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Each person that enters the Cursed Realm is bound to an eternal punishment. Each punishment is tailored to the evils and sins they committed throughout the other realms.
Well, that's how it's supposed to be, at least.
When the Preeminent died, so did the Cursed Realm. The souls that resided inside of the Cursed Realm were sent to the Departed Realm.
Due to the fact the Departed Realm can't be reached via the Realm Crystal, not much is known about it, other than that is it the final resting place of the soul. In the Departed Realm, your spirit rests in eternal peace unless otherwise disturbed.
So why wasn't Morro's soul resting?
Why was he the only one among the thousands, perhaps even millions of souls around him, that hadn't been put to rest?
Why hasn't he been lulled into the sweet release of death? Of simply not existing? Not being awake?
He'd allowed himself to be pulled into the water by the Preeminent and for what? Only to be surrounded by resting souls, wriggling and whispering in their sweet slumber while he remained unable to reach peace?
It was unfair. Even in death, life was unfair.
There was no time here. He didn't know if it'd been days or weeks, or even a year since he wound up like this.
Everything was dark, the only light coming from the dimly glowing souls that stuck everywhere.
There were no walls or ceilings, and yet the souls stuck to them.
There was a constant whispering, a silent chatter. It was if the souls were talking in their sleep.
It didn't take long for Morro to realize that the whispering was newly departed souls replaying their lives. When a new souls arrives, they whisper to themselves about the life they had. It was like life flashing before your eyes, but instead, a detailed whisper.
Sometimes, he'd find himself listening to them.
A new soul would come in and he'd listen, as if the soul was telling him a story.
He couldn't count how many times Lloyd had been mentioned in those stories.
A pang of guilt would surge through him everytime as he remembered his possession of Lloyd. How much he'd fought it, how much he'd made the blonde suffer. He was wrong for doing such a thing. His anger had blinded him and caused him to hurt innocent people. His powers were supposed to be used to protect others, but instead he had used them for hurt.
And now he was stuck, surrounded by resting souls while his own remained awake.
Perhaps this was destiny as well.
——————
And then one day, there was a disturbance.
A hole ripped through the realm, revealing a sight of Ninjago City below.
It was loud, crackling thunder like a storm drowning out the whispers of the spirits that surrounded him. He didn't know what that portal was, but he knew it was a way out. Despite that though, he made no move to leave.
He had accepted his fate by now. Ever since the Day of The Departed, he had realized that it was for the best to stay here, among the sleeping souls.
He waited for the portal to pass, hoping that it wasn't some sort of evil bullshit, but he knew that it was in the back of his mind.
He could hear the wind, but he couldn't feel it. It passed right through his ghostly form, leaving him with an empty feeling. He missed the wind so much. He felt comfortable in the wind, he loved the feeling of it rustling his hair and crashing against his skin. He supposed he should be thankful that he can at least hear it. In the Departed Realm, there is no wind, so this is the first time in who knows how long that he'd actually been able to enjoy the familiar sound.
But then something roused behind him.
He turned his gaze behind him, watching as one of the souls began to wriggle. It became inflamed, the glow brightening. A squelching noise came from within it.
It looked like something was trying to crawl out from the inside.
Cautiously, Morro stood, eyes fixed onto the soul as it slowly began to change color. From a pure white, it darkened into a deep, rich black, that was almost unseeable against the darkness of the realm.
Then, suddenly, a hand popped out. And then another. And another. And another.
From within the soul, Lord Garmadon climbed out, the blackness of the soul soaking into him as it was returned to his body.
Morro stood back, eyes wide as he stared up at the large, four armed monster that stood before him.
Despite Morro being right in front of him, Garmadon ignored him. His red eyes were only fixated on the portal. With purpose, the man took a step forward, walking past the ghostly green figure.
It was now that Morro realized exactly what was happening. Garmadon was being resurrected. It wasn't the same Garmadon he'd seen in the Cursed Realm either. No, this was his evil form, the one who had been so hell bent on taking over Ninjago for so long.
"Stop!" Morro found himself calling out. His own voice surprised him. It'd been so long since he'd spoken.
Morro ran after him. He couldn't allow Garmadon back into Ninjago. This was the least that he could do, after all that he had done. Perhaps he'd never be able to rest peacefully in the Departed Realm, perhaps he'd never be able to fully pay for the sins he'd committed, but he could at least do this.
He had to.
If not for Ninjago, then at least for Lloyd.
He no longer hated the Green Ninja. He'd made peace with the fact that he simply wasn't destined to be the Green Ninja. And, after what he'd done to the blonde, this was the least he could do. He was sure that if Lloyd saw his father like this, it'd break his heart. He'd have to relive the suffering of having to defeat his father once again.
He wrapped his arms around Garmadon, trying to keep him from reaching the portal. Garmadon didn't even struggle. He kept walking forward. Morro kept trying to drag him back, to pull him away, but every second they inched closer and closer.
The wind whipped around them, blowing right through his ghostly body. It was a strong wind. Morro could tell by the sounds it made, but it didn't seem to have much affect on the four armed man in front of him.
His grip tightened, his heels digging into the black bottom if the Departed Realm as he desperately tried to pull Garmadon back inside. Perhaps this was why he was his purpose here; To keep this evil from leaving the Departed Realm?
If it was, he wasn't doing a very good job of fulfilling it.
Garmadon leaned through the portal, Morro still attached as he tried to pull him back in. Then, suddenly, it closed, pushing both of them out into the night of Ninjago City.
——————
Morro awoke to the sight of bright lights and the sound of passing cars.
The brightness of the lights hurt his eyes—
Wait. He was a ghost, wasn't he? Why was the light hurting his eyes?
Slowly, he sat up. The long forgotten feeling of a chill ran through his spine as a breeze whipped through the alley. He looked down at his hands, finding that they were no longer the pale green that he'd grown accustomed to. Instead, it was the telltale yellow of all the other living humans in Ninjago.
Morro quickly stood, head frantically looking around as if trying to search for answers.
Was he really alive? What happened? Why was he like this?
The last thing he remembered was the portal, and Garmadon, and trying to keep him inside the Departed Realm. Had he been resurrected along with Garmadon because he had tried to keep him in? That was the only logical answer right now.
God, why did he have to be alive again? He'd already accepted his fate. He'd died twice before and now he was going to have to die once more?
Life seriously wasn't fair.
He felt a painful pressure build up in his chest, as if he wasn't breathing.
Wait, breathing—
He was alive again, that was something he had to do now. He'd completely forgotten about breathing.
Hastily, Morro took a deep breath, greedily inhaling the surrounding oxygen. It'd been so long since he'd been able to breathe like this. The breeze tussled his hair, a smile tugging at his lips as it brushed against his ears and his skin. Such trivial feelings that felt like absolute heaven to him.
His stomach growled, bringing him out of his little trance. He had human needs now that he needed to tend to, but more importantly, he needed to warn the Ninja. If he was alive, then surely Garmadon was alive as well.
The question was, where were they?
He guessed they were on the Bounty, but he had no clue where that thing was anymore.
He'd have to go searching and hope that his new skin tone would be enough to keep people from recognizing him. He didn't have any money he could use to buy new clothes.
Morro stepped forward to leave the alley, his legs shaking beneath him. It'd been a while since he had to control one of these things. He had some work to do.