Legends of Ninjago: Book 3: The Four Fangs: Chapter 11 — Mist and Memories

Every breath felt like an circle being shoved down his throat or nose. Every heavy step exasperated the searing pain flaming through his veins, making him want to beg for rest. The Serpentine were moving, though, so he could not stop.

“How much farther?” Someone up ahead bellowed.

“We’re almos-s-st there,” another replied.

Lloyd didn’t take comfort in that fact. Despite the opportunity to rest, getting where they were going would not provide relief or warmth. It never did. This was the third location they had trudged along to in their search for the missing Fang Blade, and if it was anything like the last two, he would be left standing in the cold for hours more. That was why it was so important that they find this blade. The sooner they found it, the sooner he could warm up in the tunnels the Constrictai had been digging, and finally get a decent meal. Speaking of which, his stomach began to grumble just then, angrily demanding to know why it hadn’t been fed in so long. Lloyd swallowed back his hunger and reached down for a clump of snow. At the very least, he was never thirsty.

The Serpentine had split up in order to find the blade as quickly as possible. Lloyd had been saddled with a group of Venomari and Fangpyres. Pythor had gone with another group. He began to miss that strange, purple reptile more and more each day; the only snake who was ever kind to him.

It was daytime, which made the cold bite back a little less, and there was a break in the clouds overhead. Blue sky splashed across the grey expanse like paint on a wall. It was so bright compared to this dark winter, and made him squint just trying to look at it.

The imagery of the bright blue made him think of water, which in turn, reminded him of his old friends. Okay, well… “friends” was putting it nicely. He and Ann had never been friends. In fact, he was pretty sure she hated him. They all did. Those ninja. They all thought he was some sort of… abomination. They didn’t understand like Pythor did. How could they? They were these perfect little goody-two-shoeses—they never had to go through what he’d gone through. They were just a bunch of self-righteous bullies, that’s what they were, and as soon as they had all of the Fang Blades, they would all pay. Then would know what pain truly felt like.

He took another bite of snow, feeling his fingers freeze.

* * *

Zane’s history with dreams was an odd one. Back in Sakana Village, it had been simple: the same dream every night, for as long as he could remember. He was standing in the empty room, he could feel someone watching him from behind, he would turn around, but before seeing who it was, the dream would end. There was one exception to this, and that was right before he had left to join Wu. He had heard a strange voice call out to him, after the dream. A man’s deep voice had said, “Trust Wu.” He couldn’t recognise the owner, nor could he even begin to guess where it had come form, but it had not felt like a dream. It had felt like someone whispering into his ear.

Then, while at the monastery, things changed further. At first, his dream remained the same, and then, little by little, small fragments of other things began to leak through. It had happened so gradually, he’d barely even noticed. Until the night that they had been ambushed in the woods and the boys slept together in the medical room. It hadn’t been fragments anymore, it was like actually stepping into someone else’s dream, and what was more: his dream had changed completely.

It was so long ago now, some of the finer details had blurred, but he distinctly remembered traveling in a blizzard and being followed and needing to get away. Swords were swung. Axes thrown. Spears lunged. Then there had been a fall. Unfortunately for Zane, however, it would be the only time he ever saw that dream. Afterwards, his nights were filled, yet again, with the empty room. Until recently.

The dream about the Green Ninja had truly felt like it had come from out of nowhere, and there was not a single way he could rationally explain it. It had simply appeared. Like lightning. Of course, after that dream, the team had discovered the old bunker. While he had been there, Zane had felt a hint of familiarity with the main room and assumed that it must have been the home of his father at some point in time, but little did he know how correct he was.

After staying up late with Keaton, his mind still trying to process the events of the day, he finally went to sleep, expecting the same song and dance. However, when the dream began, everything was noticeably different. The room wasn’t hazy or empty anymore, it was exactly the same room he had found out in those woods. The papers strewn across the floor, the furniture in disarray, and there was someone still behind him, waiting for him to turn around. Now more than ever he was convinced that the man in his dreams was his father, which only made it more aggravating when the dream would end before he could turn and see his face.

On the third night at the Becket household, Zane woke up prematurely. He looked over at his comrades, asleep in the guest bed, while he was stretched out on the couch with a blanket, next to the dying fireplace. Beyond the windows, snow was falling in the dark, and he could feel the slight sting of cold seeping through the glass.

He didn’t want to go back to sleep. He didn’t want to be teased with the dream again. So he reached for a pair of pants and tiptoed out of the room, delicately closing the door behind him. The darkness of the house didn’t really bother him much. Darkness and ice were quite often a pair, like light and fire.

The decorative lights from outside cast snowflake-shaped shadows down the walls in the living room, and he stopped to watch them. Then his eyes caught the sliding glass door nearby and he hesitantly unlocked it. The cold air was so refreshing compared to the dry warmth of the fireplace, and he took two steps outside, barefoot, letting the snow send chills through his skin. He had just enough light to make out his surroundings, and he looked up straight into he sky, watching the fluffy snowflakes fall onto his face. One breath through his nose, and a puff of fog appeared.

For all the grief that winter gave him with his powers, it was also his favourite time of year.

He felt his bracelet jostle on his wrist and looked down at it. One of his only belongings and yet it, too, offered no hints or clues. No one he’d ever shown it to was familiar with the design, nor could they explain the strange way it softly glowed in the night. In fact, there were times when Zane would stare into the marble pendant and swear he could see swirling storm clouds inside. But he simply shrugged it off as a trick of the light.

Yes, the bracelet was a dead-end. What he really needed to focus on was that bunker. He’d only managed to get a minute-or-so inside, and the missed opportunity was still eating at him. He hadn’t even seen the falcon since that adventure. Had he blown it? Would he ever have another chance to go back there? There had to be more clues about where his father went—there had to be—and judging by the messy state of things, the last time anyone was there, there had been some sort of dramatic episode. Had it been a break-in? Had they been in a hurry to leave? Was his father in danger? Did he need help? Zane felt as though he would go silently mad the longer he didn’t know.

A second question: how had the two of them become separated? Wu had said that when he had met them, all that time ago, they had seemed happy. It was this account that staved off his fear of abandonment, but just barely. Alternatively, Zane had been found in Sakana after blizzard, so perhaps they had lost each other during the storm? He remembered that dream where he had been chased through the snow and shuddered. Could… could that have been a memory? Or at least, a distorted, dream-like memory? Had they been chased away? But by whom? That long ago, before the war with Garmadon and Skulkins, the only threat would be common people. An organisation of some sort? A gang or mafia? But why come after them specifically?

Zane took a breath as his thoughts dove another layer deeper.

His father was an inventor (presumably), and the falcon had to be one of his inventions, which was a incredible feat. That much complex circuitry, the ability to fly and appear lifelike, plus not running out of power? That was technology unlike anything he’d ever seen from the leading tech companies, even Borg Industries. There was a plausible chance that someone was after that tech, and it might explain why his father had moved them out into the middle of the woods in the first place. It all certainly seemed to add up. But what good did speculation do him? Until he found out the truth, there’d be no way to know for sure. Besides, the idea of a dangerous gang being after him did not put Zane’s spirit at ease.

The snow started coming down harder and the wind had picked up, tousling his short blonde hair and leaving frozen flakes stuck to the tips. It was getting harder and harder to make out the mountains beyond the town as the clouds and fog gradually consumed them. Like the night was closing in.

Then a thought came to him. What if, at some point, the team didn’t need him anymore? What if, sometime soon, Ninjago would be at peace? What would he do then? Would he be free then to look for his father? If the Serpentine were stopped, and all was well, then the only person left to protect… would be Dr. Julien.

He glanced up at the bedroom windows visible from the back porch. His friends wouldn’t understand. They might even feel like Zane was betraying them. Leaving them for a selfish, personal goal. But it wouldn’t be forever. He would come back. Probably. He just needed to find his father.

The wind was blowing harder now, so Zane stepped back inside, wiping his feet as he went.

* * *

Rehearsals for the National Performing Arts Competition were getting more and more intense each day. By the end of the first week, after spending hours upon hours in the studio, dancing until they were positively sweating, banging their knees against the hardwood floor, and stepping on too many toes to count, they finally had the basic flow of the routine mostly memorised, but they still had a long, long, loooong way to go. They lacked finesse and confidence. Or, in some cases, just general grace. Jay had discovered that he adapted well to the fast-paced parts of the choreography, adding an almost “springy-ness” to his performance. Keaton was small and light, a good thing in a dancer, as Liu mentioned more than a few times, and learned how to use that to her advantage. Zane picked up new proficiencies like Jay picked up bad jokes, and Kai was begging for death while Nya cackled in the corner. Liu always had something to say about Kai, and it was always negative.

“Flow with the music, don’t attack it!”

“Swing your hips as though you were a gentle breeze!”

“I hope you weren’t planning on doing your hair yourself for the performance.”

“For pity’s sake, when you leap you should look like a bird taking flight, not an ostrich passing gas!”

It was beginning to grow tiresome, to say the least. Especially with all the snickering everyone was so keen on doing.

Nya often found herself in her own predicaments. Since she had, oh so wisely, backed out of being a dancer, Liu found a multitude of other ways she could help, from making notes for him and schedule appointments to preparing the sets and making phone calls. She was practically becoming his secretary. Everywhere he went, she was often there too, helping keep track of all his “big ideas” for the show and trying to keep him on task. She might have complained a bit more if she weren’t constantly being reminded of his injury, keeping him from moving as freely as he would like. Still, she was getting real close to calling the doctor and seeing for herself just what was wrong with the old man’s ankle.

Meanwhile, Ann was proving her worth as a good student and quick study. She did have a problem occasionally spacing out on what certain move came next during rehearsal, but besides that, she was doing her best to memorise the routine and the song. Up until now, she had thought that she was doing well, all things considered, but she quickly learned there was always another layer when it came to this performing stuff.

It was the middle of a Saturday afternoon when Liu had everybody take five. Ann watched him pace, as well as he could on his cane, staring at the floor and muttering to himself. She could tell he was unhappy and an unsettling feeling in her gut told her that his unhappiness was directed at her in some way.

Sure enough, when practise resumed, he pulled her aside.

“Ann, my dear,” he said, keeping his voice low and walking to the opposite end of the room, away from the others. “What do you think of when you sing?”

Ann blinked. “What do I think of? I… I don’t understand.”

“What thoughts come to mind when you sing? What feelings do you feel?” He tried to clarify.

Her gaze wandered as she tried to think. Generally what came to mind was, “The lyrics?”

“And therein lies the problem,” said Liu, pointing a finger at her face. “Singing is far, far more than just repeating words from a piece of paper. It’s about emotion, and connecting to what the song is about! It’s letting the music take you somewhere. That song you first sang—you were already familiar with it, am I right?” She nodded. “And I’m willing to bet it means something to you, am I right again?”

“…I guess so,” she said quietly.

“Right then, why don’t you sing a verse or two of that. Go on, don’t be shy.”

She swallowed, but did as her instructor told her. Her words came out slowly, and softly, remembering how it was originally sung to her. “Little wave upon the sand… wash ashore and take my hand… clothed in foam and born of light… the heavens glow with pride tonight…”

“Now what does that make you feel?” Liu asked.

Well, by nature of being a lullaby, the song was tender and loving. It evoked a mother-daughter relationship. And it made Ann’s chest feel tight.

“Hold on to that feeling and keep singing.”

Ann closed her eyes. “Ocean daughter, lay your head… sleeping, dreaming, in your bed…” That tightness was steadily getting worse. She suddenly wasn’t so sure about this anymore. She took a slightly deeper breath before continuing. “Rest, my love… in waters deep… and pray—“ She could feel her throat start to shake and didn’t dare utter another syllable. This had been a bad idea.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you,” Liu said quietly. “But see, this is exactly what I mean. Why don’t we switch over to the other song now. Try to sing a verse and tell me what you feel.”

Ann didn’t really see how this was going to help. The lullaby was completely different from the nonsensical show-tune song they were doing. “You’re up in an Aeroplane or dining at Sardi’s,” she sang, in as neutral of a tone as she could muster. “Or lying at Malibu, alone on the sand.” She liked that image. Being alone on a warm beach. It sounded nice right about now. “You suddenly hear a bell, and right away you can tell… that this could be the start of something grand.” Again, the image of the beach seemed awfully “grand” to her, and by the end of the verse, she actually caught herself smiling just a little bit.

“Aha! Right there! Did you catch that?” Liu exclaimed, beaming from ear to ear. “This song is all about happiness, brevity, and young love. Can’t you just feel that when you sing? How fun it is?”

Ann mulled over the verse she had just sung, and she pursed her lips as she, sort of, kind of, a little bit understood what he was trying to say. She still thought it was an absolutely weird way of talking about love, but apparently she was in the minority.

“At the end of the day, you’ve got to mean what you say. And smile! You have such a wonderful smile, but you always forget to wear it,” Liu went on. “Remember, the judges will be ruthless, and they will take points off for that. Even more, they’ll be able to see straight through a phoned-in performance. You’ve got to find the meaning in the song for you. Alright, we should get back to it.”

He walked back to the group, leaving her there staring at the wall. She wanted to just give up. Her lack of talent was obvious, she had said as much, and now it was going to cost them the competition. No—wait—not the completion, the blade. The blade was what they were after. She grabbed her head for a second as chastised herself for getting so caught up in all this dancing and singing that she nearly forgot the whole point of why they were here in the first place. If they weren’t careful, the others might forget too. This was serious business.

“Now let’s move on to the jazz hands!” Liu announced across the room.

* * *

Later that same evening, while Liu was preparing them another dinner—something local and chicken based, so it sounded safe—Ann was sitting by herself on the back porch thinking about the conversation with Liu. Feeling connected to the song… meaning what you say… was it not enough to just say what you mean? She sighed and looked out over the patchy sky, the wind blowing the clouds across the mountains as the last light of the sunset lit the stark white snow capping their peaks.

“Hmm… mm mm… mmm…” she started to hum. “Hmmmmmm mmm mmm mmm mmmmm….” She wasn’t really sure what she was trying to do, but… there was this small feeling she got, looking over the horizon, all pretty and wintery. Like… there was a whole world out there, just out of sight. “Hmmm mm mm hmmmmm…” She was no composer, and she was sure that if Liu or anyone else came out right now they’d think she was going insane, but it almost felt like she was on to something. “Over… the mountains… over… the sea… what lies… beyond it… do you wait… for me?” She shook her head, feeling her cheeks blush. No, this was too sappy. She tried again. “Sunlight… and moonlight… dancing… around… the heavenly palace… that kisses the ground…” She sighed and slumped in the deck chair she was sitting in. What was she even talking about?

The wind gave a particularly loud rush through the barren trees, creating a lonely, off-key sort of sound and making her lose her train of thought. Oh to be a leaf on the wind, without any emotional complexities at all.

The glass door slid open and she sat up straight.

“Hey,” said Cole, adjusting his jacket. “You got a minute?”

“What is it?” She answered flatly.

“Apparently my dad’s decided that we’re going to start working on the aerials tomorrow. I don’t know about you, but I think it might be a good idea to get in a little practise before… you know…”

“We crash and burn?” She finished, eyeing him. His face seemed awfully red for only just having come out into the cold.

“Yeah. We’ll need space though. I figured, while it’s still light out, we could… go down to the park and practise. You know, before dinner and all.” Cole’s eyes kept darting around, first toward the ground, then the house, then the yard, and then back to the ground. Plus he wouldn’t stop fidgeting with his hands. Was he nervous about something? Well, either way, he was right about one thing.

“That sounds like a good idea. Let’s get going. The light’s fading fast.” She stood up and started walking toward the gate along the side of the house. Cole was at her heels, but seemed to be keeping his distance. Eventually he was forced to take point once they made it out into the street and he led them, in silence, to the park.

It was a nice place, covered in heavily trampled snow, various snow men and giant snow balls, with a playground far off and a wide open field where they’d be able to practise freely. But by Ann’s estimates, they only had about one hour of daylight left, so they’d better get a move on.

“Okay. Where do we start?” She asked, the two of them standing in the field.

“Well,” Cole started, rubbing the back of his neck. “My dad has a bunch of ideas, as usual… there’s this one move that I think might be safe enough to start with. Here’s how it goes…”

He spent the next minute or so explaining this move where he would start to lead her forward by the hand, then he would swoop himself underneath her, standing up, and essentially launching her over himself, landing safely (hopefully) back down on the ground. Needless to say, it would require a lot of skill and trust between the two of them.

“You ready?” He asked, offering his hand.

“Let’s give it a shot,” she said, taking it.

He pulled her in, almost as if they were about to spin, then she jumped and suddenly he was just underneath her, his free arm holding her waist and propelling her around him. It was almost like she was a moon orbiting a big, shaggy planet. When she landed, though, she took a second longer than was probably normal to make sure she didn’t fall over, but other than that, no bones were broken, no one had fallen, and the move had been completed.

“That’s wasn’t so bad,” she said, straightening.

Cole sighed. “Yeah, you won’t be saying that when we try the other moves.”

“Well, that’s why we’re here, right? Now what’s next?”

The next move, as it turned out, involved a lot more jumping. He would swing her around until she was behind him, then, while he was kneeling somewhat, she would plant one foot on the back of his exposed calf, jump up onto his shoulders, and then front flip down, all the while holding hands. Cole suggested they start out by not doing the flip part, which turned out to be a wise decision as Ann miss-judged the jump and ended up completely jumping over him, leapfrog style into the snow.

“Sorry, that was my fault,” she said, dusting herself off.

“Don’t worry about it. Let’s try again.”

The leapfrog move ended up taking a lot longer than expected to get right, mostly in regards to timing and keeping their hands together, but within the half-hour they had it mostly down. The next move involved Ann being launched and spun into the air. Yeah, that was fun.

It was getting closer to twilight now, and they were beginning to run out of fresh powder to accidentally fall into.

“Exactly how long did it take you to get good at this?” Ann asked as they were taking a break.

“A couple years,” Cole answered, still breathing heavily and unzipping his coat just a bit. “Granted, I started when I was a kid, so… it took a lot longer to get coordinated. You’re doing really well for someone who just started a week ago.”

Ann gave a small smile. “Thanks.”

For a while she let the silence of the snow-covered park sink in, until Cole asked, “So what did my dad want to talk to you about? He wasn’t trying to push you into doing something crazy, was he?”

“No, not at all,” she said quickly, then her eyes fell to the ground. “It was… it had to do with my singing.”

“You’re really good at that, by the way.”

She looked up at him, by all accounts sincere.

“Where’d you learn to sing?”

“I…” She squinted, trying to remember. “Um…” Wasn’t it…? Or was it…? Her thoughts were starting to mush together, making her temples feel tight. She remembered the lullaby, and she remembered that her mom used to sing it, but after that… she had this gut feeling that there was a happy memory somewhere in her brain, but every time she got close to it, it was like this angry tornado appeared and started blending everything together. “I can’t remember,” she said, grabbing her forehead.

“Ann?” Cole asked, sounding worried. “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” she said quietly, as the tornado whirled on, trying to keep her from that memory. She closed her eyes and tried to force herself through it, trying to reach for any scrap of an image she could. She could see a hand… her hand, small and pudgy… there was a lot of black and white… were those piano keys? She could hear herself groan as she pressed further in. A big hand suddenly appeared, long and manicured. She followed it up to… her mother.

The tornado died away and she could see her old living room, the old piano, and the two of them singing together while she mashed the keys, trying to play along. They laughed as the song broke down.

“I remember,” Ann said, opening her eyes. “I remember singing with my mom…”

She could feel a change in Cole’s demeanour. Like he had suddenly become a lot more solemn. “Were you two close?” He asked gently.

That was the thing that didn’t make sense about this memory.

“No,” she said, frowning. “No we weren’t.” Maybe this was all a result of whatever the Serpentine had done to her mind, but either way, there was something here that wasn’t adding up.

“You weren’t?” Cole repeated.

Ann took a pragmatic breath. “Keaton was probably too little to remember, but the state of our home growing up was… broken, to say the least. None of us were close with our parents. That’s why...” Cole seemed to be listening intensely, studying her with knitted eyebrows. “I don’t understand where this memory is from. I could’ve sworn that we’d never… that she’d never…”

She just sat there, glaring at the ground while her brain replayed the memory. She was so happy. They both were. But all her other memories—besides the lullaby—were of her… were of her… huh. Now that she was looking for a specific example, she couldn’t find one. She just knew that her mother used to treat her terribly. It was like a gut feeling, almost.

“Ann?” Cole said, bringing her back into the park. “Maybe we should call it quits for today.”

She kept staring at the snow. There had to be reason for this glaring contradiction. But what?

“Ann?”

She closed her eyes and straightened. “Alright,” she said, watching her breath puff out in front of her. They started walking together as the streetlights came on and the last of the sunlight disappeared from the sky.

“Sorry about that,” she said, about halfway home. “I didn’t mean to over share.”

“It’s totally fine,” Cole reassured her. “I won’t tell anyone.”

“Thank you.”

She mulled over her thoughts for as long as she could, because she knew that the second they reached the house, it would be dinner time and who knows how long that fiasco would take. More than anything, the happy memory just left her feeling confused. Like she wanted to love her mother. But all the negative “memories” (feelings really) were screaming for her to hate her instead. They were like two completely different lives.

They were getting close to the house now.

“You go on ahead.”

“Hmm?” Ann said, turning back to look at Cole.

“I’ll be inside in a minute,” he clarified, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

“Okay.” She resumed walking up the front path and grabbed a hold of the doorknob. She was tempted to look back and see why Cole had opted to stay behind, but she could hear the clatter of silverware inside and figured that she was late enough for dinner as it was.