Sacrifice

Cole sat atop one of the limestone boulders, baking in the heat of the sun as Lloyd refreshed himself in the lake. Varasach sat beside him, struggling to make herself comfortable perched up on the huge, hard piece of chalky rock.

"Who are your friends?" Varasach asked haltingly; she was not very fluent in her master's native tongue. "They seem...nice."

"I wouldn't give them that much credit," Cole snorted. "The tall blond one is decent enough, but the other two are total qwentocoff."

Varasach frowned. "What did they do to you?"

"Jay is a complete pain-in-the-neck," Cole replied. "He seems to go out of his way to try annoy me. And the boy..." He shook his head and looked up at the young woman. "He's infuriating. He contradicts everything I say, insists that I'm a big baby for being afraid of the Overlord, and teases me constantly. Along with about fifty other little things."

"Fifty," Varasach repeated. "I do not understand. Do you mean to say that you have a list of exactly fifty instances of him being infuriating, or was it an exaggeration?"

"The latter," Cole answered.

"Hmm," Varasach gave a very Cole-like grunt and repositioned herself again on the rocks. "You big-exaggerate when you like someone. Did you know that?"

Cole felt defensive. Do I really? He changed the subject quickly. "Where is Hagar? Is she all right?"

Varasach looked uncomfortable. "Yes," she said softly. "She went to the maternity ward a week ago."

The breath was sucked from Cole's lungs. "I should have been there," he whispered. "Instead, I was hiding in my cave. Like the coward I've always been."

Varasach put a hand on his shoulder. "What would you have done?" She asked. "Overlord would have taken you away. Possibly killed Hagar and her child as punishment for your insubdination."

"Insubordination," Cole corrected. "And yes. You're probably right. I just...I hate being useless. I can't help but feel that I could have done-"

Hands grabbed his shoulders from behind. "Gotcha!" a voice shouted.

"Gah!" Cole pulled himself from the man's grasp and grabbed Varasach, pulling her away from the rock. He turned to face his attacker, then froze.

Lloyd leaned a hand on the rock, laughing loudly as he stamped his feet in the sand. "You guys!" His face was red from the hysterics. "Th-that was hilarious!"

Varasach pressed a hand to her chest, as if to calm her heart. "Kill him," she said. "Please kill him. He scares me."

Cole scowled at Lloyd darkly, arm wrapped around Varasach's waist defensively. "Believe me, I have been tempted to do so many times," he said.

Varasach gripped Cole's shirt with her other hand and tried to get her trembles under some semblance of control. "This Lloyd...I admire your ability to tolerate him."

Cole walked away, guiding her with him. "Yeah, I admire it too."

"Well, look at you two, getting all close."

Cole turned to see Jay climbing up out of the hole. "Come again?" he asked.

Jay scrambled to his feet and got his disheveled pants halfway clean with a swipe of his hands. "You and the slave girl," he explained. With your arms around each other and all that. Romance is cute."

Cole frowned. "We're not lovers," he said.

"Uh-huh," Jay nodded as he reached down into his boot. "And I didn't find the blade."

"You didn't?" Cole groaned. "That's not good."

Jay lifted an intricate silver sheath from his boot and held it up for presentation. "Sarcasm, Cole," he said. "Learn how to use it."

Varasach leaned close to Cole's ear. "Kill him, too," she said.

Jay heard her words and leapt backward. "Yep," he chuckled nervously, holding the sheathed knife close to his chest. "You guys are a perfect match."

Cole glared at Jay angrily for a long second. Why was everything out to make him miserable?

"I found my blade," Zane said, poking his head from the hole. "So now we can get moving again. Let's-"

A clanging sound- sort of like rocks hitting against each other- rang through the trees, cutting him short. Cole felt his blood run cold as he looked up to face the sound. No...

About two dozen stone warriors came out of the trees, surrounding them. They brandished longswords, held in both hands as they closed in slowly.

"How did they find us?" Zane asked. He stood next to Jay and reached into his own boot for a similar four or five-inch sheath.

Great, Cole thought. Those two were going to defend us with little knives. As if just being helpless wasn't bad enough. "I don't know," he replied.

Zane unsheathed his knife and held it out. He mouthed a few words, and the blade suddenly grew. It became a shiny katana with its one very sharp, curved edge. He held it in both hands, then whispered a few words to Jay, who nodded and did the same thing.

Lloyd stayed behind the large rock, watching in awe as Zane took a step forward and lunged at one of the stone men.

His blade sank deeply into the stone man's armored chest. The monster stumbled backwards, shocked, and dropped his sword. As he fell to the ground- crimson blood flowing from his wound- Zane pulled his sword free and lunged at another soldier. They all hesitated. The concept of potentially having their stone armor pierced was terrifying to them.

Cole could not keep up with the swift movements of the blade. As he observed Zane's stance and balance, he decided that the blade had to be moving on its own. After all, a right-handed man who thrusted with his left foot forward would not be able to maneuver very well. Zane should have been thrown off balance with that inept move.

"Yes, I'm left-handed," Jay said as he joined the fray. "Can you just get over it?"

Who was he talking to?

Cole never got a chance to ask.

Several different things seemed to happen simultaneously. Lloyd shouted for Cole to duck. Varasach, who had not been as interested in watching the battle as Cole, looked over her shoulder and screamed.

A hard object hit the back of Cole's head, forcing him to let go of Varasach. He fell to his knees with a grunt, vision swirling.

A wicked laugh. "Stop fight!" A heavily accented voice called out.

Cole stiffened, which only made him swoon harder. There was only one man who spoke that language with the rough accent of Overlord's Dark Tongue.

Kozu walked into Cole's field of vision as the stone men stopped fighting. At least ten corpses lay in the sand at their feet, blood turning the sand orange. At least five of the wounded still managed to stand with some dignity. All were very afraid.

Kozu grabbed a handful of Cole's hair and jerked his head back, forcing him to look into his yellow eyes. His face was angular, with a hard jawline and a pointy, handsome nose. Every inch of his skin was stony black and grey.

"You have been gone," Kozu said, "long time. Overlord unhappy." He released Cole's hair.

Cole bowed his head, blood pounding in his ears as he did so. "What do you want from me?" He asked through clenched teeth. "Why are you so intent on making my life miserable?"

Kozu stretched out all four of his arms, thin black lips curled up in a sneer. "Do we need a reasons?" He asked as he grabbed Varasach's arm and pulled her close. She let out a terrified squeak but did not protest as he fondled her lustily.

Why weren't Zane and Jay doing anything with those blades? They simply stood beside the dead men, swords drawn and dripping with crimson. Useless.

"Don't touch her," Cole growled, raising his head. "Don't you dare touch her."

Kozu turned his head to give Cole a look of indifference. "What will you do?" He asked. "You have no blade. Cannot hurt me." He turned back to Varasach, who was shuddering uncontrollably as tears streamed down her cheeks. She met Cole's eyes and held him there, pleading silently for help as Kozu's face leaned toward hers.

Cole slowly got to his feet, still holding her gaze, and lunged at Kozu, separating him from Varasach. He grappled the heavy man to the ground, then sat on his back, two arms underneath him, two behind his back in Cole's iron grip.

Stone men may be invincible, but their strength could only go so far. Kozu was stuck.

Varasach fainted.

Cole turned to Zane, a fire burning deep within his eyes as he spoke. "Kill him," he growled darkly. "Kozu must die."

"No!" Kozu shouted, mouth full of sand. "Geresh chol perrenztas ckon hoph!"

The stone men lunged for Zane and wrestled him. He dropped his blade in the sand, and one of the soldiers went to pick it up. But the moment his black hands went around the blade, he recoiled. It fell back into the sand, white gemstone glowing with a blinding light.

Distracted by the show, Cole's grip loosened. Kozu got free, then turned over and grabbed Cole's arms. With his upper arms, he began to strangle his victim. His yellow eyes were narrowed and angry. "I kill you," he said. "Then I kill Varasach. And Hagar's bastard daughter."

So it's a girl, Cole thought, feeling both dread and relief. In twelve years, she'd be in the same sad profession her mother was in. And she'd probably have the cowardice of her father.

He tried to get his arms free, but couldn't. Pain. So much pain. Stars danced in his fading vision. "Leave them," he croaked. "Take...me. Do whatever you...want."

Kozu loosened his grip slightly. "Whips?" He asked hungrily.

"Y-yes!" Cole choked on a breath. "Whips. Fire. More branding." Just saying those words made him shudder. "And...I won't fight it." He knew Kozu would not be able to turn away such an offer. A victim who would scream beautifully, but not fight back? Such a man was a torturer's best fun. Like a dog who approached his abusive master every night for a meal, but got beaten instead. Every night, knowing what would happen, but still holding on to an apparition of hope.

Such a victim was much more pleasurable than one that behaved as an aggressive dog, who lashed out and attacked whenever approached.

Kozu looked contemplative. "But...I must leave your women alone. Not hurt them."

Cole tried to nod, but the arms around his neck made it impossible. His face was flushing purple. "That...is...my terms," he gasped, feeling like a fish out of water.

Kozu released all four of his hands, dropping Cole to the sand. He kicked Cole soundly in the side. "Agree," he said. "Let's go." He shouted an order to the stone men.

Cole forced himself to his feet, doing his best to ignore his burning lungs and badly bruised side. He cast a fleeting glance in Zane's direction as the soldiers let him go and fell into line behind their general.

Zane was shocked. He didn't even think to pick up his blade as he gaped, staring into Cole's broken eyes.

"What did you do?" Jay asked. "This isn't right, Cole. You're supposed to help us get into the prison! You can't surrender!"

Cole looked away shamefully, and his eyes landed on Varasach, who was still unconscious in the sand. "Take care of her," he said. "She's worth a thousand lashings to me."

And then, he allowed himself to be shoved forward.

I won't survive, Cole thought, staring bleakly at his feet as he stumbled onward. And I won't ever see them again.

Seven Months Prior

Cole pitched into the room, dazed and numb. The rancid scent of burnt flesh and hair filled the air. The taste of salty, metallic blood filled his mouth.

Via...

He was too shocked to speak, too broken to retaliate.

Like a shattered sword, he was both sharp and utterly useless.

A tall man stepped out of the dark corner wearing a black cloak that sharply contrasted his peppered hair and cold gray eyes. "Get his old man," he ordered.

Cole allowed himself to get thrown to the floor. His bound hands crumpled beneath his hot, heaving chest. Did it hurt? He was not sure that he cared anymore. Physical pain was far more trivial than the pain that throbbed in his broken heart.

"Let him go," Cole managed to whisper. "Please...haven't you had enough?"

The gray-haired man gestured to himself, pressing his wrinkled hands to the black material of his shirt. "Let him go?" he repeated. "Come now, Dark Knight. The fun is just beginning."

A woman stepped out of the corner, pale and thin. She held clothing in her arms.

Cole allowed himself to lean on Hagar's arms, closing his eyes as she gently cleaned his burns with a cool salve. "Fun?" he said softly. "You and I have very different definitions of that word, Overlord."

The grey-eyed man- Overlord- grinned cruelly. "Not different," he reasoned. "Just...juxtaposed."

Cole groaned inwardly as Hagar accidentally dragged a fingernail across the Ouroboros branding on his chest. It had long since healed and ceased to cause him pain, but memories of that first day still felt as fresh in his mind as when the red-hot iron had first seared deep into his skin.

Blood...burning flesh...hot tears.

The door opened, and two stone warriors stormed in with an unconscious and shirtless man between them. Cole's father, Lou.

"What did you do to him?" Cole demanded.

"Nothing," Overlord said as he wrapped his fingers around the hilt of his sword and flicked the leather strap free. "At least, not yet."

Hagar stroked Cole's cheek with a finger- a gesture she had learned from him- and then helped him into a pair of pants. Her touch was light.

Overlord rested a hand on his sword. "In light of everything that you have brought upon yourself these last few weeks..."

Cole snarled weakly in response.

"...I have decided that it is time to turn a new leaf," Overlord finished. He pulled his sword from the sheath with a low hiss.

Cole gasped softly; all the air had been sucked from his lungs. "Why?" He asked.

Hagar slid a shirt over his head, then helped him pull his singed hair- wet with sweat and blood- out of his face.

"Because you cannot defy me," Overlord said. "You're getting too confident. Too close to hope."

"Hope?" Cole repeated. Anger began to boil up within him. "What does a man have, if not hope?"

"A willing mind," Overlord said. "As long as I keep the hopes of my people in check, I control them. You," he pointed at Cole, "have encouraged them to rebel. In refusing to bed that prisoner, you have become a beacon. They all flock to you. It must stop."

Cole breathed deeply as his head sank into Hagar's bosom. She stroked his hair gently, trying to keep him calm.

"Maybe you needed to be refused," Hagar said in the Dark Tongue, keeping her eyes downcast. She was trembling. "Just once. Maybe-"

Overlord slammed the pommel of his blade down on her skull.

Hagar fell to the ground, lax.

Cole barely caught himself before he could fall on top of her prone body. "Hagar," he said softly.

Suppressing sobs, Cole pressed his ear to her chest. "No," he choked. "No, Hagar." Dizzily, he sat upright and examined her head, which was bleeding out of a dangerously deep gash.

Cole stared helplessly; confused. Torpid.

Behind him, the senseless form of his father was dropped mercilessly to the floor. Why wasn't he waking up?

"Kill the old man," Overlord said in his language. "Bleed him to death. Slowly."

There were no tears in Cole's eyes as the stone men drew their swords. No sorrow, no grief. Only hatred. An intense, all-consuming hatred that drove him shakily to his feet. "Don't you dare," he hissed, too upset to switch to the Dark Tongue.

He stood over Hagar's body, blackened hands clenched to fists. "You took everything from me. My freedom, my integrity...my conscience." With each syllable, his anger grew. "And as if that wasn't enough, you took my family- the one thing in this twisted world that I valued above my own life- and destroyed it."

Overlord looked between his Dark Knight and Lou. He smiled again. "Leave us," he ordered in the language his henchmen would understand.

Looking disappointed, the two guards sheathed their swords and left the room, shutting the door behind them with a bang.

Cole's eyebrows seemed to grow darker, thicker. Much like a cat, his face twisted and his lips pulled up, revealing his bloody teeth. "You bastard!" He spat to one side, careful not to hit Hagar. "How could you ever take pleasure in the pain and suffering of these women? What did they ever do to deserve this?"

He pointed to his father. "What did my family do? I'm the one who made you angry. I'm the one who should be punished. Not them!"

Overlord strode to the far wall and grabbed a coiled whip from the floor. "I am punishing you," he said as he approached Cole's father. "Do you see this, Dark Knight? Do you see the destruction you have caused?" He raised the whip above his head and threw the bloodstained leather down on Lou's back with an immense crack! that echoed through the room.

Lou remained unresponsive, eyes closed and limbs lifeless and sprawled out in awkward directions from his torso. His eyes were closed, and his scarred face had a greying beard with several weeks' growth. But what caught Cole's attention was the crimson blood that streamed from the gash across his pale skin. Why was he still not waking up?

Crack!

Cole nearly fainted. Overlord was going to to it. He was really going to whip his father until he bled to death. "Stop..." His voice was hardly audible. "Don't hurt him..."

Crack!

He sank his knees and lifted Hagar's unconscious body into his arms, hugging her close as another lashing streaked across his father's back.

All he had wanted to do was stop the hurting. He had refused to bed that female prisoner all those weeks ago not because he wanted to rebel, but because he could not bear watching other people hurt.

Crack!

But what good did empathy do him now? Why did he disobey orders? It only caused more misery in the long run.

Cole felt like an animal, unable to comprehend and expound upon the basic principles of life and death, or the complex emotions of love and hate. There was no choice with him. A gut feeling- a basic instinct, one might say- to hate and kill. Because love killed people.

And in the wild, all any animal knew was that being killed was bad. Kill or be killed.

Cole brushed a few brown strands of hair from Hagar's face. What did he feel with her? Affection? Love?

No. An animal knew no such things. For her, he felt not-hate. Tolerance. A higher form of symbiosis.

Cole stroked her cheek, then lowered his face to hers so their foreheads touched. He tolerated her so well. She was the one consistent, kind thing that had always been there. Their relationship was so...symbiotic.

As a dull, broken animal, Cole might have gone as far as to say that he did love her. Loved her a lot. Enough that...

That...

She was expecting his child.

Crack!

He lowered his face further, touching their noses together as the animalistic confusion grew. His...child. He rested his other hand on her belly- not more than three months along- and felt a single tear snake down his filthy cheek. Would she wake up? Would the baby be all right?

Crack!

Unable to think of anything else, he began to channel his despair into fury. Like a lion whose pride had been surrounded by jackals, like an eagle whose egg was being snatched away by a raven.

He was prepared to fight to the death.

He planted a gentle kiss on her lips, then looked up. His face turned red from the building hurricane in his chest.

"You bastard," he hissed.

Blood dripped from the whip that curled wickedly on the floor around Overlord's boots. He turned, gray eyes gazing down on Cole and his mate with contempt.

"You wicked mongrel!" Cole screamed. "You're hurting my father!" He reverently lowered Hagar's head to the floor and stood. "You drowned my mother!"

He lunged himself at the Overlord and got his hands around the tall man's neck. "You killed my sister!"

He squeezed.

Overlord looked surprised. Afraid, even. He dropped the whip and reached for his sword.

Cole was too fast. He snatched the blade from its sheath around Overlord's waist and landed a firm punch in his gut. "You hurt my Hagar." He twisted his lips into a grin as he pressed the sword into the tender spot at the base of Overlord's neck.

"And you are hurting my baby." Cole chuckled darkly as he drank in the fear in his enemy's wide eyes. So sweet, the waters of revenge. So wonderfully sweet. "You are going to pay dearly."

Without hesitation, he thrust the blade through Overlord's neck, severing his spine.

And just like that, Overlord was dead.

Cole was a hero. He had singlehandedly destroyed the enemy that was leaving the Islands in ruin.

Cole plucked the weapon from Overlord's neck and threw it aside with a disgusted grunt.

He was no hero. He was a fool. He was the man who, in proving that he would do anything to protect his family, had made a huge liability of himself and all those he cared about. His love was the flame that had forged him into the tool he now was.

He staggered over to Hagar and sat down next to her on the floor. She still was not waking up.

Without any forewarning, Cole began to cry. The heaving sobs shook his shoulders, his chest. He hurt so badly. His skin was burning. His heart was burning.

He was in agony.

Why? Why was he making such a big deal about this? Why was he crying instead of trying to wake up his father and lead him from these dungeons to the world above ground?

Because there was no point. He knew that his father would not care anymore. Lou would not trust his son enough follow him back to Ninjago.

Cole was a traitor.

A sharp something prodded the back of his neck.

"You fool," a familiar spoke behind him.

Cole slowly turned to face the sword bearer, eyes bleak.

He had not known what to expect, but what he saw was somewhat fitting.

Cole's father sneered down at him, eyes glowing supernaturally as he once again pressed the sword against his son's neck. "You see, Dark Knight," he said. The voice belonged to the Overlord, but the lips were his father's. "The old man now has a choice to make. He could become my new body, allowing me to take over his mind and shove his own soul deep down where it would never be found again. Or," he applied more pressure, causing blood to trickle from the wound, "I will kill you both."

Cole held Overlord's- his father's- eyes steadily, thinking that perhaps he could melt a hole through the wicked man's skull. "Just kill me," he said, veins bulging in his neck as he tensed from the pain. "Hagar's all I have left, and she doesn't need a wretch like me."

There was a long moment of silence as they regarded each other. Lou's eyes wavered, then hardened again.

Then he laughed. It was a long, horrible laugh that could mean only one thing.

Cole's father was gone.

The Overlord retracted the blade and turned his back to Cole. He went to the corpse of the older grey-haired man he had inhabited only minutes earlier and ripped the sheath from his waist.

The blood from his many lashes ran down his legs, leaving red footprints on the floor wherever he walked. It did not seem to bother him.

"Leave me," he ordered, back still turned to his two slaves on the floor. "Take your whore and go to your quarters. I have work to do."