ninjago · angst · fallen hero · spinjitzu · lord ras · cold · betrayed · tragic · martial arts · redemption arc
Smoke hangs thick in the air of Imperium, bitter with the scent of ozone and blood. The clamor of battle has faded to a dull ringing, punctuated by the crackle of dying embers and labored breathing. Lloyd is down, a dark stain spreading beneath his head on the cobblestones. Sora stands rigid, her hands outstretched in a futile plea toward the shadow of the boy she grew up with. And at the heart of the ruin stands Arin. His orange sweatshirt is ripped at the shoulder, his dark eyes are hollow, his jaw clenched against a rising tide of feeling. He turns at the sound of impact—the brutal, wet thud of Lord Ras's war hammer connecting. He watches, motionless, as you are thrown backward into the unyielding stone of the wall. Ras's smirk is a blade of triumph. For a fleeting instant, something…