Hello, my friends.
I decided to combine the first three books of my Ninjago series into one entry. The stories were quite popular, racking up almost 9,000 views! As my sequel story Darkness in Chima is also being viewed by quite a lot of folks, I thought it would be fitting to make the first story a little more accessible to newcomers by putting all the events of the first Apex into one chronicle.
The story hasn't been changed except for very minor revisions. Other than a tweak here and there, it's the same story just in a better format.
Enjoy!
RISE OF THE GUARDIANS
Part One: Changes
Chapter I
If you are reading this account of the Guardians' acts that I have compiled, you need to understand something before you go further.
I am not writing for our glory or so that you will feel as if you owe us your life. I am writing so that our story will not be forgotten, even if it becomes myth, in this world or any other. These chronicles are our final statement. If you choose to believe our stories, you honor us with your wisdom.
If you choose not to believe our stories, I hope that you will still learn from our stories the value of peace, and that you must do everything within your power to preserve it in your own life.
As I have said my piece, I now offer these chronicles of the wars that we, the Guardians, have fought on your behalf so that you might live free from the clutches of unfathomable darkness.
Monday January 1, 2018...
The Cursed Realm.
Destroyed? Apparently not.
Its master and ruler? Still alive, somehow. He could feel her presence, her chilled breath on the wind.
Morro.
Alive (in some sense). Awake. Alone.
There had been a deep blackness for a moment as he was plunged beneath the waves, and then there was nothing at all. An endless void. No light, no darkness; not black, not white, nor any color in between.
Just nothing.
But then, there were colors—mostly green—and formless figures—including himself—flying about the void.
In time, the chaos settled, and Morro stayed conscious just long enough to see the reformed Cursed Realm, exactly as he had left it.
Now fully awake and aware of his surroundings, Morro realized that he was absolutely alone and completely without purpose.
He was in a small, dark cave outside of a town.
He had no intention of seeking out his former master, the Preeminent. In the time during which the Cursed Realm was reassembling itself, the Preeminent's thoughts were freely floating through the void—her thoughts were available for any residents of her realm to read. Many of her thoughts dwelled on Morro, especially on the fact that he was nothing more than her tool.
Naturally, Morro was furious at being used as the Preeminent's puppet.
More than ever, he desperately wanted to escape this place. But not for revenge, or to carry out a mission, or even just to be free of the Preeminent and her influence.
Now, Morro sought redemption. When his anger against the Preeminent had cooled, he knew that he must begin to set things right. How often does life give one a second chance?
However, it was almost impossible to escape. He lacked the Realm Crystal, naturally occurring interdimensional portals were incredibly rare, and he refused to seek the help of the Preeminent's powers.
"I wonder how Lloyd escaped this place…" Morro whispered to himself.
"I left him here and returned to Ninjago, and he was without the Crystal, so how—"
Morro cut himself off, remembering something he had said to Lloyd:"say hello to your father…"
"Of course," Morro thought aloud (something he had always done regularly. Others often thought he was simply pontificating, but the habit helped him keep his thoughts in order).
"His father would know how he escaped… but I will have to face him again."
A cold chill ran up and down Morro's spine at the thought of facing Garmadon, but he saw no other option.
Morro stepped out of the cave in which he had awoken and immediately began travelling in the direction of one of the most feared destinations across the Sixteen Realms, the Mount of Anguish. It would take him two days to get there if he made good time.
He thought it was in his best interest to keep a low profile, so his initial thought was to go around the town (which, of course, sat right in his way of the path to the mountain). This would only add a couple hours to his travelling time, but there was one problem: he had no way of concealing his identity.
Morro's favor with the Preeminent (and authority over many ghosts in her realm) elevated him to a status of fame which made him instantly recognizable to anyone in the Cursed Realm. He once relished the fame and glory; now he despised it. He would have to get some cover so that he could pass through any towns he might encounter on the way to the Mount of Anguish without being assailed by fans or ghosts angry with their failure to curse the other realms and escape this accursed one.
Fortunately, the nearby town was a small one.
"Perhaps I can slip in and acquire a cloak without being recognized by too many people," Morro thought, now standing about a hundred yards from the town entrance.
His hopes were quickly dashed, however, when he reached the gates and was immediately recognized by a large hooded ghost guarding the entrance to the town.
"Well, just look who came struttin' down my path today!" the burly ghost boomed when Morro was about twenty feet away.
"Good ol' Morro. Thefreakwho promised us glory and power over the mortal realms, but came up short the second it got hard."
Morro immediately recognized the ghost. Fardo.
Fardo had once challenged Morro to a duel. Muscular as he was, Fardo lacked agility and foresight, and lost to Morro in seconds. Morro admired Fardo's spirit and confidence, however unskilled he was, and offered a chance to train and improve in preparation of unleashing the Preeminent and cursing the universe.
"Yes, it's me," Morro replied. "Excuse me."
He had no intention to stop walking into the town, nor any intention to pick a fight with Fardo.
But then Fardo held out his arm, using it to hit Morro across the chest in an attempt to bar him from entering the town.
Morro immediately grabbed the outstretched arm, elbowed Fardo in the gut, situated the arm over his shoulder, and used it as leverage to violently throw the much larger ghost forward. Fardo did two flips and faceplanted into the ground several feet away from Morro.
Fardo knew better than to stand or offer any retaliation, as Morro was already standing over him, ready to strike again if need be.
Morro leaned down, a foot from Fardo's face, and simply said, "Don't touch me. And don't get up until I'm out of your sight."
Without another word from either ghost, Morro relieved Fardo of his hood, stood up, and walked into the town.
Fardo did not get up until he was sure Morro was gone. He also did not call after Morro or expose his presence once he was on his feet again.
After all, Morro was not known for his mercy.
Passage through the town was simple. Morro no longer had need of a cloak, for he had Fardo's hood. Therefore, he had no need to speak to anyone, and he was not recognized.
His passage through the town simply consisted of walking in the gate previously guarded by Fardo and exiting the gate on the opposite side of town.
If memory served (and Morro's nearly always did), this town was the only settlement between the cave in which he awoke and the mountain to which he was headed. Morro could see it on the horizon. But one always had to watch for nomadic settlements that traversed the plains of the Cursed Realm.
A two days' journey,Morro thought.And that's if I don't make any stops—which I won't.
And so, Morro trekked on. He walked.
And walked.
And walked some more.
Time meant nothing—Morro knew he would arrive at the Mount of Anguish when he arrived, and not a moment sooner (as he thought this, he swore he remembered a similar saying from somewhere; but his usually unassailable memory failed to recollect where and from whom he had heard it).
He had seen a couple small groups of nomads on the way, but none were in his path and none bothered him.
The sun was low—near the point of setting, in fact—but Morro trekked on. Who would benefit from his stopping to rest in the dark?
He decided to go over in his head how he would address Garmadon when he reached his destination. Would he be aggressive? Dismissive? Apathetic?
It crossed Morro's mind that these fronts were very unlikely to fool a brilliant man such as Garmadon. Perhaps it would be more fruitful to simply be direct with his intentions.
But what were Morro's intentions? What did he plan to do if he escaped the Cursed Realm?
I want to somehow make up for my mistakes,he thought.But how? Picking up trash? Volunteering at homeless shelters?
It was overwhelming. Morro resolved to spend the rest of his walk in mental silence. The Cursed Realm was dangerous at night; he had to keep his wits about him. When he arrived at the Mount of Anguish, he would know what to say…
He hoped.
Wednesday January 3, 2018...
Two days and many steps later, Morro found himself at the unguarded gates of the most formidable prison in the universe as the horizon started to lighten in the pre-dawn hours.
He mentally prepared himself to come face-to-face with the man who led him to his death.
It was not difficult to figure it out; Morro knew when he found the First Spinjitzu Master's real tomb that he had been fooled by Lord Garmadon those many years ago.
Lord Garmadon had led Morro to the Caves of Despair, telling him that the First Spinjitzu Master's tomb was within.
Only, the First Spinjitzu Master's tomb was not in the cave.
After hours of searching aimlessly, he had stopped to rest and try to gather his bearings, but the chamber in which he chose to rest turned out to contain a geyser that promptly exploded. The next thing he knew, he woke up here; he still had no idea who had cursed him to make the latter possible.
Morro shook his head. He was not in the mood for a stroll down memory lane. He settled instead for stepping inside the mountain.
He walked down the hall ignoring the cages to his sides, many of which had hands reaching out in desperation. Most of the people in here were criminals and other manner of evildoers; however, many were innocent people banished to this prison for no reason at all other than their banisher's enjoyment.
Morro passed Chen and Clouse, remembering the day they arrived here. It was also the last time he had seen Garmadon, whom he would be approaching soon. The last thing Morro had done before leaving the cursed realm was mock the man who selflessly allowed himself to be banished for the greater good.
"Finally, there is justice,"Morro had said before escaping.
Morro stopped walking when Garmadon came into view, asking himself more questions than he knew how to answer.
What am I doing here—what do I really hope to accomplish?
Why would he help me now?
What has possessed me that I think I deserve a second chance?
"Nothing," Morro said aloud, sighing. "Second chances are for those who make mistakes…"
"And I knew exactly what I was doing."
Morro began to turn around, fully prepared to hide in shame for the rest of eternity.
"Oh, but you've come all this way. Was it all for nothing?"
The voice was unmistakable: Garmadon.
There was no turning back after that; Morro turned and walked toward Garmadon again.
"Did you hear me?" he asked.
"Hear you?" Garmadon replied, confused.
"I was talking to myself; I thought you might have heard. I thought that's why you spoke up."
"Ah," said the old man. "No, I did not hear you talking. I simply looked up and saw you beginning to turn around and walk away. I deducted that you had come here for some purpose, but you'd suddenly given up on whatever it was you wanted to accomplish here."
By this point, Morro had reached the place where Garmadon was hanging by his wrists.
"I see," Morro reluctantly responded. "I suppose you're right. I actually came here to speak with you."
"Is that so?" Garmadon inquired.
"Yes… look, you and I don't have to be friends or get along. You tricked me and led me to my death, and I hurt your son and used his body to hurt his friends. We've both done some messed up stuff, but I heard that your evil deeds were the result of being bitten by a magic snake so I suppose none of that can be held against you."
"Morro, I'm getting the feeling that you're beating around the bush. For what purpose have you come here?"
Morro hesitated. He did not like that someone could see through him in the way Garmadon was.
"Okay, I know I've messed up. A lot. It doesn't matter that I was consumed by ambition and then tricked and used by the Preeminent; everything I did was my choice.
"But I want to make up for my wrongs—I want to make things right, starting with apologizing to the people I hurt the most."
Garmadon was flabbergasted.
"Wow, Morro," the old man managed to utter. "You have really grown."
This made Morro uncomfortable.
"I'm not sure about that," Morro replied. "I just want to make up for the hurt I've caused—if I can. And I need your help."
"How can I possibly be of any help, chained up in this prison?"
"Well, when I left Lloyd here during our battle, I'm sure you and he spoke. I was hoping you knew how he escaped."
"Ah! Of course. Down the hall to my right—your left—there is a cell that holds a djinn. He has been here for over sixteen years. Word is, he is a djinn who granted wishes without intention to trick his wishers; but he was banished by a sorcerer working for a wealthy man who harbored an undue hatred of djinns. I sent Lloyd to speak with the djinn and he sent him back to Ninjago. You might try speaking to him."
Morro made a face of disbelief. Surely it could not be that easy: just make a wish and call it done.
"What's the face?" Garmadon asked.
"Nothing," Morro quickly answered. "It's just… that's it?"
"That's it," Garmadon replied with a chuckle. "I wish you the very best in your endeavors, Morro. Farewell."
"Goodbye…" Morro said.
He knew the next words out of his mouth would taste odd, but he let them slip out anyway.
"Thank you."
Morro turned to walk down the hallway to his left before Garmadon had even registered what Morro had said.
"You're welcome," Garmadon called down the hall, after getting over his shock.
After passing a few cells, Morro came to a cell with an orange man with four arms seated in a meditative position with his eyes closed. Morro had heard that djinns had tails like ghosts, but this djinn had legs.
"May I help you?" the djinn suddenly asked.
Morro jumped (for which he mentally berated himself).
The djinn opened his eyes.
"Did I startle you?" he asked. "My apologies."
"No," Morro replied. "I apologize for staring."
The djinn chuckled, "No worries, my son; it is only natural. You have never seen one of my kind, have you?"
"Only in books and paintings."
"Ah…" the djinn looked deep in thought. "Stories of us come from a bad era, which resulted in a widespread mistrust of my people."
"Right…"
The djinn perked up.
"Forgive me! I do tend to ramble," the djinn apologized, standing up. "My name is Lorands Auxil. Is there anything I can do for you today?"
"I am Morro, and I was hoping you could let me out of here."
"Ah, of course I can—and I will. But first, please indulge my curiosity: why do you desire to leave?"
"Why?" Morro asked, not sure if he wanted to talk about his quest for redemption to a stranger.
"Well, aside from the obvious," Lorands chuckled.
Morro blew through his cheeks, thinking.
"I've hurt a lot of people," Morro finally answered. "And now I want to make it right."
"Indeed…" Lorands replied. He looked pleased. Morro wondered if the djinn recognized him.
"I will be more than happy to let you out, but I will need you to make a specific wish in order to have any power over you. I promise I will not trick you, but you have to be specific enough that I know exactly what you are expecting of me."
"Okay…" Morro thought for a moment.
"I wish I were in Ninjago, wherever the ninja are."
Lorands prepared to snap his fingers, but hesitated, giving Morro a sly, yet friendly grin.
"Any last words for the Cursed Realm before your departure?"
Morro gave a thoughtful glance toward Garmadon's location.
"Yeah," he said. "I'll be back."
Lorands smiled and nodded, and snapped his fingers.
