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Morro had been wandering around for hours. His bare feet, only covered by old bandages, were sore and blistered. He was tired, hungry, cold, and awfully lonely. But he couldn’t stop moving, he already slept a little while ago. He has to get to the caves; he has to find the tomb. The old, broken map that he carried only helped him narrow down areas and not exact locations. He cannot waste anymore time.
But he felt so dirty. The grim and scrapes that littered his malnourished body had his skin feeling like old plastic. And his wings weren’t any better; the abnormal growth of them shot spikes of pain up his back and through his head. Master had always said it was growing pains, that it was normal and expected . But then why do these big, feathery things just exist to make his life more difficult?
Doesn’t he deserve something easy for once in his life?
Ugh! Nobody ever said that becoming the green ninja would be this hard.
Whatever, once he finds the tomb Wu will welcome him back with open arms and the golden weapons will finally glow bright around him. Then, he can be the great savior of Ninjago. Just like he was promised.
Morro felt giggly even thinking about it. That green gi will replace the gray and more pale green colors he wears now. Yes, he will miss his shawl that flows in the wind and the baggy cloth of his pants but he can get over it for the sparkly and newer version. Maybe we can even ask Wu to customise it to fit his tastes better. He feels his chest tighten at that thought. Would that disdain the prophecy? Being the green ninja and morro have to be different if he wants to succeed. He couldn’t change a sacred design just for something so little as personal preferences.
He shook his head. That will be figured out when he finds the First Spinjitzu Masters tomb. Right now, he needs to find a place to get food before he starves to death. Morro should’ve taken more from the monastery, it had plenty to spare. But he was in such a rush to get out of there and away from the distant face of his master he hadn’t even thought about how long he would have to spend out in the wilderness again.
Again.
He felt his mouth go drier than the dehydration made it. The situation he was pushed into dawned on him.
Morro, the only documented elemental master of wind
Morro, the avian hybrid who was too skinny to have his wings grow in normally.
Morro, the fifteen year old boy was homeless and alone once again.
If he could produce tears, he surely would be crying a river right now. His hand grabbed at his heaving chest, breaths coming in short grasps out of his lungs. The wind raged around him as if it responded to his sudden panic. Why was he reacting so badly? It’s not like he would be on his own forever, he’ll head back to the monastery once he has finally proved his worthiness. But would Wu believe him? Will he claim that the boy lied to be let back in the safety of the walls?
Who was he kidding?
Wu would hate him.
Wu has hated him. Ever since he became so ambitious and violent with the other students. Morro noticed how the man was more distant, disappointed every time he went out to train in the courtyard. He was trying to sabotage the boy into never reaching his full potential, wasn’t he? He saw how powerful Morro could become and wanted it gone.
Morro will show him.
He took another step in front of him, breathing ragged and rare. The wind still beat against his frail body. He needs to continue on. He’s so close. The map in his hands felt like it could rip at any moment but he needs to keep going. If not for Wu then for his dignity.
Morro is only a few miles away from the Caves of Despair, the third location marked on the paper. It’s only the second he’s been to, the Glacier Barrens had been a waste and left him freezing with wet clothes. It took the thin pieces of cloth a week to dry. He was sure that would’ve been the last time he adventures out but alas, his persistent mind wouldn’t let him stay put for long. Morro doubted he would ever be able to sleep peacefully anyway. Mystaké always told him he had a restless spirit.
He didn’t know what she meant then but he’s starting to get the picture.
He’s always running something. First it was his own parents, pieces of shits they were. Then it was the village he had lived in–more of a cult than anything. They called him cursed. A rabid beast that wasn’t supposed to exist in this realm. He still isn’t sure what they were on about. If he doesn’t exist then how is here? He’s real. He is.
Now he’s running from his destiny. It told him he would be nothing except a hopeless boy but he can’t accept that can he? Morro can prove it wrong. He will prove it wrong. Even if everyone in his life states otherwise. You can do anything you put your mind to , Wu used to say to him. It was the only thing he got right about him really. Ambition has always been his best quality after all.
His greasy wings puff up subconsciously. Pride settles in his chest. It’s going to be okay, he ressures himself. Wu may hate him but that doesn’t matter. He doesn’t need anyone, everything he does can be done on his own. People just slow him down and push him away from his goal. He won’t let anyone get in the way again.
He’s been alone his entire life, how bad can it be for a few more years?
But as the days blur together, only broken by the occasional rotten food he finds and the small glances at the map he holds onto tightly in the wind he cannot seem to control, the only thing he feels is loneliness. He buries it deep inside his head, he’s too busy to dwell on such fragile emotions. It’s irrational, he knows, he shouldn’t be acting like this. Loneliness is the only recurring theme in his life. This is normal. But why does he feel so shitty?
Maybe it’s the lack of water or starvation finally kicking in. Whatever. He can deal with that when he finds the tomb. He takes another look at the map, he should be close to the caves of despair at this point. Morro can finally take a rest when he gets there, relax his legs that have long grown numb and perhaps preen his wings if he can figure how to.
That was always the worst part of a curse. Having no one to tell you how to take care of yourself. Maybe his father would’ve if he didn’t hate him the moment he was born. Morro had admired him even then. It was a mistake.
He shakes his head, grimacing at the early memory.
Instead of digging further into his mind, he looks ahead of him. He sees the large mountain he had been searching for for weeks. A smile tugs at his lips, eyes going bright with hopefulness. The wind picks up from its momentary stillness, reacting to his sudden euphoria. Morro drops his waterlogged map on the ground, stepping on it in the rush of getting closer to the huge mountain in front of him.
He flapped his wings, lifting himself into the air and headed straight towards where he could see the openings of the cave. Morro doesn’t know what to expect from it as not much is known about the inside of the cavern, so he stays on guard. The wind around him got thin as he landed on top of the rocky, uneven clearing. He slipped for a second before regaining his balance, he never did learn how to fly properly. It’s fine though, manageable and he doesn’t have to use his wings very often with his control over the wind.
And, everytime he tries, he gets better. At least he can stay in the air without help now.
The boy chuckles to himself, placing the satchel he carried on the ground. He digs around in it for a moment before taking out a gas lantern and lighting it. The caves would get dark, he knows, and he wouldn’t have the wind outside to guide him through the darkness the deeper he went. The thought made him tense. He always had the wind to rely on, what would happen to him if he was suddenly separated from it?
Morro swallows down the bile that rises in his throat. It’s not like he wouldn’t be able to control the sparse, shallow air in the caves. He just needs to make sure not to cut off his oxygen supply accidentally.
That would be very bad.
But that wouldn’t happen if he stayed calm. And Morro is very good at staying calm in stressful situations. Or at least, that's what he thinks; he hasn’t been in that many situations that required a calm mind. But it’ll be fine! What’s the worst that can happen in a cave? He’s sure that whatever happens, he can find a way to escape like always.
And with that peace of mind, Morro swung his satchel over his shoulder and took his first step into the cave opening. It looks untouched by mankind and probably is, anyone he’s ever asked about the Caves of Despair says the only thing that they are sure about it is its name. Which speaks for itself really. He has to be ready for anything, to be aware of everything around him. He breathes in the stale air while his heart hammers inside of his chest. It’s a lot darker here than he expected. And as he goes deeper, the more he feels his element getting further away.
It’s times like these that he wishes he was born an earth master, like Lily's father or Lily herself. They were always so… cool and badass. Now that he thinks about it; a lot of other elemental masters were so much cooler than him. Maya could control water, the liquid that makes up over half of a human's body! And don’t even get him started on that shadow lady!
He’ll miss those two when he eventually becomes the green ninja, they were so kind to him.
Morro is startled out of his thoughts by a rock falling near him. He jumps up nearly 2 feet into the air and lands heavy on his ass. Augh, he was so lost in thought he totally forgot about observing his surroundings. Rookie mistake, he should’ve been more careful.
His hand grasps at his satchels strap, pressing it close to him as if someone would snatch it up out of the darkness. He swings his lantern around a couple of times before concluding that clatter was just a little rock. Nothing more. He’s alone here. Nobody would’ve followed him here.
Then why does he keep seeing green figures out of the corner of his eye? His irrational side argued. But that would be impossible, no humanoid green and glowing figure comes from ninjago. Therefore, he decides he is just hallucinating. Perfectly normal for some alone in a shadowed area. He breathes out another deep breath, subtly persuading the air into his lung with just a flick of the wrist. It’s getting harder to breathe in here.
Morro continues deeper into the cave, taking turns and twists every way he goes. It doesn’t matter if he gets lost, there's multiple entrances and exits in the systems anyway.
He shoves his lantern into a crawl space, bending down on his knees to peer inside the small opening. It leads to a bigger area than the one he’s in now and even sheds a little light onto the floor in front of him. Maybe if he lays his wings against his back he could squeeze through the tiny hole. So, the boy flattens his body against the cold ground and army crawls through the tight space, pushing his lantern the further he goes.
The rocks scrap painfully against his body but he manages to get on the other side relatively quickly. He groans as he sits up, looking around blearily. The air that sits around him was smokey and felt wrong. His eyes spotted where the small light came from; a little further into the cavern was a massive hole that glowed bright like lava. The steam he sees hissed out of the top, pooling against the top and made his vision blurry and lungs stinging.
Morro coughed violently, standing up on weak legs with the help of a nearby wall. “Fuck,” He curses quietly. “I guess if I’m here now then I’ll have a look around…” He says to nobody in particular.
Lifting the gas lantern in front of him, he walks around the cave. It’s not as big as he thought it was but there's plenty of space for a secret entrance to a tomb of a god. He makes sure to stay away from where the smoke that surrounds him comes from in the– what he thinks is –geyser. He isn’t sure if the stuff is flammable but something tells him he doesn’t want to find out.
He puts his bandaged hand onto the ragged stone, feeling around for something he does not know. Maybe a hidden button? Or a clue to where the tomb actually was?
Ugh. Finding ancient ruins is so hard. Why can’t people just be normal and leave a note or something telling others where they were?
Morro kicks a rock with his foot. He barely feels the sting of it against his bare toes. The differences between the initial cold of the darkness to the awful heat of the geyser made his whole body shake with thermodysregulation. He remembers going on an adventure with Ray and Maya and their friends one time, they taught him a lot about exploring. Specifically the importance of temperature on the body. When he thought getting hypothermia was bad, hyperthermia is on a whole other level.
He shakes his head, it was getting hard to think. He coughs again; vision blacking for a moment before blurring the color togethers.
His head hurts so much.
He continues circling around the small area. Did it get smaller? He can’t tell.
Morro coughs more, his throat and lungs burn and itch and make him want to claw both of them out of his skin. He stumbles against the wall before his feet trip over a spike that juts out of the ground. His knees fall against the ground but he hardly feels it. He sucks in desperate breaths, clawing at the skin that hides his lungs that want to kill him.
He feels like he is dying.
Morro is young. He has his whole life ahead of him.
He doesn’t want to die.
He lets go of the gas lantern in his hand, the glass that contained the flame shattered on impact.
He isn’t sure what happens next but all he feels is white, hot pain. He’s thrown but against the wall by a force akin to an explosion. He can’t open his eyes but he feels the bone melting heat around him. He feels his brown feathers burn and seering the thin skin underneath. It makes him scream, voice raw and painful. He cries dry tears and claws at anything around him.
He feels like nails scrap against and blood coats his fingers. It hurts. It hurts so much. Make it stop. Make it stop. Make it stop. Make it stop. Somebody make it stop.
He feels blisters and heat pour under his skin. Why can’t he just die already? Hasn’t he suffered enough? Morro lets out a horrid sob.
He feels his skin peel off.
He feels his flesh melt.
He feels every single thing that is happening to his body.
Who hates him so much that they wished this upon him? Wu? His parents? That cult-village?
Himself?
He fears laughter. And then soft humming from a voice so relaxing he can’t help but feel comforted by it. He feels a cold hand cradle his head but he’s in too much pain to open his eyes and look at the person that realistically wasn’t supposed to be there.
And then everything just stops. He feels no pain anymore. The hard rock against his back isn’t there anymore. Instead, he hears breathing all around him but it isn’t his own. In fact, Morro doesn’t think he’s breathing at all. Murmurs of thousands of voices circle around him and hesitantly sits up, flinching as his eyes open to the same green shaded figures he saw before.
Their translucent bodies surround him and look at him like he’s some kind of freak. He can make out some words they whisper curiously and fearfully at the same time.
“An elemental master…”
“Our champion?”
“The child of the cursed!”
The boy doesn’t understand what they mean. Who are these people? Where is he? What happened? Questions race through his head and he is getting no answers. Morro stands up in a fighting stance he is very familiar with. He whips his head around multiple times and takes in what looks to be the millions of souls around him.
Until four, more unique souls, push their way through the crowd. He observes them closely. A tall man with a hood and a similar shawl to his, he wields a bow with an odd arrow attached to it. A lean but muscular woman that wears what he thinks is a Hijab and carries a double edged weapon. There's the tallest that stares into him with a skull head and a hat that closely resembles Master Wu’s, they carry a massive scythe that he doesn’t want to be on the other end of. The last one wears the same– or similar –clothes to the archer but looks younger with bandages covering his face, could they possibly be related?
Morro takes a step back from them but they just stare at him unwavering. It’s then that he hears that humming, gentle voice again.
“Welcome home, my son of storms.”