and looking to the left of me, I noticed Garmadon staring at the scene in awe.

"Why have we never come to this section of the park before?" he asked.

"Well, we wanted it to be special for your first time," I said teasingly, the obvious reason being nobody had ever asked to visit it. Then I added, "Just wait until the lanterns light it up. All the leaves turn gold and the whole thing looks like it glows from the inside out."

"That sounds cool an' all," Owen interrupted, "but can we get food now? I haven' eaten since lunch."

Morro laughed and high-fived his little buddy. "You read my mind, kid."

I chuckled. "Of course. Let's head over to the tables."

Due to the crowds of people, it took us somewhat of a long time to do so, although the tables weren't very far away. Immediately around the tables it was even busier— there wasn't a free spot in sight— but eventually we were sucked into the flow of people and starting piling up our paper plates with all the decadences the tables had to offer. Departed Officials were standing by, frequently radioing each other to bring more of this item or that, and Owen seemed unnerved every time we passed them, but he was easily distracted by the temptations of dinner.

The food, as was to be expected for the biggest holiday of the year, was fabulous in variety, quantity, and size. Crab-cakes, veggie trays, and chips-and-dip lined one table, while steaks, quesadillas, and salmon fillets filled the next. About half of the tables (the ones toward the back) were devoted to desserts alone, boasting so many different dishes I didn't even recognize some of them. Rice puddings, sweet puddings, fruit pies, milkshakes, chocolate truffles, iced cakes, warm pastries, topped ice cream, candied nuts, glazed doughnuts, cream-filled eclairs— anything a hungry ghost could possibly dream up was laid out in plentiful proportions, demanding only a small degree of patience as payment.

After we had filled our plates with as much food as we could cram onto them (Morro took two plates so he could sandwich them together and hold more food), we walked over and found ourselves a place to sit on the grass. The entire stretch from the free food tables to the dance floor had kind of been unofficially determined as the eating area, where groups like ours sat and ate their dinner on the ground, picnic-style.

All of us were more than eager to eat, but Owen was ravenously hungry, despite having eaten large portions earlier in the day. If I'd thought Morro was a hoarder when it came to food…

"You might want to slow down a little," Garmadon advised the small black-haired boy, who was shoving more food into his mouth than could possibly fit in his tiny body.

"I'm fine!" he mumbled through a mouthful of pastry.

I, myself, had chosen a similar kind of pastry as him, as well as a turkey sandwich, a serving of rice, and a large selection of cream puffs with little dragon designs stamped onto them.

"Of all the stuff you could've chosen…" Morro said disapprovingly, tossing a piece of lobster meat into his mouth. His entire plate seemed to be seafood-themed.

"What can I say? I like comfort food," I laughed sheepishly.

"I jus' like food," Owen commented.

We were interrupted by a loud announcement echoing through the park that the sun was setting and so the music would now begin. The sky was dark and unusually cloudy (DOTD was always cold, but I couldn't recall one that hadn't had clear skies), so most of the sunset was blocked out, but it was exciting nonetheless. A large number of people started shuffling past us on their way to the dance floor.

"Where are the speakers?" Garmadon asked, looking around.

"Hmm? Oh, there are none," I chuckled. "The guy running the music is a previous Master of Sound. He volunteers to help out every year. I met him once. Nice fellow."

"The sun's set?" Owen asked, suddenly looking up at the sky alarmed.

"Yes, why?" I asked, a bit worried at his abrupt change in tone. He hesitated, then whispered something to Morro.

"He says there's some kind of—" Morro started, but Owen cut him off.

"It's a secwet," he hissed, his impediment slipping through again.

"Don't worry," Morro reassured him, "you can trust the doc." Then, looking at me, he explained, "There's this secret meeting thing Owen and the other orphans have on DOTD. Can he go?"

I smiled. "That sounds like lots of fun. Of course you may… but I'd feel better if Morro went with you."

Owen's eyes lit up. "Yea, you can come! You' a static o'phan, too! The othe's will love to see you!"

"A whole group of people who appreciate my awesomeness? Count me in," Morro said with a grin. "Just lemme finish my food."

The smaller child nodded and ate at double his previous speed, explaining through bites of food, "It's not in the pa'k— can't tell you whe' it is— it's a sec'et— but you' gonna love it!"

After the boys finished their food, they gave their thanks, promised to meet back up with us after the lanterns (I was saddened by the reminder that they had no reason to attend), and ran off into the night.

"Those two are good for each other," I commented to Garmadon as we watched them run away.

He mused on the point for a minute, then nodded, saying, "I suppose so." He looked up towards the dance floor, where the majority of people now were (although the free food tables were still full).

"Do you dance?" he asked me. I laughed and shook my head, embarrassed.

"Oh, no, I'm a terrible dancer."

"Have you ever tried?" he asked.

"Well, no, but—"

"Then you can't very well say you aren't any good at it!" he exclaimed triumphantly. "If one never tries, one can never succeed."

"Alright, alright," I said, rolling my eyes, "I actually did try once. It's just not an entirely pleasant memory to recall, since… you know… I wasn't any good at it."

"Oh?"

"It was the one and only time I actually attended a school dance," I chuckled.

"This sounds promising," Garmadon joked, pulling some grapes apart from their bunch. "Do go on."

"Well, there's not a whole lot to tell. I didn't really want to be there in the first place, and when I did arrive you would've thought I was an alien— everyone kept staring at me and whispering. I was quite the bookworm, so I suppose it was of some shock to see me at a school dance… and to be honest, it was probably fair comeuppance that I proved to be so bad at dancing. Most of the students there were less than fond of me. I suppose I was… not the most polite student. And I always wrecked the curve."

"So why were you there?" Garmadon asked.

"Ah, well, my friend Agamya forced me to come—"

"Ooh, this friend wouldn't happen to be the girl you mentioned previously, would they?" The grin on Garmadon's face was that of a teenage boy's. One thing I've learned while being dead is that no matter how old people get, there are some things that just never change. I laughed nervously and shifted in the grass.

"Er, yes, that would be her…"

He popped another grape in his mouth excitedly. "So she forced you to come to the dance. What then?"

"What do you think? She forced me to dance," I laughed sheepishly. His eyebrows shot up.

"Really? You danced with a girl?" he asked in mock surprise.

"Oh, hush!" I ribbed him for teasing me, which he responded to by stealing a cream puff off my plate.

"Well, regardless," he said, after finishing off his food, "it's been at least 50 years. You should try again!"

"76," I clarified, processing the calculation immediately. "I graduated when I was 19."

"…but you still couldn't dance?"

"Are you trying to be inspirational or not?!"

The gray-haired man laughed, then took my hand, helping me stand. "Oh, come on. We're going to the dance floor, whether you like it or not."

I tried weakly to protest, but I soon gave up and let him drag me over to the massive arena, where long-outdated pop music was currently playing. I tried to calm my nerves by convincing myself that if Garmadon forced me to dance, I'd force him to do the same, and then at least we'd be made fools of together. Or he'd be really good at dancing and draw all the attention.

"Wow, quite a crowd here…" he remarked, squeezing through a thick layer of onlookers to a somewhat less-dense area.

"Indeed it is," I commented back, surveying the competition. There were too many people watching the dancers for my comfort, but at least some of the groups weren't paying attention, instead opting to talk to each other or point at things around the park. I focused on one such group of girls— well, older woman, actually, perhaps in their 70s— who were all wearing matching scarves, save for one. My mind immediately started pondering the different reasons why. The most probable answer was that she was part of a different group and had gotten lost; or perhaps she wasn't cold (although I quickly discarded that idea, it was freezing). Unfortunately, a brown-haired girl in the group noticed me staring and apparently got the wrong idea, tapping the non-scarf woman on the shoulder. I was about to turn away, but she turned first, as did Garmadon when he noticed I'd stopped walking, and I caught a glimpse of her face.

I froze.

"Sanjay?" Garmadon asked in a worried tone. He followed my eyes to find me locked in an unintentional staring match with a silvery-haired, teal-eyed older woman with nothing more than a long-sleeved shirt and leggings to keep her warm on the coldest night of the year.

Garmadon's eyebrows raised at the same time as the girls' who were surrounding the odd one out. "Is that him?" I overheard one of them whisper. Garmadon heard, too, and turned to me with wide eyes.

"…That's her?"

I forgot how to respond. Although obviously everyone was going on as normal, it felt to me like the whole Departed Realm was holding its breath as I tried to kick my brain back into functioning. Finally, after what had to be at least a full minute of awkward silence, I took a step forward and held out my hand awkwardly.

"…It's been a long time."

I didn't have time to ponder how stupid of a I-haven't-seen-you-since-I-was-alive-and-our-last-conversation-was-a-fight greeting that was before the woman in front of me nodded once and accepted my awkward handshake.

"…Hello, Sanjay."


(A/N: guess who's back

back again)