Because It Hurt Not To

by KNinjagoNexoFan47391

Alternate ending to Possession; takes place during "Curseworld, Part II." Morro knows pain better than anyone. How it marks and scars, seethes and burns, sears and lashes, wounds and stings. But he never understood the power that comes when pain mixes with brotherly love-until the day he was faced with a difficult choice. TW: minor violence, core-draining, mention of blood.

TW: mentions of blood, minor violence, thoughts of death, and core-draining. Nothing gruesome, just difficult to discuss and potentially disturbing to unprepared readers. NOT A DEATHFIC, THOUGH.

"Hey, what are you guys doing here?!"

Morro's head pounded like a painfully-throbbing heartbeat. Thick, sticky ectoplasm trickled down his ghostly face as he struggled to pry his stubborn yellow-and-green-rimmed eyes open. His blurry gaze took in a foreign sunset-streaked sky, and then his core—or at least, what was left of it—panged with sudden, sheer, raw fright.

Where was he?! Why was he here?! What happened to him?! And why in the Sixteen Realms was that…strange anthropomorphic lion with the weird harness looking at him like that?!

His chest heaved with frantic surges of panic as he struggled to recall what exactly had led him here to this strange place that was definitely not in Ninjago. Voices and visions roared through his ghostly mind with the sting and bite of a whiplash as he suddenly began to remember. The sickly green swirling mist settling over the normally quiet village of Stiix, sinking down and seeping into every building and wooden dock…

The ghost-army ranks moving through the city like a wildfire, striking down everyone they could corner…

Those pesky Ninja interfering with the Preeminent's conquest, using their recently-returned powers to pick off Morro's best fighters one by one…

The so-called Green Ninja (he refused to think of him as Lloyd) clinging to the Realm Crystal like a lifeline and not letting go no matter what Morro did to shake him off as the two of them tumbled uncontrollably through a series of different realms, fighting nail-tooth-and-claw for the crystal, neither one of them succeeding in snatching it away from the other…

The Realm Crystal! Morro bolted upright so fast, his right shoulder protested in agony and he couldn't help but let out a quite audible, wheezy wince of pain. Pain—that was the one sensation that he had retained after he was dragged kicking and screaming into the Cursed Realm twenty-some-odd years ago (time was hard to keep track of in a realm like that).

As Morro actively avoided the bewildered glances the lion and his companions were giving him, his gaze darted around frantically, as he desperately searched for the nipping-ice-blue crystal that held within its depths the power to transport the user from one realm to another in the blink of an eye. Just like my sis—AHHH, don't even think about that, you, he told himself. Focus on the mission, and get that gem before that stupid, sniveling green-clad brat does!

Fighting back a sudden wave of dizziness, he scanned the area even more frantically before his rapidly-blearing vision caught a glimpse of pale periwinkle blue glinting at him from underneath a leafy bush. Sucking in a breath of relief and delight combined, he scrambled on hands and knees over to it before spidering his fingers over it, ensuring it was still in one piece while at the same time reassuring himself that his quest was not in vain.

An eerily gleeful humming sensation trickled up his spine as he grinned maliciously to himself. At last—at long last—he was going to get what he'd toiled and sweated and been banished for! The claim to the green gi—the title of the Green Ninja!

All he had to do was use this hunk of shimmering, glowing, vibrating crystalline rock to teleport himself out of here and…

But then, something stopped him. Something…unexpected.

A strange sense of wrongness.

He shook his head vigorously, trying to ward the wrongness off. But the weird, nerve-wracking, spine-chilling, nail-biting sensation only grew stronger, until Morro's face contorted in a pained expression and his eyes began to sting as if he were about to cry. In fact, he half-expected tears to squirt out of his eyes right then and there. But of course, no tears came—because wraiths and banshees and specters of any sort can't cry.

He didn't understand why he felt so empty and numb and sick all at once. Why this wrongness insisted on draining him of his resolve, until he felt so weak and listless that it seemed he couldn't make a single move. His frame began to shake, as a strange compulsion tugged painfully at his chest, yanking him back towards the hill where he and that stupid little green gremlin had crashed.

Hold up a second. They had crashed.

They'd crashed.

They'd crashed.

Crashing was painful. Crashing hurt. Crashing injured people—sometimes even killing them.

The tug suddenly morphed into an excruciating yank, as if there was an invisible force pulling on his literal heart-strings, drawing him back towards where the stupid, green-clothed weakling lay. He tried to focus his thoughts so he could channel the power of the Realm Crystal to escape, but then black spots began to dance in front of his ghostly eyes, and his head ached even worse than before. A frightened cry suddenly rang out in his mind, a cry that made him gasp sharply.

Morro! Help me!

It was the Green Ninja. It was—ugh—Lloyd. And he was crying for help.

Well, if he thought he was going to get help from the wind-master, he had another think coming and—the tugging on his chest became its strongest yet, and he finally caved. "All right!" he growled in frustration. "All right! I'm going! I'm going!"

Totally against his better judgement, he scooped up the crystal, tucking it under his arm for safekeeping, and slowly crawled his way back over to the hill, gritting his teeth painfully as he mentally berated himself for listening to whatever force was pulling him this way. He didn't have time to be helping some weak, childish, snot-nosed—

But when he saw what had befallen the Green Ninja, his core involuntarily quailed. The green gremlin was lying still, completely unmoving on the hard and rocky ground. His eyes were tightly closed. His chest was rising and falling almost too slowly. His breaths were wispy and faint, and there was a line of drool leaking out from between his pale lips.

Worse still, though, were the brilliant red gashes and cuts on his head, the blood crusting on his ears, and the pale pastiness of his cheeks.

Worst of all was the expression on his face. He looked more than just defenseless and vulnerable—he looked trapped.

Trapped within himself.

Trapped within his own mind.

Trapped with no way out.

Trapped…trapped…trapped!

Pain like a dagger of ice penetrated into Morro's withering, rotten core and twisted there. His lip quivered, agony screwing up his face as he once again struggled to release the pain building up inside of him. But he couldn't cry—he was a ghost, and ghosts can't cry.

However, for the first time in years, he felt something that he'd gone without for so long that he'd forgotten what it was like.

Pity. Not mindless, smothering self-pity, but a deep sense of compassion that made him feel…rather odd. A ray of warmth began to soak into his frame, seeping into his aching joints and tired muscles soothingly, and he almost fainted from the sheer shock of it.

He hadn't felt true comforting warmth since he was mortal. The core-crushing, energy-leeching hugs of the Preeminent's tentacles felt more like suffocating hotness than true, tingling, gentle warmth and tenderness. And the feeling of it was enough to completely boggle his mind.

His mind instantly spiraled into a frantic frenzy of questions and possible solutions and an overwhelming sense of confusion and muddied comprehension. There were so many thoughts and feelings swirling around in his subconscious that he could barely think straight. But out of the chaotic mess his brain was in, one thing came poignantly, almost chillingly clear.

Lloyd needed help, and Morro was the only one who could give it to him.

And yet…what could Morro do to help him?

Taking Lloyd back to Ninjago in the condition he was in would literally be the death of him—what with the Preeminent on the loose. But getting him safely into another realm wasn't a bad idea—not a bad idea at all. It would buy both of them some time—time for Lloyd to rest up and heal a bit, and time for Morro to figure out his next move. And since time worked differently in different realms, there was a chance—however slim—that once both of them were prepared to go back (they'd have to go back eventually), they would find that barely any time had passed in Ninjago while they were gone.

Morro knew the Preeminent would have his core if she were to discover what he was about to do—if she somehow found out about the betrayal he was about to commit. But if there was one thing Morro knew about his mistress, it was that she had a ridiculously, hopelessly one-track mind. First things first, and no other way. And while she was in Ninjago, spreading her poisonous influence everywhere she went, she wouldn't even consider searching the other realms for her missing general. For all she knew, he and Lloyd were beating each other to a pulp right now…or tearing each other limb from limb—it could go either way.

And even her telepathy had its limits—she could only contact a few ghosts in a single stroke, and only if they were close in proximity to her physical manifestation or trapped within her domain. So there was virtually no chance that she'd even think about trying to contact him. Which was good enough for him—right now the thought of having to speak with her (albeit mentally and not aloud) was enough to make his ghostly skin crawl with a very bad case of goosebumps.

Quickly before he lost his nerve, Morro scurried over to Lloyd (crystal still in hand), snagged the back of his sweaty collar in his right hand (biting back a pained hiss as he did so), and clutched the Realm Crystal close to his chest, drawing on strength within himself as he brought a mental image of a safe and dark cavern to his mind. The blue-white crystal glowed with a shimmering, pulsing essence as bright rays of light spilled and emanated from its crystalline depths, surrounding the energy-wielder and wind-master, wrapping them in its beams. Then there came a familiar swirling, sucking sensation as a vortex opened underneath the two of them, enveloping them in its deepness and starkness and storminess.

Morro gritted his teeth with a muffled groan. He was having a hard enough time concentrating when the green gremlin's stupid mortal sweat was dripping mercilessly onto his hand, hot and fiery like acid as it made direct contact with his ghostly-ness. It was even worse that the crystal was sparking and stinging and buzzing in his arms with a horrendous vibrating sensation that set his teeth on edge and caused his eyes to burn with dryness. (Once again, no tears.) He squeezed his eyes painfully shut, pouring every shred of focus and concentration and thought into directing him and his inadvertent charge to a place of shelter and safety, where he could figure out the next move in peace.

Or as much peace as his frenzied mind could handle, anyway.

When the burning and stinging and nerve-jittering sparking had finally receded, Morro painstakingly cracked open his eyes. His fingers twitched with minor aches and he could sense one particularly mind-seething, sizzling sensation from the liquid still lingering on his right hand, but as his eyes gradually adjusted to the dim semidarkness, he couldn't help but breathe a shaky sigh of relief as he realized his plan had worked. He and Lloyd were now sheltered within a vast, high cave chamber. Stalactites and stalagmites slowly greeted his vision as his mind vaguely registered that the two of them were laying on their sides in a layer of pebbly sand within the heart of a small cove within the cave. What realm they were in at the moment didn't matter. What did matter, though, was that Morro couldn't sense the presence of the Preeminent or her will-stealing telepathic influence anywhere.

He and Lloyd were safe—at least for the time being.

The continuing burning sensation in his right hand and the thin, wispy plume of sickly green smoke emanating from his right palm brought him back to reality in a heartbeat. Without a single moment to lose, he pulled himself into a shaky sitting position, sucked in a powerful breath, and used his Wind Powers to dry off his hand. As the liquid slowly dried, the burning gradually gave way to a dull ache, which itself dissolved away into soothing, nerve-calming coolness a few seconds later.

And as the pain began to gently ebb away, a numbing sensation of dizziness and sleepiness washed over his entire being, and he let out an exhausted yawn so powerful he thought his skull might split at the ears. His body sagged wearily back onto the sand, his whole frame slumping over in sheer fatigue and drowsiness. It had been a very, very long day, and he was just dead tired (no pun intended). And though he as a ghost did not typically need sleep, he would fall asleep if either he chose to or his ghost-body had simply taken too much of a beating to stay alert.

Helping the Green Ninja could wait for a bit. Restful sleep first, assistance later, he mused—his thoughts already descending into little more than a snoozy, slurry feeling that seeped into his ghostly veins like ointment oozing into a cut.

And before he could change his mind, he felt himself sink headlong into a deep, healing, rejuvenating sleep. A sleep from which he probably would not wake for a long time.

---

Blackness slowly gave way to a smoky gray fog before fading into a hazy mist of dim semidarkness, illuminated only by a ghostly green aura of light as Lloyd slowly, groggily pried his eyelids open, forcing his stubbornly sluggish senses awake as he stared up at an utterly unknown sight. The sight of a high, rocky cave ceiling crawling with myriads of stalactites. Here or there a family of bats snoozed peacefully, hanging upside down from their tiny toes as their little chests puffed in and out, in and out. Watching the bats sleeping so silently, so softly, was very relaxing for Lloyd. In fact, he felt so mesmerized and refreshed by it that he was almost lulled back to sleep again. But then his heart gave a frightened jolt as he saw who was laying asleep beside him.

It was Morro. The one who'd stolen his will from him, controlled his mind, poked around and sifted through his memories unbidden, trapping his will deep within himself, making Lloyd do things he didn't want to do and couldn't even remember doing half of the time.

The one who'd stripped his friends' powers from them, who'd made Lloyd fight against them, who'd used his skills, his talents, his abilities, his powers to obtain the Realm Crystal.

The one who had apparently brought him to this dark and dismal place without his knowledge or consent.

Lloyd's fingers began to twitch convulsively. His frame shook. His hands trembled. His heart pounded like a stampede of skittish wild horses.

What was he going to do? He had to fight. He had to run. He had to flee!

But for some odd reason, he simply couldn't summon the strength to do so.

Lloyd tried to push himself onto his hands. But his arms would not obey him. He tried to scramble to his feet. But his muscles were still, numb, limp, all but lifeless. The Deepstone shoulder blades on his gi that promised protection from ghostly mind-control of any sort seemed to weigh heavily on him, pushing him down deeper and deeper into the soft, slippery sand the more he struggled to get up, to rise, to stand.

As if that wasn't bad enough, his head throbbed in his ears lightly, and a wave of weakness and dizziness was seeping into his joints and soaking into his bones like water oozing into a sponge. He felt so drained…and listless…and deeply, deeply exhausted.

As he lay there, helpless to defend himself, unable to escape, his mind slowly spiraled into a spell of sheer, utter panic. The world seemed to spin and whirl dazingly all around him, a painfully fuzzy, dim kaleidoscope of colors and smells and haziness. His vision swam bleakly. His breath caught in his throat. His muscles buzzed and stung agonizingly. His nerves froze. His lungs spasmed erratically. And his core seized in sheer terror and aggressive, paralyzing fear.

He didn't know where he was—how he'd gotten here—what was going to happen to him.

And he was beginning to fear that he'd never get back to his friends—his family.

He'd be trapped here for the rest of his miserable, pitiful life—he was sure of it!

Morro was just so strong and vicious and powerful. Lloyd was no match for him—he knew that all too well.

What a lousy way to end it all. To be trapped and lost within an unknown cave with his worst enemy lying just inches away from him, swift and deadly enough to strike at any moment without warning.

Slowly, his breathing began to deepen. A surge of weakness trickled through his veins. Numbness seeped into his joints, and black darkened the corners of his vision as the shadows of slumber began to draw him away from the waking world.

The pain in his head was spiking uncontrollably. A sticky liquid began to trickle down his face, and he began to feel strangely hot and cold at the same time. His mind felt like a muddied mess of sensations, thoughts, and emotions as memories began to drift unbidden back into his consciousness.

The memory of falling uncontrollably through the air, tumbling over and over in rapid, sickening somersaults as he tussled with Morro, struggling to claw the Realm Crystal out of the wind-master's cold death grip—and failing miserably…

Plummeting uncontrollably towards a small, rusty-red rocky ridge, unable to slow his fall or stop himself from crashing into it…

A sudden pang of agony in his skull followed by a wave of midnight blackness sweeping over his senses, pulling him away from the waking world, dragging his limp and languid frame beneath a sea of deep, mind-numbing unconsciousness—

Wait a moment. He'd been unconscious. He'd been knocked out.

So why didn't Morro ditch him? Why did Morro bring him here when he could have easily taken the crystal and fled?

Was he only postponing Lloyd's miserable demise until he could rub it in his face malevolently—before snatching the Realm Crystal and escaping, leaving Lloyd trapped in here for all eternity?

More to the point, why would Morro ever waste time and strength on his sworn enemy? He'd held all the cards. He'd had all the advantage. Lloyd had been unconscious—weak—injured—vulnerable—completely, helplessly open to attack. So why didn't the wind-master thrash the stuffing out of Lloyd or leave him to the mercy of the elements on that ridge?

He felt so dazed and bewildered and mystified all at once. His focus was shaky—his concentration foggy—his perception totally screwed up. Waves of weakness and pain ebbed and flowed through his battered and bruised frame like a stormy sea. The world around him was beginning to warp, to distort into an unrecognizable mass of sickly green light and chilling mistiness and utter darkness. His eyes began to water—hot, stinging tears were springing to his eyes uncontrollably. His ears burned, his chest heaved spasmodically, and his ribs ached with an excruciating prickle of anguish. Sleep seemed welcome right now—yet to sleep could very well spell his approaching doom.

Tightness was gripping his stomach so fiercely it seemed to be twisting up into hard little knots within him. He began to feel as if all his strength was slowly being sapped away from him as his eyelids drooped half-shut, and his vision grew glassy and blurred. Was this what dying felt like, he wondered. If so, he'd imagined it would be alarmingly painful—not as if all his energy and life was being drained away, as if his very core was being leached ounce by ounce out of his frame. And as he slowly grew weaker and weaker, he let his eyelids droop closed all the way, every nerve and muscle on edge, waiting trepidatiously for the end to come.

A cold hand clamping down on his shoulder made him flinch sharply. His breathing grew incredibly shallow and strangled all of a sudden, and his throat constricted in panic as he realized who exactly was touching him.

It was Morro.

---

The wind-master had woken to a cold breeze sweeping through the cavern. His gaze had darted swimmingly around the cave chamber for a few moments, blurry from misty green ectoplasm trickling into his eyes unbidden. He'd pushed one involuntarily trembling hand up to wipe the ectoplasm out of his eyes, feeling as if the weight of all Sixteen Realms was weighing him down, crushing him, sapping away every ounce of strength and might in his body. The waves of wind power flowing within his bloodstream were beginning to weaken already, and he could feel a dry, cold ache in his chest from the ugly, jagged green scar that had drawn the Preeminent to him that horrid, haunting night when he'd gotten terribly lost within the Caves of Despair all those years before.

The same one he'd used the Allied Armor of Azure to shield before the armor itself was shattered by those pesky ninja making him drop it from a great height.

As he gazed aimlessly upward, his irises milky and misted from fatigue, he wondered what was going on back in Ninjago—and whether his hunch about time working differently here was correct. How long had he and Lloyd been gone? Was the Preeminent searching for him right now? Was she wondering where he was or why he wasn't anywhere in sight?

Or had she pushed him to the very back of her mind, choosing instead to focus on corrupting every board and brick and nail within Ninjago's realm?

If the answer to the question was the latter, it was all the better for him and Lloyd—yet he felt a strange pang of misery deep within his core. All his life, he'd been yearning to belong somewhere—anywhere at all. He'd thought that he'd finally succeeded when the Preeminent gave him power beyond what he could possibly imagine—the power to control anything and anyone, to bring any mortal under his will and his every whim. As if she were a doting mother giving a wonderful treasure to her favorite child.

But—though he'd never admit it—he was starting to wonder whether he himself was little more than a puppet—someone who the Preeminent could eliminate at any given time when she grew tired of him.

He wondered whether he was little more than a pet—the Preeminent's toy—her willing and faithful follower—her pawn in this great deadly game of chess she insisted on playing with Ninjago and the Sixteen Realms themselves.

And then a chill struck his heart with terror as he emitted a shaky, dry sob. He wasn't truly her favorite ghost—she wasn't his true mother—and his mind-manipulation skills weren't a blessing.

They were a curse.

It had hurt to control Lloyd's mind—to push the gold of his light down underneath a tangled web of his own darkness—a web that he'd woven, that he'd forged, that he'd crafted. A web that smothered the light within Lloyd, till it was little more than a dim candle flame amidst a sea of darkness.

It had hurt because he could feel a deep wellspring of emotions and memories within the energy-wielder. A wellspring he couldn't ever hope to plumb the depths of. A wellspring of love and joy and hope and peace—things Lloyd had that he did not.

It had hurt because the memories burned deeply into Lloyd's subconscious seared Morro's own mind like a fire tearing through a library, scarring his own subconscious so severely he felt the wounds would never fade.

It had hurt because Lloyd was full of light and Morro, full of darkness. It hurt because Lloyd was good and Morro was not—and the two clashed so sharply that it constantly slashed through Morro's core like a dagger of sheer, cold, cruel ice…

And the thought of it made the wind-wielder want to cry.

But he still couldn't. That was the true curse—that he couldn't cry. He couldn't cry because he was empty. He couldn't cry because there was a void where there should be a core. He couldn't cry because he was nothing more than a shadow—an apparition—of what he'd once been.

And so he just lay there, face contorting and scrunching in sheer pain, longing to release the agony inside of him, but not being able to because he couldn't cry.

His tempestuous, despairing thoughts were suddenly interrupted when he heard a tiny, strangled gasp beside him. As he rolled weakly over onto his side, his face blanched as he realized that Lloyd was deathly still. Only a faint wispy puff of air told him that the energy-wielder was all right.

But his face was turning a ghostly white. His hands were still and numb. And the gash on his head was looking more and more purple and sickly by the moment. Blood had crusted on his face, and more just kept flowing out of his wounds by the second.

And that's when Morro realized that he had to do something to help before Lloyd faded away completely. Without a second to lose, he pushed himself weakly upward off the ground, scrabbling to his knees, thinking that he would just nudge Lloyd's shoulder a little. That should be enough to wake him, right? he asked himself.

For several eternal seeming minutes, he just sat there, hesitating, reaching out his hand only to jerk it back again. Finally, he gritted his teeth in frustration at how he was freaking out like a baby when he should be waking up the little gremlin. Just nudge his shoulder, you fraidy-cat! he scolded himself, reaching over and giving Lloyd a hard nudge that turned into a shove before he could stop it.

Then he groaned in defeat. Lloyd hadn't moved—hadn't stirred—barely even breathed. Okay, if you're going to be like that, he thought to himself, then you leave me no choice but to—He didn't even finish his thought before he stuck his hand out and clamped down hard on Lloyd's shoulder.

The energy-wielder flinched. Well, that's at least something.

But then Lloyd let out a soft, shaky wheeze—his breaths beginning to morph into gasps and grunts of fear as he suddenly realized who was touching him at that very moment.

Satisfied that he'd woken the little leprechaun, Morro fingered his ghostly green-and-black gi momentarily before spidering his fingers up the crook of his elbow and grabbing the fabric so hard it frayed. A sickly ripping noise pierced the still air of the cave as Morro took his own sleeve and tore a strip of fabric from it. The moment it came unattached from his body, it lost its sickly green aura and grew completely solid, fading back to its proper color. Then Morro gently-as-could-be-managed wrapped his arms around Lloyd's waist, pulling him up into a slight reclining position against his chest, his head just high enough to wrap the strip of fabric around the back of it. Lloyd tried to squirm away, but he was too weak to do anything other than let out a muffled, wincing moan that quickly morphed into a slushy, slurry sigh. When he pried open his eyes, his pupils were dilated and his irises glazed over—a sure sign of a concussion.

"Whatareyoudoing?" he mewled drowsily, his lips almost too frail to form the words, yet his voice showing clear signs of raw, gripping fright.

"Calm down." Morro murmured a little more forcefully than he intended. "I'm not going to hurt you, chipmunk."

"'mnotachimun." Lloyd slurred, trying to sound foreboding and intimidating even amidst his growing weakness. Morro ignored the comment, concentrating on getting the makeshift bandage looped around Lloyd's head a few times before tying it in a good, strong knot and tucking the ends in the folds of the fabric.

"Why…are you…helping me?" the green-clad child whispered, his frame slumping downward as he slowly drifted back into unnatural slumber.

"Because it…" Morro stammered, taken aback by the question. "Because…" His voice trailed off, and he scrunched up his torn sleeve in his other hand as he struggled to collect himself. Finally, after what seemed like ages, he took a shuddery breath and croaked, "Because it hurt not to."

And then his eyelids twitched, and a strange, sulphury smell filled his nostrils as his eyes closed, and he sagged down into the sand, sinking deep into stunning, numbing unconsciousness. The last sensation he felt before he fell senseless entirely was a chill coursing up his spine as Lloyd fainted right onto his chest—falling right on top of his aching, frigid, misty-green scar.

---

A wave of weakness and trembling and aching, swirling, mind-razing chills greeted Morro when he finally woke once again. His head still throbbed a little, but the pain had lessened, and when he reached a shaky hand up to feel why, his fingers grazed a cool but not wet strip of fabric tied around the top of his scalp. Then another chill crawled up his left arm, and when he dropped his gaze, he realized that his other sleeve had been torn into as well.

A growl of angered annoyance began to curl on his lips, but it died away in his throat as he suddenly spotted Lloyd sitting close by, staring apologetically at him as he softly rasped, "I had to…tear into your other sleeve to take care of that nasty gash on your head." His voice faded momentarily before he finished shakily, "Sorry, Morro." Then he ducked his head as if expecting Morro to come at him.

Morro, for his part, was utterly aghast and…strangely bewildered. Lloyd had just up and apologized for helping him! As if he was afraid that the wind-wielder was going to beat the tar out of him for helping him! What was even more bewildering was that the green g—no, the Green Ninja—hadn't done this to make himself look good or to rub it in Morro's face. Instead, he'd helped the unconscious wind-wielder because he actually cared about him.

His mind reeled in confusion as he struggled to process this. How? Why would—and that's when he realized that there was a difference in the way he felt.

He felt warm.

At first, he thought he might be imagining things. But it was real—he could really feel an odd, tingling, slightly ticklish warmth pulsing and flowing through his veins, sending streams and tendrils and shoots of healing comfort and tranquil serenity seeping into his nerves and gently ebbing into his core. And for the first time in a long while—in decades, actually—he felt at rest. He felt…free.

And that's when he realized exactly what had been happening to him. Why his power had been so weak—why he'd felt so tired—why that sickly smell had filled his nostrils, like the smell of death itself.

His core had begun withering away completely. He'd been fading. And Lloyd had just saved him. The Green Ninja had saved his enemy. And the whole thing befuddled Morro immensely. He just felt so confused. He didn't deserve mercy, and he knew it.

And yet Lloyd had still saved him. More than that—Lloyd had forgiven him—even though what he'd done was completely unforgivable.

Something the Preeminent had never done.

In that moment, Morro's lip quivered as he recalled something he'd told the Green Ninja just hours before. It'd seemed so bold and daring before. Now it just felt belittling.

"You could never do it alone—could you? Weak—always needing others! I, on the other hand, need no one!"

"That's not true!" Lloyd's voice flashed back into his mind. "What about Sylph? Is this what she would want?! For you to destroy Ninjago, just so you can save her?!"

"Leave my sister OUT OF THIS!" he'd shouted back, angry and bitter and hateful at Lloyd for reminding him of his terrible loss. But now he was beginning to understand that the Green Ninja had been right. Morro did need others. That was what he'd truly been after—not the green gi, not the title of the Green Ninja, but a home and a family.

A place where he belonged.

But then he was startled by Lloyd—who had by now realized Morro wasn't going to clobber him—half-murmuring, half-whimpering, "I…I don't understand."

The wind-wielder blinked in shock. The kid in front of him had been so silent and so very, very still that he'd almost forgotten he wasn't alone. Lloyd realized his confusion and elaborated, "You…you said that you didn't leave me behind…and that you helped me…because it…hurt not to. What does that mean?"

Not for the first time, Morro suddenly found himself at a complete loss for words. The confidence, boldness, and uncanny ability to remain stoic and unflustered by anything that he'd obtained from his control over Lloyd seemed to have completely vanished in the night. For several minutes, he babbled and mumbled incoherent murmurs under his breath, fishing furiously for the right words to explain himself. He'd never been skilled at expressing his feelings, and the innate courage to speak his thoughts had been entirely dependent on his mental tether to Lloyd for so long that he felt as timid and shy as a wood mouse now.

Finally, he managed to screw up his courage, gather his wits about him, and suck in a shaky breath before explaining nervously, "When I saw you unconscious up on the ridge, so still and helpless and vulnerable, I…I just…I just couldn't leave you there. I couldn't—no, I wouldn't—leave you behind."

Lloyd shot one eyebrow upward in confusion, cocking his head to one side as he figured out how to process this. "Wouldn't?" he asked, so softly he could barely be heard.

Morro nodded, cheeks growing cold in embarrassment. He was sure his face was turning fifteen shades of icy blue right now (the ghost equivalent of blushing crimson) as he stammered, his voice trembling unconsciously, "It may sound ridiculous, considering what I…did to you, but yes—I wouldn't leave you behind like that. Three hundred years," he huffed in frustration, "and I'm the first ghost that wouldn't leave an enemy behind!" His face fell in embarrassment and sadness, sure that he had just made himself appear weak. And it felt absolutely mortifying.

Lloyd said nothing, though. Just sat there, staring at him, waiting for him to continue. With a shuddery breath, Morro finally managed to mutter, "I…I wouldn't leave you behind because…because you looked just as trapped and helpless as I was. I looked at you…and I saw myself."

There—he'd said it. He'd admitted it. He'd admitted that he'd been trapped all this time—trapped in his selfish ambition and the Preeminent's lies, lost in her deceit, imprisoned in a snare of his own making, in a state of complete docility and blind obedience, like a groveling puppy awaiting his master's orders and acting accordingly, like a rabbit ready to bolt as soon as he sees a fox charging him.

For several moments, there was nothing but absolute silence. Even the air itself was still. The cave was so deathly quiet that Morro thought he could hear Lloyd's heart going thumpity-thumpity-thump in the sheer stillness.

Face flushing a deep sapphire blue, Morro crumpled into himself and turned away from the Green Ninja, like a little melancholy flower refusing the sun's rays. His head ached profusely, and his eyes burned and stung with tears that would not come. He wanted to cry—but of course, the tears wouldn't flow.

Because he was a ghost—and ghosts can't cry.

And that's when he heard a strange sound. A sound he hadn't heard in so long that he'd all but forgotten it.

It was the sound of Lloyd sobbing.

Without even meaning to, Morro flinched sharply. An unpleasant quip was already forming on his lips as he turned back around, but when he caught sight of the little green-bean sniffling and blubbering like a baby, eyes already growing red and puffy from crying, he swallowed back the rude remark in an instant.

And when he heard the half-mumbled, half-sobbed words pouring out like a flood from between Lloyd's lips, his previously stone-cold heart immediately melted.

Could it be?

Had Lloyd really said what he thought he'd heard the Green Ninja say?

But his hearing had been true. His mind wasn't playing any nasty tricks on him. He'd really just heard Lloyd tearfully yet gratefully whimpering the words, "You rescued me. You rescued me, Morro. You saved my life. Even though I was your enemy, you saved my life."

And that's when Morro did something he never thought he'd do again.

It was then that he felt tears forming in his eyes. Not tears that burned him, but tears that instead cleansed him, purified him, washing away all the pain and bitterness his core had been carrying within him for years.

Tears—true and precious tears.

Specter-tears.

He then turned around all the way and began scooting towards Lloyd huddling in a miserable heap on the sand, still crying his heart out. And then, even though he knew that Lloyd's mortal tears would indeed hurt him, he wrapped his arms tightly around the Green Ninja—no longer his enemy, but his friend, his brother—and just let Lloyd cry on his shoulder.

The tears hitting his collarbone and shoulder blades burned and stung like acid, but he barely even noticed. Instead, he just balled up handfuls of Lloyd's gi in his fists—and cried—and cried—and cried.

The pain was intense, but deep within he knew it was necessary. It was restoring him. It was healing his wounded spirit—mending the bond torn by his stupid, mindless pride and arrogance.

And now he was learning once again to feel—in a way he thought he might never feel again.

His thoughts were interrupted when he felt Lloyd shift away slightly, turning his head to the side, clearly and poignantly afraid that his tears would melt Morro away into a little screaming puddle of agony right before his eyes. And then little Lloyd's quivering voice emerged again.

"I wanna go home. I miss my family so much."

Those words struck a painful chord in Morro's heart. He remembered once again how he had called Lloyd weak and pitiful for needing others. And once again, he could feel pure shame washing over him for it.

"I wanna go home. I miss my family so much." The words seemed to echo in his mind, over and over again, until his mind ached from the intensity. And that's when guilt flooded his veins before he could stop it.

Because of him, there was no home for Lloyd to go back to.

Because of him, Lloyd's family was in danger.

Because of him, the realm of Ninjago would fall.

And he knew that he couldn't let what had happened to him—what had happened to his family, to his sister—happen to little Lloyd—the one power-bearer who was truly worthy of the green legacy he'd been given.

Morro's lip trembled, his hands shaking convulsively as he hugged Lloyd even tighter to himself and murmured, "Don't worry. We'll find a way back. We'll get out of here somehow. I promise."

---

But three hours later, Morro found he wasn't any closer to getting him and Lloyd back to Ninjago than he'd been before. The true problem, he'd realized, wasn't getting back. The Realm Crystal would make that easy enough.

The real problem staring both of them in the face was what they would do once they got back. The Preeminent was still out there. She was still corrupting and destroying the village of Stiix. And if Morro and Lloyd couldn't come up with a plan to fight back, they'd both be in incredible danger.

It didn't help matters that both of them—Lloyd with his concussion and Morro with his own injuries—had been weakened by their wounds. The moment Morro set foot back in Ninjago, he knew that the Preeminent would be able to contact him once again. And with his current condition, there was no guarantee that he could hold out against her mesmerizing, hypnotic influence for long if he wasn't vigilant and alert.

On top of that, the Green Ninja wasn't a bit battle-ready in his own current condition. And Morro knew for a fact that the Preeminent wouldn't care a fig about squashing a helpless, concussed Lloyd like a beetle on sight.

Or worse—dragging him into the Cursed Realm, where she could control him like a puppet on a string, or imprison him like she had his father.

His father…wait a moment. Lloyd's father was in danger too. He was still in the Cursed Realm. He was still trapped. And if the ninja succeeded in taking out the Preeminent, the Cursed Realm would fall.

And if they didn't, Lloyd's father would become just like Morro had been. Weak. Submissive. Docile. Completely under the Preeminent's control—whether or not he wanted to be.

Either way, Garmadon would be lost forever.

But if they could get Garmadon out before then, Lloyd's father might still have a chance.

And from the look Lloyd was giving Morro at that very moment, he was thinking along the very same lines of thought. "What's the plan, Morro?" he asked, every fiber in his being focused on one thing and one thing only.

Saving Ninjago and his father.

Morro took a shuddery breath and whispered, "I have an idea. It's not a good idea, but it is an idea. We're going back. I'll help you find an Aeroblade, and then—"

"And then we'll rescue my dad?"

There was an awkward pause, and Morro mulled over that for a second. Then he shook his head. "No, we won't be rescuing Garmadon. You'll rescue him."

Lloyd looked crestfallen. His eyes welled up with tears. His voice was breathy and sad as he stammered, "But—but—"

"No buts." Morro cut him off. Then, seeing the hopelessness written all over Lloyd's face, he reassuringly put a gentle hand on Lloyd's shoulder and explained, "Listen—the moment I step foot into the Cursed Realm, the Preeminent will know that I'm there. And when she does, she can easily make me lay bare my will and let her tap into it. That's what she does. She'll put me back under her spell, and I'll have no choice but to do as she says."

"She controls your mind?" Lloyd questioned tearfully, sniffling a little as he struggled to get his emotions in check.

"Yes." Morro muttered, retracting his hand and hissing under his breath at the mere thought of it. His hands fell limply into his lap, and he let out a long, ragged sigh before continuing, "It's her voice. That's where she gets her power from. Those who pledge allegiance and loyalty to her are susceptible to her voice. Mortals can't hear it. But ghosts do. They hear it in their minds and succumb to it within moments."

"What—what's it like?" Lloyd asked, frightful curiosity lining his tone.

Morro fidgeted, unsure whether to answer that. His hands curled and uncurled into fists semiconsciously as he explained, "It's low—soft—almost soothing—when she's not angry, that is. Then her voice is sharp and screechy, like mortal nails on a squeaky chalkboard. But when she's calm, her voice can lull any ghost or shade into docile submission. It mesmerizes them, relaxes their guard, calms them down, all before willing them to succumb to its hypnosis. And even the most stubborn, strong-willed of apparitions can't escape its charms."

Even as he spoke, his voice grew low and drowsy and wispy and slurred. His eyelids drooped subconsciously, and he almost lulled himself to sleep with his own words. Lloyd looked sleepy too, most likely from being concussed. He was beginning to slump over a little, and his tears were already dissipating as every muscle and nerve within him loosened and unwound. Morro realized all too quickly that Lloyd was losing his concentration. He snapped the Green Ninja back into focus in a split second with a sharp, "That's why you're going in there alone. I can't enter without drawing the Preeminent's attention. But I can keep her busy long enough for you to free your father and hightail the both of you out of there with the crystal."

"But won't you fall back under her control?" Lloyd mused, bolting upright lightning-fast, eyes shooting wide open and voice quivering with sheer, raw fright.

"Not as easily, I won't. In the Cursed Realm, I wouldn't stand a chance. But in Ninjago—in the realm of mortals—I have a better chance of resisting her. For one thing, there's hundreds of ghosts swarming Stiix right now, and she can only command a few at a time. For another, if I can keep far enough away or move too quickly for her to keep up, she can't keep a lock on me, and it will be hard to control me without a strong, solid lock on my position. Plus, if your ninja friends are as tough as they make themselves out to be—and I know they are—" he added hastily, before Lloyd could shoot back some snide comment about Morro not knowing his friends like he did, "they'll keep the Preeminent just as busy trying to defeat her as I will trying to distract her. It all adds up to one word for her—chaos. And if there's one thing she can't stand, it's chaos."

Lloyd seemed to contemplate that for a moment and nodded. Causing chaos was one thing, but neatly ordered plans being messed-up and upended right before your very eyes was something else entirely. And he got the sneaky suspicion that the Preeminent wouldn't take kindly to her schemes shattering to bits before her. This whole strategy of Morro's was risky—but clearly, Lloyd's new unlikely ally was ready and prepared for the risk.

"Okay." the Green Ninja finally spoke, voice steeling with sheer determination and resolve as he grasped the edge of the Realm Crystal lying half-buried in the sand between them. "Let's do it." he finished, flipping his hood over his head—a clear sign that this time, he wouldn't back down. This time, he was ready to fight.

And as Morro grasped the edge of the Crystal with his own hands, already beginning to concentrate on where he and Lloyd wanted to go, he was ready to fight as well.

---

When the sizzling, stinging, mind-numbing sensation of realm-jumping had died away once again, Morro and Lloyd found themselves squatting down behind a building, hidden in the shadows, with no light near them save for the blue-white of the crystal they were both holding, the sickly green aura of the mist, and the light of the stars above them (thankfully untouched by the Preeminent's corruption). Screams erupted from the air all around them as distressed villagers rushed back and forth, scurrying and scrambling and darting away from the ghostly troops as fast as their legs could carry them. Men, women, and children fled for their very lives and cores as cries of "Evacuate!" rang out from all around the two figures huddling together in the dark.

"This is madness!" Lloyd half-whispered, half-mouthed at Morro, his frame already quivering with fright and his eyes blinking like an owl's in sheer terror.

"I know." Morro whispered back, a lump in the pit of his stomach already beginning to form as it sank into him just how much damage his actions had caused and how many lives were being lost because of him. "But we can make it right. We just have to—" A flame of fiery red-orangish light flew past his head, and he and Lloyd instinctively ducked. The flame hit the building behind him, but he managed to put it out quickly with a gust of wind before it could do any major damage.

Then, as he turned back to see who'd thrown that flame at him—not that it would have done much damage anyway—his heart sank as he let out an almost inaudible groan. It was Kai. He and the other Ninja had him and Lloyd cornered, and he was busted.

"Kai!" Lloyd cried out, half in fright for being scared silly, half in relief that his brother was okay and not looking too disheveled or bedraggled from the skirmish still ensuing. He let go of the Realm Crystal and rushed over to Kai, all but tackling the Fire Ninja with a big bear hug. Kai hurriedly returned the embrace, slightly embarrassed that he'd almost fried his baby brother to a crisp, and then shot a piercing glare at Morro. If looks could kill, Morro would have died a hundred times by now.

"What's he doing here?!" Kai growled a moment later, pointing at the wind-wielder still cowering in the shadows. Morro gulped. There was no way Kai was going to let him just walk away after what he'd done to Lloyd.

Case in point a second later when Lloyd let go of Kai suddenly and turned to all of his teammates, crying, "It's all right! He's here to help!"

"Yeah, I don't think so!" Jay piped up, always having to throw in his two cents.

"Based on Morro's pattern of villainous deeds, I don't trust him as far as I could throw him, so to speak." Zane added. Morro could feel his core recoiling and curling in fear at that. He shouldn't have come here—he should've stayed behind—

"Complete agree." Kai murmured, fixing Morro with an even sharper death glare than before. "Zane—let's douse him!" he added, lighting up his hand with a bright crimson flame. Zane followed suit with a small flurry of ice. Morro cringed against the wall and closed his eyes, curling into a tight ball, bracing himself for the incoming blow and the acidic burning of water disintegrating him into a thousand ghostly particles.

But it never came. Instead he heard Cole shouting, "WAIT!" at his teammates. When Morro summoned the nerve to peek over the top of his knees, he saw that Cole had thrust his arms in front of Zane and Kai, cutting off the attack and at the same time shielding Morro from any stray flames or ice blasts.

Kai gave the ghostly Earth Ninja a look clearly saying, Are you nuts?! Are you seriously saying this dirty, rotten traitor should go free? After what he did to Lloyd?!

"Let him talk before you finish him off." Cole answered, cool as a cucumber all the way. He then retracted his arms and stepped back into the small line of Ninja. Morro slowly got to his feet and stepped forward into the light, feeling nervous and afraid all of a sudden. His hands shook uncontrollably as he stammered, "Lloyd's telling the truth. I don't want to fight you. I will if I have to, but I don't want a fight. Not now. I only came here to get an Aeroblade for Lloyd so…" His voice caught in his throat, and he struggled to finish before he finally managed to mutter, "So Lloyd can rescue his father."

A collective gasp rose from all the Ninja, save Lloyd, who wasn't shocked, and Kai, who was still glaring daggers at Morro.

"Wait, what?!" Jay whisper-yelled, thankfully keeping his head even though Morro could tell he wanted to shout to the highest heavens with joy at that news. "You're helping Lloyd get Sensei Garmadon back?"

"Sort of." Morro replied. "I can't go back into the Cursed Realm—it's too risky for me. But I plan to keep the Preeminent busy while Lloyd's in there. And…it'd be helpful if you guys could help me out. I'm not asking you to fight alongside me—I'm asking that you just keep fighting her and her armies like you've been doing."

"Whoa-whoa-whoa, wait!" Kai exclaimed all of a sudden. "How do we know you're not just trying to send us all to our deaths?"

"He's telling the truth." Lloyd said yet again, stepping back and looking every single one of his brothers-in-arms in the eyes as he explained, "When we were fighting over the Realm Crystal, we fell through half a dozen different realms before crashing on a rocky ridge. Both of us were knocked unconscious, but Morro was the first to wake. He could have taken the Realm Crystal and fled—he could have left me behind to die there, helpless and alone—or he could have killed me where I slept. But he didn't do any of those things. Instead, he rescued me—he got me to safety—he tended my wounds—and he helped me form a plan to get Dad back. I say we give him a chance."

"I'm with you, Lloyd." Cole exclaimed, stepping forward decisively.

"I am too!" Jay exclaimed next, coming forward to join Cole.

"I sense the truth in your words." Zane added, placing a hand on Lloyd's shoulder as he too stepped forward. "I concur with your stance and desire to give Morro another chance to choose the light."

And then there was only Kai. He was visibly reluctant to agree with Lloyd and to trust that Morro wouldn't stab the team in the back (literally and figuratively) when one or all of them weren't looking. For several eternal-seeming moments, he just stood there, not moving, not saying a word. Everyone then turned, gazing at him expectantly.

Then he lifted his shoulders in a slight shrug, saying, "I still don't trust Morro, but I trust Lloyd. The legendary Green Ninja has never led us astray. And if Lloyd thinks we should give Morro another chance, I say we give him a chance." He then took his Aeroblade from off his back and handed it to his little green-clad brother, whispering with a ring of hope in his voice, "Go get him, Lloyd."

The others cheered as loudly as they dared considering the Preeminent was still out there. But only Morro saw the icy glint in Kai's eyes that spoke clearly, I have my eye on you. And it was enough to make Morro shudder. Thankfully, no one seemed to notice.

A sudden whoosh of wind brought everyone back to reality in a flash. The wind was so cold that even Morro shivered. To make matters worse, he could feel a roaring noise sounding in his mind, and he gasped in shock and pain and fear as he realized who it was.

It was the Preeminent. She knew he was here. And she wanted him and the Green Ninja.

His legs suddenly buckled underneath him, his knees going wobbly as he crumpled to the ground, hissing in pain as another dry, cold ache radiated from the scar on his chest. Then Cole let out a bloodcurdling scream and doubled over in pain beside him, clutching his head as ice curled itself deep inside his being. Apparently, he could feel it too.

"What did you do to him?" Kai shouted, ready to blast Morro to ashes in the blink of an eyelash.

"It's not me." he protested in a raspy voice. "It's the Preeminent. She knows we're here!"

"What do we do?!" Jay shrieked, his face going pale as a sheet and his breathing growing shallower by the moment as he descended into full panic mode.

"Get the people to safety!" Morro barked weakly at the team. "I'll get up to the rooftops and buy you some time. But hurry! She'll be moving quickly to find us, and I don't want to be here when she does. Lloyd, take the Realm Crystal, get into the Cursed Realm, free your father, and then the both of you get yourselves out of there STAT!"

"But what about Cole?" Lloyd protested, not wanting to leave the earth-wielder behind. His gaze darted down frantically to rest upon the Earth Ninja twitching and wailing and moaning as he struggled to push back against the Preeminent's hypnotic influence.

"Leave him to me." Morro whispered, pulling himself into a sitting position and putting a hand on Lloyd's trembling shoulder. "Now go. GO!" Shoving the Realm Crystal into Lloyd's hands, he then proceeded to grab the helpless, timid Cole around the waist and hoist him into a shaky standing position.

Lloyd nodded as the other Ninja—Zane, Kai, and Jay—took off in separate directions to evacuate the people as Morro had told them to. Then the Green Ninja looped the strap holding the Aeroblade over his shoulder, took the Realm Crystal in his hands, and squeezed his eyes shut, concentrating on bringing an image of the Cursed Realm to his mind. Morro could tell just from Lloyd's expression that he really did not relish returning to that dark and dismal place. But he had to if he was going to get to his father in time.

A brilliant flash of blue-white light flashed and beamed from the depths of the Realm Crystal. Then a swirling vortex enveloped Lloyd and he disappeared. Morro let out a shaky sigh of relief, still clutching Cole around the waist. It was all up to Lloyd now to free Garmadon—before it was too late.

---

Several minutes later, Morro had gotten Cole to a safe hiding place where he could rest and gather his wits again, shielded from the influence of the Preeminent. Cole had wanted to head back out and help the others, but Morro had cut him off with a sharp command to stay put. Cole had grudgingly resigned, and now Morro was busy shimmying and scurrying up a ladder to the roof of a nearby apartment building. Hands and feet spidered up the rungs lickety-split, determination driving his endurance to levels he'd never imagined possible before. When he finally dragged himself over the curvy, tile-shingled roof edge, he took a few moments to catch his breath before staggering to his feet, turning to face the Preeminent, cupping his hands to his mouth, and screaming at the top of his lungs, "HEY! OVER HERE, YOU HIDEOUS BEAST! LOOKING FOR ME?!"

That got the Preeminent's attention instantly. Nobody but Morro could ever scream like that—not even Bansha, and her voice could sink a thousand ships if she wanted it to—literally. The grotesquely slimy monster turned her body towards Morro so that the portal that doubled as her mouth was directly facing her general, who was standing barefooted on the top of the tallest roof in the whole village. Morro held his breath, bracing himself for the moment when the Preeminent would either bite his head off or attempt to bring him under her control again. A second later, she chose the latter.

Morro, my dear son, why are you shouting for me when you can just call and I will answer? Her voice rang out in his mind, washing over him like a peaceful, tranquil breeze. Already he could feel his jangled nerves being settled, his muscles relaxing, his body sagging drowsily forward, his eyelids drooping as the power of the Preeminent's voice slowly took its toll on him.

Why have you left your conquest? Are you not strong enough to complete the task I gladly gave you?

Morro's eyelids drooped even more now. Her voice was so soothing, and he was beginning to feel very sleepy…and calm…and comforted. He just wanted to lay down, curl up amidst her tentacles, and take a long, refreshing snooze in her grasp. But then his core surged awake with a sharp pain that shot through his sleepy nerves, screaming at him, No! No! Don't listen to her! Don't give in! You have to fight, Morro! You've got to fight her!

His wits returned to him instantly, and his drowsy, lethargic state vanished away from him in an instant. Desperate to get beyond her reach, he scrambled backward, shouting, "IT'S OVER, PREEMINENT!"

He could sense the Preeminent recoiling violently at his brash use of her true name rather than the endearing title of "Mother" she was used to him calling her. He could feel her anger beginning to bubble up within her, steadily rising as it grew dangerously close to boiling over. But he paid that no mind. Instead, he pressed on, screaming loudly for every mortal and ghost to hear, "I'M DONE LISTENING TO YOU! I'M DONE WITH YOUR WAYS! I'M DONE FIGHTING FOR THE DARKNESS! AND YOUR CONQUEST IS OVER! YOU'LL NEVER HAVE NINJAGO! I WON'T LET YOU TAKE IT! NOT LIKE HOW YOU TOOK EVERYTHING ELSE AWAY FROM ME!"

Morro, the Preeminent crooned warningly, seeking to charm him even when her anger was seething so severely, no good will come of this. You can be sure of that. You dare to defy me, and you will suffer greatly for it. I will ensure it myself. Now come, my son—tell me that you are not really on the mortals' side. You are my precious one. My favorite. You'd never truly seek to turn against me, now would you?

As she spoke to him through her telepathic influence, he felt his resolve beginning to waver. His guard slowly began to relax. Numbness was already seeping into his veins, and he just wanted to let go, to submit, to give in. But he forced himself to keep moving, to keep backing further and further away from the Preeminent—not enough to lose her, but hopefully enough to stay just out of her reach. "I was never your precious one." he growled in a voice only she could hear. "I was only your pawn—your puppet—your toy—your pet." He spat the last word out as if it were a sour lemon. "And you are not my mother. You never were, and you never will be."

And that's when the Preeminent's patience ran out completely. A horrible, banshee-like shrieking wail rose up all around Morro, piercing the air like a powerfully deadly lightning bolt splitting the sky in two, as the queen of the Cursed Realm made her anger and bitterness and hatred and vengeance known to every ghost within hearing. The scream grated on Morro's ears and set every one of his teeth painfully on edge. It tore through his mind like a hurricane, threatening to tear his lucidity to shreds from its sheer intensity. His scar burned and sizzled like a raging wildfire as the scream grew louder and louder. Clutching frantically at his chest, he doubled over in sheer agony, whimpering softly under his breath, like a puppy who's just been kicked by his master for no reason at all. A sharp cry from half a mile away told him that Cole was suffering from raw misery and anguish just as he was.

But then the screaming began to die away, and he clambered trepidatiously to his feet, his knees knocking together frightfully as he whispered to himself, "That's it." Then he cupped his hands back around his mouth and shifted his feet to bolt as he shouted, "COME AND GET ME! COME ON!"

The Preeminent took to the bait like a sucker fish. As Morro dashed away from her, leaping and bounding from rooftop to rooftop with his Airjitzu and Wind Powers, she lumbered steadily forward, determined to snag him in her tentacles and suck every drop of life out of his miserable ghostly hide. Below Morro, the Ninja scurried frantically about, shuffling every citizen of Stiix they could track down hurriedly towards the small ferries docked near the edge of the village's waters. Lloyd was still nowhere to be found, and as Morro bobbed and weaved and bowed and zipped and zigzagged away from his former mistress—not too close to be snared in her hypnosis, but not too far away to lose her—he could only hope that the Green Ninja was having more success than he was.

But then he realized something. Even as he ran away from the Preeminent, an idea began to form in his mind—an idea of how to defeat her once and for all. It was risky and could have gruesome consequences, but it might be just what the Ninja needed to take down the monstrous beast for good. He took a deep breath and stopped running.

Skidding to a halt on the edge of a rooftop, he waited for the Preeminent to get close to him—close enough to touch his neck, to grab him, to snatch him with her tentacles and crush the breath out of him. A few moments later, a tickling sense of clear, sharp danger raised his hackles as the hairs on the back of his neck rose in fear. A chill then washed over him, and his whole world was shadowed as the Preeminent caught up to him and pounced.

A slimy, sickly green tentacle wrapped itself around his waist, and he was slowly lifted into the air, legs dangling weightlessly as the queen of the Cursed Realm slowly, ever-so-slowly, rotated her big, bulky body and began sloshing through the canals of the village streets towards the open sea. She raised him to where her mouth/portal was, holding him inches away from the slimy part of her that less-observant ghosts might call her face. Desperately, his mind surged with panic, and his breath caught in his throat as his defensive reflexes kicked into overdrive. His whole body thrashed and writhed and wriggled and squirmed instinctively, his nerves screaming with pain and terror, his muscles tensing, his core pounding like a skittishly beating heartthrob. Tightness gripped his chest and squeezed hard as he kicked and tussled frantically in the tentacle's grasp, struggling to calm himself even as his mind and body protested, wrestling for every breath and every heartbeat. Just a little longer, he thought, seeing the ocean coming closer and closer as the Preeminent lumbered farther and farther away from shore.

You think you can defy me?! the Preeminent screeched indignantly in his mind. You have no idea who you're messing with! And now you will watch your precious Ninja friends fall—before I crush every last shred of light and life in your pitiful soul!

Though his mind screamed, NO! NO!, though his body lashed out in terror and sheer survival mode, he felt a strange sense of calm in his core. No matter what would happen to him, whether he lived or died tonight, he would do so knowing he had done the right thing. But then a horribly acrid-sounding rasping noise caused his ears to tingle and his head to ache horrendously. A shockwave of blue-white power then shuddered up the Preeminent's whole ugly mass, and a few seconds later, a tingling, sizzling sensation greeted Morro's senses as he realized what had just happened.

Lloyd had freed his father—and the two of them had escaped with the Realm Crystal. The power of the stone had just created a shockwave so powerful, it was scathing and scalding the Preeminent from the inside out.

The mental scream that erupted from the Preeminent was explosive. Morro couldn't cover his ears with his arms pinned to his sides, so he simply gritted his teeth and waited achingly for the cry to waft away.

TRAITOR! the Preeminent screamed in Morro's mind. YOU GAVE THAT GREEN USURPER THE REALM CRYSTAL! YOU DECEIVED ME!

His ears rang aggressively, and his eyes began to water with specter-tears once again as she continued to rant, YOU WILL PAY FOR YOUR INSUBORDINATION, WEAKLING! FOR I WILL DRAIN YOUR CORE UNTIL THERE IS NOTHING LEFT BUT AN EMPTY SHELL!

Before he could even let out a scream, the Preeminent's grip tightened, almost crushing him. Weakness and dizziness began washing over him in waves of drowsiness, as his former mistress began to sap away his core, crushing him in her grasp. His eyelids drooped uncontrollably, and his head felt heavy and faint, lolling around limply on his shoulders like a rag doll. His whole frame began to sag forward, and he slumped downward in her grasp as he slowly grew weaker and weaker.

The draining of his core was already beginning to take its deadly toll. Melancholy and languidness filled his spirit as he laid his head wearily on her tentacle, exhausted, drained, his strength slowly sapping away from him. He closed his eyes, feeling a cozy, warm sleepy darkness and oblivion beginning to press down on him, his very life beginning to slip away.

But the Preeminent wouldn't let him go so peacefully. Even as his alertness began to fade and his thrashings began to be stilled, he heard accusing whispers in his mind, biting and piercing his spirit with all the sting of a whiplash.

WEAK! PITIFUL! TRAITOR! PET! The words echoed painfully over and over again in his mind. He was beginning to feel miserable and forlorn as the echoes grew louder and louder and he slowly succumbed to the Preeminent's power. With a final squeeze, the Preeminent leaned in closely to Morro and hissed mentally, You could have been the Green Ninja. But you threw it all away like the shrimpy, spineless child you are. You could have been great—but now you will die like the coward you have always been!

Then, just as Morro was going to count himself lost, something happened. Deep within the recesses of his swiftly-darkening mind, a memory flickered in the back of his subconscious.

"I wouldn't leave you behind because you looked just as trapped and helpless as I was. I looked at you, and I saw myself."

And that's when Morro took a shaky, ragged breath and whispered, his breathless voice now little more than a slushy slur as even his transparent frame began to fade away, flickering in and out of focus like the coil of a dying lightbulb, "You're wrong. I was never meant to be the Green Ninja. I was meant to be his protector. Lloyd is not a usurper. He was the heir all along. He is the one worthy of the power—not me."

And then he closed his eyes and sighed, stirring a little in the tentacle's grasp before he felt his body going numb and his mind beginning to descend into the depths of a deep, dark, long sleep. But before his consciousness could slip away entirely, something happened.

A tingling pulse of golden warmth began to unfold and blossom inside of him, like a fiery bloom of purest phoenix light. It started at his heart and then began to trickle soothingly through his veins as it slowly uncurled and spread to his entire body. Currents of hidden strength and wondrous warmth circulated through his numb joints, his lifeless limbs, his limp muscles and still nerves. A strange thumping noise made him twitch slightly in surprise, before he realized exactly what it was.

It was a heartbeat.

It was his core, ringing out with mighty power and sheer vigor.

Energy and warmth and feeling began to seep back into him, the strength the Preeminent had leached out of his being swiftly returning. Mental waves of confusion could be felt emanating from the Preeminent's bewildered mind as all the life she had sucked out of Morro's core suddenly came rushing back into his veins. She tried to stem the flow, tried to stop the beating that was growing louder and faster by the moment, but she couldn't.

And as Morro's eyes opened, vitality already beginning to ebb back into his frame, he felt a hidden might buried deep within his core—always there, yet unable to be harnessed before now—awakening. It swelled within his core, gently rising within him, begging and pleading and imploring him to grab hold of it and unleash the power within his spirit—his True Potential.

And in that moment, as his eyes began to pulse and glow and shine with a brilliant silver light and his entire frame—transparent though it was—glimmered and glistened with a silver-and-green aura, he concentrated hard, caught the power in his mind as if it were a delicate butterfly or an orb of light cupped in his hands, and then unleashed it.

With a wolfish howl of victory and zealous courage, he rose upward in a cataclysm of power. Currents of Wind Power shot out from his outstretched hands, surging and swirling all around him in a whirlwind of sheer might and hidden strength, pushing back the Preeminent with all the force of life and love and light in his body. Silver rays like that of full moon's light twisted into threads of energy, meshing and weaving and intertwining with the gusts of mighty wind so that it seemed like he was surrounded on all sides by a glistening, swirling sea of silver and emerald as he rose swiftly higher and higher. A tickle of warmth began to flow soothingly into his chest, driving away the chill, calming the storm within him, gently and tenderly filling the dismal void until it was completely gone, slowly mending his wounded spirit until nought but a thin, wiry scar remained.

And as he raised his head upward, gazing up in wonder at the stars above, the mighty winds continuing to circle around him, their energy circulating through him as if the full strength of his Elemental Power had been locked within him all along, he couldn't help but let out a giddy giggle of sheer joy and laughter and childlike enthusiasm. He felt so free and alert and aware and awake and alive—more alive than he'd felt in decades.

Now there was nothing to hold him back from becoming who he was meant to be.

A protector of the Green Ninja.

Not just the Master of Wind.

Not just an Elemental.

But a brother and a friend to the chosen one.

His reverie could have gone on for ages—but when he spotted the sea below him begin to bubble and gurgle noisily, he sucked in a sharp breath, fearing that some monster was going to rise out of the deep to take every mortal down. It took a few moments for him to realize that it was something even worse.

For what began to rise out of the depths of the sea then was a huge wave as big as a mountain and as powerful as a tsunami. The crest of the wave cast a vast, dark shadow over everything as it steadily grew larger and higher and broader by the second.

And that's when Morro realized he was right in its path. Without a moment to lose, he thrust his arms upward instinctively before twisting in midair in the movements needed to activate Airjitzu. Then he channeled every drop of his True Potential into boosting his Airjitzu tornado's natural speed and strength. As the wave began to reach its peak, he feared he might not make it above the crest in time. And if that wave hit him head-on, he'd been dead in the water instantly.

His core pounded in his chest like a clanging, frantically thumping heartbeat as he half-flew, half-thrust himself upward through the sky. Already he could feel the supercharge of his True Potential beginning to wear off. Biting back a scream of fright, he squeezed his eyes shut and pushed his power almost to the breaking point, hoping against hope he'd have enough momentum to get above the wave before it came crashing down on top of those in its wake.

As the wave reached its terminal height and began to descend downward, the crest of the wave lapped at his bare feet, leaving a burning, stinging sensation trickling painfully through his ankles and the soles of his feet. But when he felt he couldn't go any higher, he painstakingly cracked open his eyes and saw that he had miraculously scaled the height of the great wall of water—and just in time. As the wave came crashing back into the ocean it had been born from, all those in its path—any ghosts who were unable to steer out of the way—were caught in its waters, dissolving and disintegrating in frightful agonies and howling, haunting screams of terror.

Even the Preeminent was unable to avoid the massacre of her armies, and her horrified shriek of anguish carried for miles around as she sank deeply into the waves, tentacles flailing helplessly about as she began to drown beneath the depths of the sea. Her suckers grabbed at air, seeking to snatch Morro—the only one of the ghost army who had escaped the wave in time—out of the sky and drag him underneath the waves with her, to where he would descend to a dark, dismal watery grave where he would never be found.

But as Morro's energy surge finally started to ebb away, he used his Airjitzu to do what he could to steer clear of the frantically grasping tentacles still stretching up above the waves. Exhaustion was beginning to creep steadily back into his veins, and his nerves seemed to have been stretched thin before being bunched up into tight little knots within him. He could barely keep his eyes open, and the world was growing fuzzier and blurrier and mistier by the minute.

All of a sudden, his tornado faltered, and his breath hitched in his throat as he unexpectedly dipped downward. Reflexively, he thrust one arm behind him, calling desperately on his Wind Power to push himself forward through the air. A small jet of air burst out of his palm, but it seemed to drain a significant measure of strength just to maintain it. He couldn't help but gulp as he realized the danger he had inadvertently placed himself in.

If his Wind gave out, or if he fell asleep in midair, he would plummet like a stone from the sky and straight into the sea—and a plunge from this height would kill him for sure, even without disintegrating him into a million ghost particles on impact.

As his power blast began to waver and weaken, his mind raced with horror as an image of himself melting into the water with a petrified scream flashed into his thoughts unbidden and unwanted. Panicking, he thrust his other arm back, sending Wind Power emanating from the other palm, before beginning to alternate between his two hands every few minutes, scooping his arms forward in a constant paddling motion—first one arm and then the other—like he was swimming through air. But the longer he strove forward, the weaker and sleepier he seemed to become. And already he was realizing forebodingly that the safety of dry land seemed farther away than he'd anticipated.

He was starting to think his brilliant plan to draw the Preeminent out into the open where she would (hopefully) be more vulnerable to attack and defeat was nothing but a stupid, childish whim as futile and shabby as trying to swim through a pool of lava—and not be fried, crispy, and crunchy from the sheer zillion-degree heat of it. He hadn't even taken into consideration that to let her carry him out there would be to put himself in danger of drowning as well. At least, if he'd faded away entirely, he would have…don't even go that far, Morro! he told himself frantically. You've got to hang on! You've got to hang on to hope and keep moving! You're going to die if you don't! And wishing for death will only make matters worse!

But with the growing mind-numbing weakness was swiftly coming an overwhelming shadow of despair and melancholic agony. Even now, he could hear faint whispers in his semiconscious telling him to simply let go, to give in, to let himself slip silently beneath the churning waves. He tried to remember happy times as a ghost, but the anguish of the whole matter threatened to smother him even as he kept plowing forward. Steadily, his arm movements grew slower and slower—his attempts to get to safety becoming weaker and weaker.

His pace faltered—his resolve began to ebb out of him—his determination to fade—his stamina to dissolve away into the wind as the fight slowly left his consciousness and his wind-blasts morphed into little more than tiny puffs of air…

His alertness began to slip away…his aching muscles to grow limp and senseless…his frazzled nerves to be stilled as he slowly drifted towards the ocean as lightly as the down of a thistle…

And then awareness shot painfully back into his languid, listless frame as a slimy, sickly-green tentacle hooked itself around his right ankle. At the touch of the dismally, frigidly cold suckers latching onto his leg before beginning to drag him downward, a surge of panic welled in his mind, snapping his rapidly weakening alertness fully awake in sheer, raw alarm. And before he could stop himself, he opened his mouth and let loose a frighteningly ear-splitting, nerve-chilling, spine-crackling, bloodcurdling howling wail of, "HELP!"

---

As Nya's whirlpool began to dissipate and the sapphire-and-selkie-silver glow of her True Potential to fade, Lloyd's joyous thoughts at having his father back with him and the Ninja were interrupted by a mind-penetrating, heart-shattering scream of, "HELP!" His head snapped upward so fast he felt a white-hot crick in his neck, and he couldn't help but let out a subtle wince. But as he gazed upward at where the scream echoed from, his heart froze within him as the gravity of the situation hit him like a brick to the head.

Morro was hovering for dear life over the dark and churning sea, his right ankle trapped in the cruel grasp of one of the Preeminent's undissolved tentacles. And from the faintness of Morro's frantic thrashings and the paleness of his pasty-green face, he would lose the battle in moments if someone didn't rescue him—and rescue him fast!

But before he could make a single move, Sensei Wu spotted the wind-wielder clinging to his very life and core with every shred of strength left in his weak and weary frame, and he let out a sharp gasp of horror at the very sight of it.

"Someone get me a boat! Quickly!" he cried out, already rushing to the railing of the ferry he and the other Ninja—including Lloyd and Garmadon—had boarded.

"I want to help too!" Lloyd cried out, rushing forward to join his uncle. Cole (whom the others had fetched not long before) started to move forward himself, but Garmadon barred both of them from following, saying, "No! Let my brother handle this. You two need rest."

"But what about Morro?" Lloyd begged, turning desperately pleading eyes up at his father.

"I said no, and I meant it!" Lloyd's father barked. "I already nearly lost my life tonight—I won't let you lose yours."

Lloyd opened his mouth to protest, but already Master Wu had snagged an empty rowboat and was rowing with all the strength and muscle he could muster towards the rapidly fading, rapidly falling wind-child. All Lloyd could do was watch sadly as the ferry began to sail farther and farther away from where Morro was literally hanging within an inch of his life. He still wanted to help—but how?

---

"Take my hand, Morro. Please!" Morro looked up despairingly to spot Wu—his former master—his father—reaching out his hand towards him. Seeing his sensei, he seemed to find new strength and resolve. His struggle against the chilly, numbing grip holding him fast and pulling him closer and closer to a watery grave intensified. He began to writhe and thrash with renewed strength and vigor. But even as he wrestled with the beast, he could feel a sickening sensation of having his core sucked out of him once again. And this time, he knew that he was not going to escape so easily. The more he struggled, the weaker he became. He was a goner—he just knew it!

Desperately, he wrapped both hands around Wu's wrist so tightly that his knuckles were turning a ghostly pale. He fought to pull himself upward, but he didn't have the strength to do so. He was fading—this time, he feared, for good.

Tightness clawed at his chest. His muscles screamed with pain. He felt as if his right leg was being ripped out of his body—as if his very frame was being torn apart. Prickles of needle-sharp pain shot and surged through the veins of his right ankle, coursing through his heaving chest like a wildfire, penetrating his core with splinters of sheer agonizing anguish and woe—like a dagger of ice slashing through his heart.

The world slowly began to dim all around him, his vision going glassy and foggy, his face streaked with terror as he struggled once again to pull himself out of the tentacle's grasp. But it felt like the last dregs of his energy—of his very life—were being sapped out of his weak and weary and pitiful frame. Darkness blackened the corners of his vision—he faintly heard Lloyd screaming his name in fright—and when he turned his face upward towards Wu, his gaze was stricken with sheer, raw fear.

"I…I can't do it!" he whimpered with a dry sob. "I don't have the strength!" Even as he breathed the last few words in a raspy whisper, he felt that he was beginning to lose consciousness. His head slumped forward limply, and he couldn't bring himself to meet Wu's gaze, both out of weakness and guilt over what he'd done to Lloyd, to the Ninja, even to Sensei.

"No, Morro!" Wu begged, his voice tight and imploring as he pleaded, "Please! Come!"

"I can't!" the wind-child repeated, his voice even more frantic than before. Lloyd's screams were quickly morphing into wails, as he too begged, "No, Morro! Don't give up now! Don't give up the fight!"

"Morro…" Wu kept on imploring. But deep down, Morro knew that it was hopeless. His hands were growing abnormally clammy—his grip was already beginning to slip from Wu's grasp. In raw, animalistic desperation, he clawed at Wu's hand more fiercely than ever, but the last of his strength would all be spent in mere moments.

"I can't!" Morro pleaded yet again, his voice faint and breathless yet stricken with emotion and laced with bitter guilt. "I'm not your student anymore! I'm not worthy to be! What I have done is unforgiveable!"

"That's not true!" Wu replied, his own voice throbbing with desperation and grief. "You're all my beloved students—no matter who you are or what you've done. There is no wrong too great to be forgiven."

Morro tried to answer, but he could barely stay awake now. All he could do was to focus on sucking in one shaky, ragged breath after another. To breathe, he knew, was to live. To sleep was to die. But unconsciousness and eternal slumber were drawing closer and closer by the moment. His time was ticking steadily away, and he only had mere minutes before he succumbed to the embrace of darkness for the last time. His eyelashes twitched and fluttered frightfully as he clung ravenously to whatever reserves of consciousness and strength he had left. But he wouldn't hold out much longer—he was sure of it.

Wu continued, "Please come back with me, Morro. Come back home."

Home—that word was just so wondrous and beautiful to hear, so full of hidden meaning and promise. And it made Morro want to dissolve into a little puddle of tears, knowing it would never be his reality—but only a wispy, elusive dream. A dream he could chase as long as he wanted to, yet never capture and make his own.

"Let me do what I was too afraid to do before." Wu begged. "Let me save you, please. Let me give you another chance."

Another chance? He sounded so sure. A second chance to walk in the light—yet it was only to be in vain.

Morro knew within him, within his very core, that he was fading. He'd been fading for decades now. And now the last of his humanity—of his life—was already slipping away, dissolving in the wind.

But he had to say something before he let go completely, before he let himself be pulled under and sink beneath the waves at last. In one last desperate whisper, he turned his gaze up at Wu and breathed, "You can only save those…who want to be saved."

And as he began to let his grip go slack, he stared deeply into Wu's soulful amber eyes and added, struggling to keep his quivering voice steady, "Goodbye, Sensei."

But before he could release his grip on Wu's hand, he heard a sharp, piercing cry of, "NO! MORRO!" When he turned his head to see who had cried out, out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a green-clad, blond-haired figure clambering up onto the railing of a nearby ferry and without any hesitation or warning, tumbling clean overboard!

"LLOYD!" came the frantic shriek of five young teenagers a second later. That's when it clicked in Morro's mind—Lloyd had just thrown himself headlong into the dark, chilling, churning waves. What was that energy-child thinking? Was he out of his mind? Why would he choose self-destruction so abruptly, so painfully? There was no way he could have survived that tumble—unless…

And that's when his blurry vision caught the sight of a green Airjitzu tornado barreling through the air in his direction.

Hope suddenly sprang up in his heart, and his lip quivered with eager anticipation. Maybe he'd be rescued after all. But then the grip on his leg yanked even harder than before. Even though she was dying, the Preeminent was adamantly determined to drag Morro into the sea where he would die with her in agony and misery and anguish and torment.

Without warning, out of Morro's mouth surged a frantic, frightened scream. The keening wail ripping itself out of his throat seemed to ebb and flow on the tides of the wind as his tortured mind cried out in desperation, Lloyd! Help me!

---

Lloyd's core felt the cry and reacted accordingly. On sheer force of instinct and reflex, Lloyd—hanging suspended in his just-unlocked Airjitzu tornado—snatched the Aeroblade off of his back and flung it across the waves in Morro's direction, hoping against hope that his aim would be true. The sharp sphere-like blade whistled through the air, piercing through the silence like a dagger slashing through bamboo or a sword tearing through spun silk. Morro squeezed his eyes shut, not daring to look.

And then, before anyone could even blink, the blade hit its mark directly. The Preeminent's one remaining tentacle was slashed in two, and Morro shot up over the side of the boat and into Wu's outstretched arms so rapidly the rowboat rocked violently underneath the two of them before slowly settling into a gentle bobbing motion atop the waves. For several seconds, the solid, dry wooden bottom of the boat seemed to cradle Morro in a tender embrace, like a mother gently rocking her baby to sleep as she softly crooned a lullaby in his ear. He blissfully lay there motionless for a few minutes, basking contentedly in the warmth and strength of Wu's battle-toughened, yet soothingly tender arms.

Then his hearing, rapidly growing less foggy and more clarion, caught the all-but-silent splash as Lloyd's tornado vanished into thin air and he went ker-splosh into the water. The wind-wielder sucked in a sharp, fearful breath, sure that Lloyd had just plummeted to his doom. But then, as he strained his ears and trepidatiously held his breath, he could just faintly hear a sloshy scooping of water overhand and underhand and back as Lloyd swam like a fish arm-over-arm through the waves towards the rowboat—before forcefully hoisting himself upward, sopping-wet, dripping and shivering and shaking with chills, over its edge.

A few stray drops of water splashed Morro's hands and face, and he couldn't help but grimace a bit at the sting. But otherwise, he didn't make a single sound. He was just so relieved to be safe and alive that a few drops of liquid agony were hardly something to complain about. He did semiconsciously raise his hand and use his Wind Power to gently yet forcefully blow-dry Lloyd until there wasn't a speck of water left on him, though. And when he opened his eyes a second later, he had to hold back a laugh at the ruffling and tussling his wind-blast had torturously inflicted on Lloyd's previously-soaked blond hair. (To put it lightly, Lloyd's wispy mop looked like he'd just stuck his tongue into a light socket.)

Then he let his eyelids droop silently shut again, and for several seconds, did nothing but soak in the faint sensations all around him that reassured him that he was okay, that he was safe, that he was going to be all right. The comforting solidness of the wood underneath him…the solace of the relative silence and quietness of the air, pierced only by the faint sloshing and rolling of the waves all around…the tender warmth of Master Wu's gentle embrace as he snuggled deeply against his sensei's chest…the faint puffs of air lighting butterfly-soft on Morro's face from Lloyd's exhausted yet steady breathing…

And then he could feel a slight heaviness in his heart as it dawned on him that he might be the only ghost to have survived the Preeminent's drowning. He and Garmadon were more likely than not the only ones to have been banished to that awful, horrifying place and lived to tell about it. His thoughts rested momentarily on each of his…friends? Allies? He wasn't sure what to call them.

Wrayth and Ghoultar, Bansha and Archer. Most likely lost beneath the waves of the stormy sea now.

And in that moment, he felt a slight twinge of guilt for inadvertently having caused their ultimate destruction. But only a twinge. They had indeed been little more than allies to him—and he couldn't really have called them friends when he'd first encountered them, let alone now that they were gone forever.

All the same, he could still feel a whirlwind of thoughts and feelings and questions buzzing and swirling savagely through his mind. But there was one question in particular he needed to be answered—one mystery that still needed to be solved. And as he slowly pried open his eyes and craned his head toward the green-clad energy-child kneeling beside him in the boat, he could feel his lips pursing and scrunching and twitching and quivering uncontrollably as he struggled to find the right words to ask.

But he was so dizzy and dazed and weary and drained still that he could barely speak at all. And when he finally succeeded, he could only choke out one singular, breathless, tearful word. And yet that one solitary word spoke volumes.

"Why?"

---

The faint, almost inaudible question unexpectedly took Lloyd aback. For a few moments, he couldn't seem to find an answer—any sort of answer. His face blanched. His cheeks grew warm. And his mouth twitched uncontrollably as he stammered and murmured incoherent non-answers and gibberish under his breath.

And then it finally clicked how to express himself—how to convey what was buried deep within his heart and mind and core in the most meaningful, most understandable, most heartfelt way possible. Sucking in a shuddery breath, he gently ran his hand through Morro's cool, wispy, surprisingly soft mop of raven-black hair in a gesture of comfort and sympathy before whispering in his ear, "Because it hurt not to."

For a few moments, there was nothing but absolute silence. The very air itself seemed to be stilled. Time seemed to meld into a bleak state of nonexistence. Lloyd began to feel as if he were caught somewhere between dreams and waking. It was just so…quiet. Numb. Devoid of any motion or sound.

And then the world seemed to press in on him all of a sudden when a strange, unexpected, unanticipated sound filled his ears.

It was a sound he'd never once imagined a ghost would be capable of making—let alone if said ghost were Morro.

But here he was—the wind-master, Lloyd's new friend/former enemy making this odd noise.

And that noise was the sound of Morro crying.

His eyes were squeezed tightly shut, and his face looked paler than normal. Specter-tears were pouring continuously down his cheeks like a waterfall. His chest heaved erratically. His lungs seemed to spasm and throb within him, thumping uncontrollably against his rib cage as he shook and shivered and shuddered and trembled like a leaf. Dry sobs were pouring out from between his lips like a flood as he just lay there, crying, crying, crying.

Why was he crying? Was he sick? Was he hurt? Was he feeling guilty?

Lloyd couldn't tell just by looking at him. And he was unsure how to ask.

But then he realized he didn't need to ask. The tears—strangely dry yet poignantly real—were evidence enough that Lloyd had somehow struck a nerve, a chord deep within his heart, sending a pang of sheer emotion rattling and shuddering through his very core.

At the moment, Lloyd couldn't tell whether it was a good thing or a bad thing or a little of both. But what he could tell was that Morro needed a hug desperately. And that is what the Green Ninja moved to give him right then and there.

Lloyd wasn't typically a hugger, but he did make exceptions from time to time. And this was just one of them. Without asking or giving any sort of notice, he gently touched his uncle's arm to signal him to let Morro go just for a moment. Wu, recognizing the silent plea in Lloyd's ruby-mottled jade-green eyes (which seemed to be growing greener and greener by the day), silently let go of the sniffling, sobbing wind-child so Lloyd could wrap his little fifteen-year-old arms around Morro in the biggest, most heartwarming embrace Lloyd could ever remember giving to anyone besides his dad.

---

Morro's primal instinct was to pull away from the unexpected, bizarre feeling of the astonishingly petite Green Ninja wrapping his arms tightly around the wind-wielder's frame, gently stroking his back in soothing, repetitive circular motions and making a strange vibrating noise in the back of his throat, almost as if he was purring. But as the comfort of the energy-child's kind, thoughtful gestures seeped into his weary frame like a warm, fuzzy, cozy cocoon wrapping itself tenderly around him, he found his bunched-up muscles slowly relaxing and his twisted, frenzied nerves slowly unwinding as he snuggled deeper and deeper into Lloyd's embrace. A deep, contented sigh escaped him in a puff of air and just a hint of Wind Power, and the tears began to fade away. He felt so refreshed and peaceful, he could have fallen asleep right there in Lloyd's arms.

So he held the hug, amazed at how such emotion, such tenderness, such compassion and care, could be communicated through simple, wordless touch. And leaning into the embrace, he found brotherly love and concern and deep, penetrating, powerful forgiveness pulsing like a star of purest golden light simply in that one innocent, unrestrained, unabashed touch.

"Thank you." he choked, unsure if he could say anything else.

"You're welcome." Lloyd murmured back, his voice muffled slightly by the fabric of Morro's ghostly green-and-black gi.

Morro had never felt more loved, more alive, in his entire life or afterlife. His little brother had forgiven him—even though what Morro had done to him was unforgiveable and inexcusable.

In that moment, Master Wu's words fluttered unbidden back into his mind—"There is no wrong too great to be forgiven."

Truly, a single act of forgiveness could change everything.

---

As the long night came to an end, and the first rays of dawn began to peek over the horizon, a lone rowboat could be seen approaching a solitary, silently waiting ferry as quietly as a whisper in a dream. Three figures were present in the rowboat, but only one could be seen clearly from faraway as he gently moved the oars back and forth as loudly as he dared, taking care not to splash the other two occupants nestled up fast asleep next to each other on the bottom of the boat.

As the rowboat came steadily closer and closer to the ferry, a not-so-bright-eyed-and-bushy-tailed crimson-clad figure came towards the railing, yawning and stretching his arms upward. He smacked his lips sleepily, rubbing his eyes with one hand to clear the drowsy blurriness from his vision. As he peered out over the water, waiting for the others to awaken from their own peaceful dream-bound states, his gaze caught a glimpse—just a mere glimpse—of the rowboat coming towards the ship. He let out a vibrant, delighted gasp as he suddenly recognized two of the occupants within said rowboat, before rushing back into the cabin of the ship, yelling at the top of his lungs, "Everyone, wake up! Come quick! You've got to see this!"

"What? Huh?" one of his friends slurred sleepily, groggily prying his green-and-black-rimmed ghostly eyelids open. "Wazgoinonhere?"

"Cole! Zane! Nya! Jay! Sensei Garmadon! Misako! Get up! Get up, everyone!" Kai shrieked at the top of his lungs excitedly, shaking everyone awake as he did so. "Wu and Lloyd are back! Wu and Lloyd are back!"

The moment the occupants of the ferry heard that, they were instantly roused to action. Quick as mice, they rolled out of their sleeping bags and were at the side of the ship in a flash, peering in eager anticipation at the sight of the small wooden boat gently coming nearer and nearer to the ferry. The harbor had been chaos after Lloyd had dived overboard, supposedly to his death in the churning waters of the sea, and everyone on the entire team was just itching to see him again. Jay was literally hopping from one foot to the other in impatience. Nya wiggled uncontrollably like a fish from side to side. Zane kept peering out beyond the ship, his gaze taking in everything as he searched desperately for any sign of the boat's occupants. Cole was hanging back a little (still wary about the water and frightened about possibly being splashed), but even he was having a hard time keeping still as he watched and waited and waited and watched. Misako was gripping the railing so tightly her knuckles were turning white, eyes frantically darting back and forth for any sign of her son. Beside her stood an uneasy, slightly pale-looking Garmadon—the one who had experienced the most trouble falling asleep the night before as he brooded worriedly over the fate of his son and at the same time struggled to come to terms with the fact that he was free now—free from the chains binding him deep within the heart of the Cursed Realm.

He had noticed the slight rocking motion of the Preeminent when his son had first materialized within the Cursed Realm yet again—this time with the Realm Crystal and an Aeroblade in tow. But it wasn't until his chains had been slashed asunder by the blade and he'd sunk wearily into a heap on the slimy, mucky ground that it truly sank into him what was happening.

One—the Preeminent was losing the battle. And two—he was being freed from captivity at last. By his own son, no less. The one he thought he was about to lose forever. The one he hoped against hope he had not lost forever now.

He'd been severely weakened by his imprisonment in the Cursed Realm and was struggling hard to even stay on his feet. It had been a fight to stay awake and alert as Lloyd gently, cautiously guided him out of the prisons and into the open before activating the Realm Crystal and getting them both out of that nightmarish realm for good.

Yet Garmadon still had no idea why the hideous monster that was both queen and the physical manifestation of the hauntingly horrid realm had left him unmarked by ghostly green. And he had the sneaky suspicion that he'd never find out. But if he had to guess, he had a hunch that the Preeminent was trying to make him suffer more by holding him in constant suspense rather than getting it over with immediately—and that she'd been planning to transform him only after she had spread her power to the remaining realms and become the system's ruler. Thank goodness she hadn't even gotten that far—otherwise Garmadon might not have lasted as long as he had.

All the same, he was overjoyed not only that his son had come back to him, but that now he had a chance to escape before it was too late. He had been more than a little bewildered, though, when Lloyd had hurriedly explained that Morro had been the one to give him the Realm Crystal and obtain the Aeroblade for him. After the myriad taunting jibes the bitter, vengeful shade had dealt him (many of which he didn't feel comfortable conveying to his young son), he hadn't been expecting this same shade to turn over a new leaf all of a sudden. And the reasons why Morro had changed were still lost to him. Gripping the Realm Crystal tightly in his hands as he stood at the railing, he supposed silently that he'd simply have to ask Lloyd for the whole story later.

If Lloyd had indeed survived his plunge overboard.

As the rowboat pulled up alongside the ferry, the former Dark Lord couldn't stand the suspense any longer. He took a few steps closer to the edge of the railing and peered over. The sun was so brilliantly bright—almost blinding him with its brilliance and brightness—that it was difficult for Garmadon to make out anything at all, let alone any sign or clue of his son's whereabouts. But as he squinted fiercely into the light, his heart gave a great leap of joy as he saw a green-clad figure curled up fast asleep, nuzzled closely to a ghostly teenage boy who was also snoozing peacefully in the bottom of the boat. Beside the two sleepers sat an old, wise ninja master with a very distinctive long, white beard and tan bamboo flat-brimmed hat. That's when the tears began to spring to Garmadon's eyes. Tears both of relief and of joy.

For the three figures that Garmadon was seeing were none other than his son, his adopted nephew, and his brother.

Lloyd, Morro, and Wu had all disappeared the night before—and had returned to the team alive.

---

"Morro." The soft, boyish voice gently lapped at the ghost's dream-bound consciousness as he felt a slight shaking sensation. He stirred sleepily, but he did not open his eyes. Not yet. He was still feeling very drowsy and dreamy and relaxed. And he wasn't quite ready to return to the waking world yet. He let out a soft sigh and snuggled deeper into the beautiful sleepiness and soothing dream-cocoon that held him in its warm, tender embrace.

The shaking came again a second later, followed by a playful yet forceful poke in the ribs and a louder whisper than before—"Morro. Wake up. Wake up, sleepyhead." With a soft moan and a breathy yawn, Morro finally caved and groggily forced his stubbornly shut eyes to open, feeling for all the realms as if his eyelids were Deepstone-weighted.

Another yawn escaped him as his blurry vision was greeted by stabbing pinpricks of whitish-yellow sunlight and he slurred sleepily, "It's morning?" He then turned his gaze, craning his head around to see Lloyd kneeling beside him, hands poised and prepared to shake him again.

"Uh-huh." Lloyd murmured, looking slightly more awake than Morro was, but still rather half-asleep and lethargically snoozy. His eyes were half-lidded, and a loud, long yawn escaped the Green Ninja before he could hold it back. "Long night." he added, half to himself. "Loooonnnnngggg night."

"A—yawn—greed." Morro replied, pulling himself drowsily upright into a slight sitting position, letting his head rest against a coil of rope someone had left in the back of the rowboat. The boat bobbed gently up and down on the tide, bumping with a soft thunk-thunk-thunk against the side of the much bigger, much taller ferry beside it.

"Well now." a gentle voice ringing with wisdom and authority ventured. "Looks like the two sleepers have finally awoken on this fine morning. Lloyd, what have I told you about evil never sleeping?" the voice added with a note of teasing, cheeky mirth in his tone.

"Morning, Master Wu." Lloyd huffed back at him with just a chord of mock annoyance in his voice.

"Yeah, morning, Master Wu." Morro echoed tiredly, still waking up from his deep, healing slumber the night before. After he and Lloyd had hugged each other for several moments the previous midnight, the two had pulled away slightly sorrowfully before laying on their backs and gazing up at the stars in complete, ethereal silence. Neither one of them had ventured to speak for several moments after that. To be honest, neither one had had much to say. Both of their minds had been racing with their own individual thoughts, and there hadn't been much to talk about anyway. The Preeminent had been defeated—Morro had been saved from a dark and dismal death—Garmadon had been rescued—and, surreal as it seemed, Ninjago had been restored to its natural state. But even without speaking in words, it seemed that they both had the exact same question.

What now?

Eventually, the two had found that the night's events were taking their toll on both of them—as it had already on Master Wu, who'd nodded off not more than an hour after the harbor had gone dark and everyone else had been beckoned away from the waking world. Within three hours, Lloyd and Morro had both found themselves being tenderly lulled into a deep, tranquil, healing sleep by the celestial, bell-like song of the stars in their courses above them and the soothing, serene swirling and splashing of the sea-surf around them. Snuggling closely to each other for warmth, first one and then the other had silently drifted off to peaceful slumber, benevolently drawn away from the waking world underneath the silver rays of full moon's light.

Now the morning had come, and the worries and questions of last night's soundless musings were beginning to flood back into the Green Ninja's and wind-wielder's minds alike. What were they going to do now that the Preeminent—and the Cursed Realm—had both been destroyed? More to the point, would the others ever accept Morro as one of their own—considering how all of what had happened within the last month had been entirely his fault?

Lloyd had forgiven Morro—that much was clear. And Wu was clearly open to having Morro be one of his students again. But what about the others? How would they respond to having the redeemed wind-master on their team? How would they react? Would they be welcoming? Apathetic? Or downright resentful?

Unfortunately, the question was no longer avoidable. Morro knew within his core that the next few moments and what happened in them would directly determine his fate for the future. So he resolved to be prepared for whatever that fate would be. Whether he stayed or whether he went, he'd be ready for anything.

Morro was so engrossed in his own thoughts that he barely noticed the rope ladder dropping down to meet him and his companions. As Master Wu clambered up it, sprier than he appeared at first glance, Lloyd touched Morro's shoulder reassuringly, sending a silent signal that no matter what happened next, they'd always be both brothers and friends. Morro smiled weakly, still struggling to process that he was here—that he was alive.

More than that—he'd been healed. As Lloyd shimmied up the ladder himself, Morro spent a few seconds simply basking in the warm feeling of being completely renewed—rejuvenated—made whole—healed.

Having his core all but fully drained from him twice had put much stress on his strength. For the few hours that he'd managed to stay alert before gently falling asleep, he'd still felt slightly dazed and dizzy and weak and drowsy all at once. His core had been badly damaged by the tumultuous trauma of being almost completely sapped out of him not just once but twice, and he knew that it could take hours, perhaps even days, for it to fully be restored.

And yet now—he felt as if it had never been injured or strained at all. More than that, he felt as if his innermost being, once broken and weakened and shattered, had been mended and knit back together even stronger than ever before.

He felt as if the emptiness that had once possessed him had been filled with the power of true, self-sacrificial, brotherly love, casting out all his fear, shining through the darkness that had once held him trapped in its cruel, chilling embrace.

Pulling himself out of his silent reverie, he turned his face upward and proceeded to scale the ladder as quickly as he dared. When he pulled himself over the edge of the boat, he was dumbstruck when a sea of cheering Ninja suddenly rushed over to him, crying his name in enthusiasm and excitement and great relief, and engulfed him in the biggest dog-pile he'd ever been held in. Suddenly recalling how frightfully claustrophobic he was, he let out a startled squawk of, "Um, guys, air? Please?"

"What's wrong, Morro? Can't take a little exposure therapy?!" Kai teased, the grin on his face clearly conveying that he was enjoying watching Morro squirm.

"It's not that!" Morro protested, his breaths growing dangerously short and sharp and strangled. "I can't breathe, Kai! You're squashing me!"

"All right, all right." Jay exclaimed, and the others murmured their agreement before rolling off of Morro and letting him clamber to his feet. As Morro was brushing himself off, he started to feel a little overwhelmed by all the attention the Ninja were giving him. He felt a little like an exhibit in a museum the way they were gawking at him. He'd just never had so many…mortals staring at him like that.

But his awkwardness was confounded even more when Garmadon, tightly gripping Misako's shoulder for support, silently stepped forward, looking Morro up and down intently, taking in every tatter of his clothing and every tussled hair in his shaggy mop. The man's gaze lingered for several seconds on his emerald-green hair streak especially, and Morro felt his stomach tying into knots from the intensity of Garmadon's gaze. Guilt started to seep into his spirit as all the nasty insults and taunts he'd thrown in the sensei's direction suddenly came flooding back to him. He just wanted to curl up in the deepest, darkest hole in all of Ninjago and never come out again.

Then he let out a sickening gulp as Garmadon stopped checking him over and slowly staggered forward to meet him. His hands began to tremor convulsively, and he ducked his head in sheer, gripping fright, fully expecting the former Dark Lord to sock him straight into the ocean.

He flinched at the sudden touch of Lloyd's hand on his ghostly arm, and he looked deeply into the energy-wielder's eyes to see a silent message of, "We're all in this together—we're going to be all right." Seeing that Lloyd was behind him all the way, he gave a thin, wry smile and turned back to face Garmadon, still ducking his head slightly, not wanting to meet his piercing gaze.

He squeezed his eyes shut tight, bracing himself mentally for the blow he was sure was coming. Imagine his shock when instead of being slugged into the water, he was abruptly enveloped in a rather brutal bear hug that all but crushed the breath out of him. After a few seconds, he was able to let go of his initial shock, melting refreshingly into the loving embrace, whispering in Garmadon's ear so only he could hear, "I'm sorry—for everything I said to you."

"Fear not, Morro." Garmadon breathed back. "All is forgiven." Then he gently pulled away, gazing fondly at the wind-wielder as he added, "Thank you for bringing my son back alive. Thank you for keeping him safe."

"You're welcome." Morro choked out, unable to say anything else. Specter-tears pooling in his eyes once again, he slowly eased out of Garmadon's grip and smiled at everyone watching the moment unfolding before their eyes.

"Morro?" Wu ventured, gesturing kindly for Morro to step forward. Morro understood and complied, stepping forward to face Wu respectively.

"Yes?" he asked, wondering where this was going.

"I would like nothing better than to have you back as my student." Wu explained. "And the Ninja have all agreed that you should be given a chance to be a member of the team. But the choice is yours, Morro. Would you like to become a Ninja? To defend Ninjago as one of our own?"

Morro's lip quivered with emotion. He didn't know what to say. He just wanted to laugh and sing and cry all at the same time. At last—at long last—he could have a home and a family again.

"I…" he stammered, flushing with awkwardness and wonder all at once. "I'd love to."

A great cheer of excitement rose up all around at the prospect of having gained not just one but two new members of the team—all in one day. Even Morro couldn't help but feel excited. With the Ninja at his side, what could possibly go wrong?

Then Jay—chatterbox as per usual—suddenly piped up, "Hey, you know what we should do?" Not waiting for an answer, he went on jabbering, "We should have a 'Welcome to the Team' party for Morro! Zane could make one of his specials, I could give Morro a tour of the Bounty, Cole could do karaoke…" He went on, but his words were utterly lost on Morro, who was starting to feel a little overwhelmed again by all the attention. A strange fluttering sensation was rising up in his stomach, and he began to feel oddly dizzy and lightheaded again. His eyelashes flittered uncontrollably as the world began to meld into a fuzzy kaleidoscope of bright colors all around him. But no one seemed to notice that he was feeling a little faint all of a sudden.

Then Kai's voice boomed in his rapidly blurring hearing as the Fire Ninja exclaimed, "I, for one, am going to love having a wind-wielder as my brother! I mean, who else can honestly say, 'Hey, I've got two ghosts for sibling buddies'?"

"Si-sibling buddies?" Morro stammered woozily, his mind beginning to dissolve into a slushy slur of fatigue as his legs grew weirdly wobbly underneath him. His breathing grew thin and wispy as his senses melded and blurred together into a strange semiconsciousness.

Then Lloyd pushed his wooziness to the tipping point when he clapped a hand on Morro's shoulder and exclaimed loudly, "And that's not the best part! You and I won't just be brothers—we'll be cousins!"

"Cousins?!" Morro squawked unexpectedly—before his eyes rolled into the back of his head, and he fainted dead away. (Again, no pun intended.)

---

Had Misako not caught him, he would have literally hit the deck right then and there. Lowering him much more gently to the ground, Misako shot the Ninja a pointed look, and Kai and Jay simultaneously muttered, "Sorry." underneath their breaths. Lloyd, on the other hand, fell to his knees, exclaiming in alarm, "Is he gonna be all right, Dad?" as he gazed up worriedly at his father. (He'd never seen a ghost faint before, and it panicked him immensely.)

Garmadon took one look at the snoozing Morro and answered, "I'm sure he'll be just fine. It may take a bit for him to process all this, but I think in a day or two, he'll be right as rain again—and no mistake about it."

"That—that's good." Lloyd stammered, his own eyes all but falling shut as he knelt there. His father, recognizing that his son was more exhausted than he was letting on, also got to his knees and laid a hand gently on Lloyd's shoulder.

"Come on, son." he breathed. "Let's go home."

"Home." Lloyd moaned wistfully—before letting out a yawn and snuggling deeply into his father's open arms. Who could have imagined how excited he felt in that moment to be able to truly say, "The best way to defeat your enemy…is to make him your friend."

For now Morro was truly his friend. More than that…

Morro was his own brother.

At long last, he knew deep within his core that he could welcome Morro into his life and family because it didn't hurt anymore. And he would indeed welcome Morro with open arms all because it hurt not to.

THE END