Ninjago:Rising

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Rain poured down over the city, washing the streets in a restless cascade as Lloyd stood alone, drenched to the bone. Above him, neon lights flickered in the heavy mist, their glow reflecting off the wet pavement. The city was shrouded in an eerie silence, broken only by the occasional rumble of thunder and the soft hum of distant traffic. Lloyd looked up at a massive billboard flashing across the skyline—a live feed of the mayor addressing the city, her expression firm and unyielding.

"...to ensure the safety of all citizens, those with elemental powers—these victims of the recent incident—must be apprehended and contained," she announced, her voice sharp, unfeeling. "These powers are unpredictable, dangerous. Until we can determine their true nature, we must prioritize the safety of the general public."

The word "victims" echoed in Lloyd's head, twisting his stomach with a mixture of anger and despair. The mayor made it sound like people with powers, people like him and his friends, were a menace, a threat to the world. They were no longer protectors in the eyes of the city. They were targets.

As the broadcast continued, another video feed flickered on the screen, showing security footage of his friends—Jay, Nya, Cole, Harumi, and Zane. They were being led away, cuffed and surrounded by guards, heads bowed under the weight of unjust accusations. They looked defeated, almost broken, as they were loaded into police vans. A wave of helplessness washed over Lloyd. The people he trusted most in the world were taken, dragged into the very darkness they'd fought so hard to protect others from.

He wanted to scream, to do something—anything—to stop this madness. But he was alone, a fugitive in his own city, with nowhere to turn. His heart pounded as he thought of his friends locked away, and of Lyra, twisted and lost under the influence of some ancient, malevolent force.

For a moment, he closed his eyes, letting the rain wash over him. And in the silence, he found himself drifting back to a memory from long ago—back when he was young, back when things were simpler, brighter.

He was standing in his family's backyard, watching his father grill on an old, rusty barbecue, his face glowing from the firelight. Misako was setting the table nearby, her smile soft and warm. And there was Lyra, running around, laughing as she and Lloyd played tag, her laughter filling the air with joy. The backyard felt endless, like a safe haven that would never end. The evening had stretched on lazily, golden and peaceful, the world full of nothing but promise.

Lloyd's father, Garmadon, had always carried an aura of quiet strength. He moved with a calm patience, never rushing, always watching, listening. Lloyd remembered seeing one of the neighbors come by to ask his father for help with something, and without hesitation, his father had put down his spatula, nodding with a warm smile as he went off to lend a hand.

When he returned, Lloyd had asked, "Dad, why do you always help people, even if you don't have to?"

Garmadon had looked down at him, his dark eyes filled with a wisdom that Lloyd didn't fully understand at the time. He knelt down so he was at Lloyd's level, resting a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"Lloyd," he said, his voice deep and steady, "there is more strength in kindness than in any weapon. If you have the power to help, you should. It's not about who deserves it or what you might gain. It's about doing what's right because it's right. One day, you'll understand that real power isn't in what you can take, but in what you can give."

Lloyd had nodded, but back then, he hadn't fully grasped what his father meant. It was only now, in this fractured, darkened world, with so much at stake, that the memory finally clicked into place. His father hadn't been talking about strength or duty or even morality. He'd been talking about purpose.