Ninjago - Heart of Stone

Chapter Seven: Royal Blacksmiths

Garmadon had never seen a sight so glorious. The serpentine had been bathed in blood, their civilization, their culture, and their name wiped clean off the face of their earth. He grinned to himself as he marched before his army. The sound of grinding rock and clanking spears was like the pounding of ocean waves- soothing, certain, dependable.

The army was marching towards the sea. Garmadon had consulted with Kozu, the general, and discovered that they were indeed servants of the Overlord. He was ordering them all back to his island, to join him as he broke free from his prison and destroyed the world, crushing it into darkness.

It sounded bad, but Garmadon was long past the point of caring. Humanity could fall for all he cared- what was there left for him in the world anyways? Not Misako, not his children, certainly not his brother...

Garmadon frowned. That was one thing that had been bothering him lately-- he'd begun to hear a voice in his head, ordering him about. It was soft, like velvet, rubbing against his mind and soothing him into submission. The voice came and went like wisps of smoke, unreliable, fleeting, mysterious. He craved it's tone, yet at the same time he ached for it to go away when he did hear it's whispers, calling from the crevices of his mind to kill the serpentine, to abandon his family, to cross the ocean to the dark island...

No one ordered him around. Garmadon was his own master, and he took commands from no man, woman, or anything in between. He was the greatest, most powerful being that ever lived. He was the one who had defeated the Devouror, he was the one who had escaped the ninja--

Fool.

Garmadon nearly tripped, his legs becoming suddenly weak and his feet not knowing where to go. He stumbled sideways, hastily regaining his footing and straightening up, shooting Kozu a sharp glance as the warrior looked over at him curiously. The army-- his army-- continued marching, and Garmadon hurried to keep in time with their movements.

You are not in control.

This time, Garmadon was more prepared. He scowled at the sound of the voice, hating the way in disoriented him. It was disembodied, lifeless, and it echoed through his head, bouncing of the sides of his brain like pellet from a gun. It sounded like it came from inside of him, like his own mind was speaking to him-- but that was ridiculous. If it was really him, he'd be reminding himself of his own power and wit, not belittling his strength.

You know you aren't that powerful.

You understand, but you won't admit it.

Why?

You're afraid, Garmadon--

Afraid of me.

Because you know I'm stronger.

I am.

Garmadon scraped his knuckles against the side of his head, hissing slightly as the voice grew louder. It was taking on emotion, growing in strength and power, becoming less and less gentle. It grew aggressive, rasping like it was being choked. If only, Garmadon thought bitterly, as the voice faded once more.

His army continued to march, but Garmadon did not think of them as his army anymore. Despite what he might wish to be true, the Stone Army served the Overlord above all things. Becoming their general made him little more than a slave to a higher power.