Ninjago Oneshots

the spirit who sings of death

so this story is the first of five that's part of a mini series where I explore possible backstories of the Preeminent's generals, including what they experienced in the Cursed Realm.  this one is about Bansha and what happened to her after she died.

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The world around her was green. Dark, ominous, and desolate. She pushed herself up onto her feet as she glanced around. A small gust of wind blew past, further tangling her long black hair and blowing it into her face. She closed her eyes, wanting to scream and cry except her voice was gone. She should've known. Should've known that trying to prematurely acquire the power that all elemental masters possessed would end in disaster.

She was going to unlock her true potential and become the next master of sound. Her voice could move mountains and uproot trees, everyone said, and she was determined to prove them right. She was powerful, like they claimed.

She had sung the most beautiful song. It carried across the land and she could feel the power, flowing within her and further amplifying her voice.

Then she hit the highest note and she felt a horrible pain in her throat instead of the surge of power that her father had felt, and his mother before him. She had collapsed, clutching at her neck as blood flowed from her torn vocal cords and into her lungs.

She had woken up in this murky green landscape hours later, on a pathway that led straight to a fortress surrounded by walls and watchtowers.

Steeling her nerves and trying to forget about the stinging sensation in her throat, she started walking. Stones and gravel crunched under her feet, the slightest movement sending clouds of dark green and grey smoke spiralling up into the air. From a distance, she could see glowing green figures hovering around the fortress, some wielding weapons while others merely looked around. Most of them focused on her and she caught whispers.

"Master of Sound," someone whispered and she tried to block out their voice.

"She's not speaking," another said. "Who's heard of a Master of Sound who can't speak? Her power's useless, then."

She gritted her teeth and kept walking. The doors of the fortress loomed over her now, and as if it was expecting her, they opened on their own.

The interior was unlike the landscape outside. It was elegant and tastefully decorated. Dark carpets and drapes covered windows and polished black tiles. Chandeliers made of green and black metal hung from the high arched ceiling. Orbs of light and shards of glass floated around the metal structures. And the most interesting thing she noticed was the long, bright green carpet that rolled from the entrance into the darkness of the fortress.

She walked down this carpet, glancing around with curiosity, but never once able to voice her thoughts. It was likely she might not be able to sing ever again. The thought terrified her.

"Who are you?" someone asked and she stopped, whirling around. "Are you a new spirit?"

She saw someone about her age, a young man, and he had dark hair like hers only it was tied back. A quiver and bow was slung across his back and a throwing knife was sheathed at his belt. The bottom half of his face was covered with a black scarf, showing only his eyes.

When she didn't answer, he tried again. "I'm Archer. What about you?"

She shook her head and continued down the path.

"That leads to the Preeminent's throne room," he said. "No one goes there unless she calls them there."

She shrugged and kept walking.

"She'll be furious," Archer warned. "She'll cast you into the pit."

She gave him her best "I don't care" look and hoped that he could understand. It didn't work, but his face did pale and he disappeared in a cloud of smoke.

"What's this?" a smooth, female voice asked. "A young elemental master. Lost, are we?"

She could only stare as smoke condensed into the humanoid shape of a woman. Her features were obstructed and her voice seemed to echo all around her.

"Cat got your tongue?" the woman asked.

Suddenly she could speak again and she blurted out, "Where am I?"

"You're in my palace."

"Where's this place?" she asked again. "Why am I here?"

"You're here because I see great potential in you," the woman said. "You sing, am I correct?"

"It's only a hobby," she admitted, suddenly finding it easy to speak of her life. "I'm supposed to be using the power of sound to protect Ninjago, not to perform for audiences. My parents said that, and told me I couldn't sing anymore."

"But you still kept singing."

"I love it too much to give it up."

The smoky figure seemed to draw closer. "Then sing something. Show me how good you are." The wispy tendrils stopped just before her and the woman spoke again. "You've met Archer, right? He is currently my only second in command, but if you impress me, you, along with him, will be my generals."

"Respected, feared, and looked up to," the woman continued. "And with your power, I have no doubt you'd be able to achieve greatness."

This was more than she could ever want. She could make both her parents and herself proud. If she used her singing the way her parents expected her to use her powers, she could be exactly who they wanted her to be while not giving up on her dreams.

She took a deep breath and started to sing.

The song was one of loneliness and desire to be accepted. She sang of her conflicts and inner turmoils that were never solved due to her life being cut so short. The bitterness of that rose, causing her tune to carry a sense of anguish and despair. The notes carried through the halls, stopping the spirits in their tracks and prompting them to listen.

Outside in the courtyard, Archer stopped in the midst of his training and listened, knowing somehow that this was the new and silent spirit he had met earlier. A corner of his mouth lifted and he had a feeling that the Preeminent would soon assign this singing spirit as another second in command.

She knew the climax of the song was coming up and this time, she effortlessly sung the highest note, holding it for several seconds. The walls around her shook, bits of dust starting to crumble down. This was her sorrow amplified tenfold, her anger and confusion, all being expelled from her with a single note.

Then the song was cut short and she was slammed against the ground. She fumbled wildly at her throat, eyes bugging when she felt a jagged gash and sticky, wet blood.

"That is enough," the woman said softly, though her anger was prominent enough. She ignored her, still trying to sit up while simultaneously keeping the wound closed. "It will heal. But for now, rest."

"Once the wound heals, you will begin your training. Is that clear?"

She nodded, desperate to do anything to get her voice back. Her hands managed to tear her shirt, shaking as she tied the fabric around her neck to hide the still-bleeding wound.

She got the sense that the woman was smiling as she said, "You've done good, Bansha. I believe you'll make an excellent general and second in command."

The smoky figure vanished and she managed to sigh with relief. The name that the woman gave her stuck out. Bansha, she thought. Like the spirits whose screams and cries can warn others of impending doom.

It was fitting, she supposed, and just a bit ironic because her songs wouldn't warn others of incoming danger.