Chapter Text
𖥔 ݁ ˖༄ .𖥔 ݁ ˖༄ .𖥔 ݁ ˖༄
𝙂𝙧𝙚𝙮
𖥔 ݁ ˖༄ .𖥔 ݁ ˖༄ .𖥔 ݁ ˖༄
Nature was a beautiful thing, truly. It wasn’t only a sight to behold, for if one would listen closely, they would hear quaint sounds that would serve as a melody for those eager to hear it.
The gentle hums emitted by the various birds perched on top of the tree branches.
The rippling noises of a nearby river echoing faintly within the forest.
And the whistling noises of the cool breeze.
It was strange, however, that the sound alternated between fading into a quiet wind before abruptly transforming into an abnormally strong gust that caused numerous leaves to fall off of their respective tree.
Accompanied by each gust, was a slight growl originating from the frustrations of a young boy, as he wallowed in his internal turmoil. At this point, it was evident that these specific noises came from something—or someone—beyond nature.
Morro believed that he needed to spend time outside the monastery and forget that that day ever happened.
Sadly, no matter what sign of respite nature decided to offer him, the events which occurred a few days prior were still heavily engraved in his mind.
——————
(3 Days Ago…)
Morro was ecstatic when he discovered that Wu finally decided to prove once and for all that he was the destined Green Ninja.
Well—then again, it wasn’t like either of them needed evidence.
The moment the boy started harnessing the potential of his elemental ability, Wu claimed that there was no doubt that the former was indeed the boy described in one of Ninjago’s oldest prophecies. If Wu—the wisest, most generous, and kindest man he ever knew—said that Morro was worthy of such a title, then the latter would believe him wholeheartedly!
Of course, he did everything in his power to prove that he was, indeed, worthy.
He practiced his powers everyday, joined the older man in his daily meditational practices, and underwent rigorous training from sunrise to sunset. There was no way that Destiny wouldn’t choose him to be the Green Ninja!
…which was why said boy was genuinely confused as he stared at the Golden Weapons with pure disbelief painting his entire face. His gaze quietly trailed the individual features of each of the four weapons before him, his hope diminishing by the second.
The Sword of Fire with its sharp edge was nothing like its tenacious element, for it laid uncharacteristically still on the wooden surface of Wu's table. The Scythe of Quakes could form mountains and shake the ground, yet right now it couldn't even move a pebble. The Nunchucks of Lightning could strike its opponent with electrifying energy, yet it failed the intimidation factor as it remained unmoving. Finally, the Shurikens of Ice could freeze any unfortunate individual until they succumb to frostbite, yet at this very moment, the small weapons themselves were frozen still.
None of them budged.
To outsiders, it was normal. Weapons were tools to be manipulated by their user during an occurring battle, afterall. So, they weren’t supposed to move without a wielder, right?
Well, to Morro, his whole worldview was flipped upside-down with this heart-shattering discovery.
The raven quietly prayed to the First Spinjitsu Master that these unmoving relics would just do something. Do anything that could serve as a response to Morro's presence. But alas, after a couple of long, agonizing minutes, none of the golden weapons even moved an inch.
The excitement that previously shone like stars in the boy's innocent, emerald eyes immediately disappeared at this revelation, replaced with utter disappointment. Afterall, in order to prove that he was the Green Ninja, the prophesied savior of Ninjago, these priceless objects have to respond to the person standing in front of them.
These weapons basically shrugged Morro off like a meaningless speck of dirt.
"That can't be… I—I'm the Green Ninja!" Morro exclaimed half-heartedly. He was only half aware of the words escaping his mouth, as his gaze remained fixed on the golden weapons.
The green streak imprinted on the boy's hair, suddenly felt like a burden laid upon his delicate head. The raven closed his eyes, well aware of the very color that practically swirled within his pupils. All these unique features that Morro possessed, ones that used to make him feel significant, suddenly made him feel like an imposter.
The boy trained so hard for nearly two with never-ending dedication because he was confident that he would gain the desired outcome of being the greatest Green Ninja he could be.
But these weapons were denying him that dream.
Wu opened his mouth, after remaining deadly silent all this time.
At that moment, Morro's mind recalled the scrolls he read every single night since that fateful day (when Wu defined the boy's possible purpose). The scrolls that contained old text, and imprinted upon them is the prophecy of the Green Savior. And that savior—
"Destiny has spoken."
—was not Morro.
He wasn't, and he wanted to scream until his lungs ran out of air.
Morro refused to acknowledge the pitiful gaze Wu aimed toward the young raven, but it was hard to ignore when it burned against the side of his skull. Despite the boy's insides screaming at him to not look at Wu, the former did anyway.
The moment he created eye contact with the blond man's saddened eyes, the boy regretted his action instantly. They stared at one another for a few seconds, up until it turned unbearable. Morro's mouth moved without permission.
"Please... Please! I—I'll train more. I'll prove it to you if... if I have more time, I'll become so much—so much stronger!" The boy pleaded, his eyebrows furrowing as he realized his voice wavered desperately. Wu simply stared at the boy in a soft, guilty manner before looking away.
Somehow, that non-verbal response managed to strike a chord in Morro—his emotions rapidly twisting and turning before settling on a feeling he hasn't felt ever since Wu took him in.
"…Then I refuse to listen!"
The gasp Wu let out was inaudible to Morro's ears, as the boy felt his fingertips twitch slightly as a strong gust of wind suddenly surrounded the raven like a raging tornado. The warm temperature in the room suddenly became cold in a matter of seconds. Morro's conflicted feelings only fueled his power, as it gained the strength to even blow off the door behind him. As he willed himself to prevent the tears swimming in his vision from falling down his pale cheeks, he held an accusing finger straight at Wu.
"You made me believe!"
With that, he ran out of the room, bringing his heartbroken wind along with him.
His hurried footsteps echoed throughout the Monastery for what felt like hours. Disappointment dragged at his feet, leaving the floor screeching. Failure pounded within his tiny head: a feeling no child should ever need to possess. And anger burned his eyes, making him breathless.
(Or perhaps it was snot clogging his nose, but who cared? Not him.)
Finally, he reached his destination, room within reach. With a flick of a wrist, the door to his bedroom was pushed open and only slammed closed the moment he entered. Morro cried angrily, plopping down in the corner of his bedroom. His body ached at the rough action, but he simply gritted his teeth, internally screaming at himself that tears are a weakness.
But they didn't stop falling, no matter how many times he tried to wipe them away. So, he just buried his head in his knees, the salty fluid staining his light g̶r̶e̶e̶n̶ gi.
Why did Destiny have to deprive Morro of everything?
It took so much away from him. Now, it took away his sole purpose in life.
The only one that could have made his old man proud.
—————
Morro gritted his teeth as he kicked a nearby twig.
Ever since Wu introduced the concept of ‘Destiny’ to Morro, the latter started to hide his dislike of it in order to save himself from an hour-long lecture from his sensei about the inner workings of the universe and the obvious tricks it’s fond of pulling.
Morro never really believed in the idea of destiny, at first. Claiming that no matter what Morro did, his life would always end up in a specific way.
That everything that occurred to him and will occur to him was necessary .
If destiny really was real, would that mean he was destined to be abandoned in an alleyway with no memory of his birth parents, and spending most of his childhood on the streets?
Morro huffed as he kicked another twig.
A twig that flew into a dark cave—
Morro jumped back when he heard a huge roar echo within the cave’s entrance. Emerging from the shadows was a beast thrice the boy’s size walked out.
Outraged by its awakening, it let out another growl (one that was far more terrifying compared to Morro’s earlier attempt) and revealed the sharp teeth that could easily cut through flesh and bone; saliva dripping down from its mouth as if the mere thought of consuming its victim was a dream come true.
Despite being terrified, the boy still felt something in his mind click when he processed the creature’s appearance. This wasn’t an ordinary beast—it was the Grundle; a reptilian creature of slimy scales and monstrous gaze that only existed in tall tales. This one looked too real to be a mere story.
And Morro woke it up from its slumber.
The realization of what he just did caused him to freeze—only for a moment, before he took off in the opposite direction and ran like the wind.
The pitter-patter of his feet were instantly followed by the loud thumping noises from the huge beast. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that the beast would catch up to Morro eventually.
At that moment, the boy just realized how far he actually walked from the monastery.
With a bit of panic, Morro was about to resort to using his abilities as an extra boost before something else took hold of him.
Gold and yellow sparkles suddenly flooded his vision, as his body was lifted by a swirling tornado before it disappeared once more. Shaking off the blur and dizziness from his vision, he realized that he was currently standing on a thick branch of a tall tree, leaving him out of reach for the Grundle to take hold of.
Morro couldn’t help but think that the beast looked smaller from up there.
(Said beast was disappointed at the disappearance of it’s meal, and ultimately stalked back to the direction of where it’s cave was.)
The boy then turned to his side, beaming at the sight of his sensei and the latter’s ability of performing spinjitzu; a unique martial art technique that only elemental masters could do.
(Wu insisted that Morro wasn’t ready to learn it though.)
The boy started profusely thanking his master, that he would have died if it wasn’t for him. That maybe, just maybe, it was Destiny that Morro was saved. He must have been the Green Ninja because why else would Destiny care so much about his safety, and—
And there it was. The concern was replaced by the same look he gave Morro a few days back.
The boy hated that look.
Without uttering a word, Wu took hold of Morro and formed another tornado that enveloped them with safety as they both landed on the ground. Wu looked like he wanted to say something, but instead stayed silent before walking away. He did so in a slow manner, leaving enough time for the boy to follow the man.
If the latter turned around, perhaps he would have seen anger replacing the pure distraught originally present on Morro’s face.
Said boy was glaring at the ground. (Attempting to push away his unease at seeing Wu’s disappointment once again.)
Morro clenched his fists.
Know what? Screw destiny.
Morro could forge his own path.
݁ ˖༄ .𖥔 ݁ ˖༄ .𖥔 ݁ ˖༄
The dark colors fading in and out of the sky enveloped the entirety of the South of Ninjago. It was too dark, indeed; the blacks and the grays did not provide any comfort to anyone. Though, when lightning streaked across the sky, it lit up like a dragon had roared out blinding fire, so it helped a bit—in terms of light, not comfort.
The howling winds caused multiple branches, both smooth and rough, attached to their respective tree barks, to sway along. The leaves danced, quite roughly, to the rhythm of the wind. The sky was only filled with dark clouds, for no birds even dared to take flight in such cruel weather. And across the land, puddles were already forming onto the dirt paths of quaint villages. The large drops of water dripping from the sky created ripples within those tiny pools, as well as causing roofs and metal structures to softly rattle from the impact of these rain drops.
This served to be a string of bad luck for those who inhabited the land, especially for the unsuspecting few wandering out this night- oblivious to the upcoming weather. The latter is exactly what Morro felt.
Of all his packed essentials: a bottle, shirt, even matches (which he was totally allowed to have), he forgot the one thing he desperately wanted—no, needed: an umbrella.
The boy's black cloak only did little in keeping himself—mostly—dry. The natural elements were against the boy, including his very own, once-trusted wind; he quietly huffed as the violent breeze blew off Morro's hood, exposing his shoulder-length black hair to the rain. The boy quickly raised his hood back up, but it was too late. After such a long time... he got forced to take a shower. Without soap. Or shampoo. Yay.
Morro—childishly—huffed and flipped up a specific finger at the weather in retaliation.
As if taking offense, another streak of lightning struck against a nearby stone, causing a yelp —that did not go two octaves higher than possible—to escape from the boy's mouth as he stepped back. He immediately regained his composure and scowled. For the next few minutes, Morro tightened his grip against his bag as he pushed through the wind that only tried to push him back.
He then attempted to redirect the wind, but it was no use, it was too strong. This caused Morro to grit his teeth in frustration. He's the Elemental Master of Wind, yet he couldn’t even change the direction of a little breeze? Maybe he didn't practice enough. Maybe he didn't train enough. Maybe he wasn't strong enough. If he was, he would've been the Green Ninja.
Destiny has spoken.
Morro shook his head. He refused to entertain that thought. He was the Green Ninja. He will prove it to Destiny. He'll prove it to everyone: his parents whom he didn’t even remember—nor does he care for—and left him on the streets, the people on said street who didn't give two shits about the poor street rat, the little—definitely not adorable—kids that looked up to him with gratitude as he sacrificed his last piece of food so they can eat (while he held his stomach, enduring the hunger), and even to his old friends who abandoned him at the monastery when they were all caught searching through a garbage can by some man. That man, Sensei Wu, was the very person he really, really needed to prove it to!
Anything to get rid of the disappointment in his eyes.
All Morro had to do was find the guarded tomb of the First Spinjitsu Master, the very creator of this entire (yes, entire) realm who had passed on long ago.
Such an astounding achievement shall prove that Morro was capable. That he was bound to be the Green Ninja, no matter what. And in order to do that, he just had to seek and find the Caves of Despair.
After his long perilous journey to the Library of Domu some time ago, he had discovered an ancient scroll that revealed the location of the tomb: laid within a deep, complex cave.
It had to be in the Caves of Despair. And he'll find it.
Morro bit his lip; if he couldn’t redirect the unruly wind, perhaps he could weaken it. With that idea quickly blooming, he slowly moved his wrist a few times, and in fruition: the wind weakened—slightly. It was still strong, but not like how a bad dancer would sweep Morro off his feet. In fact, it now had the same force as the gusts Morro trained with back at the monastery; nothing he couldn't handle. Said boy felt his chest swell with, what he believed to be, well-deserved pride as he resumed his journey. Some more time passed before he finally reached the mountain side. And soon, what stood before him was the very cave he sought after.
A new spark of determination lit up in the boy's eyes. For the first time in months, he allowed a smile of hope to form onto his face. But it dropped as soon as it came, replaced with an expression of solemnity and irritation, eye twitching. Morro then rushed toward the cave and into the entrance. He let out a sigh of relief. He was finally sheltered from the harsh elements, and happily took off his hood.
The moment he did so, a thick, wet strand of hair flopped down onto his face and Morro blinked. He was a fair bit annoyed; arriving all the way out here just to get hair in his eyes.
With the flick of a wrist, a calm breeze, nothing like the wind outside, entered the dry cave. It swirled like a mini tornado, and surrounded the raven-haired boy before diminishing, revealing a Morro whose clothes and hair were now completely dry: like he had never even been touched by the rain.
He removed the bag from his back, opening it to retrieve a pack of matches he brought a while back. He could only hope that this box would be enough.
He had to 'borrow' it from Wu's meditation room before leaving for this quest. Maybe, he thought, he could find a bigger piece of wood to use as a torch later on.
With that in mind, Morro easily lit a match, his eyes softly glowing at the sight of the match's tiny, red tip catching ablaze, before he started walking deeper into the cave.
He’ll prove it.
He was worthy of becoming the Green Ninja.
(Hope was a fragile thing, yet it still continued to burn as bright as a fire within the soul of the young wind elementalist.
Little did he know that at the ripe age of fifteen, his hopes, along with everything else would come to an unfortunate end.)
𖥔 ݁ ˖༄ .𖥔 ݁ ˖༄ .𖥔 ݁ ˖༄
The Cursed Realm.
A foreign land inhabited by unfortunate souls that have committed numerous atrocities during their time in the living world—or perhaps experienced death so intriguing that it may have even grabbed the interest of the realm's ruler. The Queen of the Cursed, also known as the Preeminent. Once that happened, they were given the opportunity to accept a deal from her.
What would happen if they didn’t accept the deal?
No one knew; for none of them were able to resist the temptation.
It was as if a voice delicately whispered in their ear—a chilly breeze that blew past to share a message. A message that the victim couldn’t help but respond to.
Which would result in their soul being forever cursed—stuck wandering within a realm full of terrifying shadows lurking in every corner, and menacing green mists covering half one’s body. A place that served as a literal network of dark tunnels connecting with one another to form a huge maze.
Funny; who knew lost souls could get even more lost?
Now, this should be a place of noise, shouldn't it? It was a hell, of course.
What should be happening is that every cursed soul is screaming for help saying they can't get out—that the chains weighing them down were preventing them from leaving that forbidden place. They say some souls would sob like they were in hell, feeling the agonizing pain of being burned alive. Or that each of them would be swearing up and down for ending up in such a place.
However, instead of the deafening chaos, an eerie silence surrounded the entirety of the realm.
Specifically, its center.
The cold air stifled anything that wished to break the deafening silence, for the chilly atmosphere was caused by their mother—their queen. Even if some ghosts would converse with one another, it's through soft whispers. For no one wished to destroy the queen’s peace.
If anyone speaks out of turn, punishment is given in return.
Which was why when the queen requested a summons from one of the fresh cursed souls regarding an urgent matter; the latter provided a mental list of reminders of the things he probably should and shouldn't do when in the presence of the Preeminent as he floated his way to the queen.
Always bow down before and after speaking to the queen; no matter the urgency, respect always comes first.
Always address her with her title and never her real name; it's practically forbidden to utter the queen's name aloud.
Don't stutter when delivering your statements; she'll assume you wish to waste her precious time.
Never be in close proximity with her—or else the probability of escaping a tentacle to the throat decreases drastically.
These self-tips were picked up from the few encounters he had with the queen, and the pointers he was given by some of the nicer souls, throughout the entire time he had been in this realm.
Which wasn’t that long, considering he only arrived here nearly a month ago.
Yet that length of time was enough to instill enough fear within the heart of the young ghost.
Despite having no spine, Morro felt a shiver travel down his back at the thought of being touched by the cold tendril of the queen. He was aware of the power the Preeminent had over him.
His entire being could be eradicated with one simple misstep.
All because of that stupid deal.
Frustrations aside, curiosity stepped forward.
The boy—the ghost was still oblivious to the reason why the queen asked for his presence. There's something up, he could feel it. Why else would the queen say it was urgent? What could it be?
Through every twist and turn he took (memorizing every pathway of this realm was a must), Morro only felt dread seeping into his core.
Even as a ghost it felt like there was something stopping him from going any further, but he pushed through.
Finally, he reached the center.
He recollected himself as he realized he shouldn't convey his emotions so openly. Displaying vulnerability in front of a potential threat was a dangerous move (it didn’t matter if he pledged his loyalty to her, Morro doubted that the queen trusted him at all).
With that in mind, the ghost placed two translucent hands behind his back, straightened his posture, and plastered a blank expression on his face. His cold demeanor was only enhanced by his slightly messy dark hair, the matching marks beneath his eyes, and the dark splotch of black on the side of his neck (the latter two being significant ‘trophies’ from his death that only followed him to the afterlife).
With a satisfied hum to himself, he then silently (of course, he had no problem there) approached the queen.
Unlike the first time, he was no longer frightened by her uneasy features. Her eldritch appearance reminded Morro of a huge, horrifying version of a normal human eye. Wait, no.
Nothing about the queen was normal.
As the general floated closer, the queen noticed his presence. In acknowledgement, she gave a slow blink towards the ghost. The latter floated down an inch as he kneeled on one knee, bowing his head.
"Greetings, my queen. I believe you have asked for me?"
𖥔 ݁ ˖༄ .𖥔 ݁ ˖༄ .𖥔 ݁ ˖༄
The realm became even more silent as Morro passed the other cursed souls. The latter’s hushed conversations diminished as their moods became somber at the sight of the fresh soul, a glint of knowing in their eyes.
The ghost would like to think he developed his poetic vocabulary skills after being within the same vicinity as a cryptic man like Wu; yet there were no words that would accurately express the feeling—or feelings?—that started to swirl within his heart.
He…
He—
Wu… he replaced him.
By the looks of it, there was more than one. It had only been a few weeks since his death, and Wu was already having the time of his life. It was like the man completely moved on from him.
After revealing the painful truth, the Preeminent informed him of her decision of appointing him as his head general for their big mission. She went on and on about how it was such an honor to receive such status, especially when he was new.
At the time, Morro was too hung up on the fact that he was replaced so quickly. But now…
He tightened his fists.
He’ll show him.
He’ll show him what he’s truly capable of, and he’ll prove that he’s not the kind of person that would be so easily forgotten.
𖥔 ݁ ˖༄ .𖥔 ݁ ˖༄ .𖥔 ݁ ˖༄
(1 week later… in Ninjago)
All Morro needed to see was a huge wave of water only a few feet behind him before he started moving.
Water was a ghost's weakness, afterall.
Cue the inhumane shrieks that emerged from the sea; the muffled sounds of cursed spirits suffering from their fate caused bubbles to rise from the glistening water.
These ghosts expressed their agony quite loudly, yet it only fell upon the ears of one ghost.
Said ghost was desperately ignoring the painful screams of the soldiers he led to battle, as he narrowly tried to avoid the tidal wave of water giving chase to all the ghosts behind him.
(In the distance; Nya, the new Master of Water, ceased her powers as her control upon her element was broken. This led to the sea returning to its calm state.)
As Morro looked over his shoulder, seeing that the whole population of the Cursed Realm dwindled to none, he didn't know it was possible for him to feel shame or pity until that very moment.
As quick as his questionable feelings appeared, it was stomped upon immediately. For at that moment, something grabbed hold of him.
Morro couldn't help but gasp a bit.
He struggled against the weird texture of a thick, slimy tentacle that was tightly wrapping around his torso.
If he wasn't a ghost and was an actual, living human being, he would have felt his insides getting crushed at this point, allowing his movements to falter—that's the only good thing he gained from being a ghost.
He wasn’t giving up unless he said so himself.
With that thought fueling his own will to survive, his left hand gripped tighter upon the Realm Crystal, the bridge between worlds, while his free hand summoned a gust of wind to try and give himself a boost to free himself. As he continued thrashing against the grip of the tendril, his power only grew stronger by the second—but unfortunately, the increase in force also applied to the Preeminent's.
This brought panic to the ghost.
The owner of the tendril keeping him in place shrieked (the first time Morro ever heard her make a sound), the skull-crushing shrill roughly translating to " We go down together! ". That one message was the only sound she ever made, and caused Morro's distress to flow out of his core, as rage and distaste made him grit his teeth.
Of course, the devil he (stupidly) struck a deal with didn't care for the raven.
All she cared about was power over Ninjago. Domination over all sixteen realms—not a fifteen-year-old that was forced to become a cursed soldier right after his death.
Morro was nothing but a pawn in this twisted little game of takeover the Preeminent decided to partake in, dragging all these ghosts along with her for simply obeying the queen's will. The enlightening realization made the ghost's stomach churn as the weight of his actions finally landed on his shoulders.
(He ignored the guilt that felt like a punch to the gut.)
He went against everything he thought he stood for.
Just to prove that he was worth something.
To prove that maybe, he had a purpose.
But no matter what Morro did—he'll always end up dying. It was his destiny to die, wasn't it? It was never enough. This was always his fate.
Anger was then replaced by fear, for every second that passed, he was pulled closer down into the endless sea, a huge body of water that will only bring death upon him—the permanent kind. Here, Morro was about to get killed by his own master. The same master that he blindly followed.
For what? Why exactly did he give into temptation that the voices whispered into his ears every night?
At this point, it was a blur on why he succumbed to the temptations. To her.
The Preeminent used all of Morro's anger as a weapon for her own benefit, before redirecting the aim of its sharp end toward the ghost himself. The morbid thought brought shivers down the ghost's non-existent spine. She was dragging him into the deep end for fuck’s sake.
The raven's strength in his wind element did not waver, unlike his hope that is starting to flicker like a dying flame.
Especially when Morro realized how dangerously close he was to the water.
He was only a mere inch away from the surface of the sea when a hand wrapped itself tightly against Morro's—and as the latter registered the distant familiarity present in the touch, he held in a jerk. He was on a fine line between lashing out and crying.
He reluctantly looked up at the eyes of the man in front of him, flying on his mystical, elemental dragon and using up all his strength just to bring Morro to safety. Away from the grasp of the queen.
He just had to face him, huh? The ghost tightened his grip on the realm crystal.
He ignored the sound of a crack.
"Old man, let go of me! I'm not giving you this stupid crystal just to gain another prized pupil." Morro's tone portrayed rage, and it would have been convincing enough to think that was exactly how he was feeling if his face didn't betray him.
Despite being a ghost, he looked like he was on the verge of tears, his face scrunched up in a pitiful manner. (If he knew what image he was displaying to his former mentor, Morro would have felt more ashamed than he already was.)
Unlike his grip on Morro, Wu’s gaze softened.
"Morro.. you are all my prized pupils." Morro's face hardened once more, and before he could let out a retort, Wu beat him to it.
"And I am not letting you go. I did that once before—..." Wu said, his voice cracking in the end.
"Never again." Wu said in a voice full of conviction. The man sounded like he would do everything to persuade his student from doing anything drastic once more. (He needed to convince the raven to stay. For once, just stay .)
At those words, Morro’s defensiveness faded a bit, making way for exhaustion to appear like a veil upon the raven's tired eyes. Those few words conveyed so much to the boy, and upon hearing them he felt like every bit of anger left him, making way for the emotions that truly felt deep down.
At least he got the chance to talk to Wu—before hurling threats and insults toward the older man—before he passed. It may come across as a morbid thought to some, but it was true.
Morro wasn’t weak.
But neither was the Preeminent.
The ghost tried to convince himself that he wasn’t going to die, but he wasn’t blind.
Not anymore.
It was only a matter of time before Morro eventually got pulled into the sea. But now, if the queen succeeds, she would drag Wu down as well. That changes things. The old man wouldn't let Morro go—even if the latter was getting dragged into his impending doom. The ghost was not one for sympathy... but what would the ninja feel if they lost their teacher?
If Wu died now, the ninja wouldn't even get to say goodbye.
Morro, of all people, would know how that would feel like.
The ghost's frustration flickered as he felt conflicted. His clouded mind suddenly made way for thoughts he never knew he would ever have.
There was always a timer on the raven's life that started ticking its way down the moment he existed. Morro knew that now. It was his fate from the very beginning. But Wu—his own thoughts abruptly cut off as time paused.
It was only for a moment, but it was enough for Morro to quietly allow his eyes to trail the features of his former sensei; knowing this was the last time he was going to see him.
The man now had a long white beard dangling from his chin. Whether or not his hair was still slightly blond, Morro will never know, for the former started wearing a bamboo hat as time passed.
His face lost the quiet, youthful innocence he had when he was younger; and it was replaced by a stricken expression of fear, his age lines slightly scrunching up emphasized the manner of worry he felt. Morro's eyes softened a bit.
Sure—Wu's old now, (somehow… perhaps time did work differently between realms. How long, really , did it take before Wu moved on from him?) but he still deserved the long life that awaited him. He didn’t need a pupil from the past to weigh him down.
A pupil that was nothing but a selfish, unworthy disappointment.
A boy that could no longer call himself a ninja.
A child that deserved nothing from the one he viewed as his father.
With this realization, the ghost shielded his sadness by giving a small smile toward Wu, who only looked concerned.
"You can only save those who want to be saved." Morro said. His words flowed out of his mouth a bit too easily—but it wasn’t a surprise; it was the truth wasn’t it?
The (former) general would never back down without a fight. But this wasn’t exactly backing down, was it? He still did his part. He still fought. It just… wasn't enough.
Morro ignored the hurt present in the older man's expression. The raven always had a stubborn spirit.
But of course that persistence would lead to a path that Wu cannot follow.
The ghost tightened his grip on the Realm Crystal (gritting his teeth as another resounding crack was heard beneath his ghostly fingertips) as he knew what he had to do.
The real green ninja needed to find his way back home, afterall.
"Goodbye... sensei." The ghost then looked at the older man once more as he immediately unwrapped his fingers from Wu's hand, the warmth his sensei has provided Morro's palm disappeared into the cold (to his dismay) as he immediately placed the Realm Crystal to replace where his hand once was. Wu visibly widened his eyes.
"No!"
Wu watched in horror as Morro was suddenly pulled into the water. The movement wasn't abrupt and forceful like the man anticipated.
Instead, it was slow and taunting, for the Preeminent knew there was no longer a hand to tug the other side of the rope. She had already won.
No harm in reveling in her victory.
The bitter smile never left Morro's lips—but he was biting his lips desperately, thankful he had the inability to make them bleed, as he restrained himself from thinking too much about the pain that awaited him. You would think that during this time of night, the water would be freezing. But no, for ghosts, the excruciating heat was unbearable.
(And didn’t that bring wonderful memories for Morro.)
The water engulfed Morro into metaphorical flames, the burning sensation traveling throughout his entire being—like blood coursing through one's veins. The ghost opened his mouth, but no scream came out.
The raven's body evaporated, resulting to a few bubbles appearing in the water, as steam started rising into the air, before they disappeared as well.
Morro welcomed the cold that seeped into his soul. The relief from the pain brought merely a sense of comfort to his aching heart.
But perhaps an alteration in the works of destiny is capable of healing it.
𖥔 ݁ ˖༄ .𖥔 ݁ ˖༄ .𖥔 ݁ ˖༄
Darkness was a friend to some. The black eternal void provides a mysterious, yet soothing space for those who simply want to fade from reality. It was a welcoming greeting on a cold night—like a soft, thick blanket wrapping around your entire being, bringing warmth into your core. Safe to say:
Morro was beginning to like this version of death.
He… started to question why he did unspeakable things just to avoid this.
Back in the Cursed Realm, his existence was confusing (and irritating) in and out of itself. As he carried out the weight of duties and responsibilities of a head ghost general, as well as the position of the Preeminent’s right-hand man; the constant reminder of him being a dead, cursed spirit loomed over the raven's shoulder.
As if Destiny itself was taunting him about his utter failure during his time of being alive, and his pure cowardice during his time of death.
Now, Morro was introduced to a foreign aspect of death.
The numb feeling of floating around in an endless abyss was quiet; peaceful even. He couldn't see the dreadful appearance of his former 'master', or the menacing green highlighting everything, and everyone (including himself) in that forsaken realm. He couldn't feel the unsettling atmosphere of the Cursed Realm, nor the intense pressure weighing him down when he was afraid of his powers being weaker in his non-living state. He couldn't hear the troubling voices and images invading his mind whenever the Preeminent approached him, or the pleading tone present in his former sensei's voice.
All his four remaining senses (since he didn’t have functioning lungs anyway) shut down in this place, giving him the opportunity to actually Rest In Peace, and he liked that. This could be the end of it all, and Morro wouldn't mind.
He wouldn't mind at all.
Unfortunately, the ghost suddenly felt a tingling sensation in his fingertips before it started to spread throughout his entire body.
It was exactly what he felt when he entered the portal to Ninjago.
It was the same feeling he had when he flew through the Blind Man's Eye using airjitsu.
He felt his soul going somewhere—the Departed Realm perhaps? If Morro could still feel emotions in this foreign plane, he would've felt a twinge of sadness when he started to consider the possibility that he might not even be allowed to enter that realm. Wu always said that there, everyone was allowed eternal rest.
But did Morro believe he was worthy of such? He didn’t.
The moment that thought was made known, it seemed that Destiny desired to prove Morro was correct in his assumptions (for once).
He opened his eyes.
He blinked once.
He cursed at the First Spinjitzu Master.