Chapter Text
Life was a fickle thing. Having its ups and downs, twists and turns, and moments where you seem to realize how insignificant an individual could be in the grand scheme of everything.
Morro knew the feeling of insignificance all too well, often finding himself thinking back on his actions during the 'life' he had 'lived'. Honestly, he wasn't too sure what to call his time in Ninjago, he was barely 17 when his mortal body perished in the molten hot labyrinth known as the Caves of Despair. Finding himself in the bowls of a place his old Sensei had spoken so illy of, The Cursed Realm as Wu called it.
He still despised the name, feeling as if the two lettered name was ice on his tongue before the ice melted and gave way to burning hatred, then the flames cooled once more and left him unable to speak, trapped in a pit of guilt and regret that he couldn't bring himself to climb out of. He knew it was useless to wallow in his own pity, yet he did so anyways, he despised the word itself now, burning even the thought of the word from his mind and throwing a torrent of venomous insults to those who even dared to pity him. He hated pity, even from his former Sensei who deemed it so necessary to pity him just before he had pulled his hand away from the old man, considering himself unredeemable to the only person he could really consider family. He found himself pitying himself despite how much it burned him, Wu always said holding onto anger was like throwing a burning rock, you only burn yourself in the process, maybe pity was the same way, he'd never know, for he'd never forgive himself if he followed another pathetic lesson from the man who made him believe that he could be special, help those in need just as Wu had helped him. He hated the idea of help now, the word now foreign to him. Almost like an old friend from his childhood that he just couldn't remember the name of, one that had disappeared all too quickly, before he could even hold a proper memory of their face.
He was only really able to remember the things they did with each other, such as when the nice old shopkeeper he couldn't seem to remember the name of had given him the old ends of the bread they hadn't been able to sell, or when his fellow street rats had told him about the trash bins up the thousand steps of stone that held all sorts of hidden treasures that only the most determined would find. He sometimes wonders what would've become of his life had he stuck it to them and told them to go find someone else to make a fool of. The hours spent climbing those crumbled steps all whilst his stomach panged with hunger would've only been an imaginary problem. If only his pride was as strong as it was now, maybe he'd have gotten on his feet one day. Never having been fed lies about how he could've been destined for greatness, maybe it was the idea that a small orphan boy who was destined to save the world was what enticed him. Maybe it was the idea that he'd finally be given a purpose to follow. Rather than hoping he'd find enough food to repeat the cycle of diving through the garbage just to survive another day.
He's not too sure anymore, all he knows is that it's all behind him now, stuck in what he could only assume was the Departed Realm in an inky black darkness that felt cold to the touch, yet he still felt numb despite the ice that graced his finger tips, a feeling that he couldn't describe even if it was on the tip of his tongue, always falling down into the abyss at the last moment, into the darkness that surrounded him like a cold blankets, yet always warm despite the liquid shadows that threatened to freeze him solid.
Until he wasn't
...
After maybe months, years even, of floating around in the endless abyss of which he could feel but not see, he suddenly found himself hearing the sound of rustling grass and the rush of wind, now feeling the gentle breeze practically sweep around his form and welcoming him like a mother would do to their children once they finally came back home. Beckoning him to open his eyes with a small whistling sound, to which he happily complied, wildly overjoyed to finally be reunited with his dearest friend after what felt like years of silence.
But what he found puzzled him.
The wind blowing around him was consistent as always, yet this time he could see, see each and every individual string of air that the wind moved and glided, he could feel the wind rustle through his hair and imagine how each strand tussled and parted the jet-black locks that covered his head. Although while this puzzled him, he couldn't properly focus on the wind, not when he found himself in what looked like a field of golden flowers, each petal shining with what he could only assume was magic of some sort.
"I've been expecting you."
A voice called out through the field, to which Morro wildly twisted and turned in search of the source of said voice. A burst of anger heating his chest in what could only be described as pure fury, although only a moment later the anger cooled and simmered into a soft boil rather than the angry and aggressive flames. He always found that his emotions didn't seem to stick for too long, unless he was actively trying to keep the flame going, he wasn't too good at showing emotions because of it, anger seemed to be the only emotion that tended to stay, he was familiar with anger. He could rely on anger, it was the feeling of vulnerability that he absolutely despised, yet it was rather ironic as he felt the sickening feeling creep up on him once more.
"Who— what—!? Who are you! Where am I?!"
Morro shouted back in response, his voice cracked and raspy from disuse but also holding a hint of fear and vulnerability that he would surely berate himself for in the near future, if he wasn't doing so already. His body quickly tensed and his muscle memory inevitably kicked in, quickly twisting himself into a defensive, albeit shaky, position. His unease and probably years of being trapped and unable to properly move did little to make him a threatening figure as he had been so long ago, each of his attacks careful sharpened and honed to be the thing he could rely on no matter what situation he was in were no more.
Now his form could only be described as shaky and uncertain, crumbled with age much like that of an old stone wall that had gone years without maintenance, his emotions felt even more unstable than his stance, one moment he was determined and confident, the next he was uncertain and hesitant. Then he felt scared and alone, as if he was being watched from every angle he could possibly imagine with an archer on the other end of the line that connected their sight to his body.
"Calm yourself child, I can assure you, I mean no harm"
The voice chuckled softly, a rush of wind passing by the raven haired teen who seemed so uncertain and frightened. But the reassurance did nothing to calm the wind elemental, only making him tense further and anxiously crack his the joints in his knuckles as he raised them into fists, a habit he had picked up from one of the older kids he had trained with before he left the only place he had been able to call home.
"Liar—! Where am I!? Why— Why did you bring me here?!"
Morro questioned further, his voice filling with both fear and anger as he spat out the icy accusation, a brief thought in the back of his mind telling him he should probably apologize— the thought sounding oddly enough like the old man he so despised— although he decided against it, pushing that part of his mind down into the depths where he kept everything under rusted metal and chains. He refused to follow the teachings of his old master anymore, knowing that it would only do more harm than good now. Despite this he failed to notice how the voice had called him a child, often catching such detail only a moment after such a thing would leave a person's mouth, yet this time he didn't.
"I can assure you Morro, you are not in danger, I'm sure Breeze would be furious if I ever put you in such a situation"
The voice answered again, a low hummed following their voice, although it wasn't their tone that caught Morro's attention, no. It was the name that caught onto his interest like a fish on a well baited hook. Breeze. How did this stranger know that? He'd never told anyone that name, for they would assume he was crazy, naming the wind? Those in his time would assume he was insane and throw him into a padded room and lock his arms together, leaving him to scream his throat hoarse whilst he pleaded and begged for them to let him free. So how did this- this thing know about that?
"I don't appreciate being called a thing"
The voice suddenly spoke again, catching Morro a bit off guard at the sudden confession, it could read minds? How-?
"I will explain in due time my child, but for now, let me introduce myself"
The voice spoke once more, cutting off Morro's train of thought as the sound of the voice suddenly centered behind him, no longer seeming that the origin was everywhere at once and echoing through the air as if he were in a tunnel.
"You may know me as The First Spinjitzu Master, but please, call me Uchu"
———
Morro felt the breath leave his body once the voice confessed their name, oddly enough he didn't question how he could feel the air inside of his lungs rather than flowing through his spectral form. Now? he couldn't worry about that, not when he was standing face to face with the grandfather of the boy he had possessed, the creator of the realm he had tried to curse, the man who left the most powerful artifacts in his resting spot, to which Morro had tampered with and had little to no thoughts regretting his actions back then. But despite all of this, The First Spinjitzu Master-
"Uchu"
Well- Uchu... still treated him with kindness and compassion, it baffled him, threw his mind in a loop that seemed as if it would never end with how many questions that swam around his head in a manner that could only be described as liquid chaos.
"I'm sure you have questions, I'll be happy to answer them"
Uchu spoke once more, thoroughly confusing Morro further when the god-like being walked up to him and stood much like his former teacher would whenever he would congratulate him for learning something new. Whether that be a new skill he could use in combat, or a new moral he could follow and teach to others just as Wu had taught him.
"I— I don't understand..."
Morro replied weakly, his posture still tense and rigid, yet his hands no longer held in tight fists, now anxiously pulling at the tattered clothing that made him want to squirm, reminding him all too much of the way they had been subjected to such terrible conditions, yet he chose to ignore such things.
"Why— why am I here—? What was that— place—?"
He continued, looking towards the god with a hopeful expression, desperate to find the answers he sought after without angering the man he had disrespected so much before.
"I brought you here, but as for the place you speak of, it is for those in wait."
Uchu answered, his answer as mysterious and elusive as Wu was whenever Morro had given answers to the old riddles his master would challenge him with, only to be turned down and forced to find another possible answer almost 3 weeks later, just to still be denied when he asked if he was correct.
"Those— in wait...?"
Morro responded, confusion crossing his features and drowning his words, like a waterfall that never ceased its loud crashing as the water hit the rocks below, adding another layer of the clear liquid that would slowly wear away the hardened material.
Uchu only nodded in response to Morro, the god's hands moving to fold behind his back as he walked towards the edge of the floating isle they stood on, despite the added weight on the unstable edge of the island, no dirt or rocks seemed to break, holding firm in their grip to stay together, as if made to withstand even the most heaviest of things that threatened to crumble its steady foundation. As Uchu slowly made his way over to the edge of the island, Morro too found himself being moved over towards the edge, albeit only after Breeze had swooped him up in a rather strong gust of wind, causing the untamed mop of jet-black hair atop his head to rise up along with him before he was gently placed down alongside Uchu.
"Some say family is bound by blood..."
Uchu chuckled softly as he watched what seemed to be open sky that stretched on for miles and maybe even towards the edge of the universe.
"Others say family is who you choose it to be..."
Uchu continued, much to Morro's confusion who was anxiously trying to look for what Uchu might be staring at, the god-like man seemed awfully too much like his youngest son for Morro's liking, although he didn't comment on it, Uchu likely would have just taken the words out of his mouth if he had.
"But I say family is a subjective term"
Uchu hummed, turning his head towards Morro, yet he kept it slightly tilted down so that his hat would cast a shadow across his face, concealing it from view just as he had done before.
"Despite their differences, Garmadon and Wu are both brothers, bound by a blood bond which can never be truly broken. Yet they are often on the opposing side of the war them find themselves in."
Uchu said, offering an example for Morro to latch onto, how the god-like being knew how Morro would do something like that, the elemental knew not, but he chose not to question it, as it made comprehending his situation just a bit easier and it'd only add to the ever-growing list of questions he always seemed to have.
"Despite not being bound by blood, you and Lloyd share an awful lot of similarities."
Uchu sighed, almost as if he was reminiscing on some old happy memory from his childhood. Yet despite Uchu's tone, it didn't make a difference to Morro as he felt his stomach drop and the familiar walls that started to grow around him as another pit of guilt threatened to swallow him whole. He regretted everything thing he did under the Preeminent's command, although he couldn't find the courage to apologize, whether the apology went to Lloyd, Uchu, hell- or even Wu for fucks sake. It's not that he didn't want to, he just- didn't think it would make up for everything, He didn't think that anything would make up for all the damage he's done, whether it was physical damage- or psychological damage in Lloyd's case. It didn't feel right to apologize for something he'd never truly understand, whether Lloyd would know that he regretted it or not.
"And w-what might those b-be...?"
Morro answered hesitantly, his hands mindlessly tugging at the fabric of the gi he had died in, the ragged and tattered material making him want to shudder at the grimy and unpleasant texture that dragged across his fingers.
"Well... I suppose you'll have to find out then, won't you?"
Uchu replied calmly, a small smile that almost seemed like more a smirk crossing his lips as he turned his head towards Morro, who really only managing to get out a soft noise of confusion before suddenly he was thrown forward off the edge of the floating isle. The faint sound of a hearty laugh ringing in his ears as the wind threatened to drown out Uchu's voice as a result of his fall. Only briefly hearing the faint sound of Uchu's good wishes before everything suddenly went completely silent and he was pitched back into a familiar darkness.