Lately, Lloyd Garmadon’s alarm had been the shrill voice of Ultra Violet.

This was a reality that he hadn’t accepted as tolerable quiet yet, which was why, with a groan, the former Green Ninja threw a rock-hard dumpling at the television screen the noise had come from. It was no use, though--he was already awake, and upon waking up, the same feeling of dread that began when he became conscious and never fully left him had made his body feel cold. Thoughts raced through the young ninja’s head, and all of them were true, all of them crushing, all of them saying that everything was his fault. It was hard to get up during the first few moments of his day, so for a little while Lloyd just lay there, his body feeling heavier and heavier. Every day, whenever he felt like he would drift back into sleep after waking up (even though he knew it would be restless, light, nightmarish), the click of machinery whirring to life would finally pull him to his feet.

Nya was awake. Naturally, Lloyd’s older sister always woke up before him, even after years had passed of rigorous sunrise exercises she hadn’t really been involved in. Spending time with her was…hard, to say the least. Lloyd loved her like she was his sister, he always would, but her presence there only reminded him of the lack of the others’. It forced him to remember that she had lost her brother and her--her Jay. Actually, being around anyone made Lloyd jumpy; his mom, Mystake, the Elemental Masters, they all looked up to him with such expectation, such hope, that it made him feel sick to his stomach. Lloyd hadn’t been able to save the ninja--his family--so what made them think that he could pull it together and rescue all of them? Rescue Ninjago? The idea of achieving that much felt so far away and foreign that Lloyd could barely lift up his head. It was strange--he knew this feeling all too well, yet somehow it was different this time.

Lloyd looked at Nya.

She was so strong, so wise, so powerful, and at that moment Lloyd knew (the way he’d always known it) that the reason he felt so weak under the weight of the world was because he had no one to share it with. It was unshifting, unrelenting, unmoving, and Lloyd was still thirteen or fourteen or fifteen, and he had nothing to offer, nothing to give, nothing to hold himself up with. He had failed in nearly every aspect possible. Failed to protect his brothers, failed to save the city, failed to turn his father good, failed to receive love from Harumi the right way. That was all there was to it; no nuances, no “buts” or “if onlys”. Everyone was always stronger andn smarter and more cunning than him, and Lloyd didn’t know why he’d ever let himself think any other way.

There was his father, first of all: ever since Lloyd had been dubbed the Green Ninja in the first place, he’d solidified his position as weaker, a step down in destiny’s ladder. After the Final Battle, Lloyd had gone from clinging desperately to the good, mentoring side of Garmadon to resenting the man who was supposed to be his blood only a few years later. He was sure he’d gotten used to being demanded to go from hating his father to training under him as a student, until maybe only a week ago.


The Green Ninja was supposed to be a beacon for heroism, a statue of mastery, a picture of strength, but all he had felt was fear. It was normal, the ninja had told him for years, to get the "jitters" before a big fight, but Lloyd had always found himself feeling things much more intensely, and this time had been no different--it had probably been the dozenth time he’d fought Lord Garmadon. He knew that he should be used to the way his teeth chattered in his mouth, how his heart clanged against his rib cage and jostled old wounds like he was being mocked. But his brain had been somewhere else, and he hadn’t been able to reel it in quite enough to realize that the ninja were trying to help him. And before he knew it, Lloyd Garmadon was at Kryptarium Prison, alone, afraid, and completely unprepared.

Lloyd had had his anger with him. It was tucked into his back pocket, a furious burning reminder of his lineage and the failures that came with it. New blocks had been built onto the wall he’d been creating around himself for years after Harumi’s betrayal, and now it had wrapped around Lloyd completely, making his bones feel rigid.

When he’d walked in, there had been so much adrenaline that it had been hard to walk straight and talk without his voice cracking on every other word. The green light of his elemental power had shrouded Lloyd’s hand in sizzling energy as he’d stalked forward, blond hair falling over his face. He’d learned not to remember other fights in the midst of current ones. He’d learned not to go into battle without a plan. He’d learned not to waste time. But in the moment, Lloyd forgot it all; his hands and his body felt out of control, which only reminded him of Morro; his strategy had been blown out of the window the second he’d caught wind of his father’s location; he had lost precious seconds listening to his brothers beg for him not to throw himself into what could only be a suicide mission. With anger and hatred thrumming in Lloyd’s ears in place of his blood, he hadn’t really found it in himself to care. There in Kryptarium Prison, the Dark Lord’s son was a weapon, just like he’d been a weapon at Darkley’s, in the Final Battle, to the Overlord, the previous Master of Wind, and most recently, Harumi.