(TW) attempted suicide
Lyra stumbled through the dense forest just outside the city, her mind reeling from the chaos she had left behind. Images of her family, her brother Lloyd's horrified face, her mother's terrified eyes—everything played through her mind in agonizing clarity. She had hurt them, nearly destroyed them, all because of this power she couldn't understand or control. Her hands trembled as she looked down, feeling the faint flicker of dark energy around her fingers. Every moment she held onto this power felt like it was eating away at her, yet she couldn't seem to escape it.
The air grew colder, shadows stretching long and ominous around her as night fell. She slowed her pace, looking around at the looming trees, their branches twisting and reaching down like claws. Lyra's chest tightened, her breaths coming faster as a deep despair settled over her. The world around her was quiet, far too quiet, and in that silence, she felt the crushing weight of everything she had done.
Her eyes caught a glint of metal in the moonlight. She reached into her jacket pocket, pulling out a small knife. She didn't even remember where she had gotten it, but she clutched it tightly, feeling its cold, sharp edge. The thought whispered through her mind, dark and insistent: Maybe this was the only way to end it.
She gripped the knife, pressing its edge to her skin just below her ribs. Her hand trembled, and for a moment, she hesitated, questioning if she could really go through with it. But then her mother's terrified face flashed through her mind once more, and the pain surged back, sharper than the knife's edge. Taking a deep, shuddering breath, she tightened her grip and plunged the blade into her side.
Pain flared hot and intense, blooming from the wound and sending shockwaves through her body. She gasped, her legs buckling as she sank to her knees, pressing her hand against the wound. Blood began to trickle between her fingers, dark and warm. For a brief moment, she felt relief—relief that maybe, just maybe, this could be the end.
But as she looked down, horror replaced that fleeting sense of peace. Dark energy began to pulse from the wound, tendrils of shadow twisting and weaving around her skin. The blood stopped flowing, replaced by an unnatural cold, and before her eyes, the wound began to knit itself back together. The flesh closed, seamless, as if she had never stabbed herself at all. The blade in her hand turned black, corroding and disintegrating until nothing was left but dust that slipped through her fingers.
"No..." she whispered, panic lacing her voice as she clutched her side, feeling the smooth, unbroken skin. "Why... why won't you let me go?"
A voice, deep and ancient, echoed in her mind, sending a chill down her spine. It was a voice she had heard before, whispering in her dreams and haunting her thoughts since the explosion at the elemental reactor facility. But now it was stronger, undeniable, a presence that seemed to fill every part of her.
"Because, child, you are far too precious to waste," the voice intoned, each word laced with a sinister authority that resonated deep within her.
Lyra's heart pounded as she backed up, her hands pressed to her temples as if she could block out the voice. "Who... who are you?" she stammered, her voice barely more than a whisper.
The voice chuckled, a low, unsettling sound that seemed to seep into her very bones. "I am a force beyond your comprehension. I am the source of the power that now flows within you, the very essence of darkness itself. I am what your kind would call... the Overlord."
The words seemed to hang in the air, heavy and oppressive, and Lyra felt herself shiver at the name. She remembered ancient tales, whispered by her mother when she was a child, about a being of unspeakable evil—an entity so powerful it had nearly consumed Ninjago in darkness long ago. But she had thought those were just stories, legends meant to frighten children. Yet here it was, the Overlord himself, speaking directly to her, entwined within her very soul.
"Why... why are you inside me?" she whispered, horror twisting her face. "What do you want?"
The Overlord's voice softened, almost like a serpent's hiss, smooth and insidious. "This world was meant to be mine, long before your kind ever walked upon it. I was cast down, defeated, forced into the shadows, stripped of the dominion that rightfully belonged to me. But then... I sensed a spark, a force strong enough to release me. You, Lyra—you are that spark. You, who touched the raw essence of elemental energy, have become the perfect vessel for my power."
Lyra shook her head, backing further against a tree as if she could escape his voice. "No," she said, her voice trembling with defiance. "I'm not your vessel. I don't want this power. I don't want you."
The Overlord's voice took on a dangerous edge, his patience thinning. "You think you have a choice?" he sneered. "You think you can simply walk away from what you are? The darkness is within you, Lyra. It is a part of you, just as much as the air you breathe. You cannot escape it. You cannot escape me."
His words burrowed deep into her thoughts, twisting her sense of self, making her doubt. But she fought back, clinging to the memories of her family, of her friends—of the people she had hurt. "I don't want to hurt anyone else," she whispered, tears filling her eyes. "I just want to be free of you."
The Overlord's laughter echoed in her mind, cruel and mocking. "You are frightened, because you do not yet understand. The power within you is not a curse, Lyra—it is a gift. Embrace it, and you will no longer be bound by weakness or fear. You will be a queen, ruling over this world, above everyone who has ever doubted or hurt you."
For a fleeting moment, the vision he painted was intoxicating. She could feel it, a dark pull within her, the allure of control and power. She saw herself standing tall, untouchable, no longer plagued by fear or uncertainty. She saw herself shaping the world as she saw fit, creating a place where she would never have to feel weak or afraid again. And in that moment, a part of her longed to accept it, to wield this power and finally feel like she had control over her life.
But then the memories came rushing back: her brother's eyes filled with pain, her mother's voice, pleading for her to come back. The home she had destroyed, the terror she had left in her wake. That wasn't what she wanted. It wasn't who she wanted to be.
"No," she said, her voice growing stronger as she fought against the darkness. "I won't be your puppet. I don't want your power."
The Overlord's voice turned cold, the gentleness vanishing. "You are a fool," he hissed. "You think you can resist me? You think your love for your family, your sentimentality, will make you strong enough to defy me? You will learn, child. You will learn that I am inevitable."
Lyra felt his presence recede, lurking in the back of her mind like a shadow, waiting, watching. She slumped to the ground, exhaustion overtaking her as the weight of his words settled over her. She knew he was right about one thing: the darkness was inside her, and she didn't know if she could ever fully escape it. But as long as she could still remember her family, as long as she could hold onto even a sliver of who she was, she would keep fighting him.
With a shaky breath, Lyra pushed herself to her feet. She had no idea how to stop the Overlord, but she couldn't give up. Not now. She had to find a way to free herself from his grip, to take back control. And maybe, just maybe, if she could do that, she could make amends for everything she had done.
She took a step forward, then another, determination hardening her resolve. She didn't know where this path would lead, but she knew one thing for certain: she wouldn't let the Overlord turn her into his pawn. She would fight, with every ounce of strength she had left.
Jay's lab, usually filled with the hum of tech and laughter, was tense and unusually quiet. The team had been training all afternoon, testing the limits of their powers, fine-tuning techniques, and practicing teamwork exercises. But something felt off. Lloyd hadn't shown up.
"Where is he?" Harumi asked, glancing around with a mixture of worry and irritation. "He's usually the one who's pushing us to train harder."
Cole shrugged, wiping sweat from his brow. "Maybe he just needed a break. I mean, he's been through a lot lately."
Nya stopped her sparring practice with Zane, her brow furrowing as she thought of Lloyd. "Still, he would have at least let us know," she said, a hint of worry creeping into her voice. "It's not like him to just disappear."
Jay paced back and forth, chewing on his lip as he fiddled with a stray wire from one of his gadgets. "I'll try calling him again," he muttered, pulling out his phone and dialing Lloyd's number for what felt like the hundredth time that day. "Come on, pick up..."
Just as Jay raised the phone to his ear, a piercing headache hit Harumi out of nowhere. She gasped, clutching her head, feeling a jolt of pain unlike anything she'd ever experienced. It was as though a deep, emotional wound had opened up inside her, a shockwave of anguish that sent chills down her spine.
"Harumi, are you okay?" Zane asked, steadying her with a hand on her shoulder.
"It's... it's Lloyd," she whispered, eyes wide and unfocused as if she could see something they couldn't. "He's in pain. Something... something happened."
Before anyone could process what Harumi was saying, the sound of the television suddenly grew louder, catching all of their attention. The screen switched to a breaking news segment, and the scene displayed made everyone's blood run cold.
They saw Lloyd's house, or what was left of it—parts of the building reduced to rubble, smoke still curling from broken windows, shattered furniture strewn across the yard. Neighbors stood in clusters outside, watching in horror, while paramedics and police swarmed the area. The reporter's voice was somber, barely audible over the crackling static in the room.
"Earlier this evening, a tragic incident occurred in the home of former resident Garmadon," the reporter said. "Eyewitnesses report an explosion and a violent struggle. Authorities confirm that Lloyd Garmadon's mother, Misako, has been pronounced dead. Lloyd himself is missing, and police have reason to believe he is involved in the incident."
"No," Nya whispered, shaking her head in disbelief. "That can't be true. Lloyd would never..."
Cole clenched his fists, anger simmering beneath his shock. "They don't know what they're talking about. Something happened to him. He wouldn't just... do this."
Harumi's face was pale, her hands trembling as the weight of the news settled over her. Misako was gone. Lloyd's mother, the woman who had been a mentor, a friend, a guiding figure to so many of them. Her mind reeled, her heart heavy with grief, but before she could say a word, a loud crash echoed through the lab.
The door to the lab burst open, and in seconds, the room filled with armed SWAT officers. Their faces were obscured by helmets and masks, their guns drawn as they surrounded the team.
"Freeze!" one of them shouted. "Hands where we can see them! You're under arrest."
The team looked at each other, shock and confusion written across their faces. Jay opened his mouth to protest, but a SWAT officer grabbed his wrist, yanking him forward and pulling his hands behind his back.
"Hey, hey, hold on!" Jay protested, struggling against the iron grip of the officer. "What are we being arrested for?"
"You have the right to remain silent," the officer replied coldly, ignoring Jay's question. "Anything you say can and will be used against you."
Harumi and the others didn't resist, each of them stunned and too bewildered to even move. The officers were swift and efficient, their movements precise and mechanical as they handcuffed each of them. Zane tried to remain calm, analyzing the situation, but even he couldn't hide the worry in his gaze as they were shoved forward, marched out of the lab and into waiting vehicles outside.
They were separated, each tossed into the back of a police van, the doors slamming shut with a resounding finality. Jay sat alone, the cold metal of the cuffs biting into his wrists, his mind racing as he tried to make sense of what had just happened. The van jerked into motion, the scenery outside blurring as they sped away from the lab and into the city streets.
Jay took a shaky breath, staring at the metal walls around him. He had so many questions, but one rose above all the others, echoing in his mind as the weight of the situation sank in: Where was Lloyd, and what had really happened to his family?
In another van, Harumi sat in silence, her mind still reeling. Her heart pounded, and she couldn't shake the feeling that something horrible had happened to Lloyd. She closed her eyes, trying to focus, trying to feel that strange connection she'd felt to him earlier. She didn't know how it worked or why, but it was there—a faint thread connecting her to his pain, his fear.
She closed her eyes, letting herself drift back into that feeling, focusing on the faint echoes of Lloyd's emotions. She felt sorrow, confusion, and beneath it all, a sense of desperation. It was as if he were calling out to her, reaching out for something he couldn't grasp. She clenched her fists, her heart breaking for him, and silently vowed to find him, no matter what it took.
"Lloyd..." she whispered, her voice lost in the cold, empty space of the van. "Where are you?"
Cole and Nya sat across from each other in yet another van, both of them silent, their expressions grim. Cole clenched his jaw, his fists still cuffed behind his back, but his gaze was fierce, filled with determination.
"This has to be some kind of mistake," Nya said, her voice low, almost to herself. "Lloyd wouldn't do something like this. We know him. He'd never hurt his own mother."
Cole nodded, his voice hard. "I know. And we're going to prove it. Whatever happened, Lloyd's in trouble, and I'm not going to sit around while they throw us in a cell."
Nya looked up, her eyes filled with determination. "Then we'll figure a way out of this, somehow."
The van rattled as it turned sharply, throwing them against the walls. Cole and Nya braced themselves, exchanging a brief, silent nod. Whatever lay ahead, they were in this together. And they weren't giving up on their friend.
In his van, Zane sat perfectly still, his mind calculating probabilities, running through every scenario he could think of. He'd always been able to keep a level head, to analyze situations and find solutions, but this time felt different. The stakes were higher, and the consequences graver than anything he had anticipated.
He closed his eyes, accessing his memory files, replaying the news broadcast over and over, searching for details he might have missed. Misako's house, destroyed; Lloyd, missing; SWAT teams storming Jay's lab—all of it was too sudden, too coordinated to be a simple misunderstanding. There was something larger at play here, something orchestrated.
But as logical as his mind was, a small part of him felt a pang of fear for his friend. Lloyd was out there somewhere, alone, hurt, and possibly on the run. Zane felt a sense of duty, a fierce loyalty that went beyond mere programming. Lloyd was family, and Zane would not rest until he found him.
Back in Jay's van, he slumped against the cold, hard wall, his thoughts spiraling into worry and fear. They'd been taken without any explanation, their only hint being the news report and the images of Lloyd's destroyed house. He closed his eyes, thinking back to all the times Lloyd had been there for him, all the battles they'd fought together, the jokes they'd shared, the sacrifices they'd made.
Jay bit his lip, fighting back a surge of frustration. He didn't know what was going on, but he knew one thing for sure: they wouldn't leave Lloyd out there to face this alone.
"Hang in there, Lloyd," he whispered to himself, clenching his fists as the van sped into the darkness of the city. "We'll find you. No matter what it takes, we'll find you."