WAR OF DARKNESS CHRONICLES
Book One: Changes
Part One: Second Chance
Chapter II: Escape
Passage through the town was simple. Morro no longer had need of a cloak, for he had Fardo's hood. Therefore, he had no need to speak to anyone, and he was not recognized.
His passage through the town simply consisted of walking in the gate previously guarded by Fardo and exiting the gate on the opposite side of town.
If memory served (and Morro's nearly always did), this town was the only settlement between the cave in which he awoke and the mountain to which he was headed. Morro could see it on the horizon. But one always had to watch for nomadic settlements that traversed the plains of the Cursed Realm.
A two days' journey, Morro thought. And that's if I don't make any stops—which I won't.
And so, Morro trekked on. He walked.
And walked.
And walked some more.
Time meant nothing—Morro knew he would arrive at the Mount of Anguish when he arrived, and not a moment sooner (as he thought this, he swore he remembered a similar saying from somewhere; but his usually unassailable memory failed to recollect where and from whom he had heard it).
He had seen a couple small groups of nomads on the way, but none were in his path and none bothered him.
The sun was low—near the point of setting, in fact—but Morro trekked on. Who would benefit from his stopping to rest in the dark?
He decided to go over in his head how he would address Garmadon when he reached his destination. Would he be aggressive? Dismissive? Apathetic?
It crossed Morro's mind that these fronts were very unlikely to fool a brilliant man such as Garmadon. Perhaps it would be more fruitful to simply be direct with his intentions.
But what were Morro's intentions? What did he plan to do if he escaped the Cursed Realm?
I want to somehow make up for my mistakes, he thought. But how? Picking up trash? Volunteering at homeless shelters?
It was overwhelming. Morro resolved to spend the rest of his walk in mental silence. The Cursed Realm was dangerous at night; he had to keep his wits about him. When he arrived at the Mount of Anguish, he would know what to say…
He hoped.
Wednesday January 3, 2018...
Two days and many steps later, Morro found himself at the unguarded gates of the most formidable prison in the universe as the horizon started to lighten in the pre-dawn hours.
He mentally prepared himself to come face-to-face with the man who led him to his death.
It was not difficult to figure it out; Morro knew when he found the First Spinjitzu Master's real tomb that he had been fooled by Lord Garmadon those many years ago.
Lord Garmadon had led Morro to the Caves of Despair, telling him that the First Spinjitzu Master's tomb was within.
Only, the First Spinjitzu Master's tomb was not in the cave.
After hours of searching aimlessly, he had stopped to rest and try to gather his bearings, but the chamber in which he chose to rest turned out to contain a geyser that promptly exploded. The next thing he knew, he woke up here; he still had no idea who had cursed him to make the latter possible.
Morro shook his head. He was not in the mood for a stroll down memory lane. He settled instead for stepping inside the mountain.
He walked down the hall ignoring the cages to his sides, many of which had hands reaching out in desperation. Most of the people in here were criminals and other manner of evildoers; however, many were innocent people banished to this prison for no reason at all other than their banisher's enjoyment.
Morro passed Chen and Clouse, remembering the day they arrived here. It was also the last time he had seen Garmadon, whom he would be approaching soon. The last thing Morro had done before leaving the cursed realm was mock the man who selflessly allowed himself to be banished for the greater good.
"Finally, there is justice," Morro had said before escaping.
Morro stopped walking when Garmadon came into view, asking himself more questions than he knew how to answer.
What am I doing here—what do I really hope to accomplish?
Why would he help me now?
What has possessed me that I think I deserve a second chance?
"Nothing," Morro said aloud, sighing. "Second chances are for those who make mistakes…"
"And I knew exactly what I was doing."
Morro began to turn around, fully prepared to hide in shame for the rest of eternity.
"Oh, but you've come all this way. Was it all for nothing?"
The voice was unmistakable: Garmadon.
There was no turning back after that; Morro turned and walked toward Garmadon again.
"Did you hear me?" he asked.
"Hear you?" Garmadon replied, confused.
"I was talking to myself; I thought you might have heard. I thought that's why you spoke up."
"Ah," said the old man. "No, I did not hear you talking. I simply looked up and saw you beginning to turn around and walk away. I deducted that you had come here for some purpose, but you'd suddenly given up on whatever it was you wanted to accomplish here."
By this point, Morro had reached the place where Garmadon was hanging by his wrists.
"I see," Morro reluctantly responded. "I suppose you're right. I actually came here to speak with you."
"Is that so?" Garmadon inquired.
"Yes… look, you and I don't have to be friends or get along. You tricked me and led me to my death, and I hurt your son and used his body to hurt his friends. We've both done some messed up stuff, but I heard that your evil deeds were the result of being bitten by a magic snake so I suppose none of that can be held against you."
"Morro, I'm getting the feeling that you're beating around the bush. For what purpose have you come here?"
Morro hesitated. He did not like that someone could see through him in the way Garmadon was.
"Okay, I know I've messed up. A lot. It doesn't matter that I was consumed by ambition and then tricked and used by the Preeminent; everything I did was my choice.
"But I want to make up for my wrongs—I want to make things right, starting with apologizing to the people I hurt the most."
Garmadon was flabbergasted.
"Wow, Morro," the old man managed to utter. "You have really grown."
This made Morro uncomfortable.
"I'm not sure about that," Morro replied. "I just want to make up for the hurt I've caused—if I can. And I need your help."
"How can I possibly be of any help, chained up in this prison?"
"Well, when I left Lloyd here during our battle, I'm sure you and he spoke. I was hoping you knew how he escaped."
"Ah! Of course. Down the hall to my right—your left—there is a cell that holds a djinn. He has been here for over sixteen years. Word is, he is a djinn who granted wishes without intention to trick his wishers; but he was banished by a sorcerer working for a wealthy man who harbored an undue hatred of djinns. I sent Lloyd to speak with the djinn and he sent him back to Ninjago. You might try speaking to him."
Morro made a face of disbelief. Surely it could not be that easy: just make a wish and call it done.
"What's the face?" Garmadon asked.
"Nothing," Morro quickly answered. "It's just… that's it?"
"That's it," Garmadon replied with a chuckle. "I wish you the very best in your endeavors, Morro. Farewell."
"Goodbye…" Morro said.
He knew the next words out of his mouth would taste odd, but he let them slip out anyway.
"Thank you."
Morro turned to walk down the hallway to his left before Garmadon had even registered what Morro had said.
"You're welcome," Garmadon called down the hall, after getting over his shock.
After passing a few cells, Morro came to a cell with an orange man with four arms seated in a meditative position with his eyes closed. Morro had heard that djinns had tails like ghosts, but this djinn had legs.
"May I help you?" the djinn suddenly asked.
Morro jumped (for which he mentally berated himself).
The djinn opened his eyes.
"Did I startle you?" he asked. "My apologies."
"No," Morro replied. "I apologize for staring."
The djinn chuckled, "No worries, my son; it is only natural. You have never seen one of my kind, have you?"
"Only in books and paintings."
"Ah…" the djinn looked deep in thought. "Stories of us come from a bad era, which resulted in a widespread mistrust of my people."
"Right…"
The djinn perked up.
"Forgive me! I do tend to ramble," the djinn apologized, standing up. "My name is Lorands Auxil. Is there anything I can do for you today?"
"I am Morro, and I was hoping you could let me out of here."
"Ah, of course I can—and I will. But first, please indulge my curiosity: why do you desire to leave?"
"Why?" Morro asked, not sure if he wanted to talk about his quest for redemption to a stranger.
"Well, aside from the obvious," Lorands chuckled.
Morro blew through his cheeks, thinking.
"I've hurt a lot of people," Morro finally answered. "And now I want to make it right."
"Indeed…" Lorands replied. He looked pleased. Morro wondered if the djinn recognized him.
"I will be more than happy to let you out, but I will need you to make a specific wish in order to have any power over you. I promise I will not trick you, but you have to be specific enough that I know exactly what you are expecting of me."
"Okay…" Morro thought for a moment.
"I wish I were in Ninjago, wherever the ninja are."
Lorands prepared to snap his fingers, but hesitated, giving Morro a sly, yet friendly grin.
"Any last words for the Cursed Realm before your departure?"
Morro gave a thoughtful glance toward Garmadon's location.
"Yeah," he said. "I'll be back."
Lorands smiled and nodded, and snapped his fingers.