Chapter Text
The inky black and purple of the Cursed Realm was suffocating if you weren’t used to it. Morro, however, was so comfortable (or so he told himself) that it seemed there was no ‘before’ before the Cursed Realm.
Who is Morro, you ask? A boy around 4’10, sickly pale, almost green skin, with stringy black hair. The left-hand general of the Cursed Realm was alike a cornered cat. Skittish, aggressive, and so very alone. Perhaps he was always like this.
Currently, the ghost–yes ghost , Morro was very much dead–was floating around the Cursed Realm, alike a babe in the wombs liquids. It was oddly disgusting, the way the contents of the cursed realm moved, liquified remains of ghosts who never survived long enough to be familiar with the realm, stomach juices, and the odd smell of some sort of salty liquid.
Floating, floating, floating- oh what was that? It couldn’t be rip, could it? Realms weren’t able to rip, at least Morro didn’t think so. Yet… there it was in front of him, light piercing through the small crack.
Morro crept closer and closer to peer at the light source, his eyes squinting at the brightness he hasn’t seen in years.
A man stood in front of him, holding a book in one hand and a bundle of cloth in the other. Morro wasn’t one for dabbling in magic, yet this looked like a summoning spell. The rip in the realm, the salt circle, and perhaps a vessel in that cloth? Perhaps a doll, if whoever they were summoning was lucky.
He tried to pull back, to go on his merry way, but to his growing horror, he realized he couldn’t. He wasn’t even frozen, he was moving closer to the rip. Shit, this wasn’t how it was supposed to go. Morro was just supposed to get a good look at the long sought for light and then go let whoever was supposed to be summoned go into Ninjago and possess things, or whatever ghosts do in Ninjago.
Closer and closer he went, the faster the vacuum pulled him. It felt like being born again, or at least what he imagined it must feel like. Feeling the painfully dry air after being immersed in her liquid for so long was… unpleasant. Even though ghosts can't get wet, Morro had gotten used to the stinging. Without it, his skin felt off.
Weezing, taking in his sudden lack of pain, and the light. First Master did the light hurt .
He opened his eyes, staring right into his summoners face, he let out a horrible piercing wail. He was out. He was free. He wasn’t hers anymore. Morro was free .
The man quickly set down the book and shushed him.” I implore you, please do not be loud.”
Morro stifled his sob as best as he could, clasping both hands over his mouth.
The man sighed, his face masked by the cloak he wore.” I apologize, but you aren’t the ghost I meant to summon. This… hasn’t really happened before.”
A watery laugh made it’s way up Morro’s throat.” I know. I’m not usually people’s first choice.” His voice was rough from disuse, throat feeling more like sandpaper than, you know, a throat.
The man visibly slumped.” An Anacondrai I wanted, not a poor child-“
“Not a child,” Morro interupted.
“You’re like what, eleven?”
“I dunno. Not a child though.” The ghost crossed his arms, his sobs forgotten.” Who even are you?”
“You may know me as Lord Garmadon.”
Morro cringed, recognition flashing across his face.” Just my fucking luck.”
“Language,” Garmadon softly chided.” May I ask who you are.”
“No.”
A small chuckle made it’s way around the room.” You remind me of someone, even look a bit like her.“
“I am not a girl!” Morro said, albeit too quickly.
Garmadon sobered up.” I never said you were. Now, since I cannot open another rift to the Cursed Realm, I suppose you will have to do.”
“Do… what?” Morro asked suspiciously, raising an eyebrow at him.
“I’m afraid I have a rather heavy task to lay upon you—“ Garmadon sighed,”—I have a son, just four months old, and I won’t be with him for a very long time.”
An annoyed pang went through Morro. What was this dude going on about?
“I don’t have many choices. I hate to leave this job to a child- you still are one, don’t try and argue that- when it was supposed to be my job.”
Garmadon took his head in his hands.” Dear Father, what am I supposed to do now?”
“And what does this have to do with anything?” Morro asked.
“ You see,” Garmadon sighed,”The Spell I used wasn’t just a summoning spell. IT was also a binding spell..”
“Oh.”
“Oh, indeed.”
“So you bound me to a baby.”
“It wasn’t supposed to be you.”
“And? It still is me. And you can’t do shit about that now. Or is there a way to undo the spell?”
“Lloyd would have to do that himself, but he’s hardly old enough to be dabbling in magic.”
“So you bound me, to a fucking baby? What do you want me to do with it?”
“Please don’t shout. And I was planning for an Anacondrai Warrior to protect him when he’s older-”
“Puh-lease, The Anacondrai warriors would rather bite their own tails off than be summoned by you. No wonder I got sucked in. What’s the specifics of the spells?”
“If he dies, your soul would be free, unbound by my spell. You are obligated to protect him and help him and in exchange there is a possibility that your soul may turn uncursed. If you purposefully let him die, however, you will be sent straight back to where you came from. Do you understand?”
“Yeah, I get it.”
“And please, may I know who is protecting my son so I can be banished with ease of mind?”
Morro paused. He had come up with the name Morro a short time before his death. Boys, afterall, shouldn’t have girl names. Anila didn’t fit him anyway. But would Garmadon recognize him? Surely not, it had been years before his death since he last saw Morro. He still looked like a girl back then, long hair, feminine gi’s, a high squeaky voice.
Okay maybe the voice part hasn’t changed.
But he hadn’t developed boobs like the other girls in the village. He guessed it was probably not eating enough. It made it easier to pass as a boy.
“Im Morro.”
“Perhaps you know an Anila? You look almost identical to her, except you’re a boy and she was quite feminine.”
“I don’t want anything to do with Anila!” Morro snapped.” Just go. I’ll take care of the baby.”
“I will leave this topic alone for the meantime.”
Garmadon folded back the edges of the cloth he was holding.
“Morro, meet Lloyd.”