~ Six months later ~

Superstition might as well have been a sacred custom for the Day of the Departed. It was as much a staple of celebration as lighting lanterns and collecting cavities. People tended to become more wary when talking about the dead, as if the invisible walls between realms were thinning and the ghosts of long-gone souls would return if only they were given the right reasons.

On this particular eve of the Departed, the moon was clear and bright, nearly a full disk that seemed to drench the sky in an eerie blue. The late fall air was chilled, stagnant, not a whisper among the leaves. Moonlight slanted through the spindly trees, which were only growing more barren as the days passed. Brittle leaves fluttered underfoot, but they kept their silence. Morro couldn't have asked for better conditions.

Up ahead, Morro could see an orange light that shivered feverishly in the cold. Voices mumbled to each other in confidence in the lonely forest as he drifted closer, almost fading naturally into the forest ambience.

"Just feels like a bad idea's all'm sayin'."

"Relax, you saw their faces. Can you imagine any of those pitiful souls trying to come after us with nothing but farming tools? They wouldn't dare. You're only on edge because of the day. I can't remember a time you were ever this cautious."

Keeping to the shadows, Morro crouched near the clearing where two men had made their camp. The first one was huddled close to the fire, looking particularly nervous for one so imposing, while his friend sat propped against a thin tree stump. Both men had rifles lying next to them, which was a rare sight. Even nowadays, guns weren't very popular anywhere in Ninjago, as they were more difficult to produce and considered less reliable to the more preferred weapons of the world. But they were especially rare this far out in the country. Additionally, the two men each had a lumpy rucksack for supplies, and another full to bursting with the day's treasures.

"That's 'cuz normally the land of the living don't intersect with the land of the dead," the fearful bandit answered. "You know, some folks believe that on the Day of the Departed, their loved ones return to visit 'em. And if any ghosts from that village come back and hear what we did–"

"Grow up!" the other scoffed. "You should know that there's no such thing as ghosts."

"But I heard it was ghosts that attacked Stiix!"

The skeptical bandit rolled his eyes. "Are you going to believe everything you hear in a run-down rest stop like that?"

"No, it wasn't just that!" The fearful bandit sat up a little straighter. "I know a guy who knows a guy from there who says it was a buncha ghosts that took over the place!"

His partner waved his hand. "Those ninja will say anything to make themselves look better."

"But he saw–"

"Yeah, that's what they all say. But everyone knows people from Stiix like to stretch the truth."

That seemed like as good a cue as any. Morro decided to start with a strong breeze, pulling the air through the men's clearing so that it stirred creaking branches overhead and caused the fire to cower low to the ground.

The fearful bandit shivered and rubbed his arms to warm them up. "I'm just saying, we oughtta move on. Just a bit further out. Or we could keep walking 'til daybreak and rest then. We'll have less chance of bein' caught that way."

"I already told you, those people won't dare try to mess with us. Little towns like this haven't got any firepower to speak of, let alone any guts to use 'em. We're already scot-free." The skeptical bandit laughed to himself. "Even if there were any ghosts, I doubt that even their ancestors would be bold enough to come after us."

The fearful one opened his mouth to argue – they probably would have gone on all night if given the chance – but he couldn't seem to find his words. His mouth hung open as he stared with equal measures of awe and terror at the thing that hovered just above his partner's head.

Morro smiled back and put a finger to his lips.

The fearful bandit finally found his voice again. "G-g-ghost!" he howled, leaping to his feet.

The skeptical one looked up, only to scramble away, snatching up his gun. Morro hovered just above the stump where the man had been sitting, and merely pursed his lips as he waited for the man to get a clue.

But the bandit didn't notice as he shot one round after the other, woodchips and half-rotted leaves exploding every which way until he ran out of ammo.

"Are you done yet?" Morro asked when the man kept pulling the trigger and nothing happened.

The bandit threw down his gun and pulled out a knife, as if that was somehow better. "Stay back!"

Morro just laughed as he drifted closer, alighting on the leaf-strewn ground. The wind picked up around him. The trees whispered with a chorus of voices, moonlight flicking through the skinny branches like a light about to go out.

"I'm outta here!" The fearful bandit made a break for it, but his partner stood his ground.

"I'm not afraid of you!" he shouted.

"You should be!" Morro threw a gust of wind that blew the man off his feet, sending him crashing into the bushes. He clambered out and ran the other way. Morro had to smirk. It was always more fun when they ran.

At first, he made an attempt to fly after them, but when he stepped back onto the air, he couldn't lift himself more than a few inches off the ground. He should have known better – it was getting worse every day. With a frustrated grunt, Morro used his Airjitzu and took off after them.

The two bandits ran blindly through the forest, trying to put as much distance between them and Morro as possible. Morro flew ahead to intercept them. He burst from the bushes with a shout that stopped both of them dead in their tracks.

"Where do you think you're going?"

The fearful bandit dropped to his knees. "Please, spirit, let us go! We're sorry!"

The wind around them shook the forest, billowing violently until it howled in the flickering moonlight. "You will leave this forest and never return."

The fearful bandit nodded fervently, but his partner scowled. "You're not a ghost, you're just a man! I don't know what kind of tricks you're pulling, but it won't work on me!"

Morro took a step forward. "Care to test that theory?"

The man lunged forward with his knife. Morro let him pass through, and when he turned, there was a renewed fear in the man's eyes. Morro moved toward him and the man swung his knife again, and again. It was a sad sight, but there wasn't much more the man could do.

Morro caught his arm, and the winds immediately died. The skeptical man gaped at him.

"You will leave this forest and never return," Morro repeated.

But the man was properly scared out of his wits, now. He tugged on his arm, shouting, "Let me go! Demon!"

Morro didn't intent to release him until he got the message, but the man's arm slipped suddenly from his grasp. Morro blinked. He hadn't meant to let that happen. Gazing at his hand, he watched for a moment as it blinked in and out of transparency, only to settle as solid as before.

While he was distracted, the bandit turned tail and ran off again. Morro decided it wasn't worth it to pursue him any longer. Turning back, Morro looked down on the fearful bandit still cowering on his knees

"I'll give everything back," he promised. "And then I'll leave, just like ya said!"

"I'll be watching. And if you ever return, it'll be for the last time." He summoned another burst of air that shot up from the ground, throwing dirt and debris through the air, forcing the bandit to cover his eyes.

Leaping into the trees, Morro took cover amongst the sparse foliage. He didn't want to try turning invisible. That particular ability had been even faultier than his density shifting. Instead, he hovered high enough that even his ghostly glow wouldn't be noticed. He watched as the bandit rose on shaking legs, looking all around for any sign of Morro. Eventually, he began to make his way back toward the camp. Morro didn't really want to follow him; it wasn't likely the man would try to test his wrath. He would probably continue his thieving ways elsewhere, but that wasn't Morro's problem.

Leaning against the tree, Morro took his time to rest. On top of everything else, he was getting worn out more and more easily these days. His power was fading, and so was he.

Morro had been at the same gig for the better part of six months. After escaping from the ninja, he had found the nearest town to take refuge in. It was a decent place to stay while he worked out his next move, surrounded by a dense forest on one side and a sheer cliff bordering the ocean on the other. But in the days that followed, Morro found that, for the first time that he could really remember, he didn't have a plan.

Morro had always known what he wanted, that he was destined to be the Green Ninja, even if he had to forge that destiny himself.

Except that he couldn't. He had tried, and just look where that had gotten him. It always ended the same way, no matter what he did. He thought he had gotten rid of Lloyd, he thought he had won. But Destiny – that biased, unforgiving, unreasonable twister of fates – had only been toying with him, and before he knew what was happening, everything had swept out of control. But, in truth, Morro had never been in control, no matter how much he wanted to believe he was.

So what did that leave him with? Wu had saved him from a second death, but it wasn't anything like life. He was a ghost without a realm, not even a body to possess. Oh, he'd been tempted a few times, but Sensei Wu's words still echoed in his mind, the look in his eyes hauntingly, painfully familiar. Even after everything that happened, some part of Morro couldn't bear to let him down yet again.

When the nearby village first fell under attack, Morro had tried to ignore it. It wasn't his problem, they weren't his people, this wasn't even his world anymore. And yet, wasn't that what the Green Ninja was supposed to do? Eliminate threats and overpower those who intimidated the helpless? Maybe Morro still had trouble releasing the dream that had been curled so tightly in his fist for so long, but at some point, he had begun to recognize the irony in what he had almost done. Not that his helping a handful of farmers amounted to anything in the grand scheme. But it made him feel like he could still earn the title he had so desperately longed for.

And something, as Morro already knew well, was better than nothing.

Something was better than the days when Morro found himself lingering by the rocky coast and watched the waves roll endlessly. The ocean was as infinite as the sky and flooded every corner of the horizon. The water churned and roiled with such incredible power. On the days that he had nothing, Morro would sit on the edges of the cliffs where the damp rock stung his legs and he half hoped that the earth would crumble beneath him. Morro wasn't one to quit anything, but some days the thought of an endless, empty darkness seemed inviting. But he was weightless, and the universe had never cared what he wanted, anyway.

Morro felt like he had run out of chances. If this had been his last opportunity to get the Green Gi, then he had failed, completely and finally. Trying to make a comeback now would just be pitiful.

Morro looked down at his hand again, drawing himself back to the present. Through the dim green tint, he could see the thin bark of the branches where he perched. It had been six months since the Preeminent was destroyed by the ninja. Morro didn't know what that meant for a cursed soul, but he did know that a ghost couldn't stay long in the living world without a tether.

Maybe this had been enough. After six months, Morro could say with absolute certainty that there was nothing for him in this world. At least this time, he could go on his own terms.

Clenching his fist, Morro finally made a decision. His time was up, and honestly, part of him was relieved. He would go without complaint and accept whatever came next. It couldn't be worse than the last forty plus years had been. There was just one last thing he needed to do, one debt he had to settle. If Morro was going to go by his own choice, this time he wasn't going to leave without saying goodbye.