Familiar Faces in an Unfamiliar Setting

by WarriorTriviaMaster

Summary:

He sighed. “Fine. If I pinky promise not to try to destroy the world again, would you let me go?”
She stared at him. “No?”
“Worth a shot. But you’re not going to stop me.”
Nya stiffened, and she clenched her fists. The water resurfaced and launched at Morro. He yelped and quickly ducked, the water slamming against the wall behind him. “Oh, aren’t I?” She said coldly.
Morro scrambled to regain his posture, his hand on the grip of his double bladed swallow. “I’m your best shot at getting your metal friend back, aren’t I?” He tried to say nonchalantly, but tension leaked into his tone. Nya faltered.
______
OR
______
When a mysterious figure attacked the same village that Nya had been debating on fighting, the water ninja comes face-to-face with an old and familiar face that she shouldn't have been able to see again.

Notes:

This is my prediction of what will happen in Dragons Rising Season Three. Be prepared for a LOT of chaos. And swearing. That too.

Chapter 1: Familiar Faces

Nya… was stumped.

She didn’t know what to do. Zane was captured, the Dragonian warriors were outnumbering her—and even though she often managed to overthrow her attackers even if they were more numbered than she was, Nya had to swallow her pride and admit she wasn’t going to win this one alone. 

Sneaking in was impossible, considering the Dragonian guards and scouts that lined the edges of the village and the skies like giant, winged rats. She wouldn’t stand a chance—and even if she somehow managed to sneak past, it would still be ridiculously difficult to reach the centre of the Storm Village and rescue Zane without getting killed. 

Second issue: Her comms weren’t reaching her teammates due to her terrible luck, so she was on her own. Again.

And, worst of all, Jay was with them.

He called himself ‘Rouge’, now, and it was… heartbreaking to see how violent and angry her yang had become. He seemed like a completely different person who hated her with a burning passion and wanted to crush the remaining shards of her heart. He was with the Dragonians now from what she had seen, and if he was there, he and the Forbidden Five were most likely working together to do who knows what with the prismatic blades.

Nya groaned and slammed her head on the rough stones in front of her, focusing on the growing pain on her forehead from her repetitive banging of it on the rocks and not the conflict swirling in her. She always hated when her two wants, opinions, choices, or needs conflicted with each other—especially if they were decisions that either way bargained with her friend’s life. She could rescue Zane by sneaking in (also by breaking in—both of which were a guaranteed death sentence for her and Zane) or she could just leave him. She had a fifty-fifty chance of not dying, but he had a one-hundred chance of it.

The sound of pebbles rolling made Nya pause her relentless abuse of her head, thrusting her out of her depressingly dark thoughts and making her focus on the hooded figure that was treading down the rocky slopes of the mountainscape and towards the heavily guarded Storm Village.
At first, the Water Ninja thought the figure was Dragonian—until she got a glimpse of green flesh, and as far as she knew, Dragonians had orange scales, not flesh of a completely opposite colour. After a closer round of inspection, she noticed that the figure was gripping the handles of a double-bladed swallow, and Nya got the impression that they weren’t there to make friends.

The mysterious stranger who probably had a death wish approached the guarded gates of the village with no falter in their determined stride, and before Nya could think it through, she was quietly moving down the mountain after them. 

The two guards posted directly in front of the gates pointed their axes threateningly at the stranger, and the other Dragonian scouts that flew in the air or lined the outskirts of the Storm Village readied their weapons, but despite all the danger, the figure, who Nya had temporarily nicknamed ‘Swallow’ in representation of their chosen weapon, didn’t halt.

In a dark green blur, Swallow lunged forward at a startling speed, the cloak they wore flowing behind them as they stabbed their weapon through the small gap in the layering of the scout’s breastplate and piercing through its chest with one weaponed hand while removing their cloak with the other in one swift movement.

Swallow wore a gin caparol hooded cowl which hid the symbol on the back of their tattered, dark green gi that would usually give some sort of clue to who was wearing the typically ninja-based, specialized keikogi. Nya narrowed her eyes, trying to get a glimpse of the impressive fighter’s face, but whenever she got close, they would move again. They were tall, which Nya usually found to be a disadvantage for both herself and others, but they didn’t let that stop them. Their arm, she distantly noticed, also had a faint glow to it, but she didn’t pay much attention to the details she could barely see.

The Dragonian scout fell to the ground and Swallow swiftly pulled their, uh, swallow sword out of the body before whirling around, slashing their sword through the crowd of hostility which had quickly formed. One of the warriors sliced at them from a view Nya couldn’t observe despite seeing the weapon hit, but they didn’t even flinch—they just thrust their sword into its leg, hooking it into its skin and flinging the helpless Dragonian into more like a bowling ball. 

Despite how talented the stranger obviously was, it was clear that they were outnumbered, and were slowly losing because of it. When they blocked a particularly rough parry, their swallow slipped out of their hands and fell to the ground, and they couldn’t reach it when they were forced backwards. Nya’s mind raced, quickly calculating the pros and cons of following her gut instinct to help this mysterious figure. Pros: she had a better chance of saving Zane and potentially gaining a new ally at the same time. Cons: she could be killed on the spot along with them, or they might actually be a foe who had beef with the Dragonians.

Fifty-fifty chance.

Screw it.

Nya sped down the hill, dust kicking up in her wake like footprints marking where she had once been as she jumped when she reached a safe distance. She flung herself forward, suspended in air and her blue fukumen-zukin mask flying off her head before she landed nimbly, smack-in-the-middle of the Dragonian crowd. Nya smirked when the Dragonian warriors and scouts immediately scrambled back in shock, and her hands clenched into fists.

As she squeezed her fingers into her palm, the ninja willed the water that ran through the veins of the ground and in the aroma of the sky to follow her movements and it listened. The clear liquid glistened when the boiling sun hit it and it wrapped around her hands. The warriors scrambled to regain their sense of control by charging at her, but before the things even got close, they got a face full of water flung them back against the wall with a crack.

Nya whipped around, her hair tapping against her face as she shot blasts of water to the characters surrounding Swallow, sending them flying backwards and crashing into either one another or the wall of the Storm Village. Water splattered, and Swallow hissed when a blast of it jerked past them and flung off their hood, a bundle of green and raven hair falling and covering the sizzling, see-through skin.

Nya froze.

So did the figure.

Morro stood tall, as tall as the Elemental Master of Water remembered him to be, his dark chartreuse eyes wide as he stared at Nya with a mixture of horror, disbelief, annoyance, and a flash of panic. For a moment, they just took each other in despite literally being surrounded, before Morro suddenly reached into a strap on his tattered pants and unsheathed a knife, which he flung with expert precision at Nya.

At the last moment, she ducked the dagger which would have struck her right in between her blue eyes if not for her lightning fast reflexes. Nya rolled on the ground and jumped back to her feet just in time to see the dagger pierce the heart of a Dragonian she hadn’t even realised was behind her.

With inhuman speed, Morro darted forward and tore the stiletto out of his victims chest. With his foot, he flung up his swallow and caught it expertly in his glowing radioactive green arm while with the dagger he slashed and stabbed at the tightening crowd. Nya stared with her mouth agape, just standing there for a moment and trying to process the situation.

Morro was alive—well, as alive as he could be as a ghost. He wasn’t hurting her, but instead attacking the Dragonians. He might have just saved her life, and his right arm was glowing with corporeal bones in it. Fun.

She was snapped out of her thoughts when a warrior charged at her, and she swiftly nailed it in the groin and slammed her head against its own. The warrior stumbled backwards, and she quickly disarmed it before drawing her dragon hook, impressively made by Sora, and whipped it at the crowd. Nya lunged forward with a feral look in her eyes, water swirling around her armed hands and moving with her. She could feel it trying to escape her grasp, trying to cause chaos around them, but she kept a tight hold on it and didn’t allow it to run wild. She shot a blast of water, which missed Morro by a hair, at the Dragonians and did her best to thin the crowd of hostile faces and voices. 

Meanwhile, Morro grunted and dodged the blast by slamming the hilt of the dagger to one's head and slashing at their legs with a deadly accuracy that rendered the limbs useless for weight. He stepped through the groaning bodies with ease, the fallen’s hands trying and failing to grab onto his incorporeal ankles. 

The bundles of hostile enemies quickly dwindled until there were only three left. Two continued fighting, trying to corner Nya, while the other bolted to assumingly warn the many, many armies of Dragonians inside the Storm Village, but ultimately failed when a dagger pierced through a gap in its armour and tore through its skin. Nya fought off the Dragonians surrounding her, but found that, in the end, she didn’t have to when a sharp blade slit at one’s throat. The dead Dragonian fell to the ground to reveal Morro standing behind it, the silver, cutting edges of his double-bladed sword dripping and stained with red ichor. The last Dragonian yelped and scampered away from both them and the village, and the two were left alone.

They stared at each other, before Nya clenched her fists and two orbs of water the sizes of netballs rose up next to her. Morro scrambled away, raising his hands and dropping his weapon.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, easy there, princess!”

“You son of a—!” Nya snarled, storming towards the ghost, who stumbled backwards.

“Just let me—”

“Let you what? Talk to me? Kill me? Possess me?” She didn’t notice the way Morro flinched at the mention of possession, her eyes brimming with rage and hate as she stalked towards him. The orbs of water floated menacingly beside her. “How are you even here? You shouldn’t exist, let alone be roaming Ninjago!”

“Well, it’s hardly Ninjago, now is it?” Morro snarked, giving up on backing away from the murderous Ninja who had technically killed him before. “Not since the realms ended up like a badly cooked pretzel and created a whole new damn place!”

“It’s still Ninjago, you sad sack of misery and goth!”

“Ex-fucking-scuse me!? Is that really the best you could come up with? I can think of, like, fifty better insults off the top of my head!” Morro ducked when Nya flung an orb of water at him and scrambled back. “Okay, geez! Listen, I’m not here to cause trouble.”

“You attacked a village.” Nya growled.

Morro flung his hands into the air and she tensed, tightening her grip on her dragon hook. “I had a reason! And so did you, by the way!”

“I wouldn’t have done it if I knew I was helping you.”

“So what, attacking a hostile village full of dragon descendants is okay until I do it?” He growled.

“You are supposed to be—wait.” Nya short circuited and mentally rewinded what he just said. “Dragon descendants?”

Morro blinked at her. “Uh, yeah. What, you think they just have scales, little dragon things, and ivory horns for display?

“I…”

She hadn’t thought about that.

She had been thinking about Zane.

Slowly, Nya lowered her weapon, regarding Morro in a new light. He was… different. He looked older, somehow, despite still being the same age when he died, and his right arm was glowing a radioactive green and had bones in them. Sure, she had seen it earlier, but she had only processed that just then. She still had her dragon hook in her hand, but didn’t have it pointed directly at Morro, who looked just as surprised as she did. “You…”

“Me.” He said dryly, not letting her finish her thought. “Look, lady, you can try kill me later, okay? Right now, I have to grab something in that town that I need.”

She narrowed her eyes and tightened her grip on the hook. She didn’t trust that. At all. “What do you need?”

“It’s none of your business!”

“Damn right, it’s my business! The last time you tried to get things, it was to bring the Preemenint back, you fucking asshole.”

Morro’s face hardened at the mention of his Mistress and his gaze darkened. He clenched his gloved fists and stepped forward, meeting her head on. “Well, you killed her, so I wouldn’t be able to even if I wanted to. Which I don’t.”

“Right. I totally believe you.” She said dryly. Her fingers twitched, itching to control the puddle of water from her previous threat and disintegrate him for a second time. 

He sighed. “Fine. If I pinky promise not to try to destroy the world again, would you let me go?”

She stared at him. “No?”

“Worth a shot. But you’re not going to stop me.”

Nya stiffened, and she clenched her fists. The water resurfaced and launched at Morro. He yelped and quickly ducked, the water slamming against the wall behind him. “Oh, aren’t I?” She said coldly.

Morro scrambled to regain his posture, his hand on the grip of his double bladed swallow. “I’m your best shot at getting your metal friend back, aren’t I?” He tried to say nonchalantly, but tension leaked into his tone. Nya faltered.

That was true. He and she had basically wiped out the Storm Village’s outer defences when working together—and even before Nya had helped, Morro was doing quite well on his own. And it was obvious that the ghost had been stalking and observing the village for some time now—since he knew Zane was in there.

Or he helped capture him and this was all a ploy.

The latter was what Nya suspected, but…

“I don’t trust you.” She growled to Morro, and he didn’t seem bothered by that—until she sighed and forced herself to relax. “But you’re my best shot at getting Zane back.”

Morro stared at her with disbelief. “Are you craz—”

She stalked forward and got right up in his face. “But step one toe out of line and you’re a puddle of goo, capeesh?”

He raised his hands over his head. “That’s better.” He muttered under his breath. He took a step back and, after a moment of clear hesitance, cautiously extended a now-corporeal hand. “So, you don’t kill me until after we rescue your metal friend, yeah?”

Nya stared between Morro’s extended hand and the careful nonchalance placed in his dark chartreuse eyes. She trusted him as far as she could throw him with no arms, but he was the best shot she had. She could also interrogate him later if he didn’t stab her in the back. After a moment of reluctance, she grasped his hand firmly with a strong grip that would most likely break any normal person’s fingers.

“Fine.” She said coldly. “But first… ”

Quicker than Morro could react, Nya’s fist shot out and slammed into his corporeal jaw with a blow hardened with hate, loathing, and spite. His head snapped to the side with the force.

“That’s for hurting Lloyd and my family.

For a moment, Morro was frozen still by shock, before he massaged his jaw, which had formed a darker shade of green on his radioactive skin. He glared at her, but they both knew that he deserved that and worse.

“Fuck you.” He muttered with a sharp glare, but his words held no real bite, and neither did his scowl. “Let’s go.”

 

Morro didn’t know why he was doing this to himself. He shouldn’t want to rescue that crazy shit, but he couldn’t bring himself to just leave. And because of his newly found, but albeit fragile, morals, he had run into Nya—the second worst sincerio. The worst would be Lloyd, but Morro didn’t want to jinx it.

He jumped down from the wall, his feet landing soundlessly on the sand-dusted wood of the Storm Village. He heard the Water Ninja drop down behind him, but he said nothing despite the nagging urge to criticize her loud fall. Did she want to alert the entire village before they could rescue her metal friend?

Fuck, he was too tired for this. Morro sped into a dark alleyway of the village between two deserted buildings—likely remnants of the previous inhabitants of the Storm Village who were forced out by the new Dragonians. Or were they the same ones? It irked him that a previously vibrant town had gone to… this. Whatever this was. 

Morro remembered when he had seen this from the Spectral Lands, and had visisted it out of pure boredom and the need to get away from the Soul Suckers. It was probably the first year of being in the Merged lands, and he could recall very clearly how the inhabitants, the villagers, had welcomed everyone. There were humans, an injured Oni being tentively welcomed that looked suspiciously like Lloyd’s father—something he had caught in the kid’s memories when possessing him. The thought of what he had done always made him cringe—even now.

There were some in the crowd who had recognised him, but many had never seen the First Realm before, like Morro, and never even seen Ninjago. The villagers had treated everyone with equal kindness—something that he was not too used to. 

He leapt off of a few, large garbage bins and pushed off the deserted washing lines to jump onto the tilted, mossy roofs. It would have been easier with his powers, but what the heck. It had been his decision to pass on the wind, so he would have to live with it.

Then again, he had given it up when he was one-hundred percent sure that he was going to stay dead, but the Cloud Kingdom loved to fuck with his life. Fuck them—he should have burned that place to the ground when he had the chance to. 

“Keep up.” Morro snapped to Nya when she started to lag behind.

“Watch it.” She growled in turn, but hurried forward anyhow. They walked in silence for a bit along the rooftops of the village, until the Ninja spoke again. “Why are you helping me?”

Why was he helping her? He opted not to answer. 

“Morro.”

…

A splash of water made Morro jump three feet into the air and whirl around, hand on the pommel of his dagger, which was sheathed along with his blade. Nya had dropped an orb of water onto the ground. “Do you mind?” He snarled.

Her face remained completely unwavered by his tone.  “Why are you helping me?” Nya repeated.

“Because you’re not really giving me a choice, water woman.” Morro muttered, shooting her a glare before he hopped over a slim gap between two buildings. “That or pain. And I’ve had enough of the latter, so the former it is. Helping.”

She scoffed irritably. “That’s not an answer, windbag.”

“Yes it is.”

“No, it’s—”

They ducked when a scout came their way, tumbling behind the chimney. Nya’s jaw clamped shut and Morro glared at the sky, flipping it off with an incorporeal finger. 

“Flipping off the sky won’t help anything, dumbass.” She snapped.

“It’s helping my annoyance, so fuck off.”

After another few moments of waiting, they started moving again, and the buildings slowly thinned and the gaps between the roofs grew larger and larger as they approached the centre of the village filled with cages, three of which had humanoid beings. She recognised one as Zane.

Nya surged forward, but was yanked back by Morro.

“Are you crazy?” He hissed, his voice a hushed snap. “Are you trying to get yourself killed?”

“But, Zane—”

“Is in a cage, heavily guarded.” Morro interrupted. “And locked, by the way. The keys are on the main guard.”

Nya followed his gaze, and her eyebrows raised when she saw light shine off of an iron keychain rusted by the cruel hands of time. Three keys jingled as the Dragonian patrolled the heavily guarded area.

“I’ll be able to get them,” He added, and snorted when she immediately stiffened and glared at him suspiciously. “Relax, princess, I’m not gonna do anything nefarious to you or your metal friend.”

“His name is Zane.” She snarled.

“I don’t care.” Morro waved her off flippantly. He flickered in and out of view—once, twice, thrice, and then disappeared. “Be back in a jiff.”

She searched frantically for him. “Wait, Morro—aaaand he’s gone. Lovely.”

Morro snickered under his breath and slid down the long rain gutter on the side of the building. Sure, he was a ghost, but some things still hurt.

He had honestly forgotten the thrill of sneaking around, especially when invisible. Perks of being dead and why living was overrated . He moved silently past the frankly terrible supposed-to-be-guards with nonchalant ease and slowly crept behind the one with the keys. As he got closer and reached for the keys, Morro was suddenly back in his childhood body—a thin and small thing that was devilishly quick. He found himself tracing the footsteps and the movements that he had done when he stole the keys to a pantry from a shopkeeper. Morro easily grabbed the chain with light and wispy movements, and shoved it into his pocket. Departed Realm rules were the best.

With a fist bump of triumph, he stalked towards the occupied cages, scanning the figures in them. One was metal—Zane—, the other was a kid with an afro, and the third was a guy with a large bamboo hat hiding a ponytail. He really needed to show the guy how to style hair. 

“Don’t move until I tell you to,” Morro whispered into the kid’s ear, and he jumped.

“Morro?” Arin whisper-hissed, and Jay—or Rouge, he was calling himself now, straightened. 

“Took you long enough.” The lightning master scoffed. Morro rolled his eyes and unlocked Arin’s cage.

“Morro?” Zane’s soft voice made the ghost tense. “How is it that you—?”

He grunted. “I’ll explain later. Just shut up and don’t move outta the cage until I tell you to—and I mean it, Jay.”

Jay spat, glaring at where he assumed Morro was. The ghost was not there. “It’s Rouge, dipshit.”

“I’ll call you that if you stay put. Got it?”

Jay obviously hated that idea but didn’t argue further. Morro nodded, even though he knew they couldn’t see him, and made his way back to the rooftops once he had unlocked the other cages. He climbed up the pipeline leading to the gutters and frightened a pacing Nya.

This time, it was her who jumped three feet into the air, and Morro felt a prick of salty satisfaction at the annoyed look she sent him.

“Where the heck did you go?” She snapped, storming over to the ghost.

He raised his hands lazily over his head, which he tilted so that his locks hid portions of his face. “I went to save your friend, your yang, and your nephew, so show a little gratitude.” He snapped, unable to keep the bite out of his tone despite his satisfaction when she faltered.

“Jay?”

“Well, that ‘rebel’-y little shit now goes by ‘Rouge’, but yes… Jay. And Arin.”

She jolted, and Nya scrambled forward with wide eyes. “Arin?”

Morro’s eye twitched. “Stop repeating everything I say. It gets annoying. Arin’s with me until that idiot got himself caught, and he and Rouge are what I went to get. Because I have to save their sorry hinds. Again.”

Nya stared at him, her hands curling and uncurling into tight, reflexive fists. Arin was alive. Lloyd would be so happy if he knew that—her found brother had basically been inconsolable and out of his mind with worry ever since Arin had run away, and now she finally understood why he kept on saying frantically; ‘He’s gonna end up like him’.

“You didn’t want him to become you.” She said simply.

Morro stepped back as though he had been slapped, and he gaped at Nya with startled eyes. “How—?”

“I’m right, aren’t I?” She pressed. “The whole situation reminds you of you and Master Wu.”

He flinched at the name of his former sensei. He was silent for a while, before he said quietly; “He was going to end up like I did, and the world can’t handle another me.” Morro cracked his back and then his knuckles, straightening and shoving the unwanted feelings into the prison where they broke out of. “Let’s go kick some Dragonian butt.”

Chapter 2: The Distraction

Summary:

Nya and Morro catch up and plan to break Rouge, or Jay, Zane, and Arin out of the Dragonion Village.

Notes:

This chapter has some trigger warnings. There is a lot of violence (not too graphic, hopefully), and implied mentions of dehumanization, water-based torture, and a cult-like thing (you blink it and you miss it, so don't worry). Let me know if I missed anything.

Morro remembered when he first saw Arin. He had gone into the Spectral Lands for the Healing Elixir to save his dying mentor, Ras. When they first met, and he saw the kid’s wonky Spinjitzu, Morro had thought that it was Lloyd who was dying, and he felt an unnatural stab of concern and… worry? That made him question his entire mindset. Sure, he had made peace with Wu on the Day of the Departed, but he never thought he would end up feeling concern for the thief’s wellbeing. Even now, the forced nickname felt wrong.

When the Departed Realm had been messed up when the realms decided to fuck with one another, alive beings had arrived in it, and that was just the beginning of Morro’s problems. It got worse when the living fell sick, their souls slowly fading away and leaving an empty, ghostly husk. They started attacking everyone, trying to drain their life force in a futile attempt to regain their lost souls. Many people died, and the more souls that the soul suckers consumed, especially living ones, the more disarrayed, decayed, and chaotic the Departed Realm became. When Morro started hearing a familiar voice, one that he shouldn’t have had to suffer under ever again, he knew it was time to go.

 

A green figure raced through the chaos that was now the Departed Realm, a previously peaceful and relaxful place which was now being nicknamed the ‘Spectral Lands’ by… almost everyone. Soul suckers raced behind him, snarling and hissing as they scampered after him as quickly as their invertebrate-like paws could take them. He held the hilt of his retracting, double-bladed sword with a grip which could shatter bone, all his built up tension and the familiar feeling of panic that was building up in his chest projected into his iron grasp. Rot ate at the trees in the woods which surrounded the single village that remained above ground and not destroyed by the cancerous decay which had eaten everything else. Ironically, that village’s name was LasKyūkeisho, which roughly translated to ‘The Final Resting Place’. Very few people remained, the others having drank from the newly discovered well which sent their souls somewhere else. Somewhere free.

First Master, Morro wanted to be free.

He scrambled over the fallen trees and knocked over a bunch of hastily packed and abandoned boxes filled with the Departed Realm’s crops with a powerful push, cutting off some of the soul suckers leading the rest, but they kept coming. Morro gritted his teeth and pushed on with fire running in his nonexistent veins. 

His feet landed in a puddle of green goo the colour of Morro’s dark chartreuse eyes, the Departed Realm’s version of liquid, and it splashed, clinging onto his dirtied boots like moss on a tree, like algae on the side of a pond, like barnacles on a rock in the deep, deep ocean depths. He could hear the puddle splashing behind him as the soul suckers scrambled to follow him. Unfortunately, they seemed to share the same resistance to the gooey substance as the Departed did.

Note to self, Morro thought as he swept up the village. Pulling a Water Ninja and drowning these fuckers won’t work.

Double unfortunately. It would have been satisfying to see someone shitty die like he did. Then the whole ‘morally-grey’ situation would feel better and less unusual for the acrimonious, former Master of Wind. 

He could hear the snarling of the soul suckers growing closer and closer, but that wasn’t what was causing the consternation that closed up his chest and made it hard to breathe the not-really-air of the Departed Realm. No, it was the familiar, smooth and bewitching voice whispering to him at the back of his mind.

‘“Hero”',  She continuously purred into his ear like a seductive cat stalking its prey. Only, Her prey was him. ‘What a pathetic, desperate term for a scared boy who is rotten to the core. Your soul will always belong to me.’

The thought of Her only made Morro run faster.

His dark raven hair, now longer than ever because of weird Departed Realm rules Morro couldn’t explain, swam behind him like a wake in the water of a lightning fast boat strengthened by modern technology. No strands were left in his face as he ran quicker than the wind. 

Why did he give that up again?

Morro scrambled up a nearby tree with dying leaves tearing off the branches. It wouldn’t hide him, and ghosts couldn’t will themselves to be invisible in the Departed Realm, but it gave Morro the opportunity to catch his breath. Soul suckers scratched at the bark at the bottom of the wilting tree, their snarls loud and clawing at Morro’s highly sensitive ears, the sound making him want to cover them, but he didn’t. He refused to stoop that low.

The ghost panted, leaning back against the trunk with a chest heaving from exhaustion. Running, he used to love running. He wondered what changed.

Muttering a quiet prayer under his breath, he pressed down a slide on his blade, which some of the remaining guys nicknamed ‘ PurotekutāOlsol', and the sharp edges protracted out of the grip of the double-pointed sword. The blades gleamed with a menace in the light which was unnatural for anywhere else, but natural and familiar to the Departed. 

‘Protector of Souls’ Morro thought with a scoff, running his finger over the hastily etched words on his blade—an unwelcome gift from an Oni, Mystake, before she drank from the Well of the Lost to move on to wherever those who drank it went. Who would’ve thunk it—Morro, the notorious son of a bitch, being called a protector.

Boy, if his old self could see him now.

With an animalistic growl to the soul suckers, the ghost lunged down from the tree like a flying squirrel, dropping down onto them with the point of the sharpest blade facing down. He slammed the point into the nearest soul sucker, making it deflate like a balloon. A vile stench filled the area, and Morro ignored the familiarity of it. They were like the Cursed Realm reborn.

The thought made him shiver. He didn’t want to belong to Her again, even if She would never regain the power She had once had.

His whipped PurotekutāOlsol around, warding off the foul beasts with the fury and strength of the Cursed Realm, but, unlike the times when he was fighting for Her, he had something to fight for, and that, even though he didn’t like to admit it, made him stronger than ever. Having something he wanted to fight for.

His eyes were alight with an unmatched protective rage, feeling all the stress that had been building up pouring out of his shoulders and into his hits, stabs, and slashes. He moved like a demon, nothing more than a green flash in the wind. Although he tried not to show it, Morro could already feel the exhaustion weighing on his shoulders, a cold tiredness that was the consequence of daring to cross paths with the soul suckers plaguing the once peaceful planes of the afterlife. 

“Watch out!” Morro barely had time to duck before a figure with long brown hair soared over his head and crashed into the crowd of soul suckers which had formed. The woman wielded a double-bladed dagger not too different from Morro’s. 

He lunged forward and yanked her back when she got too close to the soul suckers. “You’re a fucking idiot, you know that!” He screeched, warding off the beasts back-to-back with her. Abilene only cackled.

“Says you! You were being chased by a bunch of these fuckers, dumbass!”

It felt natural fighting with Abilene, who had been known as Bansha in the Cursed Realm. The Preeminent usually gave most arrivees in the Departed Realm new names, dehumanizing them in a way and distancing them from the good parts of who they were. After all, the Preeminent sought to slaughter every ounce of human that was left in them. With a jolt, Morro realised that she must have heard Her as well.

Morro kicked back one that got far too close for comfort, while Abilene slammed her dagger into one’s head, and the stench grew stronger.

“Gross!” Abilene snarled with a nose crinkled with disgust. She and Morro backed away at the familiar smell. “They smell like the Cursed Realm!”

Morro flinched slightly and thrust PurotekutāOlsol into a soul sucker, lifting it up and throwing it into the others. It disappeared in a cloud of green mist. Abilene had always been more comfortable talking about the Cursed Realm, and the Preeminent, than Morro ever was. “Do you hear Her too?”

She faltered, and in her moment of hesitance, two soul suckers leapt onto the Cursed, slamming her to the ground. Her surprised cry was choked, and the ghostly aura around her flickered. 

“Oh, no you fucking don’t!" Morro charged at the offenders and tackled them off of her. He could immediately feel energy sapping out of his body when he came into contact with the beasts, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He grabbed the rondel dagger sheathed in the stap on his leg and threw it at one, making it explode in a cloud of stench. Bansha leapt at the other one, thrusting her own dagger into its tailbone and slamming her foot on its head. The hostile, soul-hungry crowd had rapidly thinned, but so had the friends’ energy. Morro’s chest heaved, and Abilene’s skin had turned a dull and sickly green where the soul suckers had come into contact with her. After a moment of hesitation and running the odds in his head, the former Master of Wind grabbed his old friend’s wrist and bolted, his feet barely touching the ground. He heard the soul suckers giving chase, and Abilene’s surprised cries, but Morro didn’t stop.

“We need to get to the Well!” He yelled. They were going to meet Garmadon there and move on together, all three of them.

Why did the thought of moving on make Morro sick to his metaphorical stomach?

 

Morro watched as the sun grew lower and lower. They were going to wait until night—That was Nya’s plan, and he didn’t really have the energy or the want to argue with the Water Ninja. He was aware of her gaze on him, but he said nothing. His fingers drummed restlessly on the roof as he thought. Why did he care whether Arin lived or died? It wouldn’t affect him either way. He could have saved so much energy and effort on this and just left the kid to figure out an escape by himself, but he didn’t.

He swallowed back a sigh and ran a hand down his face. Morals were confusing and a waste of time, but now that he seemed to have got them, he wasn’t able to get rid of them.

“Why are we waiting for night?” Nya asked, and Morro definitely didn’t jump. 

He forced himself to relax and shot a condescending look over his shoulder. "Because, they’re part dragon, and dragons have shitty night vision.” 

Nya’s eyebrows shot up and, in retaliation to the man’s condescending look, shot a skeptical one. “Really.” She deadpanned.

“Yes!” Morro scoffed, not even trying to hide how offended he was. How did she not know this when her Sensei was literally part dragon? First Master, did Wu not tell them anything? “Dragons have terrible low-light vision—how do you not know this?”

“Is that supposed to be common knowledge‽” She whisper-screeched. A Dragonion scout looked up and the two quickly ducked. After a moment of waiting with bated breath, they relaxed.

Morro ran a hand down his face with a muffled groan. “Yes, dumbass, I thought it would be with Wu as your Sensei, but he doesn’t tell you anything, and it’s actually beginning to piss me off.”

Nya blinked. “Are you offended on my behalf?”

He felt his face heat up and Morro was suddenly grateful that ghosts couldn’t have a flush face. Why couldn’t ghosts get red in the face when they could bruise? Focus, Morro. “No!” He spluttered. “I’m not offended on your behalf! I’m just pissed that I’m the one who has to explain this to you! Dragons can’t see well in the dark at all—why do you think Wu had shitty vision in low light?”

“Sensei has bad vision in the dark?” She knew he was part dragon and part Oni, even though she only found out a few years before the merge, but that he had bad vision in the dark?

Morro slammed his head onto the roof. “Sweet Wojira, I’m going to stab something.”

 

Nya crept behind Morro, trying to stay focused on the mission and not the fact that she was literally following the guy who was a villain. His steps were silent, and the Water Ninja couldn’t tell if that was from his (albeit brief) training under Master Wu or because he was a ghost and his feet weren’t corporeal. She decided to focus on that rather than everything else—everything else made her brain overheat.

They moved across the roofs with silent footsteps, following the trail Morro had mapped out earlier when he unlocked the cages containing Zane, Arin, and Jay.

Oh, Jay.

Nya slid down the rain pipe after Morro, the feel of her hair billowing against her face reminding her that she hadn’t fully tied it up yet. She scowled and tugged the insistent locks into a ponytail once she reached solid ground and turned to look for Morro, but he had already moved forward.

“Wait for me next time!” She hissed at him when she caught up. Nya decided not to comment on his eye roll. 

“Your boyfriend, friend, and nephew will know when to get out.” He said instead of answering her, frankly feral, derision. He shot her an animal-like smirk. “All we need to do is give them the signal.”

“Why do you call Arin my nephew?” Nya couldn’t help but ask.

Morro stilled mid-step and his cocky look faded into a deadpan one. He responded in a flat and bored tone. “Lloyd’s your found brother, dumbass, and, as much as the little shit hates to admit it, he’s basically Arin’s father. That makes him your nephew, no?” He turned back to examining the guards, scanning them with a hawk’s eye, searching for the weakest link. 

“I… guess.” She had never really thought about it like that. Huh.

He only grunted and his eyes zeroed in on a younger scout who had wonky armour and a weak grip on his sword. Bingo. Nya felt a chill run up her spine when he saw the grin on the ghost’s lips, her fingers instinctively tightening on her dragon hook. “Time for the distraction.” He said darkly.

Wordlessly, they moved through the alleys until they reached the poor Dragonion who was the Achilles' heel of the guards protecting the cages. Malicious anticipation and eagerness glinted in Morro’s green-rimmed eyes, and it wasn’t helping the suspicion she felt. Nya couldn’t believe she was allying with Morro. She really was desperate, wasn’t she?

“By the way,” Morro whispered to Nya, “you better let your water go wild. It’ll enjoy that—just keep it away from me.”

She scoffed. “You say that like it’s sentient.”

Morro blinked, and he felt the very familiar urge to knock Wu over the head. “It is—did Wu seriously not…” He let out a quiet, frustrated growl. “Nevermind. We can deal with that later, let’s just get this over with.”

“You haven’t told me the plan yet.” Nya pointed out.

“Simple—just cause as much chaos as you can.” After shooting her a wild smirk, Morro lunged forward, barreling into the poor guard and tackling him to the ground with a loud yell. At first, Nya was confused—that wasn’t Morro’s fighting style. He was silent and deadly, slashing with the speed of a demon and the silence of a mute swan, until she realised that he wasn’t trying to be silent. He was the distraction, and that meant so was she. Thinking quickly, the Water Ninja charged into battle, warding off the distracted guards. Soon enough, she found herself fighting back-to-back with Morro.

She threw her trident-like spear at them like dart, the squish of it piercing through three Dragonions echoing into the loud night. They stumbled back and fell down.

Meanwhile, Morro was holding back, trying to stretch out the distraction for as long as possible to give a chance for the captured to escape. The light of the moon reflected off his radioactive arm, making it look brighter than it was. He was snarling like an animal, hair whipping as he lunged forward with PurotekutāOlsol held firm in his hand, the silver of the blade stained with the ichor of the enemies who dared to cross him. Out of the corner of his eye, the ghost saw Rouge, Zane, and Arin surge out of the cage. Jay ran away, as expected, but Zane and Arin charged towards them, into battle. In a moment of shock, a Dragonion tackled him, and he was unable to become incorporeal in time. 

Morro slammed the guy off of him and Nya shot a blast of water onto them to fling it back. He hissed in pain when droplets speckled his skin, which sizzled on impact.

Fucking water. He thought irritably as he leapt back to his feet. Morro suckerpunched one of the offending warriors and flung them backwards. The abused skin stung, but he was used to pain, so he was easily able to push both the burn and the smell of rotten lemons coming from it. Instead, the former Master of Wind pierced someone through the abdomen with PurotekutāOlsol and kicked them back.

Someone scrambled behind him, and Morro whirled around, ready to defend himself, but paused when he saw Arin. 

“You brought Nya?” He screeched. He slammed his foot onto one Dragonion’s and kneed him in the groin, a fairly dirty move that was morally grey. Arin jumped up and ducked into a dive roll, barrelling into the line of warriors.

“She’s already killed me once, dumbass!” Morro snapped back. “And I’m not going for a fourth.”

Meanwhile, Zane and Nya were catching up in the midst of battle, their respective elemental powers in (almost) full force. Nya was making sure the water didn’t go ballistic and flood everything. 

She grabbed one by the shoulders and slammed her head against its scaly forehead. “You found Arin? And Jay?”

Zane threw his shurikens at the legs of some Dragonions and shot a blast of ice at the ground, vaguely reminding Nya of that one scene in that movie about an ice-weilding princess. They slipped on the ice and fell, knocking their heads on the ground, and others tripped over them. It was quite comedic, actually. “Well, Jay is going by ‘Rouge’ now, Arin has drastically changed, and they were already there when I was captured, but, yes. I… found them. You have found… Morro?” He sounded as unbelieving as Nya herself.

“More of a two-way finding,” Nya snorted, although it was more of a tired scoff. She suckerpunched a warrior in the face. Some of its orange scales fell off and stuck to her hand. “He attacked the village’s defences first, then I went to help, blasted off his hood-cowl by accident, and realised he was alive—well, as alive as he can be, I guess. You know what I mean!”

“Hey, canaries!” Morro snapped from afar from where he had trapped a Dragonion in a headlock. “You two can catch up later! We need to get out of here, you’ve got what you came for!”

Nya blinked and easily dodged an attack that came from behind when she heard a whisper in the air, one that was common for her. Was Morro suggesting that they run from the fight?

Apparently, he caught wind of her expression. “Oh, don’t look so shocked, you look like a confused buffoon! I know a losing fight when I see one, dumbass.” He slammed his captive into the ground and Arin tackled another down with him. “Besides, you came here for your metal friend, didn’t you? You got him back, and while I may be unable to die by the hands of these fuckers, ya’ll aren’t. Let’s go. Arin—”

“I’m not stupid.” He growled. Nya’s… nephew—First Master, it felt so weird calling him that, but strangely… right? Emotions were confusing. He latched onto a scout twice his height and yanked it backwards, rolling out of the way before it crushed him. “Don’t treat me like a child.”

“You are a child, so shut up.” The ghost snapped. “Now, for the last fucking time, let’s go .”

Nya punched the Dragonion behind him when Morro ducked. A punch that was kind of meant for him. Kind of. “Hey, smart guy! We don’t have any modes of transport, and these guys can fly. Forgot that?”

Morro flung his arms in the air, accidentally whacking two goons in the face in the process. “Elemental dragons! Ring a bell?”

The thought cut through the haze of the battle and focused Nya’s mind. The last time she had used her elemental dragon was when they were fighting the Hands of Time—when Kai and her were in the past with Wu. She had honestly kind of forgotten that she could. 

Zane snapped out of it first. He jumped up and spun in the air, a white cloud littered with shards of ice flying from it enveloping him. Spinjitzu. Morro tried not to let his jealousy show, but a twitch still took over his eye. Wu never taught him that, but it was the first thing he had taught the replacements.

The Dragonions surrounding them—First Master, where did they just keep coming from?—were either flung away or sucked into the cloud. Things shrieked in there and Morro did not want to know what was happening in there.

He jumped when a hand wrapped firmly around Morro’s half-corporeal arm, sparking annoyance that it wasn’t completely incorporeal, which made it impossible to phase through walls, people, and other things with that one side. Nya yanked him out of the battlefield field, while Zane did the same thing with Arin.

“Let go of me!” Morro snapped, but Nya’s grip was unwavering.

“You’re coming with us. I want answers.”

"What?” He yelped when she propelled herself, and therefore him, into the air, the water around them solidifying and flying towards Nya. Next thing Morro knew, he was on the back of a large dragon made out of fucking water, but it wasn’t hurting him. At all! Why wasn’t it hurting him? Morro scratched at the burn scars on his skin, remnants to his second death and when the Preeminent punished him.

The Water Ninja flew her elemental dragon upwards into the slowly lightening skies, side-by-side with Zane’s dragon, which looked like it was an ice sculpture with energy crackling beneath the translucent surface. Arin was on the back, not looking happy at this sudden development.

Morro inhaled sharply despite not needing to breathe and he ran a hand through his raven hair, which was bellowing in the wind behind him. He could hear the Dragonions flying after them, shouting, but it was a hopeless task, as they were already too far ahead as the dragons flew into the night, free.

This was going to be a shit show.

Notes:

Thank you all for the support I've received! I was originally not going to post another chapter, but after watching the new Dragons Rising season, I have decided that it does not exist and I will be writing it instead. This is how I am staying sane.
I don't think I have a posting schedule yet, as I am often struck by random bursts of motivation, so I can make no promises nor will I ever. My ADHD is a beast, I tell you. Again, thank you for the support and the friendly comments, and a special shout out to two of you who have encouraged me to write a new chapter (you know who you are :D )
Best wishes!

Chapter 3: Memories. Great.

Summary:

Zane, Nya, and Morro catch up, lore is explained, and drama stabs them.

Zane watched Morro tend to a fire in their makeshift camp, Arin close behind the ghost and avoiding meeting the eyes of his family. Nya caught the Nindroid up on everything, how she found Morro, what Morro told her, and how he was consistently calling Arin her ‘nephew’. The person of interest then drawled out from the opposite side where he was starting the fire that Arin was Zane’s nephew as well, and had easily dodged the frustrated punch to the shoulder from the boy in mind.

Arin had changed. A lot. The boy was colder now, his eyes holding an edge to them that was the polar opposite of the friendly, cheerful gleam they once had, but it was also full of conflict. The scars on his cheek were still there, unsurprisingly, but he had gained a few more on his face, hands, and legs, from what the Nindroid could see. He had scanned Arin, and the boy was doing well enough health-wise, but, unfortunately, Zane could still not tell how he was doing in the mental and psychological aspects of health and welfare. He was certainly more… vocal. Something he most likely picked up from Morro.

Speaking of Morro. 

He did not understand how he was there. After the Day of the Departed, he and the other Ninja had assumed that Morro had faded into oblivion, but here he was. 

The ghost seemed to have gained a sense of morality, however grey and shaky said morality might be at the time. From what Zane had gathered, Morro was willing to kill if the person was viewed as a threat, but wouldn’t harm someone if they posed no threat to his safety in his mind. He had drifted into his mind, observing Morro’s movements.

“Hey, frosty!” A snap jerked the nindroid out of his thoughts. Morro was glaring at him from his place at the fire, an eyebrow raised and his hands curled around his double-bladed sword, which had been retracted to a simple, metal grip with no blade in sight. “Stop staring.”

Zane shook his head. “Apologies.”

He only huffed and, with a roll of his eyes, turned back to the fire. “Whatever.”

“What are you doing, Morro?” Nya asked sharply, her blue eyes narrowed with suspicion as she kept a careful and cautious gaze on Morro. “What are you planning?”

“I’m not—” He cut himself off and let out a frustrated sigh. He straightened from the fire and turned to evenly meet their gazes. “Once I make sure Arin stays with you, I’m probably going back to the Spectral Realm.”

Arin’s head whipped around to glare at Morro from his place on the outskirts of the camp.

“The Spectral Ream?” Zane echoed.

“It’s what ghosts called the Departed Realm after the Merge.” He explained. “It’s… just a nickname, I guess, but it kind of stuck.”

Nya frowned. “Why did it get a nickname? Somehow, ‘Spectral Lands’ sound more ominous than ‘Departed Realm’.”

“Oh, definitely.” Agreed Morro. “It’s just that after the Merge, it got… more corrupted.” His eyes darkened slightly with a more haunted look—pun unintended—and Zane observed the way his grip tightened on his weapon. It seemed like he was recalling bad encounters. “And then the soul suckers…” He trailed off and shook his head.

Soul suckers? Zane scanned through his databases—which were admittedly outdated after the Merge, so he wasn’t really surprised when he found nothing. No time than the present to update his files. “I have never heard of them.”

“I’m not surprised,” he said simply, “they’re exclusive to the Departed… the Spectral Lands. They appeared…” The ghost hesitated. “After the Merge, a lot of souls entered the Departed Realm. Most were dead, obviously, but a few were alive. That had never happened, ever, in the history of all the realms, so we were blind to the problems that it would cause. The living got sicker and sicker from the air, which is only fit for the dead, and their souls started to fade. Eventually, they weren’t even human, or whatever race they were before their souls died.”

“Hold on!” Arin spoke, the first few words he had spoken since they set up camp. “You never said those things are people!”

Morro growled and pushed off the ground. He kicked a rock, making it skitter against the sandy ground. “They aren’t." He snapped, a bit of anger actually leaking into his tone and Zane and Nya immediately tensed, the latter ready to blast him back to the Spectral Lands. Morro, however, ignored this. “They’re souls that died. They didn’t even become ghosts, they just became these soulless… things damned to roam the lands forever, feeding off both the living and the dead. They suck everything out of you, and the dead evaporate and the living become like them.”

An orb of water splattered onto the ground and Nya looked horrified. “That’s… terrible.”

He secured his weapon behind his back and turned away, hand massaging something under the clothing covering his intact, boneless arm. He did say anything for a bit, but, under Nya and Zane’s pressing stares which bore into his back, continued. 

“A lot of ghosts were wiped out.” The ghost said quietly, his voice sombre. If Zane’s senses didn’t know better, he would think he was almost sad. “Thankfully, Arv…” he hesitated and changed his wording, “a friend of mine discovered the Well of the Lost, and a lot of souls were saved, but… not enough. The Well of the Lost is a way that ghosts can move on it whatever’s after death, although we don’t know where, because there’s no way else to reach it unless you drink the elixir produced from the Well and are dead. For the living, it has major healing properties—but Arin," he shot a pointed look to the boy, who shrunk, “can tell you all about that.”

When it was clear that he wasn’t going to say anything, they looked back to Morro.

“Why didn’t you move on?” Zane asked with careful curiosity, and Morro stiffened. 

He looked away. “Sometimes you aren’t ready for peace.” He muttered under his breath with a tone of finality that said he didn’t want to talk about it more.

No one pushed him to.

 

Abilene and Morro skidded to a halt in front of the Well of the Lost, where two figures were already waiting for them. One was a short man with a chiseled, bone-like face, and the other was an old man with bushy grey eyebrows. 

“We need to go!” Abilene panted, hands on her knees as she tried to catch her breath.

“You were spotted?” The old man demanded, and Morro scowled.

“Sorry that we’re not invisible, ‘Sensei’.” The troublesome soul sassed, adding heavy air quotes around the title as he glared at Garmadon. “Besides, I’m pretty sure those things can smell us from a mile away.”

“They probably can,” Arvaidas grunted, bristling when something in the distance screeched.

Abilene snickered. “Scared, Arvie?” She cooed mockingly, her words hostile to an outside perspective, but affectionate to an inside one. She herself was clutching her dagger with a grip tough enough to snap the taped handle. 

Morro rolled his eyes, used to the banter of his friends. Wordlessly, he climbed up a tree with practiced, bittersweet ease, overlooking the hill which soul suckers were clambering up, their snarling audible from even there.

“Are they coming?” He heard Garmadon call from below. He hated how he felt his muscles instinctively tense at the sound of Lloyd’s father. Morro hated that it was him that he was stuck with. As far as Morro knew, the remaining ghosts were gathered, ready to move on.

Morro ignored the knots twisting in his stomach and slid down the trunk of the gnarled oak. “Yeah, tons of them.” He replied, feigning nonchalance as he smoothed the torn gi underneath his cloak. “We’re going to have company real soon.”

“Company that we can not handle,” the humanized oni said as the Cursed readied their weapons, “we need to drink the Elixir.”

The Elixir of Life. The only thing in the Departed Realm—or the Spectral Lands—that wasn’t a shade of green. Morro’s eyes instinctively moved to the Well of the Lost, where there was a faint, golden glow emitting from it. The aura was warm and welcoming, a stark contrast to the rest of the changed realm, which was now cold and menacingly. Two sides of the same coin.

“Coward.” Arvaidas muttered under his breath, earning a whack over the head from Garmadon for his troubles. Morro lingered behind as they approached the well.

Arvaidas pulled on the string, tugging up the bucked wilting from the weight of the overflowing liquid. He hesitantly dipped his cupped hands into the golden, luminescent liquid, and smiled at Morro and Bansha, the ones who he had been with for decades upon decades in the Cursed Realm. “See ya’ll around, Morro, Abilene.”

Abilene grinned back at Soul Archer as he brought the liquid to his lips. “You too, Arvaidas.”

Morro looked away when his body erupted in a golden light, his hands tracing the rough etching on PurotekutāOlsol.

‘Look after the souls.’ Mistaké had said as she handed the carved weapon to Morro, who spluttered at the unwelcome modification to his double-ended blade. ‘The souls are the ones you are kindred with. You will know when it is time to go.’

She had then nodded wisely as though that made sense and drank the Elixir of Life before Morro had the chance to ask her what the fuck she was on about. 

“Morro?” Morro’s eyes darted to the one who spoke his name. Abilene must have left, because now the only ones left were him and Garmadon. “What are you thinking?”

It wasn’t even a question. It was an encouragement. 

Usually, the former Master of Wind would snap back that Garmadon was always in his business, that he was always overstepping boundaries, that he didn’t need him to ‘help himself find peace’. But not this time.

“I can’t do this.” The words slipped out before he could stop them, and he immediately regretted them when Garmadon paused.

The Sensei was silent for a while, the air buzzing with tension and the sound of the soul suckers growing closer and closer, and then he took a step forward. Morro took a step back in response. “What do you mean, you ‘can’t do this’?” He asked gently.

Morro clenched his fists and growled. “I’m not ready to move on.” He hissed out through gritted teeth, knowing he couldn’t take his words back. “Maybe someday I will be, but… not now.”

Garmadon’s eyebrows tilted, an expression that must have run in the family, because Morro had been on the receiving end of it many times from Wu. “Then we’ll stay.”

His head snapped up from where he was glaring at the ground as though he had a personal vendetta against it. “What? No! You actually want to move on.”

“Family sticks together.”

“Family sticks together,” Kai said to Lloyd with a smile, placing a heavy and reassuring hand on his brother’s shoulder.

He shook away the alien memories, the memories that didn’t belong to him and yet were as clear as his own. “Well, we aren’t family.” He spat.

“You and I both know that isn’t true, Morro.”

Morro’s words died in his throat and he stared at Garmadon. He picked at his nails, his head twitching slightly at the sound of the clattering steps of the souls suckers growing closer and closer. Family. Something he had never had.

Or hadn’t he?

The only thing he could say was the thing he didn’t want to. “I need to wait for him, Garmadon.” He said quietly, and felt embarrassment burn in his stomach when the Oni’s eyes softened. “I need to make sure they both get through safely. That they both get in safely so that they can see you.”

Garmadon faltered, all arguments seeming to melt on his tongue. He stepped forward and wrapped Morro in a tight hug.

Morro let out a strangled, choked noise in protest of the surprising gesture, but Garmadon didn’t let go until a few moments later. He patted the ghost’s stiff shoulder, Morro still being frozen and rooted to his spot. “I will see you soon, my nephew.”

 

Morro was jerked out of his clouded memories when something called his name.

“Morro.”

He leapt to his feet, PurotekutāOlsol drawn and the blades springing out of the handle. He scanned the world around him with death in his eyes, ready to attack anything he perceived as a threat, ready to fight. 

“Morro.”

The ghost whipped around, following the sound of the intruder. The Ninja were sleeping, the fire flickering and illuminating the dark, clouded night with no moon in sight. Stars twinkles in the night sky, barely visible in the mist-ridden firmament. There was no sign of the thing that dared to—

Morro almost dropped his weapon when he saw a spirit.

It was hovering on the outskirts of the camp, closest to Nya, and its golden glow lightly caressed the ground beneath it. It was a blob with no strongly defined profile, but Morro could make out the faint outline of a beard and a Ajirogasa hat. The sight made his heart drop with his stomach.

No fucking way.

“Morro.”

He took a deep breath, ignoring the way his chest was twisting at the familiar, echoed voice. He took a step back, tearing a hand through his hair. This was fine. He didn’t know what was going on, because spirits couldn’t be gold, as far as he was aware, so he wasn’t dead. 

But what was he?

Morro shifted off the rock he was perched on and darted to where the Ninja were. Maybe they knew what was going on. He stayed away from Nya, knowing that she would blast him with water, and although it couldn’t kill him because of the weird Merge rules, it still hurt like heck, and she was closest to that… Wu thing. Arin was definitely off the cards, because he seemed to despise Wu even more than Morro had, so Zane was the only option. He crouched down next to the metal man (nindroid?) and cautiously poked him.

“Frosty, wake up.”

Zane’s eyes opened immediately and his hand went to the empty sheath where his shurikens would’ve been if the Dragonions hadn’t confiscated them. He shifted back and put his hands over his head, showing that Morro meant no harm.

“Morro?” He questioned quietly, his eyes producing a weird amount of blue light. “Is everything okay?”

Morro shook his head, words failing him for a moment. “There’s… I dunno. I think it's Wu, but..."

Zane sat up sharply and got to his feet, the ghost following his movements. He was taller than Morro, and the ghost scowled, then mentally slapped himself. He needed to focus. He could address that later—he had died at fifteen/sixteen and had only begun aging very slowly in the Departed Realm.

With a jerk of his head, Morro gestured towards where the ghostly being was hovering on the outskirts of the camp. “I’m not going crazy, right?”

“No.” The Master of Ice shook his head. “You’re not. That is Master Wu. He passed after the Merge.”

“What? No, he couldn’t have. That,” he pointed at the figure, “is not a spirit. I don’t know what he is, but he can’t be dead. He didn’t even pass through either the Departed Realm or the Spectral Lands—I would’ve seen him.”

Zane frowned and began to make his way towards Wu. Morro hesitated before following.

“Nya, wake up.” The Ice Ninja said, and Nya’s eyes fluttered open. She scanned the worried face of her found brother and the way Morro was staring behind her, and immediately knew something was wrong.

“What’s going on?”

“Sensei Wu is here.”

She leapt to her feet and whirled around, eyes landing on the glowing figure. “Why does he always show up at inconvenient times?”

“That’s his style.” Morro muttered under his breath, watching cautiously as Wu floated closer to them. His fingers traced the carving on PurotekutāOlsol and he focused on his feet to ground himself. This was fine.

Nya and Zane stepped up to meet their Sensei, but Morro lingered behind, hoping he was somehow dreaming even though ghosts couldn’t sleep.

“Sensei?” Nya asked cautiously.

“Nya.”

She jumped and took a small step back. She exchanged a look with Morro and Zane, before looking back to him. “Is that you?”

“He’s coming. ”

“What?”

Sensei ignored Nya and turned around, watching something in the distance. Nya drew her weapon when she saw three humanoid figures running towards them, with a larger one next to them on four paws. Morro tensed, his mind flashing to the soul suckers that were a similar size. He adjusted his grip on PurotekutāOlsol and readied himself. “Great, he led something right to us!”

Nya shot a glare at Morro and readied her dragon hook. “How do you know it wasn’t you?"

“Because I’ve been here the whole time, dumbass!”

“What’s going on?” A drowsy voice called, and Morro glanced behind him to see Arin rubbing sleep out of his eyes. Great, this was all going to shit!

With a furious growl, Morro’s gaze narrowed at Wu and stalked closer. “What the fuck are you doing, old man?” He snarled, pointing the point of PurotekutāOlsol at him.

“Nya, watch out!” Morro looked up just in time to see a blonde-haired figure charging towards him. Dark chartreuse met radioactive green, and the ghost decided he had finally spent his final fuck on Destiny.

Notes:

Uh-oh >:]
Please let me know if you find any mistakes or if you have suggestions! Please comment, it makes my day :)

Check out my other works:

-Can You Mourn the Living?<
-I Understand Now

Edit: A03 is doing this annoying thing where it adds a space after each italicized word, whether there's a period behind it or not, so I've had to go back to each and EVERY chapter to fix this. Yay...

Chapter 4: What Did You Do?

Summary:

Morro and Lloyd cross paths.

Notes:

I'm alive :)
Sorry for the lack of updates, I've struggling with multiple simultaneous identity crises. This is fun.
Thank you to all who have encouraged me to update by commenting—I'd name you, but I don't want to cross any boundaries :)
I'm going to be editing the other chapters as well to fix my shit writing and to get my story straight, so look out for that!
Enjoy the story!

Morro didn’t even have any time to think before he was tackled to the ground, a fist flying, yet again, to his already bruised jaw and ego. He grunted when his back hit the sand, and he didn’t even bother fighting back. That would only make it worse.

“Arin, wait!”

Never mind. It got worse anyway. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Arin trying to get away.

Morro took a deep breath, forcing his heart to relax, and willed himself to become incorporeal—well, as incorporeal as he could be, giving his fucking arm. He rolled to the side, phasing through the Green Ninja’s arms—which… He had four of? Lovely. Before Lloyd could react, Morro darted forward and grabbed Arin, holding him back by his hoodie. The boy struggled, trying to scramble away, but the ghost wouldn’t let go. 

“Arin, listen to me.” Morro said calmer than he felt. “Running isn’t going to do anything—trust me, I’d know. You need to talk to—”

He froze when he felt a blade tip press against his neck, pushing there, and Morro tensed at the familiar energy of deepstone. Water may not be able to kill him anymore, but he didn’t know about Deepstone or Oni, which were able to kill ghosts before the Merge. 

The growl in Lloyd’s voice made a chill run down Morro’s back. “Let go of him.”

This is fine, just basically being held at gunpoint by the kid I traumatised. Morro inhaled softly. “Lloyd, listen to me. I get it, you rightfully hate my guts, but Arin’s gonna run if I—”

“I said let go, Morro.” The point pressed more forcefully against the back of his neck, and he swallowed.

He raised his hands over his head, letting go of Arin. He watched as the boy immediately scrambled away from, not Morro, but Lloyd, and, after a moment of staring at his father, darted off. “Aaaand, there he goes.” The ghost muttered. “You sure you don’t want to go after—ack!”

Morro swallowed back a noise that definitely wasn’t a yelp when he was forcefully yanked around by the four-armed Oni, staring at those rightfully angry, radioactive green depths. “Hey, Lloyd. Long time no see?”

“What did you do?” He all but growled.

Morro’s forced smile fell down, dropping all pretenses of niceness. “I didn’t do anything!”

“Right, like I’d believe that!”

“Lloyd, stop.” Nya stepped forward with caution shining in her blue eyes. The shortest figure who had come with Lloyd—a girl with cat ears and vibrant pink hair—bolted after Arin, crying his name in a frantic decimal, and was followed by a… dragon? “He’s… on our side.”

Morro cringed at both her words and the way Lloyd’s head snapped to his sister. “I wouldn’t say I’m on your side,” he attempted to protest weakly, while Lloyd exclaimed; “He’s what?”

Zane put a hand on the other’s shoulder, his cold hands almost melting at the heat of the Green Ninja’s anger. “He helped rescue Arin and I when we were captured by the Dragonions—I will elaborate later.” He added when he saw Lloyd’s expression. “Apparently, he had been the one who persuaded him to… distance himself from Ras’ teachings.”

Despite feeling everyone’s gazes digging into him, Morro pretended to examine his nails with feigned boredom, trying to relax to keep the aura of nonchalance he liked to be surrounded by. He looked up to see Lloyd silently demanding an explanation from him with an impatient roll of his wrist, and sighed. “The kid was lost, and that guy’s an assehole.” It was half-arsed at best, but it was all Morro was going to give them. His eyes flickered to the third figure, who was a young Serpentine—at least fifteen, most seventeen—staring at him with curious green eyes. “I see you’ve got a little brigade of rats following you, Lloyd.”

The orange-scaled snake blinked while the Oni stepped protectively in front of him, making Morro cock an eyebrow. Interesting.

“Don’t you think about possessing them.” He snapped. “Don’t even look at them.”

Before the latter could snap back a scalding remark, Nya swiftly stepped in. “Morro couldn’t possess anyone if he tried.” She soothed while acting as a human barrier between the two. “While he was… helping me break Zane out, he didn’t phase through the walls even though he could.”

Lloyd’s grip on his weapon slackened slightly and he stared between his sister—who honestly hated Morro’s guts more than Lloyd did and almost as much as the red one did—and Morro. “You can’t possess anyone?”

Morro fought to keep the grimace off his face. He was trying to keep that particular weakness a secret for way longer, but whatever. “I haven’t tried.” The ghost said despite knowing Lloyd would think he was lying. “But I can assume that because I can’t phase through anything with this fucking arm.”

The Green Ninja flinched ever so slightly when Morro flung the offending limb into the air and tightened his grip on his sword. Nya noticed this.

“What happened to your other sword?” She questioned.

“Long story, but it ends in Dragonions trying to take the pristine blades—speaking of which, did you find anything on it?”

She shook her head. “No. Zane needed backup, so I left Kai at the Cloud Kingdom to continue research.”

“Hold on, hold on.” Morro stammered, holding his hands out in front of him as a motion to slow down. “How many pristine blades are there?”

All of the Ninja eyed him.

Lloyd spoke first. “You’ve seen one?”

“Yeah, when Arin had one with him.” He explained, eyes zoning in on the Serpentine trying to get around Lloyd and the silver hilt of the blade in his sheathe. “I honestly never thought that they were actually real before that minx showed up with it.”

“Arin has one?” Nya, Lloyd, and Zane all asked at the same time—the first two saying it significantly louder than the Nindroid.

“Had,” Morro corrected with a small exhale of breath. “He lost it when that idiot got himself caught by the Dragonions.”

Nya squinted at him, not even trying to hide her judgement. “And you just… failed to mention that?”

He blinked innocently at her, but his eyes held a gremlin-like glint in them. “You never asked.”

“Why, you little—”

“I got him!” The voice of a young girl cut off Nya’s words, which would have definitely started an argument most likely ending in death, and Morro looked where Arin had run off to see the offending boy hanging limply in the mouth of the dragon, glaring at the ground, and behind them was the pink-haired girl from earlier.

“Oh, goodie, more chaos.” Morro muttered under his breath. If he ever had to babysit ever again, it would be too soon. Lloyd’s attention had done a complete one-eighty from wanting to erase Morro off the face of the earth to wanting to speak to Arin. Arin, on the other hand, did not. He glared at Morro like it was somehow his fault, and Morro would actually appreciate Lloyd wiping him off the plane of existence. 

The strange dragon, which was admittedly smaller than most, spat the boy onto the ground and then proceeded to sniff at Morro curiously. He glared at it, hoping it would take the hint and back off, but it did not.

“Arin.” The Green Ninja’s voice was soft and almost marvelling as he hesitantly reached forward to gently graze his shoulder as though he couldn’t believe Arin was actually there and not just some cruel trick of the light. That… struck a cord in Morro, and he barely noticed how two of Lloyd’s four arms melted back into his skin.

“I didn’t come to fight you, Sensei. I came to warn you.”

“Morro.”

“Just hear me out, Wu. Yang has something planned tied to the Yin-Yan eclipse—something big, and your students are—”

Morro cut himself off and his entire body stiffened when Master Wu’s fingers lightly grazed his shoulder, and whatever words he was going to say got caught in his throat.

“Is it truly you?” Wu asked softly.

Morro couldn’t stop himself from looking away from the bittersweet sight of Lloyd embracing Arin with a father’s love and instead focused on PurotekutāOlsol, which was laid in the sand scuffed with marks and evidence from when Lloyd had tackled Morro. And he had let him.

First Master, he was so pathetic. 

The dragon nudged Morro inquisitively with its nose, so he let out a disgusted scoff and took a far step to the side, only to almost crash into the girl with pink hair. 

“So are you actually dead?” The girl asked Morro curiously, staring at him with assessing eyes and tightened lips, making her look like a constipated chipmunk. Don’t ask how he knew what that looked like—you don’t want to know. 

He glanced at her disinterestedly. Pink hair. Bold choice—but, then again, he had dyed his bangs green with expired hair dye he found in a bin when he was five. “Deader than dead, kid.”

“Don’t talk to her.” Lloyd called out sharply from where he was anxiously looking over Arin, who was so very clearly uncomfortable, for any injury or cut, and Morro shrugged.

“Fair enough.”

Arin narrowed his eyes at Lloyd, clearly ready to fight him on literally anything the blonde said. “Why not?”

Morro suppressed a groan and pinched his nosebridge, while the other physically recoiled at the question.

Lloyd blinked his wide eyes at the boy and his mouth was agape as he floundered for words, for a response. “Wha… what?

“Arin…” Nya said warningly, and, thankfully, the little shit listened and shut up.

Or maybe not so thankfully, because Lloyd immediately whirled around to turn on Morro, who felt like disappearing or taking a dip in the ocean to turn into a puddle of goo.

His radioactive green eyes were narrowed, his pupils shrinking to slits like a cat as he stormed towards the ghost with clenched fists and a father’s fury. Also the fury of a dragon, apparently, because of the green scales that crept up the side of the Oni’s neck and cheeks—definetely new, like the sharp, green-tinted obsidians that now sat menacingly amidst the clumps of darkening, dirty blonde hair on his head. Or mousey blonde, if you wanted to be all fancy and posh. 

He roughly shoved Morro back by his shoulders, clearly ready to slice and dice him with his deepstone-infused dao blade. “You. Explain. Now.”

Truth? No. Maybe.

“Perhaps just tell him, Morro.” Zane suggested with an unwavering, sophisticated voice.

Nya nodded. “Yeah, it’s not like you’ve got anything to lose.”

Yeah, he did have something to lose—his entire fucking afterlife, but half-truth it was. He sighed and brushed his bangs out of his face while silently forcing his mouth from work. “After the Day of the Departed, my spirit went to the Departed Realm. It was… nice, I’ll admit, until the Merge.” He felt a pang of emotion hit his heart, but he ignored it and easily shoved the emotions into the overflowing box in the back of his mind. “Once it screwed everything up, the cur… She somehow came back, and Her evil infected the Departed Realm, slowly consuming it until it was… something else entirely.”

Lloyd’s face paled, but Arin, Zane, and Nya all shot him confused looks, making Morro realise that he didn’t exactly mention that last bit to any of them. 

“She’s alive?” Lloyd gasped, looking about as horrified and sick as the ghost had felt when he realised that his Mother and Mistress, his Queen, wasn’t goo at the bottom of the Endless Sea. “Is that even possible?”

“Hold one, I thought that those Soul Suckers were the reason the Spectral Lands were all messed up.” Nya interjected and she looked agitated by the prospect that Morro had withheld something from them.

“What’re the Spectral Lands?” The pink-haired girl inquired from her place next to the ghost.

“Are you Lloyd’s new student?” Arin asked the Serpentine boy, but his voice was guarded and upset, actually asking if he was replaced.

Morro let out a long, low groan and rubbed his temples. He always hated it when multiple questions were being asked at a time. “Enough!” His voice carried surprisingly well, given that they were in the middle of a fucking desert. All the children instantly shut up and, shockingly, so did the adults. Even the dragon stopped making random noises. “All kids clear out, I’m only going to speak with anyone resembling an adult. If you don’t fit the criteria, scram—and that includes the dragon.”

Lloyd stared at Morro like he had grown a second head, while the scamps thankfully did as not-quite-requested, but Arin shot a somewhat pensive look to the Green Ninja before he followed the other kids. 

Man, why did Morro ever envy Lloyd’s life? It fucking sucked. He’d hate to be that twerp now. And maybe he didn’t think this through, because now he was stuck with Nya, Zane, and Lloyd all staring at him expectantly. How was he going to explain that part of the truth surrounding the Spectral Lands without Nya blasting his arse with water?

The First Spinjitzu Master had a cruel sense of humour. 

“Okay.” He took a deep breath and resisted the urge to reach for PurotekutāOlsol, because, as much as he wanted to, he knew that especially Lloyd out of all the Ninja would see it as a threat, so he just left that precious, double-ended, retractable blade on the ground. “Lloyd, I understand that you hate my guts, and I don’t blame you for it, but I’ve recently discovered something called ‘morals’.”

Lloyd scoffed sceptically. “Right.”

Nya hesitated before she placed a tentative hand on her brother’s shoulder while moving as though he were a spooked animal. “Lloyd, I can imagine that you don’t trust him, but—”

“Do you?” The Green Ninja snapped, cutting off his sister with a dangerous snarl in his voice. “That man possessed me, made me fight my own friends in my own body, and made me suffer for months after he was gone!”

Morro looked away, feeling the familiar, cold grasp of guilt squeeze his metaphysical heart with a vice-like grip. Garmadon had told him to apologise to Lloyd if he ever saw him again, and Morro definitely needed to, but now that he was face-to-face with him, it suddenly seemed like an insurmountable task. How do you even apologise for destroying a kid’s mental health?

“I have detected no lies within Morro, Lloyd.” Zane told the ashen blonde gently, but that didn’t soothe his anger and distrust regarding the obstreperous man, because he whipped his head to glare at Zane.

“Right, and you ‘detected’ Harumi’s lies as well.”

Morro had to blink a few times at the concerning amount of sarcasm and resentment poisoning the Green Ninja’s voice, while Zane looked physically struck and Nya gasped.

He sounded like Morro.

He didn’t know why that freaked him out so much, but it did, and his legs automatically took a cautious step forward. “Lloyd, your feud is with me.” He said simply. “Don’t take it out on your friends.”

“Why are you even here, Morro?” He growled.

“I’m here because your kid is stubborn.”

“Arin’s not my—”

“Oh, save it.” Morro interrupted—admittedly being a bit harsh, but honestly didn’t give a flying fuck. “That kid sees you as a father, and if history really does repeat itself, then Arin’s basically your son. I’m here because he was on the same path I was on when I was his age—and you and I both know how that would end. Also, the world can’t handle another me. It could barely handle one.”

Lloyd stared, before he inhaled sharply and massaged his temples like he had a migraine. “This is a nightmare come to life.” He grumbled under his breath, and Morro couldn’t help but silently agree. It was.

Nya sighed. “Yeah, it is.”

Zane eyed Morro suspiciously. “What were you saying earlier, about someone coming back and cursing the Departed Realm?”

The ghost grimaced and tried not to flinch. He hadn’t told Lloyd the full truth, but he had told the other two even less of it. His lack of secure parental discipline was really catching up on him, wasn’t it? “The Departed Realm was infected and cursed.” He began slowly. Behind Lloyd was Arin and Pinkie (the pink-haired girl) talking quietly, but Arin was avoiding her looking her in the eye. Progress, maybe? Now Morro just had his own shit to deal with.

Nya scowled and a ball of water slowly gathered itself, a loud threat hanging menacingly above her head like a gun cocked and loud. “So you lied to us.”

“Not lying!” Morro said quickly, raising his hands placatingly in front of her, but only succeeded in making the girl more mad. Shocking. “Just… leaving out a few details that didn’t matter at the time.”

Lloyd’s grip on his dao sword tightened and the steel flashed in thunderous threat. “The Preeminent somehow returning doesn’t matter?”

“The Preeminent?”

“How is that possible?” Zane followed, eyebrows furrowed to close together that it basically became a unibrow.

“What did you do!”

Morro was offended by Lloyd’s exclamation of accusation, but couldn’t exactly blame him. “I didn’t do anything!” He snapped back saltily. “I was as shocked as you three dumbasses are! I had nothing to do with it this time.”

“Really.” Nya deadpanned, clearly not convinced.

He glared. “Uh, yeah! I have died three times, waterlady, and, believe it or not, I’m not going for a fourth!”

Lloyd stared hard at Morro, who shifted uncomfortably under his scouring and interrogating gaze. His unnaturally green eyes were full of so many different emotions, so much feeling that it made the ghost’s translucent skins crawl—emotions were awful and a pain to deal with, even if they weren’t his own. After a long while of just staring, Lloyd sheathed his sword.

“I trust you.”

“What?”

“What.”

Nya and Morro’s tones were different, with hers more shocked and his just dead and so fed up with this bullshit. Zane’s weirdly metal lips twisted into a frown, but he said nothing, just watching with a sharp eye.

The Green, gullible, Ninja wasn’t at all fazed by any of the reactions presented at the honestly ridiculous statement. “He didn’t hurt Arin or any of you, so he’s temporarily got the benefit of the doubt.”

Somehow, Morro was even more offended by this than his earlier accusation. “Excuse you, I am above hurting kids.”

“Don’t ruin this Morro, or I’m going to deck you in the face. I need to talk to Arin.”

The three watched in stunned silence as Lloyd stalked off with confusion wafting around in his wake for a while, until Morro spoke.

“So is that just Lloyd’s style now, or was that out of character?”

“A bit of both, I guess.” Nya answered in distant shock and the water she summoned earlier splattered to the ground. “Maybe more of the latter, though?”

“Huh.”

They stood there for a while, just watching Lloyd carefully embrace Arin, who surprisingly let him. It was… way too close to home for Morro’s liking, so he cleared his throat. 

“Well, we’re close enough to the Spectral Lands that I can leave you now, so I’ll be on my merry fucking way.”

Zane’s blue robotic eyes stared evenly at Morro, but he kinda got the feeling that he was looking into him instead of at. He hated it. It sucked. “Well, let us accompany you at least.”

He bristled. Was he calling him incompetent? “Uh, I can handle myself, thanks.” Morro said coldly. “I don’t need a fucking escort.”

“I was not—”

“Besides, shouldn’t you be celebrating? I mean, do you want to hang around me? I honestly thought I’d be a pile of goo by now.”

“So did I.” Nya grunted. “But, then again, you haven’t tried to kill us again.”

He examined his ghostly, charred nails. “Wasn’t worth the effort.”

“Oh, ha-ha. You mentioned some sort of healing elixir yesterday?”

The implications of that made Morro freeze.

“Yeah…?” He said, somewhat tenuously. Morro did not like how the two’s gazes immediately sharpened. “The Elixir of Life.”

“We would like to accompany you to the Spectral Lands so we may acquire this ‘Elixir of Life’.”

“First Master knows we’ll need it.” Nya added and let out a tired, half-hearted chuckle.

“Yeah, you probably will.” He admitted with a suffering sigh. “But you might want to check with Lloyd first.”

 

The sun was just beginning to rise when the chaos of the night finally managed to dwindle down just enough to allow sleep. The giant ball of light was stretching its wings and spreading light across the lands of the First Realm, the lands of the Dragon and the Oni (and now the Dragonions, apparently). Instead of everyone waking up, all the children had collapsed in one big pile and were slowly drifting off.

One figure remained on the outskirts of the camp, however. They were settled, crouched, on a large, cracked rock and stood watch like a Kunado-no-Kami protecting its land from ill-meaning or malevolent spirits.

Morro’s dark chartreuse eyes were shadowed as he scanned the horizon, alert for any forthcoming danger, and his hands glazed over the button on PurotekutāOlsol that would unsheath the otherwise hidden retractable blades. 

His ears pricked when he heard light footsteps approach him from behind, and he tensed, until he heard the person speak.

“Morro.”

Great. Lloyd. Morro would have honestly preferred someone trying to kill him, but he forced himself to relax and muttered a quiet “Hey” in response. To the ghost’s surprise, the Green Ninja jumped easily onto the rock and hesitantly sat down cross-legged on the opposite end of the stone—as far away from Morro as possible, of course, it was still close enough to make the villain question the kid’s sanity.

They sat in heavy soundlessness that was suffocating Morro, but he didn’t say anything, because what would he say? What could he say to the now grown man? Although, as the silence stretched on, he began to seriously contemplate saying something, but, thankfully, didn’t have to, because Lloyd spoke first.

“What are you doing here, Morro?”

“I’m assuming you mean my presence and not what I’m currently doing.”

“Yes.”

Morro sighed long and hard and shifted from his crouching position to kneeling on the rock. He couldn’t feel the stone, per say, but there was an oddly solid aspect to the feeling of his transparent legs making contact with the smooth grey boulder. “Well, I’m just seeing you all off and making sure that Arin doesn’t do anything stupid, and then I’m making my way back to the Spectral Lands. And I’m being escorted, apparently.”

Lloyd stared at him with a tired, deadpanned look. “I’m being serious.”

Morro returned the look with an even deader one. “So am I. I’m not actively striving to be a piece of no-good shit this time—it’s just my nature at this point.”

“That’s… terrible.” He grimaced. “But do you expect me to just… forget that you, Morro, aren’t dead?”

“Well, technically…”

“Oh, you know what I mean!” Snapped Lloyd and his slitted eyes flashed dangerously, but that was completely unrelated to Morro’s scooch to the side that made him almost fall off the rock.

“Jeez, okay! No, I don’t expect you to forget, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t. You have a family now, Lloyd. You’ve got kids, and—”

“—I don’t have—”

Morro felt his eyes twitch and he made an aggressive motion for him to shut the fuck up and stop denying the consequence of having an emotionally available heart. “Nuh-uh. Zip it, okay? I’ve heard your whole tangent, but denial doesn’t change the truth, y’know. I… found that out the hard way.”

Lloyd fell quiet and for a moment Morro worried he may have been too harsh, and then he thought he had finally gotten through to him, until…

“You met my dad?”

His head whipped around faster than ever before and all forethought was thrown out through his ear and set free into the badlands of the First Realm. Without even stopping to think, he blurted out; “How did you know about that? I haven’t even mentioned that, let alone told anyone!” 

Lloyd’s jaw dropped. Now, instead of being hostilely polite, he seemed warily surprised. “Wait, seriously? That’s—that’s just something Dad would say, I didn’t actually think that you… You’ve talked to him?”

“Uh, yeah! Pretty frickin’ hard not to in the Departed Realm where you could trace people.”

“How was I supposed to know that? It’s not like it’s common knowledge among the living! But did you seriously—”

“Yes, Lloyd, your father forced me to listen to his ineffective ramblings on morality.”

“No, he’s dead?”

Morro stared at Lloyd like the boy had gone mad, and he was pretty sure that he had. “Lloyd, your dad’s been dead since before the Pree… since before She died.”

“No, he was resurrected a few years ago.” The dirty blonde insisted, but his voice was weak with a small tremor intruding in it and his face had gone significantly paler, almost as white as a sheet. “Are you… sure it was him?”

“No, Lloyd, I must have accidentally mistaken a bushy-eyebrowed old toad for your father who was trailing me twenty-four-seven lecturing me on ‘letting go of my anger’ and ‘self-forgiveness’ wherever I went.” Morro snapped satirically with words dripping with venomous sarcasm.

Lloyd looked panicked and a little too freaked out to comment on the ghost’s scorn. “I literally fought him, Morro, and then worked with him to save the world twice, once from our evil extended family and twice from the Overlord.”

“The Over—”

“How can he be in both the Departed Realm and whatever you call the living?”

“There’re a lot of words for it.” Morro massaged his temples as he tried to think of a possible answer to this shit. “This… isn’t something I can answer.” He admitted painfully after a long while of futile attempts at reasoning.

“Did you just admit that you don’t know something?”

The ghost groaned loudly. “Why is that the thing you’re focusing on?” He demanded with a sharp glare.

“It’s better than focussing on literally anything else.” Lloyd pointed out with a tired grumble.

“I… suppose.”

Yet again, the silence from before fell over them like a cold, scratchy blanket held together by nothing but a few torn threads. It was heavy and uncomfortable and Morro would like nothing more than to leave—or, preferably, just teleport back to the Spectral Lands.

He eventually gave up resisting the urge to leave and stood up abruptly. “Let me know when you’re ‘escorting’ me to the Spectral Lands.” He muttered with no drop of the oh-so-familiar feeling of bitterness left out of his tone.

 

Lloyd walked alongside Arin, who had seemingly gotten over himself and was now talking eagerly to Sora about what had happened since he had run away. The Dragon-Oni hybrid was vaguely listening to his (former) pupil explain what Ras had taught him, but he was only half-listening, because the thought of that black-furred bastard made his stomach churn with emotions that made him even more uncomfortable with his newly gained temper. Maybe it was the Oni part of him that fuelled the almost irresistible urge to part Ras’ head with his body. Or maybe it was the five years after the Merge he spent in agonising, total solitude before he had found Arin and Sora.

But, instead of focusing on the ever growing anxious knot in his mind, Lloyd watched a certain ghost’s figure. Morro was walking ahead in solitude, not minding the constant, surveying eye of Lloyd and his blood sworn siblings. He didn’t look back to see if any of the Ninja, children, or the dragon were able to keep up with his purposefully distancing pace. It was purposeful because he was quite obviously doing his best to set himself apart from the travelling group. But why? What was he planning?

“And then the bounty hunter came back,” Arin’s voice carried loudly and pulled Lloyd from his speculative trance. The boy was much more like… himself, unlike the previous day where he was probably forcing himself to hold a grudge—something that Arin often tried but could never quite succeed in doing. “Trying to grab Ras again. That’s when the Dragonions came for that sword thing and captured me and the bounty guy and took us back to that Storm Village—turns out he’s the Lightning Ninja, Jay!”

“That’s the clumsy one, right?”

Nya glanced over her shoulder and frowned at Sora. “He’s so much more than that, Sora. He’s kind, funny, smart, compassionate…” She trailed off and swallowed hard, and Lloyd couldn’t blame her, because how could he, when he felt the same heart-crushing, flat-lining grief when he thought of Jay? He moved forward, abandoning his post next to his… kids. Abandoning his post next to his kids to place a hand on her shoulder. She was significantly taller than him, so he had to stretch a bit to do it, but Lloyd didn’t care. It was a familiar action that was small but comforting. 

Meanwhile, Zane called out unexpectedly to Morro, who was caught off guard. “Morro, could the Elixir of Life heal Jay’s amnesia?”

Morro’s pace slowed down considerably at the prospect. He continued to be wordless for a while, until he wasn’t. “I don’t know. There’s only been a handful of beings who have actively sought out the Elixir’s healing properties, and somehow even less know about it. So, maybe. It depends.”

Frank squinted at the ghost, who jumped when he basically teleported next to him. “On what?”

He glared at the Serpentine kid. “First Spinjitzu Master, don’t do that!” He snapped loudly. “Consent is a big aspect in the Afterlife, so no one there really forced the Elixir upon another, but one living duo tried. Their friend or whatever was dying and refusing to be saved, but those two idiots wouldn’t accept that and dragged his dying ass all the way to Soul-Sucker-infested lands to see if a supposed myth was true.

“I escorted them to the Well of the Lost and stood watch while they did their healing shit, but the guy was struggling so much against taking the Elixir and was making such a racket that I was getting a headache. Although, by the time I turned around to tell those idiots to stop pushing their friend, they had got the Elixir down and… let's just say the guy would have been better off dying like he was supposed to. There wasn’t even a spirit left to progress to any form of the Afterlife.”

His grim retelling of the past events left a horrified muteness in his wake. Nya’s eyes were widened and glistening with unshed tears. Lloyd glared at Morro.

Probably realising that he had royally fucked up, the former Master of Wind—First Master, he would kill Euphrasia if he found out she had inherited his wind—quickly tried to backtrack. “But, uh, that’s only one guy who didn’t want to be basically brought back to life. It might be different?”

“Don’t. Just… don’t.”

“Oh, look at that. The Spectral Lands are there.” Morro announced loudly, and he wasn’t just trying to change the topic. The Spectral Lands were, indeed, right there, and it was… actually quite depressing.

A cloud of gloom floated over that sad piece of solitary land that was placed randomly in the First Realm. Watching the unnaturally silent plain in the distance that ear-splitting shrieks occasionally howled from the desolate buildings, Lloyd couldn’t grasp the reason why Morro seemed so eager to return. Lloyd also tried to shove the newfound worry for Euphrasia’s safety to the back of his mind as he followed him down the sandy slope leading towards that ghostly ground.

“I had expected the Afterlife to be larger,” Zane commented, and Riyu made a sound almost like an agreement. 

Morro scoffed, ostensibly offended by his observations. “It was much larger before the Merge went and screwed everything up.”

“How big?” Sora asked curiously.

“We never checked. We never needed to check. The Departed Realm was supposed to be a safe haven for ghosts, a second chance for peace and unexplored talents, and not even the most anxious souls imagined that it would just… disappear. Then it did.”

Lloyd’s eyes lingered on Morro’s half-hidden face and instantly clocked the despair that lingered on his green, translucent face. It surprised him more than the villain’s lack of hostility—perhaps because it broke the illusion of heartlessness he had been forced to paint.

Was Morro truly not what he used to be?

“Who’s that?”

Frak’s question was directed to whoever could answer the inquiry of the identity of the person—or ghost—that lingered on the outskirts of the Spectral Lands. 

Morro frowned, and was that a flash of worry that blinked across his face? “I don’t know.” He unretracted his blades and practically flew down the rest of the small hill in a large leap that would make even a kangaroo insecure.

“Wha—Morro!” Lloyd gave chase to the scarily fast man-ghost and his family followed.

They darted after him, some of Lloyd’s kids tripping on the uneven ground, but miraculously almost managed to catch up to him—just in time to skid to a halt when the unknown figure tackled Morro.

Nya grabbed moisture from the air, Zane summoned three deadly shards of ice in the palm of his hand, Lloyd drew his weapon, and Arin, Sora, and Frak readied their fist, but the assailant wasn’t attacking Morro.

No, he was hugging him?

“Morro!”

Morro seemed to be too stunned to fight back against the large, translucent green ghost. “Ghoultar? How are you here—we all thought you were dead! All of us! Abilene and Arvaidas even set up an altar for you!”

Ghoultar. Lloyd remembered the name, and apparently so did Nya and Zane. He was one of the many ghosts who worked under and for Morro while he was being possessed. None of the Ninja relaxed, so neither did the confused kids nor the growling teenage dragon. 

Neither ghosts noticed this, however, as Ghoultar released Morro and adjusted the dark purple rice hat on top of his skull-decorated head. “Ghoultar appeared in place with lot of snow and wolfs, bears, and changing people! They were just as confused as Ghoultar.”

Lloyd’s eyes widened and he shot a concerned look at Zane. The Nindroid had gone stiff with guilt at the mention of the Never Realm.

“Ghoultar then went went in the weird place with large buildings and frog persons—”

“The Crossroads!” Arin whispered excitedly to Sora.

“—and found Ghoultar’s way back to Departed Realm when Ghoultar heard from a furry black kitty who walked on two legs that it was called Spectral Lands now and had an annoying green-haired boy guarding it.”

“And you immediately thought of me?” Morro deadpanned.

“Yes!” He said obliviously. “When Ghoultar arrived, no Morro was in sight except for a lot of mean bugs who wanted to eat every soul—”

“Soul Suckers.”

“Oh, Ghoultar was calling them Dead Piggies.”

Morro stared at him with raised eyebrows. “And do they look like pigs, Ghoultar?”

“No, but Ghoultar thought—”

The childish ghost cut himself off with a small scream and jumped about four feet into the air when he spotted Nya with water swirling boredly around her. Ghoultar immediately readied his scythe, making Zane snap out of his dissociative trance.

“Morro, Waterlady is—!”

Morro skidded in between the fearful ghost and the agitated Master of Water. “It’s okay! Relax, she won’t hurt you.” He shot a firm glance over his shoulder to Nya, who gave him a hard look promising nothing.

“But she—”

“Killed us before, yeah, but we’ve learnt our lesson, haven’t we, Ghoultar? Besides, I hurt them way more than you did, and I’m still here, aren’t I?”

Ghoultar’s eyes flickered nervously between Morro, Nya, and Lloyd. “Does Ghoultar want to know?”

“No, you don’t.”

“Okay.” He seemed to accept this fairly easily and attached his scythe to his back. Somehow.

Whilst the two ghosts chatted and caught up like two vocal seals, Nya and Lloyd turned to Zane.

“Are you alright?” Lloyd asked his brother quietly. If he had skin like a human or had a hyperrealistic illusion of it, Lloyd had a feeling that Zane would be paler than the princess in that one fairytale.

The Nindroid nodded stiffly. “Yes. I am fine.”

“Really?”

Nya elbowed Lloyd, warning him not to push it. That never worked on the Elemental Master of Ice, so instead of pushing, he turned to Arin, Frak, and Sora, who were staring at something in the sky. Riyu grunted skittishly.

Looking up, Lloyd felt his eyes widen in surprise when he saw a familiar, black-feathered friend.

Nya gasped. “Zane, it’s your falcon!”

Morro moved away from his now serious conversation with his friend to watch with intrigue as the long lost falcon landed on Zane’s outstretched arm and nuzzled his cheek affectionately with a small, loving squawk.

He blinked. “That… is the weirdest crow I’ve ever seen.”

Nya stared at Morro incredulously. “It’s a falcon.” She said disbelievingly.

“Same thing.”

“It is not the same—”

Morro jumped when the falcon’s eyes glowed blue. “What the fuck?” He swore loudly, but no one paid him any mind as a holographic projection flickered out of the falcon’s eyes.

A smile broke onto Lloyd’s lips when he instantly recognised the face of the spikey-haired, lightly scarred man. Kai.

“If you’re getting this, I’m happy.” Kai’s floating head announced with a small laugh, but the Green Ninja saw through it immediately. His brother was tense and anxious.

“Also,” he continued. “We found Zane’s falcon! Good timing, too, because me and Wyldfyre found out some not-so-good things about the prism blade thing you guys found. I think it’d be better if we talk in person—get to the Cloud Kingdom ASAP. It’ll be in the direction the falcon flew from.”

Lloyd tried not to read into the interest that sparked in Morro’s eyes at the mention of the mystical realm of so-called ‘Destiny’ and instead watched his brother’s holographic face blink out and the falcon’s eyes dim.

There was a silencer for a while, until Nya spoke briskly.

“Well, that’s what’s next. Jay’ll… have to wait.”

“Not quite.” Zane said quietly as he stroked the top of the falcon’s head, a distant look in his icy blue optics. “I will try to locate Jay based on the direction he flew off in.”

Lloyd blinked. “Flew? He can fly now?”

“He made himself wings by the looks of it.” Morro said from behind, but his gaze wasn’t focused on them. No, he was glaring at a stubborn Ghoultar like he owed him money.

Nya stared at the squabbling ghosts. “Uh, what’s going on?” She asked somewhat cautiously.

“Nothing.” Morro growled, but it didn’t seem like ‘nothing’. “Ghoultar is just being an idiot.”

Said ghost seemed annoyed and offended. “Morro just said Ghoultar is a genius!”

“I said you were clever for thinking of keeping the Elixir with you, not a genius. You can only speak in third fucking person for crying out loud!”

Lloyd didn’t know why he was so appalled as it was typical Morro behaviour, but he was. “Hang on, why is the name of the First Spinjitzu Master are you two arguing?”

“Because Morro does not want to go,” Ghoultar told them pointedly before the other could get even a single syllable out. Morro’s glare turned from slightly annoyed to murderous and Lloyd was worried he was actually going to find a way to kill him.

“Go where?” Sora asked while Frak hissed nervously. It turned out that the Serpentine hybrid was also afraid of the dead, not just puppets.

“To the Cloud—”

Morro slapped a hand over Ghoultar’s mouth, but everyone understood what was to be said.

Arin squinted at him. “Why would he go?” He questioned. “Doesn’t he hate Lloyd’s guts?”

Lloyd’s senses sharpened tenfold at that and he didn’t miss the way Morro shifted uncomfortably when his student said that. It surprised him, but his reply to that surprised him even more.

“I don’t ‘hate his guts’ as much as I used to, but that doesn’t mean I want to travel with him.” He raised his voice at the last bit, clearly trying to make a point to Ghoultar.

Ghoulter remained unconvinced while the Dragon-Oni reeled at the newfound information that the guy who possessed him and detested him for something he couldn’t control had somewhat let go of his grudge. “Morro does not want to be here.” He insisted firmly. “Ghoultar knows.”

As the two began arguing, the newly oiled gears in his head began turning at dangerously high speeds.

“Oh, no.” Nya groaned, recognising the look on her brother’s face before it was even there. “What are you planning?”

“Something really, really stupid.”

Notes:

What's Lloyd's plan?

Notes:

I might post another chapter, I'll just see how this goes first. I actually speed-wrote this—I started writing this a while back when I first found out that Morro was coming back, but the moment I put a personal deadline on it, I stopped writing. ADHD strikes again. Let me know what you think, and should I post another chapter, or should it end like that? Have a lovely day/night, wherever you are!

Edit,04/26/2025: I'm posting another chapter! Thanks to you all who have asked/recommended another one! Love you all :)