A month had passed since that dark day, yet Ninjago City still felt the impact of Lyra's unleashed chaos. Though the strange, dark rain she'd summoned had stopped, the city was far from returning to normal. The rain had left behind a strange gift—or curse. Many people, from regular citizens to school staff and students, had developed powers, powers they could neither control nor fully understand. For some, the abilities were mild, barely noticeable. For others, the powers emerged as erratic and explosive, triggered by stress, anger, or even fear. And with each passing day, it seemed that the chaos only grew worse.
For Lloyd and his friends, life had turned into a constant balancing act. By day, they continued with their classes, trying to blend in and maintain a sense of normalcy. But by night, they trained endlessly, honing their own elemental abilities while working to protect the city from the chaos left in Lyra's wake. They acted as a patchwork team of guardians, responding to emergencies all over the city. Yet the task was overwhelming, and Lloyd couldn't shake the feeling that their efforts were only putting out small fires while the true inferno burned on, just out of reach.
At school, the once-familiar environment was now unpredictable. Teachers struggled to control classes when students randomly burst into flames or floated midair without warning. Some students, unable to manage their own powers, were kept in isolated classrooms, a mix of shame and frustration on their faces. Others, who enjoyed their newfound abilities a little too much, misused them to cause mischief or even harm. With every passing day, Ninjago High became a reflection of the city's turmoil.
Through it all, Lloyd felt the weight of responsibility pressing down on him. He knew that, somehow, this was all connected to Lyra. He remembered their last confrontation vividly—the sadness in her eyes just before she vanished in a swirl of shadows, the pain on her face as if something were controlling her, pushing her to do things she'd never have done otherwise. The memory haunted him every day. He had to find her, to get her back. The others did their best to help, but Lloyd could feel a gap growing between him and the rest of the team. As much as they wanted to save Lyra, it was Lloyd who felt this need down to his core, like it was as much a part of him as his elemental power.
And as the weeks dragged on, one question burned brighter in his mind: What exactly is elemental energy?
The more he thought about it, the more he realized he didn't understand its true nature. Sure, he knew how to wield it, to shape it and bend it to his will. But where did it come from? Why did it seem so tied to emotion, to identity, to destiny? He remembered the reactor facility from that fateful field trip, the hum of the energy within its walls, alive and pulsing. What had truly happened during that explosion? And what kind of power was it that had taken hold of Lyra?
These questions plagued him as he walked home after another chaotic day at school. He realized that finding Lyra and stopping this chaos might mean discovering more about elemental energy than he'd ever known. Maybe the answer isn't just in our powers, he thought. Maybe it's in understanding where those powers come from.
Lost in thought, he almost missed the buzz from his phone. Pulling it from his pocket, he squinted at the screen. It was a message from an unknown number.
Come to the house if you want to save her.
Lloyd's heart stopped. He blinked, reading the words again to make sure they were real. His mind raced. Who could be sending this? Was it a trap? He thought of the battles they'd fought, the close calls, the enemies they'd made along the way. But he also thought of Lyra, of the last glimmer of humanity in her eyes before the darkness swallowed her whole.
He couldn't ignore the message. His instincts screamed at him to be careful, but the chance to save his sister, to bring her back—no matter the risk—overpowered every hesitation.
Without another thought, he turned on his heel, broke into a sprint, and ran. The wind whipped past him as he raced down the streets, his heart pounding in sync with his footsteps. His thoughts were a blur of determination and fear.
I'm coming, Lyra, he thought, each step carrying him closer to the house, to the answers he so desperately needed.
As Lloyd ran to his house, the weight of the message pulled at him, every step pounding with fear and anger. If you want to save her. He didn't know what it meant—if it was really about Lyra or if someone else was using his sister's name to draw him into a trap. But one thing began gnawing at him, creeping into his mind like a dark, unwelcome thought: Could it be Mom? If Lyra had turned against him, there was no telling what she'd do next. And if she was truly lost to whatever dark force had consumed her, his mother could be in grave danger.
He quickened his pace, sprinting the last few blocks. The house came into view, its familiar shape and warmth only serving to fuel his dread. He raced up the steps, nearly breaking the door off its hinges as he flung it open.
"Mom!" he called out, his voice echoing through the house. No response. He ran through the rooms, his heart racing, searching for any sign of her. Panic surged until he reached the dining room and froze.
There, at the table, sat his mother—and across from her, looking disturbingly calm, was Lyra.
Except she wasn't the sister he remembered. Her hair was no longer the same, its once dark tone now washed out to an almost white blonde. Her eyes, too, had changed, losing their warmth and instead gleaming with a sinister light. A cold smile spread across her face as she looked up at him.
"Hello, brother," she said, her voice eerily calm.
Lloyd clenched his fists, a mixture of fear and anger welling up within him. "What are you doing here?" he demanded, his voice shaking with fury.
She shrugged, tilting her head with that unsettling smile. "Just visiting. What's wrong with that?"
Lloyd glanced at his mother, who seemed strangely quiet, almost dazed. He took a step forward, never taking his eyes off Lyra. "Mom," he said quietly, his voice firm. "Run."
His mother turned to him with a look of confusion, but before she could move, Lyra raised her hand and shot a blast of dark energy at Lloyd, who barely managed to leap to the side. The dining table shattered as the blast exploded against it, sending wood splinters flying.
"Lyra!" he shouted, scrambling to his feet, anger flaring inside him. "Stop this!"
But she only laughed, her voice cold and devoid of any trace of the sister he'd once known. The fight erupted into chaos, with blasts of energy and physical attacks tearing through their home. Each time Lloyd struck out, his fists blazing with green energy, Lyra countered, her dark power twisting and crackling with deadly force. Their childhood home became a battlefield, walls crumbling and furniture splintering under the force of their attacks.
Driven by desperation, Lloyd charged her, landing a full-force punch that sent her staggering back. He didn't stop—he lunged forward, fists blazing as he struck her again and again, his rage pushing him beyond reason. For a moment, he thought he might be winning, might finally be able to reach her through his sheer willpower.
But then she looked up, her eyes glinting with mockery. "You wouldn't hurt your sister, would you?" she whispered.
Lloyd hesitated, his fist raised but frozen in mid-air. In that split second, she took advantage, throwing him across the room with a powerful blast. He crashed into the wall, pain flaring up his spine as he struggled to get to his feet.
She walked over, her face twisted with a cruel smile, hand raised to strike the final blow. "Lyra," he whispered, desperation and heartbreak leaking into his voice, "please..."
She laughed, a hollow, chilling sound. "Lyra is gone," she hissed, raising her hand to finish him.
But before she could strike, a loud crack sounded through the room. Their mother, standing behind Lyra with a wooden bat, had struck her over the head. "Let my daughter go, demon," she demanded, her voice unwavering, even as fear flickered in her eyes.
Lyra turned, her expression darkening, and shot a powerful blast at their mother, who was thrown across the room and hit the wall with a sickening thud. At the sight, something in Lyra seemed to snap—her face flickered with horror as she looked around, seeing the destruction she'd caused.
For a brief moment, it seemed as though her old self might return. She took a step toward their mother, remorse filling her eyes, her hand reaching out.
"Get away from her!" Lloyd shouted, his voice choked with fury and pain. He shoved Lyra back, sending her sprawling onto the floor. For an instant, she looked as if she might cry, her face twisting with emotion. But then, she seemed to retreat back into herself, clutching her head, muttering words Lloyd couldn't quite hear.
Outside, police sirens grew louder. The neighbors had likely seen the flashes of light, heard the crashes and yelling. Lyra backed away, confusion and desperation flickering across her face. "Help me," she whispered, her voice broken, her hand reaching out to him.
Lloyd's expression hardened, his heart a storm of grief and anger. "You don't deserve help," he said, his voice a harsh whisper.
In an instant, she vanished, disappearing in a shroud of darkness, leaving him alone in the wreckage of their home.
The sirens grew louder, and Lloyd turned, running to his mother's side. She was bleeding, her face pale as she looked up at him with a weak smile.
"Mom, hold on! I'll get help!" Lloyd yelled, his voice thick with tears as he pulled out his phone to call for an ambulance.
She lifted a trembling hand, resting it on his cheek. "Lloyd... listen to me," she said softly, her eyes filled with a mixture of love and sorrow. "You have power... and with that power comes responsibility. Use it... to protect... to save others."
A tear slipped down her cheek as she looked at him, her voice barely a whisper. "Your father... he'd be so proud."
Her eyes drifted closed, her breathing slowing until it stopped altogether. Lloyd shook her, calling her name, tears streaming down his face, his voice raw and desperate. "Mom! Mom, please, don't leave me—"
The front door burst open, and police officers stormed inside, guns drawn. One of them spotted him and yelled, "We've got one in sight!"
"No, wait—!" Lloyd tried to explain, but they didn't listen. Before he could react, a shot rang out, pain searing through his side as he felt the impact of the bullet. Panic surged through him, and he scrambled to his feet, stumbling as he clutched his side.
"Stop, don't shoot!" he shouted, but the officers advanced, weapons still raised.
With one last look at his mother's lifeless body, Lloyd turned and bolted, pain stabbing through him with each step. He pushed himself harder, weaving through the neighborhood as more gunshots echoed behind him, a few more grazing him as he ran. He felt his strength waning, blood seeping through his fingers as he clutched his side.
He ran until his vision blurred, his heart heavy with grief and fury.