So here's the Nya-in-the-Underworld headcanon that no one asked for! I guess we never did get to see what she was up to while Kai was failing that training course :p
Oh! By the way. For the purpose of this story and my general HC, it took roughly 2 weeks for the ninja to find the Golden Weapons. So, Nya's in the Underworld for about that long. I'm not sure if the actual length of time was ever confirmed, so I shall manipulate it in my favor!
God knows Ninjago was never the best with timelines . . .
oOo
Sometimes, when Nya was younger, she read stories about places like this. Dark, lonesome places, hidden away. Places where all the monsters live.
She's read a lot of fairy tales. Lots of fiction. Some nonfiction, even. She read novels and binged documentaries and sneakily studied texts Walter told her not to touch.
But that's the funny thing about stories. There's always that intangible, defined boundary between them and real life.
Books are supposed to be entertaining while real life is boring and repetitive. That's what Nya always assumed, anyway.
And now she's in the Underworld. A place typically dramatized in the occasional campfire tale. Grown-ups tell stories about the Underworld like it's a demonized North Pole.
Just a story.
Nya had never even considered that this place might be real. But here she is, sitting in a tiny cell, very much in the Underworld.
Not that she's actually locked in. In fact, the door is wide open. She could walk out any time she wants.
Samukai led her there and said, "This is where you sleep, for now. Explore all you want, but if you disturb Lord Garmadon, it's your funeral."
Normally, Nya's curiosity would have her weaving in and out of every passageway, ducking into every corner. But she's not that naive. She knows this whole situation is very, very bad.
This is no time for exploring. She needs to be plotting a mutiny. An escape. A riot.
A clumsy Skulkin has been assigned to track her down every so often and deposit some sustenance in her cell. Nya wouldn't exactly call it food. The lumpy mixture is downright unidentifiable.
The first day, she pokes at it. Tests it out. It tastes like the mud pies she used to make as a little kid.
After that, Nya accepts the fact that her stomach is going to growl a lot and she's just going to ignore it. Hopefully she's not down here long enough to starve or something.
She did manage to steal a fork (jaggedly carved from chipped stone), so she starts scratching lines into the wall for every day that drags by.
"Days" used loosely, of course. Nya can't see the sun down here, and there surely aren't any clocks. She keeps track of how often the skeleton brings her a "meal." They're spaced out quite a bit, but by the time she's received two, Nya's usually feeling tired.
So far, she's up to three days.
Three days.
Three whole days trapped in some alternate dimension, waiting for something to happen.
Nya tries to fill the hours with consistent attempts to wrap her head around the escalating horror her life has become.
Lord Garmadon. Skulkin. Underworld. Golden Weapons. And somewhere in between, Nya and her dork of a brother?
It's headache material. All of it.
For the first couple days, Nya does a lot of doubting and panicking and pacing. She sleeps very minimally. Anxiety gnaws at the base of her skull, threatening consumption.
No books, no tools, no music, no brother . . .
No brother.
That's probably the hardest part. Nya swings back and forth between putting Kai out of her mind, and reminding herself that Kai will be coming to find her. It's a delicate balance. She's inherited much of her brother's pessimism.
But—if he was the one who got abducted by some dictator's skeleton army, Nya would sure as heck come after him. There's no way Kai is sitting at home right now.
All she has to do is wait.
But three days crawled by. Nya isn't entirely convinced that she hasn't been down here a week already. Maybe—maybe her methods are faulty. They're definitely flawed. You know—what if she sleeps more than she thinks? What if her whole internal clock is off?
Impatience. Runs in the family.
The Skulkin, somewhat shockingly, don't bother her. Consequently, Nya doesn't bother them. They don't seem to be very concerned with her, which is gratifying.
Less gratifying is the fact that they seem entirely unthreatened by her.
Ugh. She's not losing her marbles, not yet. But—Nya's just confused about what's going on. And how she fits into it.
On day five, Nya grows impossibly restless. Her joints ache from lack of movement, coupled with the uncomfortable ground. She can't sit around anymore.
Nya tries occupying herself with gymnastics. The cell is small, but she wouldn't dare be caught tumbling around in the halls. Besides, there's enough space to turn a decent cartwheel. Maybe land a well-aimed somersault.
She can almost do a front flip. Backflips are still out of the question, but with enough practice, she'll be practically unstoppable.
Although, Nya doubts she can cartwheel her way out of the Underworld.
Her curiosity regains some life as the days go by. If there's one thing Nya hates, it's being kept out of the loop. When an opportunity for information comes along, she's prepared to pounce.
It's during a fierce cartwheeling session that her assigned Skulkin (Kruncha—the names here are outrageous), wanders in, bearing a bowl of . . . something steaming.
Nya's in the middle of an impressive round-off and her foot makes contact with Kruncha's head. There's a jolting smack.
"Gah—sorry!" says Nya, straightening. She's not trying to get on anyone's bad side, not yet. "Didn't see you."
Kruncha twists his head back into the forward-facing position and mutters something like "occupational hazard."
He sets the bowl down and turns to leave, rubbing his neck. Usually Nya lets him go, but today the idea-lightbulb is lit.
"Wait," she calls.
The Skulkin freezes in the doorway, one foot still poised in midair.
Nya approaches him slowly. Maybe they're not supposed to engage with prisoners. Maybe Samukai is the only Skulkin capable of speaking. Maybe—
"What," says Kruncha, peering at her dubiously.
Nya swallows. "I just, uh . . . I was wondering . . . what you know about the Golden Weapons?"
Kruncha's knobby shoulders go rigid.
"The—the golden what, I dunno about any golden—"
"Hey, you can tell me! I'm a prisoner, remember?" Nya gestures to her surroundings. "I'm not gonna tell anybody."
Kruncha considers this, then raises a brow bone at her. "Why d'you care?"
Nya falters. "Wha—because—apparently they have something to do with me. And I—I think I deserve to know why I'm here."
Kruncha grumbles a sigh but turns around to face her fully. "Lord Garmadon is trapped here, in the Underworld. Banished. He cannot retrieve the weapons alone."
"Okay . . ."
"He sent us to find the map."
"What map?"
"The map to the Golden Weapons!"
Nya doesn't remember anything about a map. There's a glaring chunk of missing information in her brain. An empty spot in the puzzle. Maybe—did Garmadon mention a map? Was she tuning him out?
"The one hidden in the sign, right on your house." Kruncha sounds skeptical, like she's messing with him. Like she should know all this.
"What?"
Their sign—had a map. To the Golden Weapons.
The whole time? Her entire life?
Kruncha growls at her. "Why else would we enter the human realm? A joyride through your insulting terrain?"
Nya's head is spinning.
Their shop is called Four Weapons. There are four Golden Weapons.
The map was hidden on their property all along. This was probably always going to happen, one way or another. This Lord Garmadon would've shown up eventually.
So many missing pieces, so many concerns.
"Anyhow," Kruncha continues, frustrated. "The Sword of Fire is guarded somewhere inside the Fire Temple. Lord Garmadon plans to lure Wu's team there to retrieve it."
Wu . . . Sword of Fire . . . Fire Temple?
New words, new questions. Lots of fire, apparently—
"You're the bait, in case that wasn't obvious by now."
Kruncha slips out the door without a backwards glance, like he's afraid someone will spot him chatting with her.
Nya hardly notices him going. She has to support herself against the wall as her knees fight to keep her upright.
Wu.
That name scratches an itch in her brain. She knows that name . . .
A memory unearths itself.
Sensei Wu! Your Spinjitzu looks rusty.
The words echo like a gong, clanging louder and louder until she remembers.
Right before the tower fell—before she was yanked from the yard—
Samukai is saying the words, spitting them out maliciously. The memory wobbles uncertainly.
The golden tornado . . .
The old man is Wu? He has a team? He—
Nya sits down, grinding her palms against both temples. Can humans spontaneously combust from information overload? Has that ever happened? Maybe she'll be the first.
Things are sliding into place and Nya hates it.
She eyes the bowl of food, still sitting where Kruncha left it. Her stomach gives an angry growl, but Nya just grimaces.
Dark, worrisome thoughts start to creep their way into Nya's conscience. She recognizes them and leaps to her feet again, launching into another cartwheel.
Distractions. They worked after the whole thing at Walter's house, and they'll work again.
She's just gotta wait till Kai comes and drags her out of here. It's gonna be fine. This'll all make sense and it'll be fine.
oOo
Seven days.
A whole week, and Nya's still trapped in the Underworld.
A week is too long.
Kai should've been here by now. What's taking so long? Something must've happened. Maybe—Lord Garmadon decided to go with a different plan. Maybe he's stealing the Weapons right this second, and he doesn't need her, and they're gonna—
Nya inhales a shuddering breath, pressing her back against the wall.
Chill. Don't get ahead of yourself . . .
But she's sick of dark caverns and shadowy crevices and huge, gaping atriums full of skeletons and overgrown arachnids. Cold stone and hard surfaces, not even a stupid blanket . . .
There's no sense of time, no sun, no sky. When Nya looks up, all she sees is solid rock, stretching into eternal darkness above. She's hungry and tired and can't find warmth no matter how tightly she curls into herself.
It's miserable.
Nya's starting to feel claustrophobic, too, like the darkness is alive. It's closing in from all sides, waiting to drown her.
She misses the bright autumn palette of Ignacia and the blankets on her bed at home. She misses the fire in the forge and Kai's proud smile when she hammers out another perfect weapon.
She just misses Kai.
For the first time since she got here, Nya cries.
The Skulkin have retreated into their nooks and crannies for the "night," and Nya doesn't know what to do with all this fear. All this loneliness. She tucks into the corner and sobs, flinching as the sound echoes dismally.
This feeling is crushing her. Nya strains, reaching for anger. There's always anger, anger is stronger than fear, she's used to anger—
Oh no.
She can't find it.
She can't find the anger.
There's no anger, why can't she find it—
Nya's breath quickens with the sharp emergence of panic. The room spins, tilting and swaying. She's trapped, she hates feeling trapped, almost as much as she hates feeling—
Helpless.
Something sinister rises from the depths of repressed memories, and suddenly Nya is a little kid again. She's eight and her back is pressed against the door.
And somewhere on the other side of that door, Liam is hurting her brother and she knows it, but she's too scared to move. So she turns the music up on Kai's old MP3 player and shoves the earbuds in, trembling as that old Beach Boys song blares.
Don't worry baby (Don't worry baby)
Everything will turn out alright
(Don't worry baby) Don't worry baby . . .
Nya mouths the lyrics, shrinking into herself.
What's she gonna do, barge into Garmadon's throne room and take him down single-handedly? She doesn't stand a chance. And she couldn't escape even if she knew how. She entered the Underworld on one of those vehicles, and she'd probably need one to get out.
Nya's out of options here.
Kai's coming. Just gotta be patient.
She's not stuck here forever. No way.
That night is a long one. She doesn't sleep.
To combat the boredom (at the very least), Nya keeps practicing every gymnastics move she can think of. Sometimes she invents new ones, just to stay busy. Soon, she perfects her front flip and even makes progress toward a backflip.
Well—after acquiring a wild amount of scrapes and bruises. She's used to practicing on the grass, not a perilous stone surface.
Eventually, Nya gathers the resolve to follow Kruncha around and try for some conversation. As the days go by, he seems to form a tolerance of her. He lets her sit in the workspace where the Skulkin fix their vehicles and build contraptions.
Their techniques are primitive at best, and Nya fights the urge to point out errors. These are the bad guys, after all. She's not helping them.
As time inches forward, Nya's mood plummets significantly. Before, she'd been content to hold onto hope. Repeat her mantras and reassure herself. But now . . .
Nya prepares for the worst. She may as well get used to being down here.
What if the Skulkin did something to Kai? What if he's not coming, what if he's—
She tries to block those fears out to her best ability, but there are too many cracks in her defenses. Without any anger to latch onto, Nya's feeling the full depth of her discouragement. She feels unstable.
And for good measure, she probably looks terrible. Covered in all variations of dirt and bruises, unwashed hair, dusty clothes . . .
Nya's just settling into a numb routine when, one day, Kruncha invades her cell and yanks her out with no explanation.
"Hey—where are we going?" Nya demands, stumbling along.
"Lord Garmadon requested an audience with you right away."
Lord Garmadon?
Oh. Oh no.
Is this it? They're finally gonna get rid of her. This is her execution, she's never gonna see her brother again, she's never gonna see Ignacia again—
Briefly, Nya considers dismembering Kruncha and making a break for it. But where would she go? They'd find her eventually.
She's seconds away from a meltdown when they stop in the middle of a corridor.
Odd. She thought something as ceremonial as an execution would take place in the throne room, or the atrium, but—
There's Garmadon.
Nya freezes, seeing all thirteen years of her life blink through her memory in rapid succession.
Kruncha releases her wrist, giving her a little shove. "Good luck," he grumbles sarcastically.
Nya shoots him a glare, and in that same second, Garmadon wraps an arm around her shoulders. Her muscles go taut like stretched rubber bands.
"Let's take a walk," he says in that low, smooth way of his.
When he moves, Nya has no choice but to go with him, up against his side as she is.
"It's time I was honest with you," Garmadon sighs. "I suppose it's only fair."
Nya swallows. A spark of her old anger flickers to life. She's dead anyway, right?
"I was dragged here against my will. Nothing about this is fair."
There's the fury! Gratefully—almost delightfully—Nya wraps herself in it.
Garmadon is eyeing her, looking vaguely amused. "Hmm. What if I were to tell you what your role is in all of this?"
"You did. I'm bait, remember?"
"Naïve little thing," Garmadon says, shaking his head. "It's all so much bigger than you realize."
Nya scowls. "Then enlighten me."
Days of imprisonment have sharpened her edges, she muses. Might as well get a few digs in while she's got the energy.
Still guiding her through the cavern, Garmadon explains, "Long ago, my father, the First Spinjitzu Master, created the four Golden Weapons. Each weapon holds the power of one of the four elements—fire, ice, lightning, and earth."
Nya had stopped paying attention on . . . maybe the seventh word.
"You—the First Spinjitzu Master is your father?"
"Indeed."
Nya gapes. This couldn't get more complicated.
Continuing, Garmadon says, "To make a long and burdensome story short, my meddlesome little brother hid the weapons away and banished me to this cursed place."
Nya's still stuck on the first part. "So—wait. If the First Spinjitzu Master is your father . . . how'd you end up like this?"
Garmadon hums deep in his throat, displeased. "That is a story for another time. What matters is that I obtain the Golden Weapons."
"So you can rule Ninjago?" Nya's seen plenty of villain movies, she knows how this usually goes.
"So I can remake Ninjago. In my image."
Well! That's definitely not good.
"But—I thought you couldn't leave the Underworld."
"I cannot. Which is why, in the final stage of my plan, I will use you to lure Sensei Wu and his pathetic ninja to the last weapon—the Sword of Fire."
Ooh. That sick, dizzy feeling is back. Nya frowns at the ground, frantically piecing together the puzzle.
"Why would that old man care about me?"
Garmadon stops, his arm tightening around her shoulders. Nya shifts uncomfortably.
"Haven't you heard?" Garmadon hisses sardonically. "Your brother is Wu's newest recruit."
Nya's heart drops in her chest. Thoughts explode into sub-thoughts, whirling and crashing into each other.
"I—wh—Kai? A ninja?" Nya shakes her head. "No. There's no way—"
"Apparently you underestimate what lengths your brother will go to in order to rescue his little sister."
Nya blinks as it all glides into place. Memories flash and fade, some images, some words. Sensei Wu was at their shop to find Kai, but Kai turned him away. Then the Skulkin attacked, and Nya was taken, so—
—Kai agreed to be a ninja so he could get her back.
Part of Nya is touched by the gesture. Her heart swells. Kai was never a "team player," much less coordinated. Anything that required patience or practice? Forget it. His longest endeavor was blacksmithing, and she's pretty sure he's just sticking with it to become better than their dad.
The other part of Nya goes cold with terror. Because Kai's in a lot of danger right now. She can't let him walk right into Garmadon's trap, she has to warn him—
Then something else clicks.
"How'd you know the map was in our house?" Nya asks. "It could've been anywhere."
"Years ago, Wu and I knew your father well. Wu would only dare hide the map with a trustworthy ally."
"I thought you said your little brother hid the map."
Garmadon snarls. "Wu and I are brothers."
Well, next time, remind Nya to knock on wood. Things can get more complicated.
She pulls away from Garmadon and shakes her head hard.
"Wait a second! You—you're the brothers from all those stories? The ones who—you fought in the Serpentine War together?"
Garmadon's eyes are fixed on something far away, his voice distant. "Yes . . . I suppose we did." Then he blinks. "Who told you about the Serpentine War?"
Nya's face falls. "Walt—err . . . a friend of my dad told me stories about them. But . . ."
But now he's gone.
And—
And it's all. Garmadon's Fault.
The anger leaps up readily.
Nya is stuck in the Underworld. She doesn't have any outstanding abilities, she's lost, she's alone, and she's confused beyond belief. But now she's mad. And that outweighs everything else by a landslide.
Her insides heat up. Her blood is boiling.
"You," Nya seethes.
Garmadon appears unfazed.
"You! You—you sent your ugly Skulkin to the wrong house. Didn't you?"
"How should I know? Those boneheads can hardly tell left from right, I can only imagine—"
"No." Nya is fuming now, stomping right up to Garmadon and jabbing an accusatory finger at his chest. "You sent them to the first house thinking it was my father. You—you—"
Garmadon brushes her away easily. "Did I? . . . Ah, yes, I suppose I did. A pity, really." He looks down at her. "I suppose your friend was in the wrong place at the wrong time."
Nya's fists clench, nails biting into her palms. Garmadon remains unrepentant.
"My warriors are easily angered. It is hardly my fault if that man got in the way—"
He rambles on, words muddying together until they heighten in a deafening screech. Nya's ears ring till she sees red. Literal, actual red. It's blinding and maddening and raw.
How dare he.
How dare he.
Walter was everything to her, he was—he was—
Nya doesn't even feel herself moving. Suddenly she just launches forward, plowing right into Garmadon's chest. She kicks and screams and hits, a flurry of enraged limbs.
Garmadon is momentarily startled. Then he reanimates, fending Nya off. He has some trouble, surprisingly. She's quite the hurricane. Garmadon is forced to take several steps back in his astoundment.
For a while, he wrestles with her, pushing back as Nya senselessly beats both fists against him.
"Ugly—freaking—hellspawn! Screw you—"
Nothing is doing any real damage (considering the height difference) until Nya manages to strike him right across the face.
He's grown tired of these interruptions. Savagely, Garmadon grasps her by both arms, tossing her away with a growl. Nya lands on her side, catching herself with an unfortunate elbow.
She should probably be horrified with herself. In fact, she should start running.
She just slapped the God of Darkness. If her life wasn't in jeopardy before, it is now.
But Nya doesn't run. She stays there, sprawled across the ground, her twisted expression fixed on Garmadon. It's been quite a long time since someone has looked at him with that much hatred in their eyes.
His own expression is neutral. Nya loathes him for it. She wishes he'd yell or—or hit back, or—y'know, unleash the powers of hell or something.
But nothing happens. Garmadon just looks at her.
Nya looks back. Twin droplets betray her, rolling down her cheeks. The pain she's feeling is unspeakable.
Finally, Garmadon lifts his chin and glares down at her.
"A lot of bite for such a little puppy."
And he strides away, leaving her with an ever-growing pool of animosity in her stomach.
She waits until he's gone to swipe at the tears, wincing as her hands come away streaked with dirt. She's a mess.
Nya stands, cradling the arm that broke her fall. Her sense of direction is rendered useless down here, so she just follows the corridor until it opens up into a sort of oblong amphitheater.
This must be where Garmadon gathers his skeleton army when he wants to make grand, villainous speeches. There's a still, sparkling lake on the other side, and Nya is naturally drawn to it.
Kneeling at its edge, she tentatively sticks one finger in the water. It ripples violently at her touch and Nya jerks her hand away.
"Creepy cursed underground lakes . . ." Even the water down here is defective. Figures. Kruncha better not be getting her drinks from here.
She doesn't want to get up, though. Nya ventures to look at the surface when the water calms down. As her reflection clears, she's made painfully aware of her current state.
Hair in complete disarray—which may be the worst part. Kai might be okay with total chaos, but Nya likes her hair neat. Her bangs are sticking out at odd angles. There are bold smudges of dirt across her skin, covering her face and arms. She touches one and—
Ow, okay, that's not dirt, that's definitely a bruise.
FSM . . . Kai's training to be a ninja and she's just stuck waiting for him. It's like being ten all over again, pinned in the mud and letting her brother scare the bullies away.
What good is Nya if she can't save herself? Isn't that what she's always stood for? Isn't that the point of her samurai exoskeleton (work in progress)?
She wants to be a valid threat, a force to be reckoned with.
Not some—helpless little girl.
With a frustrated cry, Nya reaches out and smacks her reflection, watching it distort as it ripples into fragments.
Something prickles at the back of her neck. Nya shivers.
She'd been pondering a quick dip, but the water might be impossibly deep. She doesn't want to fall in with no way out.
But something's telling her to try it.
It's like a faint whispering between her ears, urging her on. Nya studies the glassy expanse, lost in thought.
At last, she dips her hand all the way in. A sweeping chill raises goosebumps over her arms.
It's not deep.
Nya just . . . knows.
Eagerly, she pulls her shoes off and slides in feet-first, gripping the edge of dry land. Her feet touch the bottom of the lake.
Ahhhh . . .
It's been too long since she's been in the water. Too long since she's showered. Nya takes a deep breath, then dunks herself under.
Usually, curious soul that she is, Nya would open her eyes underwater. But this time, she opts to keep them closed. If there's some bloodthirsty, Underworld beast lurking in here, she'd prefer ignorance.
Surfacing, Nya pushes her hair back. Sweet, beautiful water. She sets to work scrubbing at her arms and face, hoping the grime washes away.
Soon, though, she forces herself to climb out. The last thing she needs is to get sick down here. Submerging herself in freezing cave water is probably a risky move.
She's perched on the edge, squeezing water from her hair, when someone yells.
"Found her!"
Nya starts, leaping to her feet. Two Skulkin are behind her, posed for an intervention.
Tiredly, Nya sighs. "Yeah, yeah, I know. I'm going."
She figures it's better to take the path of least resistance this time. She's done letting them drag her around by the arm, dammit.
Nya's morale takes a massive hit that day, though, and it's low for the handful of days that follows. She descends into a bland sort of emptiness, letting it consume her. The best way to feel better is to feel nothing. That's what she figures, anyway. For now.
The tally grows to two weeks. Nya doesn't leave her cell anymore. She just makes a home for herself there and resigns herself to it. After all, she's almost certain that she's about to become a permanent resident.
Nya's so accustomed to her solitude that it's a shock when someone interrupts her brooding.
It happens while Nya is dozing off for a midday nap, sprawled dramatically on the ground. One arm hides her face, like she's shielding it from the sun.
Ha. Sun. Strange, foreign concept.
She hears the cell door creak as someone forces it open all the way.
"Leave me alone to die," Nya quotes theatrically.
The voice that follows is hauntingly familiar. "Actually, you'll remember that I need you alive."
Nya's eyes blink open as she sits up, staring at the tall, dark figure in the doorframe. It's Garmadon, without a doubt.
Hey, best friend, Nya thinks maliciously.
"Get up," he orders. "It's time for a change in scenery."
Her ears perk up at that. They're moving? They're—are they actually leaving the Underworld? And she's going with them?
It's almost too good to be true. This is her way out—!
"I'm sure your brother will be thrilled to see you."
Uh-oh.
They're leaving, but it's going to be out of the frying pan and into the fire. She'd rather rot here forever than lure Kai into a deadly trap.
Nya backs into the corner, feet braced against the ground.
"I'm not going," she says.
"You don't have a choice," is Garmadon's scornful reply. His crimson eyes narrow dangerously. "If you ever want to see your brother again, you'll follow me. If not, I'm afraid you're no longer of use."
Nya gulps. There's a threat in those words.
She's sick of darkness and stone and purple fire. She misses Kai and her house and normal orange fire.
Besides, she shouldn't underestimate Kai. Whatever Garmadon has planned, Kai can handle. He won't fall for anything stupid. She can hold onto that, at least.
Now that she's less worried for Kai, she starts to worry for herself. Her role in this scheme is still largely unknown, and the unpredictability is killing her.
"Where're we going?" asks Nya.
Garmadon looks down at her. "I am not going anywhere. You, however, are going back to Ninjago."
Oh, that's right. He's banished. So . . . this means she's going for another ride with the Skulkin. Great.
"But first, I require something of you," rumbles Lord Garmadon.
A knot of dread ties itself right between Nya's ribs. She swallows. The menacing glint in his eye is not doing her any favors.
"Like what?"
"Don't move."
A spear of panic nails her in the gut. Before Nya can blink, a shadowy, translucent form tears itself away from Garmadon and dives right into her chest—
—and goes right through her.
Nya yelps, clawing at her shirt. Then there's a needle-sharp, piercing pain. Her chest constricts reflexively, knocking the air from her lungs—
The shadow drifts out of her and Nya drops to her knees, drained. As she pants, raggedly gasping for breath, she notices a pair of red sneakers in front of her.
Horrified, Nya looks up and sees—Nya.
It's her. An exact copy—just without the various bruises. She stares at Garmadon, wide-eyed.
"How did you—"
"How else am I meant to draw your brother to the Fire Temple?"
With a wave of his hand, the shadow duplicate steps over to Garmadon and merges fluidly with his body.
"A projection," he states. "When faced with such ridiculous limitations, one must be creative with his methods."
He pulls Nya to her feet and she trails dizzily behind him. Nothing to be done now . . .
Except hope Kai knows what the hell he's doing.
oOo
Little does she know, Kai has no clue what he's walking into! :D
Also, I believe that's the first mention of an actual song in this fic. I headcanon that Nya has a bunch of her parents' records and got really into older music. She has good taste. This story already has a playlist in the making.
ALSO also, yes, this is me merging our pop culture with Ninjago's. Keeps things interesting?
Thanks for reading!
Xoxo
Saturn