Chapter Text
Hey there, my friends! I thought I'd share a couple of notes before you read this one.
This story takes place during my Guardian Chronicles series—specifically, it pairs with Chapter 3 of The Eclipse—but you don't need to read that whole series to enjoy this installment. Here are a couple of things to keep in mind, though, just so you have the proper context.
You'll run into a couple of original characters from the series, mainly Mack and Karylia. Mack is the True Green Ninja (Lloyd has re-ascended to Golden Ninja status), and Karylia is the Queen of Darkness, another former enemy turned to the good side.
Addressing Morro, our main character here, in this series he's joined the ninja, regained his humanity (along with Cole), and has a complicated relationship with one Zee, another original character and Master of Wind.
Finally, of course this is a parody of and my take on Charles Dickens's beloved story A Christmas Carol, so I think you probably know more or less what to expect…
So, with all that said—enjoy! Merry Christmas!
Morro's Christmas Carol
Chapter I: Last Chance
Ninjago City
Ninjago
Thursday December 24, 1981…
Morro wasn't dead.
That much was certain, but he wasn't certain how it was possible to be this hungry and not be dead.
On a bitter Christmas Eve, Morro, eight or ten years old at the time (it was hard to know exactly), waited at the mouth of an alley on the less savory side of Ninjago City.
To most, it was just another alley, but any orphan would know better. An orphan's survival depended on knowing every alley and its purpose.
This alley was directly between a garment factory and a shut-down fire department. Milo's alley—where you came if you didn't have any food. No one knew where Milo got the food, but everyone knew that if you were desperate, he had plenty to give away.
Four other orphans had come to the alley with Morro, but after hours of waiting and no sign of Milo, they had gone off to find food elsewhere. But Morro couldn't make himself leave. Milo protected him and kept him reasonably well-fed (for a street orphan, anyway), but it was more than that.
Milo and Morro were like brothers, and tonight—Christmas Eve—they always exchanged gifts. Sure, the gifts were just trinkets found in the trash, discarded by those who had an excess of things to throw away, but they were precious symbols of their friendship.
Many other orphans came to the alley, hoping to partake in their Christmas feast: a piece of bread from Milo's mysterious treasury.
But Milo wasn't there.
Morro waited and waited as perhaps a hundred orphans came with hope and left with disappointment. The minutes turned into hours, and Milo never appeared.
Driven by his maddening hunger, Morro did his best to dry the tears frozen to his face and left the alley. He was forced to steal a piece of fruit so that he wouldn't starve.
He hated stealing. It made him feel dirty.
Well, he was dirty. But he hated feeling that way.
Still, he stole food every day. He got used to the guilt, and then the guilt started to fade. Milo was the reason he didn't have to steal before, and now that reason was gone.
Morro would never see Milo again. All he had left of his only friend was a sack of trinkets, the Christmas gifts he had received from Milo over the years.
Morro couldn't know it yet, but it would be three months before a certain Sensei Wu would take a trip to Ninjago City for supplies, during which he would discover the orphan and sense the power within him.
On that day, Morro himself would discover the love and safety every child deserves, but the callus formed when Milo abandoned him would never truly soften.
Midtown Condos; Tuscaloosa
Earth
Thursday December 24, 2020…
Morro blinked hard, staring out the window at the dull gray sky. Somewhere beyond the clouds, the sun was trying to do its job. But all it managed was a weak light that made everything look like it had been bleached too long in the wash.
It was Christmas Eve, and he was trying very hard not to think about another Christmas Eve. One with ice on his eyelashes and a hollow in his stomach so deep he thought it might swallow him whole. But those kinds of memories were stubborn.
He closed his eyes and finally pushed the memory away.
This wasn't then. He wasn't that helpless little boy anymore.
He was Morro. A Master of Wind. One of the strongest warriors in the world. A man who lost and won back his very humanity. He had found the fullness of truth in the Church.
Morro had gone from being nothing to having everything he had ever wanted.
So why—why—did he still feel like that starving orphan, desperate for something he couldn't name?
Footsteps approached down the hallway. He didn't turn.
"Hey," Zee's voice called gently. "So… my folks are in town. They're making Christmas dinner tonight. They wanted to invite you."
Morro's spine stiffened.
She was trying. Of course she was. She always did. Part of him wanted to be with her again, like before. But another part of him knew that he couldn't be what she needed. So he just it lie—tolerated her denial.
But he couldn't do it. Not tonight.
He turned slowly. "Zee…"
She tilted her head. "What?"
He wanted to keep it in. He really, truly did. But the words were fire now—boiling in his chest, searing his throat—and they came out sharp.
"We're not a couple anymore, Zee. Why would I want to spend Christmas with you and your family?"
Zee froze.
The air went still.
Her face didn't crumple. Didn't fall. She just… stopped. Like someone had hit pause. She almost looked relieved.
And then she blinked once, nodded tightly, and turned without a word. She retired to the girls' condo and shut the door.
The silence left behind was so complete it made Morro's own breathing sound loud and awkward.
Pete stepped into the room a second later, having clearly overheard everything.
"You didn't need to say it like that," he said, low but firm.
Morro's hands curled into fists. "Don't start with me, Pete."
"I'm serious, man. You've been walking around like a powder keg for weeks, and now—"
"I said don't start with me!"
Pete took a step forward. "She didn't deserve that."
"I know what she deserves!" Morro snapped, voice rising like a wave ready to break.
But he didn't finish the thought. He spun on his heel and stormed out of the common room, heading for the stairs.
Pete didn't follow. He just let the storm go where it needed to go.
Just when Morro had made it outside and started to cool off, his phone buzzed.
He glanced at the screen. Kai.
For a moment, he considered ignoring it.
He answered anyway.
"Hey," Kai said. "What are you bringing to the day-after-Christmas brunch? I'm at the store now but they're about to close; I can pick up something for you and you can pay me back later."
"I'm not going."
A beat.
"…You what?"
"I said I'm not going."
Another pause. "Okay, what's going on with you? You've been real snappy lately, and now you're skipping this? It's not just brunch, Morro—it's a family tradition."
"I don't care."
"Don't pull that 'I don't care' crap with me. You do care. And we care about you."
"No, they care about the idea of me," Morro muttered. "The prodigal wind ninja who came back from being a ghost and learned to love again. It's a nice story. But maybe I'm just tired of being the redemption arc. Maybe I just want to be left alone."
"You think that's how it works?" Kai's voice was sharp now. "You don't just get to opt out when it's inconvenient. Zee texted me—she's really hurting because of the way you've been acting. Don't you see?"
"Goodbye, Kai."
"Morro—"
He hung up.
The screen went dark. Silence fell on the street Morro had been walking; heavy, oppressive, and yet completely and utterly empty.
The organ was already playing when Morro slipped into the back pew of St. Joseph's.
The Vigil Mass was packed with families in coats and scarves, children tugging at itchy collars, and elderly couples holding hands like it was the first Christmas they'd ever spent together.
Candles flickered on either side of the altar. The nave glowed softly beneath the vaulted ceiling, and garlands of greenery laced with gold ribbon adorned the columns. A tall Christmas tree shimmered beside the tabernacle, and incense lingered faintly in the warm air, mixing with wax and pine.
Morro sat far to the side, back against the column, hood still up.
He saw them when he came in—Jay and Nya. Fourth pew from the front, sitting with Jay's parents, visiting from Ninjago with the help of Karylia's power. Jay had his arm around Nya's shoulder and was swaying just slightly in rhythm with the singing of "O Come, All Ye Faithful." Nya leaned in, smiling like she hadn't a care in the world.
Morro turned his eyes away before they could see him.
He didn't deserve to be seen tonight.
He folded his hands in his lap and stared at the hem of the red chasuble swaying as the priest made his way to the altar. He heard the opening prayers, but the words didn't land. His mind kept drifting—back to Zee's face when he snapped at her, to the way Pete's voice sounded when he said, "She didn't deserve that."
Guilt gnawed at his ribs like hunger once had.
Even the music—normally his favorite part—couldn't cut through it. He felt the majesty of the Gloria wash over him, but it only made the hollowness worse. The King had come. But Morro didn't feel like one of His people tonight.
He barely noticed when it came time for Communion. The line formed and shuffled forward. Jay and Nya stood with their family and joined the procession. Morro remained seated.
Not tonight.
Not after that.
His hands clenched tightly in his lap, knuckles white.
After Mass, the church slowly emptied into the cold night, the stone steps outside glowing in the yellow light from the tall lampposts. Families laughed, children chased each other with candy canes, and someone somewhere was already planning tomorrow's breakfast.
Morro pulled up the hood of his coat and made for the side door. He almost made it.
"Hey!" a voice called. "Morro?"
He froze.
Jay jogged up behind him, a little breathless. "Man, I didn't even see you in there! Figured you were more of a Midnight Mass kind of guy. Must've been sitting in the back like a hermit or something. Did you say hey to Mack? Heck of a job on the organ, right?"
Jay was clearly in a good mood tonight, but Morro wasn't charmed by his chattiness.
"Just leave me alone, Jay."
Jay blinked. "Whoa—uh, alright. But are you—?"
"I said leave me alone."
Morro didn't yell this time. He didn't have the fire for it. He just pushed past him, footsteps stiff and fast, disappearing down the sidewalk.
Jay stood there for a second, baffled.
Nya came up beside him, rubbing her gloved hands together. "What was that all about?"
Jay shook his head slowly. "I don't know."
The church bells began to toll behind them, calling out into the cold air.
Inside, clergy and musicians scrambled to get ready for Midnight Mass in a few hours. All around, children chattered excitedly about what Santa might bring that night.
Everyone knew it was almost Christmas.
But not everyone felt it yet.
The door clicked shut behind Morro with a hollow finality.
The condo was still and dim, bathed only in the quiet amber of streetlight sneaking through the blinds. There was a heaviness, like something had settled on the condo in his absence.
Kai had gone to bed an hour ago. Morro could see the faint sliver of light under Pete's bedroom door, still on from whatever documentary Kai had put on to fall asleep. Karylia and her parents were staying in the girls' condo along with Zee, but everyone else was gone. Pete had left that afternoon for his family's big Christmas gathering in Jones (hence Kai staying in the condo with Morro, despite their spat earlier). Jay and Nya were at Jay's parents' place in Ninjago. Lloyd and Wu were celebrating with the Garmadons at the ninja house. Even Mack was gone, spending the evening in Billingsley.
Just him now.
He stood there in the entryway for a moment, letting his eyes adjust to the dark. His phone buzzed once more—probably another group chat message from one of the guys about the day-after-Christmas brunch plans. Morro ignored it.
The guilt flared again. Not about the brunch. About Kai.
"I didn't mean to snap at him," Morro thought, teeth clenched.
He sighed and headed to his room.
The condo was unusually cold.
He peeled off his hoodie and jeans, changing into a soft mint-green t-shirt and gray pajama pants. He tossed his day clothes against the wall, ran a hand through his unkempt hair, and caught a glimpse of himself in the dresser mirror across the room.
He stopped.
His reflection had moved slower than he did. He squinted and raised his arm, and the reflection lagged behind.
Morro blinked several times, and was stunned to suddenly see another figure staring at him in the glass.
He gasped, and the mirror was normal again.
His eyes widened, heart slamming against his ribs.
It was just a flash. A heartbeat. The familiar mop of hair, the smirk that haunted old memories, the sharp eyes that used to watch the alley while Morro slept. His old friend, Milo…
Then it was gone. His own stunned reflection stared back.
Morro blinked rapidly, backing up half a step. "What the—"
He turned away and made for the kitchen, heart still thudding. It was probably nothing. A trick of the light. A memory being obnoxious.
Morro walked into the condo's kitchenette and took a plastic cup from the cabinet, ready to have a cool drink, get to bed, and put this day behind him.
The faucet didn't turn on.
He twisted the knob again. Nothing. No sound, no pressure.
"Come on…" he muttered, crouching and reaching for the cabinet beneath the sink.
He had opened the cabinet many times. To grab a garbage bag or cleaning product—it was an ordinary cabinet in every way.
But this time, he opened the cabinet, and a rush of icy air hit his face.
There was a flicker. A flutter.
It was as if a hundred little shadows burst outward the moment the cabinet opened, scattering like mice. He stumbled backward and smacked his head lightly on the countertop, eyes wide.
The space under the sink was… the same as it always was.
Nothing visibly wrong with the pipes. No leaks, nothing frozen, he didn't even feel a draft. The only thing he noticed other than silence was the hum of the fridge across the room.
He stood and cautiously turned the tap again. The water came.
Morro stared at the clear stream for a full ten seconds before filling his plastic cup halfway. He took a sip, though his hand trembled.
On the way back to his room, he tried to shake it off.
Just tired. That's all. Been a long day, and I've been a jerk to everyone I care about. I'm just… tired.
He reached his door, stepped inside—
SLAM.
The door slammed shut behind him so hard Morro could swear the floor shook.
He dropped the cup. Water splashed across the hardwood, and the cup rolled under his desk.
"What the—?!"
He whirled—but before he could even process what had just happened, an unseen force shoved him backward.
He stumbled, caught only by the sudden halt of the swivel chair behind him. It spun once on impact and then turned sharply—deliberately—toward the door.
Morro was panting now.
Every instinct in him screamed run.
But his body didn't move. Couldn't move.
The air grew colder.
The windows frosted over in seconds, crystalline veins spreading across the glass with an audible crackling. His breath came out in white puffs. The tips of his fingers tingled.
The lights flickered.
Once.
Twice.
Morro's eyes were fixed on the door.
Something was coming.
A ripple passed across the door's surface like a dropped stone on the surface of a pond, and through it… he came.
He didn't walk. He drifted.
Translucent. Dimly glowing. Faintly flickering like a candle flame behind fogged glass.
Morro's breath caught in his throat. His limbs were locked in place.
He knew that face. Knew it in the bones of his memory. The tousled hair, the crooked grin that somehow still held a note of defiance. The look in his eyes—the one that had always said, I've got your back, even if nobody else in the world does.
"M—M…" Morro stammered. "Milo? You're—"
"Yes," said the ghost, his voice as calm as ever. "It's me. And yes, I'm a ghost."
Morro stared. "How?"
Milo floated a little closer, still a few feet off the ground, his expression surprisingly soft.
"I kept everyone fed for a long time," he said. "There was a price."
Morro blinked. "What price?"
"I made a deal with a sorcerer I had no way to honor. Thought I was smart. Thought I could cheat him. The debt came due on Christmas Eve—the day I disappeared. He cursed me, Morro."
Morro's mouth moved, but it took a second for sound to follow. "You've been in the Cursed Realm all this time? Why didn't I see you there?"
Milo shook his head slowly. "No—I escaped years ago. Found a portal by accident. I slipped through… and I've been wandering this realm ever since. No rest. No peace. Just… drifting."
Morro stood now, his knees weak, one hand still clenched at the back of the chair as if he needed something to anchor him. "Why are you here?"
The ghost's eyes, pale and flickering, met his with quiet intensity.
"When I disappeared," Milo said, "you decided you couldn't trust anyone."
Morro opened his mouth to object—but the words never made it out.
"It's time to put an end to that," Milo continued. "Look at you. You're pushing your friends away—on Christmas, no less—and soon, you're gonna be all alone. Is that what you want?"
Morro took a step forward. "How do you know—?"
"No time for questions," Milo interrupted, his tone sharp now. "You need to listen."
The air crackled faintly around him, as if reality itself was trying to contain the weight of what was being said.
"I don't have time to preach to you," Milo said. "And you're too stubborn for it to help anyway. So I'm just gonna warn you."
Morro's heart pounded harder with every word.
"I got cursed," Milo said, his voice cold as the frost still clinging to the windows, "because I was too proud to talk to my friends. Too proud to ask for help. Thought I could handle it all on my own. Thought I was strong for keeping it inside."
His eyes narrowed.
"You're about to lose your friends—and Zee—for the same reason."
The name struck Morro like a blade to the chest.
"Tonight," Milo went on, "you're gonna learn to trust and listen to your friends the hard way, since the easy way hasn't appealed to you."
Morro's fists clenched at his sides. "Can you please just tell me what's going on?"
For the first time, Milo smirked.
"Midnight," he said simply. "The first one will come at midnight. And the other two… after."
Before Morro could ask what that meant, Milo turned—weightless, drifting—and passed through the door like mist on the wind.
The lights flickered once more.
The air warmed.
The frost on the window vanished.
And just like that, he was alone again.
Morro stared at the spot where Milo had disappeared.
His pulse still raced. He rubbed his hands down his face, gave a frustrated huff, and finally stumbled toward his bed.
"Definitely dreaming," he muttered, trying to convince himself. "Just a dream. Weird day, weird dream. Nothing to worry about…"
He climbed under the covers and turned off the lamp.
But even in the dark, he couldn't stop glancing at the clock.
11:57
11:58
11:59
And then, in the distance, in the expense of that silent night, the church bells tolled midnight.
Psst… I'll take this is my opportunity to say, if you're enjoying this so far and you're new to my work, you should definitely check out the rest of this series! This is the order of the stories so far:
The Guardian Chronicles
Volume 1: Rise of the Guardians
Vol. 2: After the War
Vol. 3: Darkness in Chima
Vol. 4: The Tusk
Vol. 5: The Queen of Darkness Returns
Vol. 6: The Eclipse (currently in progress)
Vol. 6a: Morro's Christmas Carol