Darkness from Within #1: Twisted Paths (A Ninjago Fanfiction)

Prologue

The air was thick and damp. Everything was quiet—except for the not-so-occasional crash of a window or the rustle of the beginning of a fight. The wind carried a chill as it sent dust flying and creaked the open windows of the poorly-built buildings. Shadows slunk through the mist of the streets, moving swiftly away from any human eye. Even with the caws of a crow in the dark skies, the whole setting felt eerily silent.

And in this run-down town, a young man—probably no older than eighteen—was racing down the street, his feet splashing in the muddy puddles. He glanced over his shoulder as he ran, his breathing heavy. Then something suddenly hit his face, and he rammed to a halt with a sharp gasp.

"Watch it!" a man's voice snarled.

The young man drew a pace back and steadied his glasses, finding he had bumped into a meaner, older man. He scowled in reply as the man went on his way. It wasn't like the young man was going to apologize or something. Without another moment's hesitation, he sped down the street again.

He slid around a corner into an alley, racing into the darkness before he could be spotted. There was a screech of a cat and a clatter of a trashcan, but he kept going. Then he came to a dead-end, and he stopped. Glancing around one last time, he slunk forward and grabbed a heavy tarp draped over the corner of the alley, grunting as he drew it away. When it was torn down, a small gray door was revealed, and the young man hurried through it, shutting the door behind him and latching it closed.

Inside, he whipped around just as he heard a gasp from the people inside. His gaze swept the tiny room, where his only few friends were scattered, previously waiting for his return.

"It's just you," a blonde girl sighed with relief.

And good thing, too, the young man thought. If it had been anyone else, their cover would be blown. To some, their small group may seem like a normal kind of gang, but to the young man, it was the beginning of a resistance.

"He's here," he told them.

Another girl, her fiery red hair barely visible in the gloom, drew away from the wall and walked over to him. "Who's here?"

"The One," the young man went on. "The One the prophecy tells about."

"Are you sure?" a brunette inquired.

The young man nodded. "I've seen it with my own eyes," he said. "The revolution is finally here."

The girls exchanged a glance, hope beginning to form in their eyes.

"But you forgot about the bad news."

The young man jumped and turned around to find the skinny boy behind him, his black hoodie covering over his frizzy hair.

Nothing gets past him, the young man thought. Somehow, the pale-skinned man always figured out things he shouldn't know. The young man grimaced and turned back to the others. "The Overlord's been forming a new plan," he explained. He heaved a sigh. "And out of all the others, I think this is definitely the worst."

"So I've heard," the second girl muttered.

The blonde rose to her feet. "But the One's here now," she reminded them. Her eyes glistened. "At last, the light will finally break into the darkness around us."

The young man glanced around at the people in front of him, seeing confidence begin to show in their figure and promise in their eyes. He took a deep breath, relishing the feeling while it lasted. It was a hope he had longed to see between them—a hope that finally arrived.

But from in the shadows of the room, a third man slumped against the wall, his eyebrows furrowed. He didn't take part in the others' foolish pleasures. They still think that prophecy is about some goody-goody outsider. But no one that soft can do what the prophecy says he'd do—he'd have to be as tough and hard-hearted as me.

The man clenched his fists. The prophecy! he thought bitterly. The prophecy that stated, "when the darkness comes, one will rise and take the blade, but only after the grief of a terrible loss will freedom be gained"? But that goody-two shoes has the perfect little life, he thought with a snort. He's never experienced a terrible loss.

The man gritted his teeth. As much as he tried to push the memory away, he couldn't help but remember how he had lost his mother at a young age, and how greatly the loss had affected his life. The pain washed over him again, but he pushed it away. They're wrong, he thought. That prophecy is about me—I know it is. I'm the strongest, and I'm the one who's willing to brave the feat.

Let them think what they want. But in the end, it's me who'll get the victory. His gaze darkened. And I'm gonna prove them wrong.