A/N: So, this is the first (and probably only) story I have written that borders on horror/dark fantasy, but solely because of the setting and circumstances. All the same, I wouldn't endorse horror/dark fantasy of any sort, as there are many connotations surrounding it that would clash with my beliefs about my writing. Just wanted to give you the heads-up, in any case, because this story is definitely not for the faint of heart...
Also, due to the post-apocalyptic nature of the Ninjago short this is based off of, I would recommend watching "Golden Legend" (the Legacy short) first before diving in, just to provide understanding as to what I'm going off of here.
Story #29: Flawed (But Not Hollow)
Ninjago AU (universe depicted in "Golden Legend")
writing prompt: ghosts; hauntings; "I would never leave you."
Summary: After the Day of the Departed, Morro never expected to return to Ninjago again. He'd done too many wrong things to ever be given a second chance. But he was wrong. And what he returned to was a world where everything he'd ever known and loved…was completely swept away. Can Morro survive this post-apocalyptic nightmare and understand how he can be flawed, but not Hollow?
Darkness. That was the first thing Morro was aware of. It was dark…and it was cold…and he was scared.
Darkness was all around him. Darkness was everywhere he looked. And it was cold, and it was empty, and it was numb. He wasn't just scared, but alone. He felt so dazed and confused and lost.
He felt so afraid.
So afraid within himself.
It was just so dark, so cold, so grim.
Like he was trapped within a ghastly, ghostly nightmare.
Like he'd been trapped in it for a long, long time.
The chill was seeping into his bones, stilling his nerves, making him feel drowsy and so, so numb. His joints were little shafts of ice—his limbs limp and lifeless. He felt strangely incorporeal, as if he weren't completely solid, as if a part of him was bubbled up in a cushy force field that defied gravity.
His emerald-green eyes were empty, like no one was there. His shaggy, silky mop of raven-black hair, accented by its unique emerald-green hair streak, was dark and dusky, shrouded by the sea of darkness all around him. His heart barely beat. His pulse was frail and feeble, his nerves lifeless, his frame numb and void of any sensation or awareness. His body was grounded and unstable at the same time, as if he wasn't fully alive or fully departed, but somewhere in the middle. His ears did not hear—his hands did not feel—he could not speak, or move, or even breathe. There was no life, no light, no breath, no heartbeat—only a dreary subconsciousness. There was no happiness, no love, no laughter, no joy or hope or peace.
He was alive—but only just.
And he had no idea why.
Where…am…I? he wondered to himself. How did I get here?!
He didn't feel right. This whole thing didn't feel right. It was as if he were not fully awake, nor fully asleep, but caught in the middle, trapped in a strange, dreamy semiconsciousness. Every sense was stretched thin, every thrum of thought muted and strained, almost as if he was barely clinging to life as it was.
As if his life was already over—his light was being snuffed out—and his heart, his mind, his very core were all but ready to succumb to eternal slumber.
As if he were asleep yet not at rest.
As if he were awake yet not alert.
He felt like something deep inside him was missing…like there was a hollow emptiness growing in his core, deep within his soul and mind, consuming any shred of his personality and humanity that was left, withering away every speck of stardust-like light within his heart.
He shut his eyes again, then silently reopened them. Still nothing but pitch-black.
What was wrong with him? Had he gone blind? Why was this happening?
And then he heard a sound. Thump, thump. It was the sound of his heartbeat. Thump-thump, thump-thump.
As Morro's awareness slowly returned, he struggled to piece together the fragments of his memory. His surroundings were unfamiliar and unsettling, shrouded in an eerie, oppressive silence. His mind raced with questions, each one more frantic than the last.
"Ninjago?" he whispered hoarsely, his voice barely audible and tinged with desperation. Tears welled up in his eyes as the realization of his isolation and confusion sank in. He had not been to Ninjago since the Day of the Departed, and he had no idea what had happened to the world he once knew.
With trembling limbs and shaking, quivering breath, Morro forced himself to move, his steps tentative and unsteady. The darkness seemed to press in on him from all sides, suffocating and relentless. Every instinct told him to find some glimmer of light, some sign of life, but the emptiness around him offered no solace.
Morro's heart pounded in his chest, the sound of his heartbeat the only indication that he was still alive. "Ninjago?" he repeated, his voice cracking with a mix of fear and hope. The word echoed in the desolate landscape, a plea for answers that seemed lost in the void.
Morro's eyes slowly adjusted to the oppressive darkness around him, revealing a desolate, post-apocalyptic version of Ninjago. The once vibrant city was now reduced to crumbling ruins, with skeletal remains of buildings standing as haunting reminders of what had once been. The sky above was an ominous, swirling mass of gray clouds, casting a perpetual shadow over the landscape
A stench like that of copper pennies and smoky charcoal, acrid sulfur and flaky lichen, peeling bark and molting dragon scales, black mold and rotting, mossy, grub-infested, termite-eaten wood, syrupy incense and smoldering candle wax, suffocating wood smoke and a hint of cloves-and-vanilla seeped into the very air, making Morro gag and choke on its fumes as his chest began to ache, his lungs to burn, and his heart to pound like a shattering gong or a stampede of skittish colts.
His head ached. His eyes stung with hot, steamy tears. His vision swam. His hearing dimmed and blurred, becoming muted and bleak as numbness and sweltering heat and frigid chills combined swept over him.
The ground beneath his feet was cracked and barren, with patches of withered vegetation clinging desperately to life. Ash and dust swirled in the air, settling on the remnants of what had once been a bustling, thriving world. The silence was deafening, broken only by the distant, haunting whispers of the wind as it swept through the ruins.
Morro stumbled forward, his steps uncertain and shaky. The oppressive atmosphere weighed heavily on him, amplifying his sense of isolation and fear. His mind struggled to process the stark reality of his surroundings, and the memories of Ninjago as he had known it seemed like a distant, fading dream.
He noticed the remnants of familiar landmarks, now twisted and broken beyond recognition. The statues of past heroes lay toppled and shattered, their once proud forms now reduced to rubble. The streets, once filled with the lively chatter of citizens, were now empty and desolate, a haunting echo of what once was.
Morro's breath came in ragged gasps as he tried to make sense of the devastation around him. "Ninjago?" he whispered hoarsely, his voice barely audible and trembling with fear. The word seemed to hang in the air, a desperate plea for answers that would not come.
As he continued to navigate the ruins, the sense of loss and desolation grew stronger. The memories of the Day of the Departed seemed like a lifetime ago, and the world he had known was now a hollow shell of its former self. The chill of the air seeped into his bones, making him shiver uncontrollably.
In the distance, a faint, eerie glow caught his attention. With a mixture of dread and curiosity, Morro made his way toward it, hoping to find some semblance of answers in this bleak, forsaken world.
As Morro continued to struggle his way forward, each step felt more laborious than the last. The desolate, nightmarish version of Ninjago seemed to reject his very presence, as if the world itself was pushing back against him. Every breath he took felt like a battle, the air thick with the stench of decay and despair.
A shivering, quivering sensation like corrupted shards of white-cold ice penetrating into his very core and twisting taut coursed through his entire body mercilessly and relentlessly. His limbs felt tired and heavy, his movements sluggish and weak. The oppressive atmosphere weighed him down like a brick, sapping his strength with each passing moment.
As he stumbled through the ruins, a wave of nausea washed over him, and he felt an intense, overwhelming sickness within his very heart. His vision blurred, and his head throbbed with a constant, mind-numbing ache. He tried to press on, but his weary, worn body refused to cooperate.
Desperation clawed at his mind, and he sought refuge in a nearby rubbish heap. He collapsed onto the debris, his strength draining away like water slipping through his fingers on a stormy day. The cold, unyielding ground offered no comfort, and he curled into himself, trying to find some semblance of warmth and solace.
His breath came in shallow gasps, each inhale searing his lungs and each exhale feeling like a release of what little life he had left. The world around him seemed to close in, the darkness pressing against him from all sides. His thoughts grew fragmented, and he struggled to hold onto any sense of reality.
As he lay there, feeling the relentless chill seep into his bones, Morro's mind drifted to memories of the past—the vibrant, living world of Ninjago he once knew. The contrast between that world and the desolate wasteland he now found himself in was stark and heartbreaking.
His eyelids grew heavy, and he felt the pull of unconsciousness tugging at him. Despite the overwhelming sickness and despair, a small, stubborn spark of hope remained within him. The hidden melody that had once defined him was faint, almost imperceptible, but it was still there, a glimmer of light in the darkness.
Morro knew he couldn't give up, even as his strength waned and his body felt like an empty shell. The journey to understand this new reality and reclaim his true self would be arduous, but he had to find a way to keep moving forward. He couldn't let the darkness consume him entirely, and he was determined to fight to his last breath to survive, to live, to find his way in this broken and dying world.
Slowly but surely, Morro drifted into a deep, dreamless sleep, time's course evading his comprehension. Not even the Departed Realm had felt this despairing, this will-consuming. The darkness and cold of this new reality seeped into his very core, dragging him into a restless slumber where no dreams offered any thread of solace or chords of rest and rejuvenation.
Hours, perhaps even days, passed in this suspended state, the passage of time a distant concept. The world around him remained unchanged, shrouded in an oppressive silence. When Morro finally stirred, he was disoriented and weak, his body aching from the chill and the unnatural stillness.
As he opened his eyes, the dim light revealed twisted, nightmarish creatures emerging from the shadows. Their forms were grotesque and misshapen, their movements unsettling and predatory. The creatures seemed to sense his presence, and their hollow, empty eyes fixed on him with a malevolent intent.
Panic surged through Morro as he realized the danger he was in. His heart pounded frantically in his chest, and adrenaline coursed rapidly through his veins. The creatures began to advance, their twisted limbs reaching out towards him, clacking their claws and hissing like a thousand rattlesnakes preparing to strike all at once. Morro's street-smart survival instincts took over, and he scrambled to his feet, desperate to escape, to run, to flee.
And flee he did. He scrambled and scampered hurriedly through the desolate landscape, his breath coming in sharp, ragged gasps and breathless pants. The world around him blurred as he ran, the echoes of the creatures' pursuit haunting his every step. The oppressive air and the lingering stench of decay made each breath painful, but Morro pushed on, driven by sheer survival reflexes hardwired into him from his former life on the streets.
The ruins of Ninjago offered little in the way of refuge, but Morro kept moving, his mind racing with thoughts of escape. The twisted creatures seemed relentless, their presence a constant reminder of the danger that lurked in this nightmarish world.
As he rounded a corner, Morro stumbled upon a narrow alleyway, partially concealed by debris. Without a second thought, he darted into the alley, hoping to lose his pursuers. He pressed himself against the cold, crumbling wall, his breath coming in shallow, fearful bursts.
The creatures passed by the entrance of the alley, their hollow eyes scanning the area. Morro held his breath, his heart pounding in his chest. After what felt like an eternity, the creatures moved on, their twisted forms fading into the shadows.
Morro slumped limply against the wall, his body trembling and quaking with exhaustion and fear. The world around him was a desolate wasteland, filled with dangers he could barely comprehend. Yet, despite the overwhelming despair, a small spark of determination remained within him. He couldn't let this nightmarish reality break him.
He knew he had to find answers, to understand what had happened to Ninjago and why he had been thrust into this forsaken world. With renewed resolve, Morro pushed himself to his feet and continued his journey, determined to survive and uncover the truth.
Morro's desperate push forward through the bleak, desolate landscape was relentless. Each step felt like an arduous battle against the cold, the dark, and the overwhelming sense of isolation that clung to him like a shroud of black mist and the darkness of the midnight sky. The world around him was a twisted reflection of the Ninjago he had once known, a place where all similitude of hope seemed to have been extinguished.
As he continued to navigate the ruins, an eerie, unsettling sensation crept over him. Faint, ghostly voices began to echo through the air, their cries filled with despair, grief, and guilt. The voices seemed to come from all directions, their haunting tones sending frigid chills rippling mirthlessly down Morro's spine.
He paused, his breath hitching in his throat as he strained to listen. The voices were disjointed and fragmented, like distant echoes from another time. He couldn't discern whether they were real, a hallucination brought on by his exhaustion and fear, or some kind of dream-like vision. The lines between reality and illusion blurred, leaving him disoriented and unnerved.
"Help us... please..."
"We're sorry... so sorry..."
"Why did this happen? Why?"
The voices weaved through his mind, each one a plaintive plea that tugged at his very heartstrings with all their forlorn might and hideous main. Morro's head throbbed even more with the intensity of the sounds, his vision swimming as he tried to make sense of it all. The oppressive atmosphere seemed to magnify the anguish in the voices, amplifying the weight of their sorrow.
His steps faltered as he pressed onward, the ghostly chorus growing louder and more insistent. The air felt thick and suffocating, the stench of decay and despair mingling with the haunting cries. Morro's heart pounded in his chest, his mind racing with thoughts of what these voices could mean.
Were they the remnants of souls lost in this forsaken world? Were they echoes of the past, trapped in an endless loop of suffering? Or were they simply figments of his own mind, a manifestation of his guilt and fear?
Morro shook his head, trying to clear the haze of confusion. He couldn't afford to dwell on the uncertainty. The only thing that mattered was pushing forward, finding answers, and understanding what had happened to Ninjago. The ghostly voices, whether real or imagined, were a reminder of the deep-seated pain and loss that pervaded this nightmarish realm.
With renewed determination, he continued his journey, the echoes of the voices fading into the background as he focused on his path. But as Morro continued his desperate push forward, the oppressive silence of the war-torn landscape pressed in on him. The world around him was eerily still, devoid of life. Not an owl hooted—not a fox or a squirrel or a deer peeked out at the unnatural visitor to their territory—not a cricket chirped—not a katydid twilled—not a nightingale twittered. The whole world seemed to have been cast into a spellbinding charm of deep, dreamless sleep—a paralyzing slumber so gripping and powerful that those who fell into its embrace never woke again.
Goosebumps crawled eerily up and down Morro's arms, and shivers rippled up his very spine, as he stumbled forward, struggling to find even the will to put one foot in front of the other. He shuddered and shook with barely contained howling wails of fright and panic as he just kept staggering and tripping his way forward, feeling his frightened gaze darting around wildly, searching for any sign of hidden danger, just waiting, waiting,waitingfor some secret foe or nightmarish beast to jump out at him from behind the trees and swallow him whole.
Just as despair began to settle deeper into his bones, Morro's eyes caught a glimmer of hope—a golden light shining high on a ridge. The brilliance of it was so intense that he had to shield his eyes to avoid being struck half-blind. The light pierced through the darkness, a beacon of something unknown yet tantalizingly close.
With renewed determination, he pushed on toward the golden light, struggling to stay calm amidst the pervasive silence and the evidence of intense storms that had ravaged the landscape. His breath came in shallow, anxious gasps as he navigated the treacherous terrain, each step feeling like a fight against the elements and his own fear.
Suddenly, a banshee-like scream tore through the silence, and Morro's heart leapt into his throat. The sound was shrill and bone-chilling, a cry of pure, unadulterated terror. Before he could fully comprehend what was happening, an intense shockwave of blue light ripped through the area, its force so powerful that Morro had to hit the dirt hard to avoid being blown away.
The shockwave left a trail of devastation in its wake, the ground trembling with the aftershocks. Morro lay still for a moment, his body pressed against the cold, unforgiving earth. His ears rang with the lingering echoes of the scream, and his mind raced with questions.
"Was that a... lost core?!" he thought, his eyes wide with fear and confusion. The tales of lost cores—warriors who had succumbed to a cursed half-life, their very essence escaping into the atmosphere—flashed like a hawk's frantic scream through his mind. The blue light and the banshee wail seemed to fit the descriptions perfectly.
Gathering his wits, Morro slowly pushed himself up, his limbs trembling with the effort. The golden light on the ridge still beckoned him, a distant promise of answers and perhaps a way out of this nightmarish world. He knew he had to reach it, no matter the cost.
With a deep, shaky breath, Morro resumed his quest, the fear and uncertainty gnawing at his resolve. The path ahead was fraught with danger, but he couldn't turn back now. The golden light held the key to understanding what had happened to Ninjago and his place in this desolate landscape.
Morro's journey towards the golden light led him to the base of a ridge where the light was the strongest. The beacon shone with an intensity that promised hope and answers, but he quickly realized that to reach it, he would have to climb.
Like a lonely child stumbling in the darkness and crying for the light, with no language but a cry, Morro gave a quick shudder and began his ascent. The climb was daunting, the ridge steep and unforgiving. He clawed and scraped at the rocks, looking around frantically for any solid handholds and footholds he could find. His attempts were difficult and painful, as more than a few times the rocks proved to be unable to hold his weight, and the roughness of the stones cut into the tender flesh of his palms and badly scraped up his knuckles. By the time he managed to clamber halfway to the top, he was dizzy and exhausted, and his forehead was aching mercilessly with the dampness and cold.
His breath came in ragged gasps, the air thin and biting at this height. The golden light seemed tantalizingly close, yet still out of reach. Morro forced himself to press on, driven by the desperate need to understand the world he found himself in.
Just as he was about to reach for another handhold, a powerful gust of wind swept over him, and he heard a deep, resonant roar. His heart lurched as he looked up to see a massive dragon descending upon him, its scales glinting with the same golden light that had guided him here. The dragon's eyes were fierce and unyielding, and its presence filled the air with an electrifying tension.
Morro's grip faltered, and he nearly lost his hold on the rocks. The dragon's massive wings beat the air, creating a turbulent vortex that threatened to throw him off the ridge. The guardian of the Ninja had mistaken him for a threat, and its attack was swift and merciless.
Panicked, Morro tried to find shelter among the rocks, but the dragon's powerful claws struck the ridge, sending a shower of debris cascading down. He scrambled for cover, the rough stones scraping against his already bruised and bloodied hands. The golden light flickered and danced, casting eerie shadows in the chaos.
The dragon's roar reverberated through the air, a sound that shook Morro to his very core. He knew he had to defend himself, but he was no match for such a formidable guardian. The thought of facing the dragon head-on filled him with dread, yet he couldn't give up now. He had come too far.
Summoning every ounce of strength, Morro continued his ascent, his movements driven by sheer willpower. He hoped that by reaching the top, he could somehow prove to the dragon that he was not a threat. The path ahead was fraught with danger, but the light and the answers it promised were too important to abandon now.
Amidst the chaos and the dragon's fierce attack, Morro suddenly experienced a startling realization. The dragon's thoughts, sharp and resonant, began to echo in his mind. He could hear the guardian's internal monologue, a mixture of suspicion, duty, and protectiveness.
Intruder...threat...must protect...
Morro's heart pounded as he recognized this unexpected connection. Desperately, he tried to reach out, his own thoughts forming words of reassurance. I mean no harm. Please, I'm not a threat. His mental plea was filled with raw sincerity and fragile hope, but as he continued to scale the ridge, it became evident that the dragon was not listening. The guardian's thoughts were a torrent of instinct and purpose, overwhelming any attempt Morro made to communicate. The dragon's focus was unwavering, its duty to protect the Ninja paramount above all else.
The creature's massive wings beat the air, creating powerful gusts that threatened to dislodge Morro from his precarious position on the ridge. The golden light flickered as the dragon's presence grew more intense, its eyes fixed on him with a fierce determination.
Morro's grip on the rocks tightened as he pressed onward, his mind racing with the implications of his newfound ability. The dragon's thoughts were like a raging storm, drowning out his attempts to reason. Despite his efforts to convey his peaceful intentions, the guardian saw only an intruder, a potential danger to the slumbering Ninja.
I must protect...at all costs...The dragon's thoughts were relentless, filled with an unwavering resolve.
With every ounce of strength, Morro continued his ascent, the rough stones cutting into his hands and arms. He knew he had to reach the top, to find a way to prove himself and uncover the truth behind this desolate world. The golden light, now so close, seemed to hold the key to understanding.
As he clambered higher, the dragon's attacks grew more intense, each strike a testament to its unyielding duty. Morro's breath came in ragged gasps, but he refused to give up. The connection to the dragon's thoughts was both a blessing and a curse, offering insight yet denying him the chance to communicate.
With sheer determination and a final, desperate effort, Morro managed to pull himself over the edge of the ridge. As he lay there, panting and exhausted, he took a moment to rest and suck in the shockingly pure air he found at this height. The crisp, invigorating air filled his lungs, washing away some of the sickness that had plagued him, though he was still weak and weary from his ordeal.
Slowly, he sat up and looked around, taking in the sight of the golden light that had drawn him here. The landscape at the top of the ridge was stark and desolate, but the light seemed to cast a sense of clarity and purpose over everything it touched. Morro already felt slightly healed, the oppressive weight of illness lifting just enough to give him a glimmer of hope.
However, his relief was short-lived. The dragon, the fierce guardian of the Ninja, had disappeared from sight. Morro's heart pounded as he scanned the horizon, waiting and watching for any sign that the dragon would return for another strike. The silence was unsettling, and every shadow seemed to hold a potential threat.
He remained on high alert, his senses strained to their limits. The absence of the dragon was almost more unnerving than its presence, leaving Morro with an uneasy feeling of anticipation. The golden light continued to shine, a beacon of hope and answers, but he knew that he couldn't let his guard down.
Morro's mind raced with questions. Why had the dragon attacked him? What was its purpose in this desolate world? And most importantly, what was the significance of the golden light?
Despite his exhaustion, Morro's resolve remained unshaken. He had come this far, and he couldn't turn back now. He needed to uncover the truth behind this nightmarish reality and find a way to restore the balance that had been lost. The journey ahead would be fraught with danger, but he was determined to face it head-on.
Morro, his form quavering with trepidation, took a few deep, steadying breaths, trying to calm his racing heart and clear his frenzied mind. The pure air at the top of the ridge had already begun to heal him slightly, giving him a newfound sense of clarity. He rose to his feet, his gaze drawn irresistibly toward the source of the golden light.
As he turned around, his eyes widened in shock and awe. There, illuminated by the radiant glow, stood the Ninja, along with Garmadon and Master Wu. But they were not as he remembered them. Each of them was frozen in the form of a golden statue, their expressions serene and resolute, as if caught in a moment of eternal vigilance.
The statues shimmered with an ethereal brilliance, the golden light emanating from their forms casting a warm, otherworldly glow across the desolate landscape. Morro's breath caught in his throat as he took in the sight, a mix of reverence and sorrow washing over him.
He approached the statues slowly, his footsteps echoing in the stillness. The silence was palpable, the oppressive quiet of the world below replaced by a profound sense of reverence and awe. The statues seemed to radiate a sense of power and protection, a testament to the enduring legacy of the Ninja and their allies.
Morro reached out hesitantly, his fingers brushing against the smooth, cold surface of one of the statues. The touch sent a shiver through him, a connection to the past that felt both familiar and distant. The golden light seemed to respond to his presence, flickering and pulsing with a gentle warmth.
He stepped back, his mind racing with questions. Why were the Ninja, Garmadon, and Master Wu preserved in this way? What had happened to the world they once protected? The answers remained elusive, hidden within the mysteries of this post-apocalyptic reality.
Despite the overwhelming sense of loss and confusion, Morro felt a flicker of hope. The statues, frozen in their golden forms, were a beacon of resilience and strength. They had not been forgotten, their legacy enduring even in the face of such devastation.
With a renewed sense of purpose, Morro vowed to uncover the truth and find a way to save that which had been lost. The path ahead would be challenging, but the golden statues served as a reminder of the strength and determination that lay within him. He would not give up, no matter how dire the circumstances.
But just as Morro began to find a moment of solace near the golden statues, the dragon returned with a ferocious roar. The guardian of the Ninja, relentless in its duty, descended upon Morro once more. He had only a split second to react before the onslaught began.
The dragon's attacks were swift and brutal, its claws slashing through the air with terrifying precision. Morro found himself swarmed again and again, suffering more bruises, cuts, welts, and whiplash-like wounds with each strike. His screams of terror and horror echoed through the desolate landscape, mingling with the dragon's mighty roars.
The pain was excruciating, each blow sending waves of agony through his already weakened body. Morro's vision blurred as he tried to defend himself, the effort to stay on his feet growing more difficult with each passing second. Blood loss made him feel woozy and hazy, his thoughts muddled and his limbs heavy.
Despite the relentless assault, Morro's determination burned bright. He knew he had to keep going, to push through the pain and fear. The mantra that had guided him through countless battles echoed in his mind: Ninja never quit.
With a surge of adrenaline, Morro forced himself to move, dodging the dragon's strikes as best he could. He stumbled and staggered, his body battered and bruised, but he refused to give in. The golden light from the statues flickered in his peripheral vision, a beacon of hope that fueled his resolve.
I won't give up, he thought fiercely, his breaths coming in ragged gasps. I have to keep going. Ninja never quit! They never give up—ever!
The dragon's fury showed no signs of abating, its attacks driven by an unyielding sense of duty. But Morro's spirit remained unbroken, his will to survive and uncover the truth stronger than ever. The battle was far from over, but he was determined to face it head-on, no matter the cost.
But when he looked around again, the dragon was gone!
But to where?
And when would it come back again?!
The dragon's sudden departure left Morro with a mix of relief and dread. He hoped fervently that it wouldn't come back for a third round—he didn't know how much more of this he could take. His body ached with the scars that had been dealt to him from the relentless attacks, and his strength was dwindling. The blood loss made him feel lightheaded and weak, but he knew he couldn't afford to succumb to the exhaustion if he wanted to keep his hide intact.
To keep himself awake and focused, Morro turned his thoughts to the Ninja. He thought about each of them, their strengths, their determination, and the countless battles they had fought together and against each other. The memories of their camaraderie and their struggles gave him a sense of connection and purpose.
His mind lingered especially on Lloyd—not just his former enemy, but his cousin. The bond they shared was complex, marked by rivalry, conflict, and ultimately, a deeper understanding. Lloyd had shown him the power of forgiveness and the strength that came from fighting for what was right.
"Lloyd," Morro whispered to himself, his voice barely audible. "You never gave up, even when things seemed impossible. You taught me that there's always hope, always a way forward."
The thought of Lloyd and the other Ninja filled him with a renewed sense of resolve. Despite the overwhelming odds, they had always found a way to persevere. Morro drew strength from their example, determined to honor their legacy and find a way to survive in this desolate world.
His gaze returned to the golden statues of the Ninja, Garmadon, and Master Wu. They stood as silent sentinels, a testament to the enduring spirit of those who fought to protect Ninjago. The light from their forms cast a warm glow over the landscape, a beacon of hope that pierced through the darkness.
With a deep, steadying breath, Morro forced himself to his feet. The pain and exhaustion were still there, but the memories of the Ninja and their unwavering determination fueled his resolve. He would continue to fight, to push forward, and to find the answers he sought. The journey ahead would be difficult, but he was determined to face it with the same courage and tenacity that Lloyd and the others had shown.
As Morro reached out to lay a hand on Lloyd's golden form, the dragon suddenly reappeared with a deafening roar. The guardian's massive wings swooped down, their razor-sharp edges aiming to skewer him. Morro's heart lurched in terror, and he let out a raw, wild, primal scream.
He began to cry, sobbing and shrieking, blubbering and wailing, shrieking and howling wolfishly at the top of his lungs, his body convulsing with fear and desperation as he fussed and fretted and sobbed. "Please, don't hurt me!" he begged, his voice raw and filled with anguish and agony and great, heart-shattering despair. Hot, stinging tears streamed mercilessly down his dirt-and-ash-smudged face as he desperately implored the dragon for mercy, knowing he must look a sight with his shaggy, dandruff-ridden raven-black locks and his threadbare clothes all caked with mud and wood smoke and charcoal dust, yet pleading with every throb and thrum of his heartbeat that the terrifying beast would let him live.
But then all of a sudden, to his great surprise and confusion, the dragon hesitated, its fierce attack coming to an abrupt halt. Its powerful wings beat the air, holding it aloft as it gazed down at Morro with a mixture of bewilderment and wonder. The guardian's eyes softened, and a puzzled expression crossed its draconic face.
"You're not Hollow. Hollow cannot cry, and you can. But how...how can this be?" the dragon exclaimed, its voice resonant with disbelief.
Morro's sobs quieted slightly, his breath catching in his hoarse, parched throat as he tried to understand the dragon's words. He wiped frantically at his tear-streaked face, his body trembling with the aftermath of his terror. The golden light from the statues cast a warm glow over the scene, a stark contrast to the darkness and despair that had pervaded his journey.
As the moments passed in silence and stillness and bleak numbness of mind, the dragon's confusion seemed to mirror Morro's own. It studied him closely, its eyes searching for answers. The connection between them, though tenuous, offered a glimmer of hope. Morro's ability to cry, to feel such raw emotion, set him apart from the Hollow, and the dragon recognized this difference.
With a deep, shaky breath, Morro steadied himself. The pain and exhaustion were still there, but the dragon's hesitation had given him a chance—a chance to prove that he was not a threat, but a lost soul seeking understanding and redemption.
Countless moments of silence and beats of time passed, unnoticed and unbidden, until Morro's strength finally gave out, the relentless blood loss taking its toll. His vision blurred, and his eyes rolled into the back of his head as he fainted dead away. His body slumped limply and listlessly against the base of the collective statue, the golden light casting a gentle glow over his unconscious form.
The dragon, now hovering above, watched with a mixture of confusion and concern. The guardian's fierce demeanor softened as it observed Morro's vulnerable state. The realization that Morro was not Hollow, that he could cry and feel such raw emotion, had given the dragon pause.
As Morro lay there, unconscious and battered, the golden statues of the Ninja, Garmadon, and Master Wu stood as soundless protectors, their presence a testament to the enduring spirit of those who had fought to protect Ninjago. The golden light continued to shine, a beacon of hope and resilience in the midst of the desolation.
The dragon, sensing the significance of the moment, landed gently beside Morro. Its massive form cast a protective shadow over him, the guardian's eyes filled with a newfound understanding. The connection between them, though tenuous, offered a glimmer of hope for the future.
When Morro began to stir, a soft whimper escaped his lips, his trembling hand grappling and groping for anything solid and tangible. To his surprise, he found himself wrapped tenderly in the protective embrace of the dragon's wings. The warmth and security of the gesture provided a small measure of comfort amidst the chaos and confusion.
As he slowly regained consciousness, Morro looked up at the dragon, his voice weak but curious. "What is your name?" he asked, his breath hitching slightly as he spoke.
The dragon's eyes softened, and he responded with a deep, resonant voice, "My name is Ryuu, guardian of the Ninja."
Morro nodded slowly, taking in the dragon's name and the sense of purpose it conveyed. The connection between them, though unexpected, felt significant. After a moment, Ryuu asked in return, "And what is your name, young one?"
With a deep breath, Morro gathered his strength and answered, "My name...is Morro Yang Windchaser, son of Kodokuna Yang and student of Sensei Wu, who is a child of the First Spinjitzu Master. I hold the power of Wind, and I once desired to be the Green Ninja...but no more."
The words hung in the air, a testament to Morro's journey and the changes he had undergone. Ryuu studied him with a thoughtful expression, the understanding in his eyes deepening. The revelation of Morro's identity and his connection to the First Spinjitzu Master seemed to resonate with the dragon, adding another layer to their newfound bond.
Morro then tried to ask more questions, his voice trembling with curiosity and a need for answers. "Ryuu, why are the Ninja statues?" he murmured faintly, coughing wheezily as he stammered, "What happened to Ninjago?"
But Ryuu gently placed a clawed hand on Morro's shoulder, his voice filled with a deep, soothing resonance. "No, young one. Not now. You must rest and recover first. Your body has endured much, and you need to regain your strength before we can speak further."
Morro's eyelids grew Deepstone-heavy, his exhaustion finally catching up with him. The warmth of Ryuu's protective wings and the dragon's calming presence lulled him into a sense of safety and peace. He nodded weakly, accepting the wisdom in Ryuu's words.
As he drifted off to sleep, the golden light from the statues continued to shine, a beacon of hope and resilience. Ryuu remained by his side, vigilant and watchful, ensuring that Morro would have the time and space he needed to heal.
As Morro lay resting under Ryuu's protective wings, another attacker suddenly emerged from the shadows. Morro's heart raced as he sensed the danger, his body tensing instinctively as he slowly opened his eyes, feeling so drowsy and groggy and sluggish that he could barely move. The new threat moved with an eerie, menacing presence, and it became clear that Morro was the target.
Ryuu shifted his stance, ready to defend, but the attacker—a Hollow warrior—seemed fixated on Morro. The battle was fierce, and Ryuu's efforts to protect were relentless, but the Hollow's determination was equally strong.
In the midst of the chaos, Morro witnessed a terrifying sight. The Hollow, now mortally wounded, let out a banshee-like scream, a sound that pierced the air and sent chills down his spine. Morro watched in horror as the wraith-like appearance of the bluish core—the essence of the Hollow—escaped into the atmosphere. The core's eerie glow flickered and twisted as it ascended, leaving behind the crumbling, lifeless body.
The sight was too much for Morro to bear. The overwhelming fear and the stark reality of the Hollow's cursed existence brought tears to his eyes. He began to cry once again, sobbing uncontrollably as the terror and sadness consumed him. The raw, emotional outburst resonated through the stillness, echoing the depth of his fear and the weight of his experiences.
Ryuu, sensing Morro's distress, wrapped his wings more tightly around him, offering solace and protection. The dragon's presence was a calming force, but the trauma of what Morro had just witnessed lingered in his mind. The reality of the Hollow warriors and the dangers of this nightmarish world weighed heavily on his heart.
After a while, as Morro's breathing steadied and he gathered his courage, he managed to voice his questions once again. His voice was shaky but determined. "Ryuu, please... What happened to Ninjago? Why are the Ninja statues? What... what has become of this world?"
Ryuu's eyes softened as he looked at the weary young warrior. The dragon let out a deep, calming breath, his wings still wrapped protectively around Morro. "Very well, young one. You deserve answers," Ryuu began, his voice resonating with a mixture of sorrow and wisdom.
"This world, as you once knew it, has fallen into a deep and endless slumber. The storms of darkness and the calamities that followed have reshaped Ninjago into a shadow of its former self. The Ninja, Master Wu, and even Garmadon were preserved as golden statues to protect their essence and legacy in the face of overwhelming darkness."
Ryuu paused, his eyes reflecting the weight of history. "The golden light you see is the manifestation of their enduring spirits, a beacon of hope and resilience. They stand frozen, their power dormant, waiting for a time when the world can be healed and balance restored."
Morro listened intently, his heart heavy with the enormity of the situation. "And the Hollow? The creatures I've seen... what are they?" he asked, his voice filled with a mix of fear and curiosity.
Ryuu's expression grew somber. "The Hollow are lost souls, warriors who have succumbed to a cursed half-life. Their cores, the very essence of their being, escape into the atmosphere, leaving behind hollow shells that eventually crumble to dust. They are a tragic reminder of the darkness that has overtaken this world."
Morro shuddered, the memories of the banshee-like screams and the wraith-like cores still fresh in his mind. "But why am I different? Why am I not one of them?"
Ryuu's gaze softened further. "Because, Morro, you possess a strength and resilience that sets you apart. You still have the power of Wind, the legacy of your lineage, and the spirit of a true warrior. Your tears, your emotions, they prove that you are not Hollow. You are still very much alive, and there is hope for you yet."
And that's when the dam broke. Without warning, Morro's lip quivered and he began to wail, the full weight of what he had seen and what he'd been told sinking in. "But why?!" he morosely sobbed, feeling a weight of guilt falling onto his unprotected shoulders as he howled, "I should have been the one to be lost forever! I'm too marred—too broken—too flawed to be saved! So why was I spared?!" His voice trembled with desperation and self-loathing, the weight of his past sins—his missing of the mark—pressing down on him.
Ryuu listened intently, his eyes filled with a deep, compassionate understanding. As Morro's words echoed through the stillness, the dragon's response was gentle yet resolute. "The fact that you know you're flawed sets you apart from the Hollow. The Hollow refuse to acknowledge that they are on the path to darkness, and that is why they eventually succumb to it."
Morro looked up, his eyes filled with tears, struggling to comprehend the dragon's words. Seeing Morro's distress, Ryuu spoke more gently, encouraging Morro to share his story. Sucking in a shaky breath, Morro began to recount his past, his emotions surging as he spilled his story, the pain and regret that had haunted him for so long pouring out like an unending waterfall of melancholy misery and woe. "I was once a student of Sensei Wu, destined to become a powerful master of Wind. I was ambitious, driven by the desire to prove myself and become the Green Ninja. But when I realized that the prophecy wasn't meant for me, my ambition turned into bitterness. I felt betrayed, and my anger consumed me. I left the path of light and embraced darkness, seeking power at any cost."
Morro's voice wavered as he continued. "I joined forces with the Ghost Warriors and became their leader, hoping to take revenge on those who I believed had wronged me. I sought to unleash the Cursed Realm upon Ninjago, using dark powers through tethering with another to achieve my goals. I was ruthless, blinded by my thirst for power and recognition."
He paused, his eyes downcast. "But my actions had dire consequences. I became a vessel for the Preeminent, the embodiment of the Cursed Realm. I was defeated by the Ninja, and my being was condemned to wander the Departed Realm. It was there, during the Day of the Departed, that I was given a chance to return to Ninjago and redeem myself. But even then, I couldn't fully escape the shadows of my past."
Ryuu listened with a solemn expression, understanding the weight of Morro's journey. "You have faced many trials, Morro, and your path has been one of darkness and redemption. But it is precisely because you acknowledge your flaws and seek to atone for your mistakes that you are not lost."
Morro's tears flowed freely, but this time, they carried a sense of release and understanding. The words of the dragon began to sink in, offering a new perspective on his journey and his worth. "You may be flawed, Morro," Ryuu continued, his voice resonant with wisdom, "but you are not Hollow—and that's what matters. Acknowledging your flaws and seeking redemption is a strength, not a weakness. It is the very thing that makes you capable of change, of growth, of hope."
Morro felt a glimmer of hope ignite within him. Despite the overwhelming darkness and the challenges that lay ahead, he knew he had a purpose. The path ahead was uncertain, but with Ryuu's guidance and the legacy of the Ninja to inspire him, Morro knew he could find a way to heal and make amends.
And then, in a moment of longing, Morro sucked in another shaky breath, his voice trembling as he asked the question that had been haunting him for every second since the most recent attack—"Why were the Hollow... after me?"
Ryuu's eyes softened with understanding as he considered the young warrior's question. "The Hollow are drawn to those who possess great power and potential," he began, his voice resonant with wisdom. "They seek to corrupt and consume the light within, to extinguish hope and turn powerful cores into empty vessels—conduits of destruction and loss."
He paused, his gaze steady on Morro. "You, Morro, hold the power of Wind, a power that is rare and formidable. Your presence and your strength make you a target for the Hollow, as they are drawn to the energy that you carry. They sought to claim your essence, to transform you into one of their own."
Morro's heart sank at the thought, the weight of his past actions and the relentless pursuit of the Hollow pressing down on him. "But why me? Why was I spared when so many others were lost?"
Ryuu's expression grew thoughtful. "You were spared because you have the capacity for change, for redemption. The fact that you acknowledge your flaws and seek to make amends sets you apart. The Hollow are lost because they refuse to see their own darkness, but you, Morro, have the strength to confront your past and strive for a better future."
As the weight of exhaustion finally caught up with him, Morro's eyes grew heavy again. The warmth and comfort of Ryuu's wings provided a sense of safety he hadn't felt in a long time. His voice was soft, almost a whisper, as he made one last request before succumbing to sleep.
"Ryuu, please... protect me... just as you've protected the Ninja..."
Ryuu's eyes softened, and he gently wrapped his wings more tightly around Morro, creating a cocoon of warmth and security."Rest now, young one,"the dragon murmured, his voice a soothing balm."I will protect you. You are safe here."
With those words, Morro's eyelids fluttered shut, and he drifted into a deep, restful sleep. The golden light from the statues cast a gentle glow over the scene, a beacon of hope and resilience. Ryuu remained vigilant, his presence a silent guardian watching over the young warrior, bound by honor to protect and to guide in the days that would follow.
As Morro slept in the protective embrace of Ryuu's wings, the remaining Hollow gathered in a shadowy corner of the desolate landscape, their voices hushed and filled with confusion. The twisted, wraith-like figures moved restlessly, their hollow eyes flickering with an eerie, bluish glow.
"What could he possibly be doing back here?" one of the Hollow whispered, his voice tinged with uncertainty. "He was meant to be lost forever in the Departed Realm."
Another Hollow, equally baffled, added, "Why would anyone bring him back? What makes him so special?"
The murmurs of confusion grew louder, the Hollow unable to fathom the reasons behind Morro's return. Their questions swirled in the air, an unsettling chorus of doubt and suspicion.
Finally, their leader, a formidable figure with a presence that demanded silence, raised a hand to quiet the restless murmurs. "It doesn't matter why he was brought back," the leader declared, his voice cold and authoritative. "No matter how long it takes, whether days, weeks, or an eternity, we will track down this renegade core and make him one of us."
The other Hollow fell silent, their confusion giving way to a shared sense of purpose. The leader's words resonated with a dark determination, a commitment to their relentless pursuit. The echoes of their vow hung in the air, a chilling reminder of the danger that still loomed over Morro.
As the Hollow dispersed into the shadows, their leader's gaze remained fixed on the horizon, where the golden light of the statues still shone brightly. The hunt for the renegade core had only just begun, and they would stop at nothing to claim what they believed was theirs.
As Morro lay resting in Ryuu's protective embrace, his thoughts drifted in and out of consciousness. The warmth of the dragon's wings and the soothing presence provided a sense of safety he hadn't felt in a long time. The memories of his past mistakes and the darkness he had encountered weighed heavily on his heart.
In a moment of vulnerability, he whispered, "Ryuu... will you stay with me? I don't want to be alone."
Ryuu's gaze softened, and he gently tightened his wings around Morro, creating a cocoon of warmth and security. "I would never leave you," the dragon replied, his voice filled with unwavering resolve and compassion. "You are not alone, Morro. I am here to protect you and guide you on this journey."
Morro's eyes filled with tears, but this time, they were tears of relief and gratitude. The bond between him and Ryuu had grown stronger, and the dragon's words offered a profound sense of comfort. For the first time in a long while, he felt truly cared for and understood.
As he drifted back off to sleep, the golden light from the statues continued to shine, casting a gentle glow over the scene. Ryuu remained vigilant, his promise echoing in the stillness of the night. No matter the challenges that lay ahead, Morro knew he had a steadfast guardian by his side.
As Morro lay sleeping in the protective cocoon of his wings, Ryuu's thoughts wandered through the vast tapestry of experiences and memories he had witnessed. The dragon had seen the rise and fall of great warriors, the struggles and triumphs of the Ninja, and the devastating transformation of Ninjago into the desolate world it had become.
Ryuu reflected on the enduring spirit of the Ninja, their unwavering determination to protect and preserve the light in even the darkest of times. He remembered their battles, their camaraderie, and the sacrifices they had made to safeguard their realm. The sight of their golden statues, frozen in time, filled him with a profound sense of duty and resolve.
The dragon's gaze shifted to Morro, the young warrior who had faced immense trials and had yet found the strength to confront his past and seek redemption. Ryuu felt a deep connection to Morro, recognizing the potential for change and growth that lay within him. The journey ahead would be fraught with danger, but Ryuu was determined to guide and protect Morro, just as he had done for the Ninja.
He promised to himself anew that he would not rest until the Ninja were awakened from their long slumber, and time once again had a name. But in the meantime, Morro needed him—and he was determined to not let another young, innocent core be lost to the shadows forever.