Transformation

"Prince Lou was an eccentric man," Josi said, trudging through the knee-high snow beside Zane's horse. "As a boy, he was a wild thing, always getting into trouble, playing pranks, and doing the opposite of what he was told whenever possible."

The sun was setting, shining its yellow rays through gaps in the thick, snow-covered trees. They were getting close to the next village, where Zane planned to stay for the night.

"He sounds a lot like Lloyd when he was younger," Zane said, smiling sadly. "That kid was untamable."

"Well, they were cousins," Josi chuckled, touching her fingers together. "Prince Wu and his wife, Lirai, were Lou's parents. They taught him how to use his energy productively by making music." She chuckled. "Little Lou's first instrument was a taiko drum, of course. But, by the age of nine, he had developed an interest in the cello. And then the flute. By age twenty, he was proficient in over thirty different instruments, including piano, guitar, harp, and, of course, his own voice.

"He had an unparalleled passion for music. He attended concerts regularly, and even became the maestro of his own orchestra when he was in his mid-twenties. That's when he met Aika, the cellist who would later become his wife."

She paused, looking up at Zane.

Zane processed this slowly as they walked, he on his horse, she on the ground. He'd offered to switch a while ago, but she politely declined.

"I need to know where Lou is," Zane said at last. "Do you have any-"

"Patience," Josi said. "We have at least an hour before we reach town. You have time to listen to me."

Zane sighed, fingering his Blade out of habit. It had run out of power last night. Hopefully the sky would clear up more so he could refill its gem it tonight in the light of the waning moon. "Fine," he said. "So, they got married. But why did Lou become a commoner?"

"I don't know," Josi answered, frowning. "That's why I went to the mideastern slums. I wanted answers, but no one knows." She blew a tuft of bangs from her face.

"My theory is that after Prince Wu was lost at sea, Lou went into a spiral of depression and left. Perhaps he blamed his father's death on Garmadon. For what reason I can only wildly speculate. People do irrational things when they're grieving."

"Okay, so he left with his wife," Zane said. But why the slums?"

"Him, his wife, and their nine-month-old son Coleman, actually. And he probably went to the slums for seclusion. No one would think to search for them there."

Coleman, Zane thought. Strange name, yet familiar. "And why did they leave?"

Josi turned her honey eyes to the trees. "After living in that shack for four winters, Lou and Aika had another child. A baby girl named Viola."

Viola. That name too. I might remember if I wasn't so tired...

"Unfortunately," Josi continued, "at only four months old, baby Viola caught a terrible fever. Lou spent every coin he had paying the doctors. Despite this, after fighting the fever for eight days, Viola died.

"Bankrupt and grieving, Lou lost the house. They began to travel as nomads, as you know, for many years. But their troubles weren't over quite yet." She sighed.

"About five winters ago, Coleman began working through his, shall we say, rebellious teenage stage. He got into serious trouble dealing some...unsavory contrabands from the Dark Island. And then, three winters later..." She snapped her fingers. "The poor boy was whisked away to the Dark Island as a slave, leaving his parents shocked and devastated."

What a dysfunctional family, these royal green-eyes. Zane shivered as a breath of wind grazed his cheeks. He pulled his mask higher. "So where are Lou and Aika now?" he asked.

"Dead," Josi said.

"Dead?" Zane repeated, heart sinking.

"Yes, dead. That's what I said." Josi smiled at the accidental rhyme. Then she sobered. "Ahem. Sorry...people tell me I'm a little insensitive when it comes to subjects like this."

"It's...all right," Zane said. "Please, continue. How did they die?"

"Six months after Coleman's capture, Overlord sent a crew of stone warriors to kidnap Lou and Aika. They haven't been heard from since. Well..." She raised her palms and shook them, indicating her uncertainty. "...we suspect Lou is still alive, but we don't know for sure."

"And Coleman? What about him?"

Josi gave him a strange look.

Zane returned the look. "What?"

"Coleman," Josi said. "Weren't you kidnapped by him three months ago?"

Zane groaned at his own density.

"...Cole?" Zane breathed. "Of course." Cole had a sister named Viola. His father, Lou, was still alive and under Overlord's possession.

Cole had a love of music, instilled in him by his father. Cole had admitted it himself.

"But..." Zane tried to wrestle his thoughts into order. "...Cole said his sister died on the Dark Island."

Josi considered this. "Viola's grave is under an apple tree a few miles west of here," she said. "I have a few witnesses who say they attended the funeral, which happened eighteen winters ago."

"Are you trying to tell me that Cole is...insane?" Zane asked.

Josi hesitated. "I've have extensive knowledge of the brain's functions," she said at last. "The best answer seems to be that Cole was lonely on the Dark Island, and he wanted a companion. Thus, Viola Number Two was created. A defense mechanism, making up someone that he had some measure of responsibility for, thus easing his sense of worthlessness and helplessness."

"I see," Zane said. And he did see: he'd done extensive psychological research himself while searching for a cure for Garmadon's illness. It was just...more difficult to see such a thing in Cole, who had always seemed of a very sound mind. To Zane, Cole had been a firm realist. To think that Cole had done something so far-fetched, so fantastical... Well, it disturbed Zane deeply. Though he probably has no idea what he did…

"Why are you doing this research?" Zane asked. "What interests you so about Lou and his family?"

"I'm on a mission," Josi replied. "Cyrus sent me to confirm his suspicions: that Lou Hiroto was indeed royalty."

"Wait- Cyrus?" Zane eyed her closely.

"Yes. But don't worry. Contrary to popular belief, he isn't out to kill all of the upper class. You're safe." Josi smiled, as though that would ease Zane's sudden nervousness.

If she was going to do something, she wouldn't wait this long, and she certainly wouldn't reveal her employer's name.

"Why would Cyrus care about Lou's heritage?" Zane asked at last. "You said yourself that Lou distanced himself from Garmadon and, by extension, politics. He won't give you any advantage in this war."

"No," Josi agreed. "But his son, however..."

Zane exhaled slowly through parted lips, shaking his head. "You want to depose Garmadon," he whispered, as though the very trees might overhear, "and put Cole in his place."

"Maybe," Josi said. "Coleman's ability to rule may be...questionable. For one, he's a bit unpopular with the common folk at this moment, being the Dark Knight and all. And for another..."

"He hasn't proved himself a leader," Zane finished, nodding.

"His actions as a teen have continuously placed his family and friends in danger," Josi said. "He's young, inexperienced, unstable."

"But...?" Zane prompted.

"But...he has potential. And Cyrus believes that, if Cole finally does work up the courage to face and defeat the Overlord, then the people might accept him as their new king."

"I thought Cyrus' goal was to set up a new form of government."

Josi paused. "Desperate times call for desperate measures," she said, touching her fingertips together again. "This country is poor, and over forty percent of the population has fallen to the plague. The numbers continue to climb. What we need is stability, not more chaos, as would certainly ensue if the nobles are forced to rearrange laws as one might rearrange furniture in the room of a blind man."

Zane nodded his agreement. "Do you have any more candidates for the throne?" he asked.

"My dear Zane," Josi said. "I hardly know you. Don't expect me to give away all my secrets at your whim."

Zane found himself blushing. "Of course. Sorry."

"No, don't be. I was teasing." Josi folded her hands behind her back. "But you tell me: can you think of anyone that may be a good candidate?"

Zane stroked his chin. "He'd have to be royalty," he said. "The people are too accustomed to the First King's laws for them to accept anything less."

"True." Josi nodded.

"But...there are no others. Garmadon only had one child. Wu only had Lou, and..." He pursed his lips. "Wu," he said. "He's still alive. He could be king."

Josi blinked, surprised. "Wu is alive?" She appeared to be in deep thought for a moment. "That's a new angle. I will have to discuss this with Cyrus. Keep guessing, though. Please."

Zane sat back in his saddle. "Hmm...that's it."

"Are you certain?" Josi asked.

"Yes. There are no other male lines to choose from."

"But there is one female."

"Female?" Zane frowned. "You mean Princess Jadei?"

"Exactly."

"But she never had any children."

"She is your mother, Zane."

"Not biologically!"

"But she is your family."

Zane rubbed his temple. "I am not becoming king."

"Oh, no, of course not," Josi said. "You don't have green eyes. Your sister, on the other hand..."

Zane couldn't help himself. He laughed loudly and violently, spooking his horse and giving flight to a few birds in the trees.

Pixal! he thought, wiping cold tears from his eyes. Pixal, ruler of Ninjago!

Josi did not find this as funny as Zane. She continued walking, stone-faced, stroking a raven that had landed on her arm.

"By the Hosts, woman!" Zane said, only partially composed. He wiped more tears from his eyes, watching the raven; a well-trained creature, to be sure. "You'd have better luck recruiting a random green-eyed urchin off the street! Pixal?" Just saying her name set off another fit of uncontrollable laughter, and he doubled over in his saddle.

"I take it you don't think she's capable?" Josi said.

"Oh, she's plenty capable," Zane said, taking deep breaths. "The best leader I've ever seen. She's intelligent, strong, and..." He had to stop to make way for a rolling wave of giggles. "...and the moment you propose that she should become queen..."

"Yes?" Josi glared at him.

"She'll reject it," Zane said. "No, before you even finish your proposition, there will be a sword in your gut, and she'll be halfway across the island!"

"So she's a fixer upper," Josi said, stroking the raven's shiny beak. "But so is Coleman."

"You don't understand," Zane said, pointing a finger at her head. "Pixal is the polar opposite of responsibility. It's not that she doesn't care- she does. She cares deeply for this country. But, when it comes right down to it, she'll shirk the responsibility. Manipulate someone else to do it for her."

Zane chortled, wondering at how much lighter he felt after all that laughter. It had been too long since he'd had fun like this.

"Face it, Josi. Even if, by some wild, First King-induced miracle, she did take the crown, she'd shove all her duties onto her royal advisors and spend her days frolicking in the woods."

"So what do you suggest?" Josi pursed her lips. "Is Coleman our only option?"

"Not at all," Zane said. "You can choose from a large selection of competent people. The populace will get over their green-eyed bias soon enough."

"If you say so..." Josi slowed her pace, the raven making strange purring sounds on her arm.

"Is that your bird?" Zane asked.

"Obviously, since I'm holding it," Josi replied brusquely.

Zane pulled on the reins, slowing his horse so he could walk beside her again. "Look, I'm sorry," he said. "Maybe I shouldn't have laughed. But have you even met my sister?"

"No."

"Well, if you had, then you'd understand why I reacted the way I did." Zane smiled. "If she ever comes back, I'll introduce you. Okay?" He pointed up the road. "My falcon says we're getting close to town. Are you planning on staying at the inn?"

Josi shrugged. "Sure," she said. "I'll stay the night. But I've got to leave at first light."

"Hey. You rhymed again."

Josi couldn't help her small smile. "So I did."

Zane looked up at the clear sky, silently thanking the First King for his encounter with Josi. Who knows where I would be without her help today. No information, no laughs, and no friend.

Then his prayer became more serious. Protect Cole, My Lord, he prayed. I know you always have a plan, but...I thought your line was supposed to be Blessed. Yet all I've seen is tragedy after tragedy. My mother's early death, Garmadon's insanity, Lloyd's death, Lou's death, Viola's death...Cole's slavery.

Can you even see us? Where are you? He closed his eyes.

We need you now, and you're ignoring us.

You were there for us in the good times. Where are you now?

Ten.

Ten tubs hewn into the floor, each containing a copious layer of dry gray powder.

Help me.

Cole could hardly stand, let alone walk, once he entered the chamber. He closed his eyes, pushing away the sounds of the nine young boys on the opposite side of the room who murmured confusedly. Why was the Dark Knight here? Why was he acting so strange?

There were at least a hundred boys that needed to be Transformed today and tomorrow, and only ten tubs. That was because Overlord had to oversee the delicate process himself, and he could not work with more than ten at a time without risking a mistake.

"It would be ironic," Overlord murmured from behind Cole, causing him to reopen his eyes, "if you were to die during this process. You have survived so many terrors while in my custody. To drown here..." He cackled, leaving the last part of his thought to Cole's imagination.

The room was hot. A large fire burned in the room's center, heating a cauldron of water.

It had to be boiling water, apparently, for the Transformation to work.

Water. Cole felt nauseous. He had always been afraid of water, and not without good reason: most of his tortures had involved water. Waterboarding, scalding, drowning...

Cole's knees gave way, and he fell to the floor, vomiting. The fear was far beyond his ability to control. Let me die. Let me die. Please, let me...

But he couldn't die. If he gave up and let himself drown, then Overlord would have no further use for Sage and Chedva. And they'd be killed.

"You're setting a bad example," Overlord said cooly, nodding to the nine boys. "They are half your age. Please, show some restraint. This room must stay clean."

Cole could not stop. He dry-heaved- his stomach hadn't had much in it to begin with- eyes watering from the pressure in his skull. Eventually two stone warriors lifted him by his arms, forcing him to stand.

Overlord stepped away from the cauldron, giving a curt order in the Dark Tongue for the boys to undress. Then he approached Cole, smiling with subtly upturned lips. It was a self-satisfied, relaxed smile.

Overlord was relishing in his victory. Despite Lou's rebellion, he had won. Cole's body was his, only in a different way this time. A permanent, irreversible way.

"Well?" he said, standing nose-to-nose with Cole. "You know the process. The Transformation will not work if you're wearing clothes. Come now, I don't have all day."

The stone warriors let go of Cole, and he nearly lost his balance, still overwhelmed by queasiness and nausea. He didn't care how weak he looked in front of his audience. All he cared about was getting out. Fast.

But the door was locked. There was no way out. He was trapped.

And so, with fingers so clumsy it took three tries to find the first button, Cole unbuttoned his shirt and let Overlord pull it away. It fluttered to the floor, his trousers following a moment later.

Overlord circled Cole, examining his body.

"These scars," he said, taking Cole's wrists in his hands. "Goodness. You were cutting?"

Cole did not answer.

"They're infected." Overlord shook his head. With a wave of his hand, the cuts were healed, leaving only scars, and Overlord proceeded to other areas of Cole's body, healing bruises and scrapes as he found them.

Finally satisfied, Overlord went to the boys and examined them as well, healing wounds as needed.

Though, none of the boys were nearly as marred as Cole.

After a minute, Overlord left the boys and went back to the cauldron. It was boiling; Cole could hear it: bubbling, laughing, mocking him for his weakness. For his fear.

Overlord reached for a valve on the floor, then paused. He contemplated something for a few heartbeats, then he stood and walked around the cauldron, twisting other valves.

"You're going to require all of my attention, since I'm not sedating you," Overlord explained. "So I will do you alone, and let these boys watch. Let them see your cowardice. How does that sound?"

Cole spat to the side. How can my actions be seen as cowardice? They'll be drugged. I won't be.

Overlord did not break eye contact with Cole. He broadened his smile, then twisted another valve. The tub nearest Cole began to fill with steaming water.

Overlord slipped on a pair of heavy gloves and got onto his knees, mixing the powder into the water with a flat length of wood.

"Before the Collapse, men used this material to create weapons," Overlord said. "One general wanted to start using it on soldiers, but he was vetoed. Because it was inhumane, or something like that. Dehumanizing them, reducing them to their basest instincts. Making them invincible.

Making them gods."

Overlord stood, setting aside the now gray, discolored stick, and selected a vial from his table. He poured a few drops of its liquid into the tub. The reaction was immediate: the clouded gray water hissed violently. Eventually the water settled, and Overlord made a motion to his men, who pushed Cole forward. To the water.

To death.

Pixal frowned at the river. Stacks of wood and rock barricaded the entire western side of the flooded riverbank, preventing the water from coming any higher and flooding the orchards. The water was deep, swift, and filled with debris. Impossible to cross.

Maybe- maybe- she'd be able to build a boat and float them downstream, but there were so many boulders peeking out of the water like jagged, hungry teeth, eager to swallow anyone who dared touch the stream.

Pixal turned to Merv, who had slumped down against a tree to catch her breath; she'd been carrying Jay for almost a mile. They'd run the whole way, though Pixal's eagle hadn't spotted a single pursuer.

The whole situation felt surreal. How could they not have been followed? Had their ruse seriously not attracted Overlord's attention yet? Well, Overlord had said this was a busy day for him, so maybe he had more important things to deal with...

What was it Overlord had said? That he only wanted them for 'security', whatever that entailed. The way he'd said it, however, implied that they were...expendable.

So maybe he knows we escaped, but he doesn't care?

The rain fell at a leisurely but constant drizzle. Perhaps it will stop soon, Pixal thought. Though I should be thanking the First King for it: If Overlord does send someone to track us, the rain will wash away our footprints.

"Pixal," Merv said, voice quivering. "What's your plan?"

Pixal turned to Merv, hands clenched at her sides. She looked at Jay, inert in Merv's arms. His skin was flushed, his face contorted in pain.

"I don't know," Pixal said. "I'd wanted to cross here, but..." She looked upstream. "It'll take days for us to go around the lake, especially if it's flooded too. Jay needs rest."

"So...we sit here?" Merv stroked Jay's hair with a sandy finger. "His fever is getting worse."

Pixal cursed under her breath. "We need a place to hide," she said. "A cave, preferably. Where we can regroup, heal for a few days, and think of a plan to free the others."

Merv was quiet for a long moment. Thunder rumbled overhead.

"I...might know a place," she said finally. "It's further downstream, on this side of the river."

Pixal perked up. "Has it been found?"

Merv hesitated. "I don't know. I have been in Overlord's underground keep for most of my time. I have very little knowledge of what goes on with the rest of the slaves."

Pixal raised both eyebrows. "You stayed in that prison for fifteen winters without coming to the surface?"

Merv shook her head. "No. I came to the surface to run errands. It's just that..." Her face darkened. "Never mind. It's not important."

"You were alienated," Pixal said softly, ignoring Merv's previous words. "Because you were so close to the Overlord, and it made the other slaves nervous."

Merv nodded, not meeting Pixal's eyes.

Pixal tried to imagine what that would be like. Living in a world like Merv's. In perpetual fear, knowing that each time the Overlord summoned her, she might not walk away alive. Being so, so lonely. Wishing that someone would reach out and talk to her. Befriend her.

Plus, she has those scars... Pixal glanced at Merv's multicolored arm, then quickly diverted her gaze.

Too late. Merv had seen. The girl blushed further, looking close to tears.

Those scars set her apart. Even her sister, Besai, was probably better accepted simply because she looked normal.

Merv was never respected by the other slaves, as Pixal had thought earlier.

Merv was feared.

Pixal knelt and set a hand on Merv's shoulder. "I'm sorry," she said. "Here, I'll carry Jay for a while. You lead the way, and we'll go to this cave. Okay?"

Merv's eyes flitted up to meet Pixal's, and she bit her lip. "…Yes," she said delicately. "Thank you. Let's go."