Chapter Text
kai is under no disillusion that he is smarter than his peers. from the ninja’s inception, he was always the one considered a bit dumber than the rest, each of them prodigies in a field they can call their own. cole was strong and well educated in dance, despite how much he swears against it; jay and nya are both wonderful mechanics, practiced and exact; lloyd took his title of best fighter long ago; zane, of course, was a robot, with the world at his fingertips.
kai lacked something uniquely special about him. in a sea of grandeur, he was mediocre, always one wave behind the rest, and he would never be able to catch up — so he trained his fire until every lick of flame was an exact calculation; precise movements and heat controlled entirely by him.
it came as a surprise when the flame in his hand, the light and heat source for his journey, extinguished entirely.
the path ahead was paved in darkness, clouds covering any sense of light or protection the moon could offer. his heart felt hot against his chest, his skin cold to the touch. he had no protection.
his fingers snapped once, twice. he clapped his hands. he stomped on the ground. kicked at the snow. anything to get the fire going again.
he groaned into the blizzard, his throat dry from the cold. he turned around, hoping to find the way back. it was all black and white, everything enveloped by blizzard and night.
“you have got to be kidding me,” he forces out, teeth chattering like porcelain to hammer. he turns back to the now obscured castle, searching for any—
there.
it hits him like a truck, completely taking him off his feet. in every fantasy, in every nightmare, he never expected anything like this. when he went to find zane, he expected him with arms open or dead beneath his feet.
there, only barely visible, was a light emanating from the core of the castle. he could see it through walls of ice, just at the edge of the mountain, around half a mile away — it was blue, it was cold, but it was humming and he knew zane was there .
he could see him there, the light bringing him into focus—
and then it cut out. the light was gone.
he groaned again. kai was going to have to make it there against the wind. the humming taunted him just as much as the light haunted him, the two of them coalescing in tandem.
but he pushes forwards.
the castle is even more daunting from the inside. he can see his own reflection in the moonlight, but little more, and each hallway was a maze. he stumbled across rooms of decay, each one worse than the last. one was a near direct replica for the apartment they shared after the bounty was taken. another was styled alike his old room in the monastery. all of the others were blank and broken.
he pushes forwards.
and then he sees him. horror takes him. it envelops him. it consumes him so completely that his breath is taken with it, and his body is left hollow and waiting, complacent and alone and so disgustingly cold , and for a moment, he’s scared he’s somehow dead, and it’s too much. it’s far too much.
the hurricane rages outside the castle.
“...zane?” he somehow spits out. his teeth are too sensitive and his mouth is too dry. his throat is so, so bare that it barely comes out as a whisper.
he stares at zane’s body; at the glowing mass before him. he can see it breathing.
“from my decaying body,” zane starts, his voice distant and echoing, “ice shall grow. snow shall fall. that is my parting gift and perpetual obligation, to both you and ninjago. that is eternity.”
and how is he supposed to respond to that? what kind of response is that? his voice, once so calm and polite, now icy and striking, is terrifying, and he’s so…
he’s angry. how can he not be? he’s presented with the worst sight imaginable in the shape of zane’s body, his voicebox so broken that he deserved better.
“i lived decades endlessly angry at you. i tortured myself with the idea that i would find you, one day, and—“ kai stops himself. he let it out all at once, rage and sadness and grief tumbling like a snowball on a hill. his hands were traveling to his hair in exasperation. there were no rings on his fingers; only burn scars and sharp nails to claw at his scalp. “where do i put the anger now, zane? i need you to tell me.”
“your anger,” zane echoes and echoes and echoes. “your anger, or your devotion? love and hate, anger and devotion; the two are separated by nothing more than a thin line. they often overlap.”
“does it matter? my devotion turned violent the day you left. anger and flame tore at my insides until all i had left was hate. it eats at the love, and i’ve loved you since i had to watch you leave me the very first time.”
zane is quiet.
“it was all for naught.”
“yeah. i guess it was.”
he’s silenced. he has nothing left to give. zane, the one he’s been searching for, was completely entombed. his body had molded to the castle walls; ice encased his skin, wires and parts and gears strewn across the room. his faceplate was completely gone. the only light – the glowing mass – was the decaying voicebox sitting in the center of the storm.
in the eye of the hurricane, it is not quiet. it is not mellow. it is a cacophony of grief and mourning and ice and the remnants of his first love.