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Chapter Text

The monastery was quieter than it should’ve been. Tea cups steamed on the table, rain tapped against the roof, and six ninja found six different ways to avoid looking at the seventh.

Morro wrapped his hands around his mug. The warmth felt… strange. Too solid. Too real. He hadn’t held anything like this in years. He hated that they were all watching him discover it.

“Sooo,” Jay said finally, stretching the word out like it could build a bridge across the silence. “Still weird being… y’know. Alive?”

Nya shot him a look, but Morro only shrugged. “Weirder that you keep staring.”

Kai snorted. “Yeah, he’s got a point.” They met each other’s gaze, seeing eye to eye in more ways than one— and when they both muttered, “Don’t get used to it,” at the same time, the table groaned.

Lloyd stood so abruptly his chair scraped. “I’ll check supplies,” he muttered, and walked out.

Morro watched him go, guilt gnawing at his chest. He’d said sorry fifteen times already. Apologies weren’t enough, and he knew it. But what else could he offer the boy he’d possessed, the boy who’d beaten him, the boy he hated for so many years of his life, without ever having even met him?

Cole cleared his throat, breaking the tension. “So… tea’s good.”

The others murmured agreement, though none of them drank.

Only Zane sipped calmly, as if the awkwardness wasn’t thick enough to choke on. His calm eyes flicked to Morro. “You are adjusting well. That is promising.”

Morro blinked at him. “Promising… what?”

“That you are not collapsing from sensory overload,” Zane replied in perfect seriousness. “One could hypothesize that revival can be disorienting.”

Jay choked on a laugh. “Leave it to Zane to make it sound like you’re a science experiment.”

“Am I wrong?” Zane asked, tilting his head.

Morro set his mug down too carefully, his throat tight. “Not… entirely.”

Before anyone could answer, the heavy tap of a staff echoed through the hall. Wu stood at the doorway, his expression as unreadable as ever.

“There has been a disturbance,” Sensei Wu said. Morro had almost forgotten how the old master’s voice could carry through the room like a cold wind. “Reports speak of a land stirring where no living foot should tread. The Land of Forgotten Souls has awakened.”

The ninja straightened immediately, but Morro froze. The name alone was enough to make his chest tighten, memories clawing at the edges of his mind. For an elemental master of wind, he had a hard time filling enough air in his lungs.

Kai frowned. “What kind of disturbance are we talking about?”

“Whispers of an artifact. Spirits gathering. The boundary weakens.” Wu’s gaze swept the table before settling on Morro. “Someone with knowledge of its paths must go.”

Everyone followed his eyes.

Morro’s mouth went dry. He hadn’t expected this. Not now. Not so soon. “I… know the way,” he admitted, hating how small his voice sounded. “I’ve been there before.”

The table went silent again. This time it wasn’t awkwardness. It was fear.

“You can’t be serious,” Jay shrieked, glaring at Wu. “You want him to lead us back into some cursed death trap?”

Wu’s voice was firm. “Not to lead. To guide. There is a difference. Without Morro, you will not find your way.”

Lloyd’s voice carried from the doorway — he hadn’t gone far after all. His expression was shadowed, unreadable. “And what if he’s lying?”

Morro flinched. The sting was sharp because he deserved it. “I’m not,” he said quickly, almost desperate. “I swear, I’m not. You think I want to go back there?”

For a moment, no one spoke. Rain hammered against the roof, as if waiting for the answer too.

Finally, Wu lifted his staff. “Then it is decided. At dawn, you leave for the Land of Forgotten Souls. Together.”

Morro felt six sets of eyes on him again. Only this time, they weren’t just watching him discover what it meant to be alive. They were watching to see if he would prove he deserved to stay that way.

Chapter Text

Morro had fought grundles, climbed mountains, and once tried to conquer all of Ninjago. None of that prepared him for the blinking blue light on Jay’s “game console.”

“It’s simple,” Jay said, handing him a controller. “Press the button to jump, move the stick to walk. Easy. Even my mom could do this, and she can barely work a toaster.”

Morro frowned at the device in his hands. Too many buttons, too many angles. “This is supposed to be fun?”

“It will be fun once you stop standing there like it’s a bomb,” Nya teased, settling onto the couch beside Jay. “Just try it.”

Hesitantly, Morro pressed the button. His onscreen character leapt into the air—only to plummet into a pit of fire.

Jay burst out laughing. “Okay, okay, maybe not like that.”

Morro scowled. “You said jump. I jumped.”

“Yeah, but you have to time it.” Jay leaned over, grabbing the controller. “Here—watch me.”

He executed a flawless triple-jump, landing neatly on a ledge. Nya clapped sarcastically. “Wow, Jay. So heroic.”

“It’s just my lightning reflexes!” Jay grinned.

Morro crossed his arms. “This is ridiculous.”

But he tried again. And again. Each time, the little pixelated figure died in increasingly humiliating ways—burned, crushed, flung off cliffs. Nya was laughing so hard she had tears in her eyes.

When Morro finally managed a single successful jump, he dropped the controller like it was holy. “There. I’ve ended it.”

Jay wheezed. “One jump doesn’t count as ending.”

“I’ll take my victories where I can.” Morro leaned back, arms crossed.

For a few minutes, the room felt warm. Safe. Like maybe he wasn’t entirely an intruder here.

Then Nya and Jay exchanged a glance—quick, almost nervous—and the air shifted.

Morro noticed instantly. Their laughter faded into whispers, too low for him to catch. Something about before and keeping it quiet. Their smiles didn’t reach their eyes anymore.

“What?” Morro asked, sharper than he meant to.

“Nothing,” Nya said quickly. “Just… inside joke.”

Jay nodded too fast. “Yeah, totally. Ninja stuff.”

Morro stared at them. He’d spent years listening to lies and half-truths—he knew one when he heard it. But before he could press further, the door creaked open.

Cole drifted in, half-transparent, shoulders slumping as he dropped into a chair. “What are you guys doing?”

“Teaching Morro about culture,” Jay said proudly, brandishing the controller. “Step one: video games. Step two: memes.”

Cole groaned. “Memes are not culture, Jay.”

“Don’t listen to him,” Jay said to Morro. “He’s just salty he lost his high score.”

“Do you know how hard it is to hold a controller like this?” Cole snapped, waving his see-through hands. “You should be grateful you’re not still a ghost!”

The words landed heavier than Cole probably meant. Morro met his eyes, saw the weight behind them, the same weight he’d carried once.

Quietly, Morro said, “You get used to it. Or you learn how not to.”

Cole blinked, surprised at the seriousness. Jay and Nya went still. For a moment, the game screen was the only sound—cheerful 8-bit music clashing with the silence.

Then Cole sighed and leaned back. “Guess we’re both figuring that out, huh?”

Morro nodded once.

Outside, the rain had stopped. But inside, things still felt stormy.

Chapter Text

The monastery hallways had gone still, lit only by the soft glow of lanterns. Most of the team had gone to bed, but Morro couldn’t sleep. He hadn’t gotten used to how strange it was to close your eyes and trust the world to keep turning while you drifted.

So he walked.

He found Cole in the training hall, sitting cross-legged in the middle of the floor. Cole didn’t look up when Morro stepped inside.

“You ever going to stop lurking?” Cole muttered.

Morro smirked faintly. “You sound like you don’t want company.”

“I don’t,” Cole said. But he didn’t move.

Morro sat across from him anyway. The wooden floor creaked under his weight, a reminder that he was flesh and bone again, while Cole was not.

For a long time, they just sat in silence.

Finally, Cole said, “You don’t look at me the way the others do.”

Morro raised a brow. “Like you’re broken?”

“Like I’m temporary.” Cole’s voice was tight, words pushing through clenched teeth. “Like any day now I’ll just… fade. Zane keeps promising a cure. Nya acts like she believes him. But you—” His gaze sharpened. “You know better.”

Morro thought about answering with sarcasm, the way he usually deflected. But Cole’s face stopped him. He knew that look. He’d seen it in his own reflection.

“I was a ghost longer than you’ve been one,” Morro said quietly. “It doesn’t fade. Not the way you’re afraid of. You don’t dissolve. You… adjust. You learn which walls you can walk through, which ones hurt. You learn not to grab cups, not to reach for doors. You stop trying.”

“That’s supposed to make me feel better?” Cole snapped.

“No,” Morro said. “It’s supposed to make you feel less alone.”

Cole’s mouth shut, jaw working. His hands—half-solid, half-not—clenched against his knees.

Morro leaned back on his palms. “You’ll hate it for a while. Then you’ll get angry. Then you’ll start thinking maybe you deserved it. That’s the worst part—convincing yourself it was punishment. You have to fight that.”

“…How’d you?”

Morro almost laughed. “I didn’t. That’s why I’m warning you.”

Cole was silent a long time, the lantern light passing through his flickering arm. Then, finally “Thanks. I guess.”

Morro shrugged, uncomfortable under the weight of gratitude. “Don’t thank me. Just… don’t quit.”

For the first time since he’d sat down, Cole’s posture eased. He wasn’t smiling, not really, but some of the tension left his shoulders.

“Guess you’re not as unbearable as I thought,” Cole muttered.

Morro smirked. “Give it time.”

And in the stillness of the monastery, the two of them sat—not friends, not yet, but something closer than strangers.

Chapter Text

Dawn painted the monastery courtyard in pale gold, mist curling off the stone like ghostly fingers. The ninja gathered their gear in near silence, the weight of their destination pressing heavier than their packs.

The Land of Forgotten Souls.

Even saying the name felt wrong, like inviting something to listen.

Morro adjusted the strap of his pack and glanced toward the horizon. He hadn’t told them everything—only that he’d once searched for the place when he served the Preeminent. He knew the roads, the wards, the dangers waiting where the living were not meant to walk. The others didn’t need the details. Not yet.

Kai caught him staring into the mist. “You sure you know the way?” His tone wasn’t exactly hostile, but it wasn’t trusting, either.

Morro smirked faintly. “What’s wrong? Afraid I’ll get us lost?”

Kai shouldered his sword. “Afraid you’ll drag us into a trap.”

That earned him a sharp look. “If I wanted you dead, Kai, I wouldn’t need traps.”

The two of them locked eyes, sparks flying. Jay, halfway through tying his boots, muttered, “Here we go again.”

But before anyone could intervene, Kai barked a laugh. “You’ve got guts, I’ll give you that.”

Morro tilted his head. “And you’ve got fire. Sometimes too much of it.”

“Funny,” Kai said, smirking. “I was just about to say the same thing to you.”

The others groaned, but the tension had shifted. Where a fight might’ve brewed, something closer to recognition had dawned instead.

The group set off down the winding path, mist clinging to their ankles. Morro walked slightly ahead, his eyes scanning the treeline, as if expecting the forest itself to lunge.

Kai jogged up beside him after a while. “So. This place—we talking ‘spooky old ruins’ spooky, or ‘souls screaming in your head’ spooky?”

Morro didn’t slow. “Both.”

Kai grinned, like that was the best possible answer. “Finally. A real challenge.”

Morro side-eyed him. “You’re reckless.”

“Takes one to know one.”

Their steps fell into rhythm, stride for stride, as dawn burned the mist away. Behind them, the others traded weary looks. Two hotheads at the front of the line, leading the way into the most haunted land in Ninjago.

Chapter Text

The world thinned as they crossed the last ridge.

Mist clung thicker here, swallowing sound, dimming the light. The air was damp and heavy, but cold in a way that bit the bones instead of the skin. Even Jay, usually so loud, walked in silence. The trees around them looked less like trees and more like hollow silhouettes, skeletal arms stretching skyward.

“This is it,” Morro said. His voice was steady, but low, as though speaking too loudly might wake the ground itself.

Nya shivered. “Not creepy at all.”

Cole hurried closer, half-transparent in the gloom. “Feels like… it’s watching.”

The path wound into a ravine where pale light seeped from cracks in the stone. The further they went, the more the air pressed in. Whispers rose around them—voices too faint to make out, voices that clawed at their ears.

“Don’t listen,” Morro warned. He kept moving, shoulders squared. “They want you to stop. Don’t give them the chance. When I say the word, run.”

Shapes moved in the fog. Not quite people, not quite shadows. When one lunged, Nya struck with her katana—only for the blade to pass through harmlessly. The shadow retaliated, slicing cold across her arm.

Morro was there instantly, shoving her back and taking the strike full across his chest. He staggered, breath sharp, but forced himself upright. “Go!”

The others hesitated—then obeyed.

Morro pressed forward, sword flashing, his movements unflinching even as more shadows swarmed. The whispers sharpened, hissing his name, dredging old failures: Failed student. Pretender. Betrayer.

He grit his teeth and pushed harder. He’d lived with those words for years. They couldn’t touch him now.

A wraith broke past his guard, diving straight for Lloyd. Morro didn’t think. He threw himself between them, blade meeting the shadow mid-strike. The impact rattled his bones, icy pain surging through him, but he held his ground.

Lloyd’s eyes widened. “Morro—”

“Keep moving!” Morro barked, voice hoarse. He shoved the wraith back, sword arm trembling but steady.

Together they pressed through, Morro at the center of every clash, every defense. He didn’t order. He didn’t command. He simply stood, again and again, between the team and the shadows.

At last the ravine opened, revealing the heart of the Land: a valley choked in fog, littered with stone pillars like gravemarkers. The shadows retreated into the mist, leaving only silence and the team’s ragged breathing.

One by one, the ninja lowered their weapons. All eyes turned toward Morro.

He leaned against his sword, sweat dripping, chest heaving—but still upright. Still ready.

“We made it,” he said simply.

Chapter Text

The silence didn’t last.

It never did, not here.

The mist stirred, curling in strange patterns across the valley floor. It coiled between the pillars, weaving like serpents, and every so often one of the shapes stretched too long, too thin, until it looked like a reaching arm. The gravemarkers loomed taller as the ninja advanced, their edges worn but carved with faint runes that pulsed faintly when touched by the drifting glow ahead.

Morro walked first, not because anyone had asked him to, but because the air was already pushing him forward. The Land wanted him. He could feel it in his lungs, in the drag of every breath. The ground hummed under his boots like it recognized his steps.

“There.” His voice was quiet but firm, pointing ahead.

Through the fog pulsed a dim, sickly-green light. It flickered in a steady rhythm — like the beat of a heart — too alive to be natural, too wrong to be comforting.

“That… doesn’t look good,” Jay muttered, trying and failing to laugh. “Please tell me that’s just some glowing rock, or a— I dunno— a magic swamp lantern for the world’s creepiest camping trip.”

But as they drew closer, it was clear this was no ordinary object. The Lantern sat on a raised dais of blackened stone. Glass panes held the pale flame inside, though the light seemed to seep through as mist. Each flicker pulled at the fog around it, like the air itself bent toward its hunger.

Zane tilted his head, voice precise but uneasy. “It is not fueled by flame. It appears to be consuming ambient energy — thermal, elemental, even spiritual. I suggest we maintain a distance.”

They didn’t. They couldn’t. The Lantern tugged at them.

Kai cursed under his breath and grabbed at his temples. “Do you guys… hear that?”

The others did.

Whispers thickened in the air, no longer a formless hiss. Each voice slipped sharp and personal, digging beneath armor straight into marrow:

Kai heard his mother’s voice, gentle and warm: “Kai… you don’t have to keep failing us. Just come home.”

Cole felt his ghostly edges tugged by a thousand phantom hands, promising: “One step closer, and you’ll be whole again. Flesh, bone, heartbeat. Don’t you want to feel alive again?”

Lloyd froze as another voice wrapped around him, familiar and terrible: “My son… destiny is a prison. Hand me the Lantern, and you’ll be free.”

And Morro—

Morro waited for the condemnation, for the scorn. But the voice that slid into his ears was softer, almost sweet. “Welcome home, child of wind. You belong here. You always have.”

He staggered. For a moment, his knees almost buckled. The Land wasn’t rejecting him like he thought it would — it was claiming him.

“No—” he hissed, grounding his sword tip against the stone, forcing himself upright. “Don’t listen! None of it’s real!”

The Lantern pulsed brighter, as though it enjoyed his denial.

Jay pressed his palms against his ears. “Too late, I’m already listening—”

A shape moved ahead. Not a wraith this time, but a figure cloaked in shadow, crouched before the Lantern. A ritual circle had been carved into the stone, lines glowing faint green as they drank in the souls of the wandering dead. The figure’s hands hovered over the Lantern, feeding its flame.

Cole’s voice cracked, ghostly form flickering. “They’re already lighting it.”

The figure turned — not a faceless shadow, but a man in tattered robes, eyes glowing with hollow hunger. A cultist, lips curled in a half-smile. “The Lantern will rise, and with it, all who were forgotten. A new army. Endless.”

The Lantern flared. Its light surged outward like a tide, pulling at everything living and not. Cole screamed as his body strained toward it, smoke peeling from his ghostly form. Jay’s elemental sparks flickered uncontrollably, dragging toward the glow. Lloyd’s hands shook as though strings pulled him forward.

Morro moved without thinking. He grabbed Cole’s arm, bracing with all his weight to hold him back. His sword scraped against stone as he anchored them both. “Not today,” he growled.

“Kai!” Nya shouted as her brother stumbled forward, half-snatched by the whisper of their parents. She caught his sleeve, but the Lantern’s pull was stronger.

Morro shoved Cole back into Zane’s grip and lunged, seizing Kai’s wrist, dragging him hard enough that both crashed into the dirt. “I said don’t listen!”

Kai blinked, dazed, until their eyes locked. His breath steadied. “Yeah… yeah, I’m not listening.”

The Lantern burned brighter, and the cultist laughed.

Morro straightened slowly, still braced between the team and the glow. His chest heaved, sweat freezing cold on his skin, but his voice was steady. “We stop this now. Before it takes all of us. Before it takes all of Ninjago.”

Chapter Text

The Lantern flared again, and the valley came alive.

Wraiths spilled from the gravemarkers like water from shattered jars, pale bodies dragging themselves from stone and mist. Their mouths opened in soundless screams as they lurched forward, claws gleaming. The cultist at the dais laughed, his ragged robes whipping in the unnatural wind.

“Fight, if you wish,” he called. “Every strike feeds it. Every breath makes it stronger.”

He wasn’t wrong.

Kai surged forward with a roar, fire spiraling down his arms. He swung hard, flames searing across the first line of wraiths. They staggered, but the sparks didn’t fade — they drifted, tugged toward the Lantern, vanishing into its hungry glow. The Lantern brightened with every ember.

Jay hurled a bolt of lightning, only for the current to bend midair, arcing away from his target and slamming into the Lantern’s frame. The glass shuddered. The pale flame inside flared.

“Uh—guys?!” Jay yelped. “We’re charging it up!”

Zane’s systems whined as his own power leeched from his body, frost seeping unbidden from his fingertips, pulled in the same direction. “Confirmed,” he said tightly. “The Lantern consumes elemental output. Direct assault is not viable.”

Cole staggered, clutching his chest. His ghostly outline flickered, thinning at the edges. “It’s—pulling me—apart—”

Morro grabbed him before he could fall, grounding him with both hands. The cold from the Lantern tugged at Morro too, but he set his feet, grit his teeth, and shoved Cole back into Zane’s chilled arms. “Hold it together. Remember, ghosts don’t just fade, Cole.”

The whispers surged. Give in, Morro. You belong here.

For a heartbeat, he almost did.

-

The Lantern pulsed brighter, its light beating like a second sun. Lloyd stumbled, his eyes glassy, fixed on the glow.

“Morro…” he whispered. “Do you hear him? My father—he’s—he’s saying—”

Morro’s gut clenched. He knew that tone. He’d heard it in himself, years ago, when the Preeminent had whispered promises of greatness.

He seized Lloyd by the shoulders, shaking hard. “That’s not your dad! It’s the Lantern. It’s lying to you.”

Lloyd blinked, breath ragged. He looked at Morro, really looked at him, and for a moment Morro thought he might shove him away. Instead, Lloyd gritted his teeth, nodded once, and raised his fists.

Side by side, they turned back toward the shadows.

-

The cultist raised both hands, chanting louder. Souls streamed from the gravemarkers in silver ribbons, pouring into the Lantern’s heart. The wraiths pressed harder, clawing at the ninja, forcing them back.

Nya slashed at one, grimacing when her blade met no resistance. “We need to stop that ritual!”

“On it!” Jay shouted, pulling a coil of wire and a handful of shuriken. His hands shook, but he forced himself to grin. “Time to cross the streams.”

He and Nya darted around the pillars, setting lines across the circle, sparks dancing as they worked. The carvings flickered, destabilizing.

Zane fired a precise burst of ice into the dais, freezing one corner and making the structure groan. Cracks spidered up its surface. “Structural integrity compromised. Continue pressure!”

But the Lantern only grew brighter.

-

The pull worsened. Cole screamed as his form unraveled, smoke peeling away from his limbs. He clutched at the ground, fingers slipping through stone as if he were already gone.

“No!” Morro lunged, grabbing him, dragging him back from the Lantern’s reach. His own body jolted at the contact, like the Lantern was trying to claim them both. For a sickening instant, Morro felt himself flicker too, half-solid, half-smoke.

The Land whispered again. Stay, Morro. Be whole. Be ours.

His grip faltered. The Lantern yanked harder. His vision blurred with green light—

And then a shout broke through.

“Morro!” Kai’s voice, raw and furious. He staggered under the Lantern’s pull, flames guttering at his fists. “Don’t you dare quit on us!”

Morro’s breath caught. Of all the things to hear, it was that — not destiny, not duty, but Kai spitting rage. Of course it was his Sensei’s first lesson: Don’t quit. Never quit.

Morro roared, slamming his sword tip into the stone to anchor himself. “Not today.”

-

The Lantern flared one final time. The cultist seized it with both hands, lifting it high. “Behold endless night!”

The pull became unbearable. Every ninja screamed under the weight of it, bodies dragged toward the light.

Morro knew what he had to do.

He let go.

Not of the sword, not of the fight — of himself. He let the Lantern seize him, let it drag his soul to the forefront, its hunger fastening on him like a hook. Agony ripped through his body, tearing at the seams of his being. He could feel himself unraveling, every scar, every failure, every mistake laid bare.

But it was enough. The Lantern’s pull focused solely on him, just long enough.

“Now!” he shouted, voice hoarse.

Jay and Nya triggered their rig. Energy snapped through the ritual lines, overloading the circle. Zane’s ice cracked the dais. And Lloyd — Lloyd leapt forward, striking true. His blade drove into the cultist’s chest, severing the chant.

The Lantern shrieked. Its glow exploded, then dimmed to a faint, flickering ember. The wraiths dissolved with it, mist scattering like ash.

-

Silence fell.

The cultist crumpled, lifeless. The Lantern rolled across the stone, its light guttering.

Morro collapsed to his knees, gasping, sweat freezing on his skin. He half-expected not to find his body solid anymore. But when he pressed a hand to his chest, he felt a heartbeat. Weak. But real.

The others gathered slowly, battered, pale, but alive. Their eyes turned to him again, not with suspicion, not with fear. Something quieter. Heavier.

Respect.

Chapter Text

The Lantern was gone.

Its fragments had vanished into mist, leaving only the charred dais and the quiet, hollow valley behind. No flicker of green light, no whispering voices. The Land of Forgotten Souls seemed to shiver once, like it realized it had lost its prize, then settled into stillness.

Pain lanced through Morro’s chest where the Lantern’s pull had wrung him almost dry. Every breath rattled, harsh and ragged, but he was alive. Fully alive, for the first time in years.

Kai was at his side instantly. “You okay?” he asked, voice rough. He crouched, gripping Morro’s shoulder, checking for injuries.

“I… I’m fine,” Morro rasped, though the ache in his ribs and arms argued otherwise. He tried to push himself upright, but Kai caught him, arms firm.

“No. You’re not fine,” Kai said bluntly. “You almost let that thing take you. Don’t scare us like that.” He smirked, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

Morro couldn’t smile back. He was exhausted, every muscle trembling. He lowered himself back to the ground. “I had to,” he said quietly. “If I didn’t…” His words trailed off.

Cole rushed beside them, his body flickering but stabilizing. “You… you saved all of us,” he said softly. “Again. And not by leading, but by being here, standing with us. You’ve earned your place.”

Morro’s chest tightened. Years of guilt, of being the one who had been a ghost, a thief of life, a betrayer—it pressed in. And now these people, this team, were looking at him like he belonged.

Jay stepped closer, still buzzing with energy despite the exhaustion. “Yeah,” he said, scratching the back of his head. “That was… epic. Also terrifying. But epic. And you didn’t freak out. You actually—” he waved a hand at Morro’s sword and chest “—you… you held it together when we were all losing it.”

Jay’s words made Morro blink. He had spent so long feeling like a liability, a burden to the team, that hearing this from someone like Jay, always the joker, hit in a way he didn’t expect.

Nya, her arm still stinging from the shadows’ claws, knelt beside him. “You were brave,” she said, voice gentle. “Not perfect. Not unhurt. But brave.”

He felt a warmth in his chest at her words. Brave. Not a failed student. Not a ghostly coward. Brave.

Zane stepped forward next. His movements were precise, deliberate, almost mechanical in comparison to the others, but there was a softness in his gaze. “You acted… strategically, Morro. Even under extreme stress, you protected the team, kept us functioning. Your decisions were correct.”

Morro blinked. Praise from Zane didn’t come easily — it wasn’t the same as someone saying “good job” casually. It carried weight.

Cole hovered closer. “And you didn’t just fight. You trusted us,” he said. “You could’ve lost yourself to that Lantern.”

Morro let himself lean slightly against Kai again. The fire elemental gave him a brief, almost shy nod before straightening. “Guess we’re even now,” Kai muttered. “I don’t know how, but… we’re a team.”

He swallowed against the ache in his chest. Not perfect. Not a leader. Not a mentor. For the first time, he was part of a team. That was enough.

Lloyd approached slowly, his expression unreadable at first. “You were… you were here for me too,” he said quietly. “I should’ve seen it before. You didn’t just fight for yourself, you fought for all of us. Thank you, Morro.”

Morro’s lips pressed into a thin line. He wanted to say he was sorry again, but for once, he didn’t. Words weren’t needed. He felt it instead—the weight of acceptance.

The mist began to lift as the first hints of sunlight pierced the valley. It filtered across the gravemarkers, now inert and empty, and painted the group in gold and gray. Morro closed his eyes for a moment, letting the warmth seep into his bones.

Morro opened his eyes. He looked at each of them, and for the first time, he didn’t flinch. He didn’t shrink away from the past. He belonged.

-

The walk back was slow. Every step was careful, Morro leaning on Kai for support. The valley behind them seemed to sigh, fog curling as though the Land itself were retreating, acknowledging its defeat.

Cole walked beside him, ghostly fingers brushing his sleeve. “You’ll heal,” he said simply. “Physically. Mentally. And…” He hesitated, then smiled faintly. “You’ll stay human this time.”

Morro gave a small, tired nod.

Jay jogged ahead, kicking up dust. “Come on! Sun’s out. Let’s leave this creepy place behind. I vote breakfast first, world-saving second.”

Kai chuckled, shaking his head. “You’re impossible.”

Nya gave him a playful shove, grinning. “And I like him for it.”

Kai turned to Morro. “You really earned your spot, you know? No tricks, no ghosts, no past messing it up. You’re one of us now.”

Morro let himself smile. He had been through fire and shadow, temptation and nearly losing himself entirely. But here, now, he was part of a team that saw him, accepted him, and trusted him.

The sun rose fully over the valley, chasing the last of the mist away. Together, the ninja stepped forward, leaving the Land of Forgotten Souls behind, carrying scars, exhaustion, and a bond none of them would ever forget.

Morro stayed between Kai and Lloyd as they walked, side by side, sword sheathed, wounds aching, but heart lighter than it had been in years. He belonged here. Finally, he truly belonged.