Ninjago:Rising

CHAPTER TWENTY SIX

The world around Lloyd dissolved, the warm sunlight and familiar surroundings melting away into darkness. He blinked, his vision adjusting as he found himself in a vast, empty void. Shadows stretched infinitely in every direction, their silence heavy and unsettling. Lloyd's heartbeat echoed in his ears as he took a cautious step forward, the sound of his footsteps swallowed up by the endless expanse around him.

"Where... where am I?" he whispered, the sound barely a breath against the silence.

As he walked, faint images began to flicker along the dark walls, their appearance grainy, like old film reels projected onto invisible screens. He squinted, trying to make sense of them, and his stomach twisted as he realized what he was seeing—these were memories. Lyra's memories.

He slowed, watching as scenes from her life played out before him. They were glimpses, fragmented and distorted, but they told a story he knew all too well: the training sessions they'd endured together, the small victories they celebrated, and even the quiet, lonely nights she spent on her own, struggling with the weight of expectations. Each frame seemed haunted, tinged with something dark and foreboding, a shadow looming over her memories that wasn't there before.

One image showed her standing in a field of flowers, sunlight dappling her hair as she smiled, a rare, genuine moment of peace. Another flashed to her in the midst of training, her face set in fierce determination as she mastered a difficult move. Lloyd's chest tightened as he continued down the path, the projections growing darker, more twisted. Her smiles became rare, replaced by frustration and self-doubt. And then he saw it—a flicker of the dark energy that now surrounded her, beginning to coil around her like a serpent, its tendrils reaching out, pulling her deeper into its grasp.

"Lyra..." he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. These weren't just memories—they were pieces of her soul, fragments of the person she used to be, slipping away.

At the end of the path stood a single door, worn and weathered, its edges shrouded in a faint, eerie light. Lloyd hesitated, his hand hovering over the handle, his mind racing with questions. But he knew he couldn't turn back now. Taking a deep breath, he pushed the door open and stepped through.

He emerged back into the warm light of day. Blinking, he looked around, disoriented as he found himself once again in front of their old house. But something was different. The world around him seemed brighter, larger, like he was seeing it through the eyes of a child. Glancing down, he realized with a jolt that he was, in fact, a child again, his small hands clutching the familiar fabric of his childhood clothes.

Confused, he stepped forward, the air thick with nostalgia and a strange sense of dread. As he rounded the corner, he heard a quiet sobbing. His heart clenched as he saw a young girl with dark hair sitting on the steps, her shoulders shaking as she cried. It was Lyra, no older than he was, clutching her knees as tears streamed down her cheeks.

"Lyra?" he asked softly, his childlike voice trembling.

She looked up, her red-rimmed eyes widening with anger and hurt. Without a word, she lunged forward, her fists swinging as she tried to strike him, but he caught her hands, holding them gently but firmly.

For a moment, they simply stared at each other, her tear-streaked face twisted with anger, his grip steady and unyielding. But as he held her, he could see the pain in her eyes, the loneliness and fear that had been hidden beneath her anger all this time. His small hands began to tremble as he felt his arms weaken, a strange sensation creeping along his skin. Looking down, he saw his arms decaying, the flesh withering and peeling away, as if the darkness within her was spreading into him.

Lyra's eyes widened in horror, and she pulled back, covering her mouth with a gasp. "I'm... I'm sorry, Lloyd," she whispered, her voice barely audible, guilt and sorrow spilling from her eyes.