Chapter Text
The first thing Mia noticed was the smell.
The monastery smelled like smoke and dust and something faintly sweet, as though the air itself remembered incense burned centuries ago. She coughed, pushing herself upright. The stone floor was cool under her palms. Sunlight slipped through paper screens, catching on wooden beams above her head.
The Monastery of Spinjitzu.
Her stomach flipped. She knew it instantly. She had watched this place on a screen dozens of times. But here, the walls felt alive. Every scratch in the floor, every flicker of light held weight.
She wasn’t in her bed anymore. She wasn’t even on Earth.
“Mia.”
The voice pulled her head around. It was deep, layered, like two voices speaking in unison—one gentle, one growling like distant thunder. Standing in the doorway was a figure she’d only seen illustrated in scrolls within the show: a tall man cloaked in gray, his features shadowed except for his piercing golden eyes. He radiated both warmth and danger.
Her breath caught. “You’re—the First Spinjitzu Master.”
The man inclined his head. “If that is what you know me as, then yes. But names are... heavy things. Best to leave them behind.”
Something nervous and reckless stirred in Mia, and before she could stop herself she said, “You look like... part dragon, part oni. What if I just call you—Dragoni?”
For a heartbeat, silence. Then, to her relief, the corners of his mouth tilted upward.
“Dragoni,” he repeated softly, tasting the sound. “A name of both darkness and creation. Very well. You may call me that.”
Mia exhaled, only realizing then that she had been holding her breath.
Dragoni stepped forward, the air shifting around him as though it bent to his will. “You wonder why you are here.”
“Uh, yeah. That was going to be my next question.” Mia scrambled to her feet, brushing dust from her jeans. “I went to bed last night in my world, and now—” She gestured helplessly around her. “Now I’m in this. And this is supposed to be fiction. A TV show. Ninjago.”
His eyes sharpened. “It is no fiction. What your world sees are echoes, reflections on glass. But this realm is real, and it is fragile. And that is why you are here.”
Fragile. That word curled into Mia’s bones, heavier than she wanted it to be.
“You have been chosen,” Dragoni continued. “The story must remain on its path, or all will unravel. You will watch, you will guard, and you will act only when necessary. Without your presence, the course may fracture.”
Mia swallowed. Her throat was dry. “You mean... I’m here to keep the plot on track.”
He tilted his head in approval. “Precisely.”
He raised a hand. Shadows and light sparked between his fingers, coiling until they formed something like a glowing thread. It wrapped around her wrists, cool and tingling.
“From your world, you carry knowledge. But you will need more than that. Your gift is of technology—of all things forged by hand and machine. You may command them, shift them, weave them to your purpose.”
Mia blinked. “So... I can control machines? Like, electronics? Gears?”
“Yes. The creations of men and women. Tools, armor, weapons. Even garments, if need be. You cannot bend what belongs to nature—the breath of wind, the flame of dragons, the strength of beasts. But what has been shaped by tool and hammer, what has been built by the design of a mind—you may bend.”
She looked down at her hands, flexing her fingers. Technology. That’s... actually insane.
Footsteps pattered in the hallway. A pair of small figures appeared—two boys. One with pale hair and a staff far too big for his small frame. The other darker, sharper, with a grin that already promised trouble.
Mia’s chest clenched. Wu and Garmadon.
But they were children. Tiny, not the men she knew from the show.
“Father!” Wu called, his voice young and bright. “Who is she?”
“A stranger,” Garmadon added, suspicious but curious, eyes narrowing. “She smells... different.”
Mia gave a weak wave. “Uh. Hi.”
“She is a friend,” Dragoni said simply. His voice carried weight, and the boys immediately quieted. “You will not question her presence. You will trust her, always.”
Garmadon frowned but nodded. Wu smiled shyly.
Mia’s heart ached at the sight. They don’t even know what’s coming for them. Not yet.
Later, when Dragoni left her in the courtyard, she found herself sitting on the steps, knees drawn up to her chest. The world stretched out beyond the monastery walls—mountains sharp against the sky, valleys hidden in mist.
She had loved this story on her screen. But here? Here, the stakes pressed heavy.
A rustle at her side drew her attention. An older woman approached, carrying a tray of cups. Her hair was streaked with silver, and her eyes twinkled as though she knew every secret already.
“I am called Mistaké,” she said warmly, setting the tray down. “You must be thirsty.”
Mia nodded, accepting the tea. The warmth seeped through her fingers. Mistaké studied her with quiet understanding.
“You are not from here,” the woman murmured. “But you will be. Time flows differently in this realm. When it begins to show on you, when your years become too many, this—”
She pressed a small vial into Mia’s palm.
“Yesterday’s Tea. A sip, and you may begin again. But be wise—every choice carries cost.”
Mia stared at the vial, throat tightening. She thought of years, of waiting, of watching Wu and Garmadon grow. Of standing on the edges of history, never fully belonging.
Am I ready for this?
That night, as the monastery quieted, Mia lay awake beneath borrowed blankets. Dragoni’s words echoed in her mind.
Chosen. Guardian. Silent witness.
She thought of the seasons she knew—the battles, the betrayals, the victories. She thought of Lloyd, the boy who would carry the weight of his father’s shadow.
And she thought of herself, a girl from Earth, now a thread in the tapestry.
The story hadn’t begun yet. But Mia was already here.
And nothing would ever be the same again.