"Son?" His father's voice echoes into his hazy mind. He feels himself return to the conscious world, the whispering words of the voice fading into a recent memory.

Lloyd looks to his father with a despondent gaze. His heart is still thudding against his chest, his breath still coming in short bursts. He must look crazy.

Garmadon looks at him, patient eyes meeting his own and saying 'Take your time'. He intends to.

A shaking palm makes its way back to his chest, pressing against his sternum and feeling the shuddering rhythm of his heart. It was like a violent onslaught. His hand moved in time with each shudder.

Slowly, very slowly, his breathing evens. The thudding against his ribs comes to a gentle stop, and he feels a sigh of relief bud in his throat. He restrains; he could not relax yet.

With a near silent clearing of his throat, he responds to his father at last.

"Yeah?" His throat still creaks a little.

His father sighs a heavy breath, like he'd been holding it for a while. He probably had, considering Lloyd had taken such a long time to respond with just a single word, he must have worried so deeply. The thought made Lloyd smile.

"Perhaps... we should find a way out of this tomb..." Garmadon pauses, as if considering whether he should say something or not. "...I worry that the air in here will suffocate us."

Suffocate us? Lloyd considers his reasoning.

They were inside a tomb with very few windows, that was most likely infested with mold, hidden underneath the thick blankets of entwining ficus. The closest thing to fresh air was thick with the smell of blood.

Yes... Garmadon had a point.

He nods. "Yeah, that's a good idea."

His father makes no move to get up, so Lloyd takes the initiative. He peels himself from the tangle and stands, shoes crunching against thick leaves. A vine catches his foot, and he falls against the wall. His knuckle scrapes a loose cobble.

Soon after, his father does the same, only much more balanced.

They vacate the room in silence, stepping out of the open arch. The two share a look as the older leaves the safety of the hallway. A silent agreement is made between the two: Lloyd will not return to the hexagonal room.

Not that Lloyd would return without the agreement; he didn't want to see their haunting eyes.

Finally, he's alone again, and he can start his search.

What exactly he's looking for, he doesn't know. Well, he does know- they're looking for the exit- but he has a feeling he won't find it in some dingey left wing of a tomb.

A quick glance to his side, and he searches his first room.

In it lay what Lloyd assumed to be a blacksmithing forge. A heavy-duty anvil sat stoically in the center of the dusty room, a half-finished sword resting forgotten on its surface. A dirtied hand reaches to touch the sad weapon, but he finds himself unable to remove it from its resting place. It had practically glued itself to the anvil with rust.

Behind the anvil sat a bench and cauldron. On the bench lay tools and weapons of any and every calibre. Hammers, scythes, swords, brushes, bolts, and even some devices he couldn't even begin to comprehend.

As he approached the cauldron, a musty, almost rotten smell enters his nose. His eyebrows furrow and his nose scrunches at the horrendous smell.

But still, it was better than metallic.

The cauldron's water, once clear and ready to quench aspiring weapons, but now was green, and rich with algae. The murky colour hid the depth of the water, Lloyd wouldn't be too surprised if something was alive down there. Or dead.

He quickly leaves the room once it's fully searched, but as he steps past the anvil one last time, something hits his shoe.

It rolls across the floor, hitting the opposite wall with a kuk noise. His curiosity overruns his cautious as he picks up the item with gentle fingers.

It's a rock.

As he turns it in his hands, inspecting the item with a particular eye, it catches the faintest light and gleams, for just a fleeting second.

He turns it again, wanting to see the rock in the light once more, and when it does it's... not what he expected.

It glimmers in a yellowy-orange colour, flicks of dust covering its surface.

It's gold. Pure, unprocessed gold.

Before he can convince himself not to, he shoves the treasure in the folds of his Gi. He has no reason to keep the chunk, they are plenty wealthy already, being the saviours of ninjago, and they have access to unprocessed gold, but something in Lloyd urged him to pocket it. Not the voice, not those eyes, not himself, just a gut feeling.

So once it's securely tucked away, he leaves the room with a souvenir.

Vines crunch under his boots as he steps into the mirroring room.

Much like many other rooms he'd seen that day- night? -this room was partially collapsed. Its frame stood sturdy and tall, much like the last, but what he could see of the inside was covered in thick rubble and dust. He decided it would be safer if he observed from the outside.

Through the thick layers of collapse he could see streaks of black, folding unorderly through debris. With a closer look, he sees that they are what look like tapestries. He takes a risky step into the room, grabbing at the fabric and tugging it carelessly out from the rubble. It unfolds like a snake, loosening stones and flying up dust before it breaks free.

Lloyd shakes the tapestry like a carpet, batting off dust and smoothing out wrinkles.

What reveals itself is simple: a batten black background, two violet slits facing downwards in the centre like a set of conjecting eyes, and two grey curling tendrils extending unevenly between and above them, like untamed brows.

It reminded Lloyd of only one thing: the face of an Oni.

It may be a stretch, and he's hoping that it is, but it certainly looked like the upper face of an Oni. Maybe his imagination was too far stretched. Maybe his mind was playing more tricks on him.

He lets the tapestry slip from his hand. It turns in the air before brushing the ground, landing in its final resting place where it would most likely never be disturbed again.

He walks down the length of the hallway, searching for another room to investigate, or maybe even another souvenir, but he finds no room left unbroken. Rows and rows of caved ceilings and doorways lined the hall, to the point where Lloyd was starting to question how the hallway itself was still standing.

Every room, except one.

It neared the end of the hallway, partially collapsed just like the last, but a slim gap in the rubble revealed a much bigger area, almost cavern-like. As if the floor had given way to an empty space underneath.

The better part of him swayed him to step away, to observe from a distance because that definitely wasn't safe. But that other part, the newer part of him, craved for the risk, for the exploration of this long-forgotten cave-in.

Before he can regret it, he finds himself squeezing his body into the slim gap, pushing past into a small yet spacious cavern.

The darkness overran his senses, for just a moment. He squints his eyes to adjust to the darkness.

The cavern was... well, a cavern. From where he stood, he could see twists and turns, leading who knows where, but other than that there was nothing.

He takes a daring step forward, willing himself to explore more, but stops when he steps on something... unpleasant.

It was cold, squishy, and made a damp noise as it smooshed into his boot. A shiver wracks his spine at the strange feeling.

His hand finds its way to the wall, leaning against it and pulling his foot up to inspect whatever the heck he had just stood on. But as he glances at his shoe, he sees nothing. No trace of anything lined the soul of his shoe, spare for dirt and blood.

Checking the ground beneath him, he sees nothing again. Just cold stone.

A frown crosses his face. What was that, he wondered, but he didn't ponder on it long. He refused to lose sleep over something silly.

Quickly, Lloyd finds himself marching into the caverns' winding narrows, a small ball of energy in his palm lighting the way ahead in an ominous green glow.

The narrows led into forks, lead into dead ends, lead back to places he'd been before, and over and over until the flaxen-haired boy realised it was a natural maze. Only after circles and circles, passing the same rock, the same twisting vine, did he realise it, and once he did, he began regretting his decision to listen to that other part of him.

He regrets it until he sees something. Something new.

Like an excited child in a candy store, he runs towards it, only a little less excited and more desperate. Like a starved man in a buffet.

He crosses through the cramped tunnel, following the twisting path to wherever it would take him. Roots creep from the walls and blanket the walls. The floor, once dry and stone, eventually becomes thick with mud. His legs sink in the mud, almost knee-high at some points, but he carries on, determined to see his decision through.

It takes a while.

A long, long while.

But eventually, through the green haze of his palm, he sees something.

His pace quickens as much as it can through the river of mud, desperation and adrenaline fueling him.

Nearing the end, the mud disperses, and his feet land on solid ground once more. He sighs a breath of relief, followed by a huff at the quickly crusting mud that coated the pants of his Gi.

The last of the tunnel disperses into what seems like a ravine, cut deep into the centre of a forest. Looking up, Lloyd sees the sky, dark and filled with stars and heavy rain. Trees poke over the edge of the ravine, taunting him with their freedom. He almost wishes he could still use airjitzu.

Rain douses him, cleaning crusted blood and mud from his skin. The stains would remain.

As he steps ahead, further into the ravine, he sees something vaguely familiar. A dip in the ground, filled with a thick substance that glittered with stars that seemed to follow him as he circled it.

He digs through his mind for what the substance was called, but he can't seem to put a finger on it. He just knew it from somewhere, he just doesn't know where.

Lloyd crouches beside the dark lake, a damp hand reaching towards the substance with curiosity.

The voice rings in his head before he can reach any further.

"Don't touch it."

His hand stills in its movement, inches from the surface. It bubbles up at him.

"Why? What is it?" Lloyd can barely hear his own voice above the now thundering rain.

"Your father will explain."

Lloyd huffs. "What? What do you mean, just tell me-"

"Look up."

Like a dog, he looks up at the command. It takes him a moment to see it, but when he does a sigh of relief escapes his throat.

A figure, kneeling over the edge of the ravine, his arm waving to get his attention, his other hand cupping over his mouth to propel his voice to Lloyd. Despite the effort, he still can't hear it at such a distance, not to mention the booming rain.

He leaps up, running as close as he can to his father as he can. From a shorter distance, his voice fills his ears, distorted by the downpour.

"-Away from that stuff!"

Lloyd cups his hands over his mouth, mimicking his father. He yells back, "What did you say?"

"Get away from that stuff!"

"Why?!" Lloyd demands an answer. Curiosity was a curse.

"Get away from it first and then I will tell you!"

Why it happens, Lloyd doesn't know, but after Garmadon yells such a thing, he feels endlessly frustrated. The kind of frustration that makes his neck go stiff, and his nose scrunch up. The kind that makes him endlessly stubborn, hard to work with, and selfish.

Its an unreasonable feeling. His father is clearly trying to keep him safe. In fact, what he'd said shouldn't gather such a reaction. But Lloyd will not listen to reason.

"No, just tell me! What is it?"

Garmadon scrunches his hands, frustration also evident on his face, even from a distance. His hands return reluctantly to his face as he yells once more.

"It's concentrated evil, son! So whatever you do, do not touch it!"

But Lloyd stops listening.

Lloyd retreats back to the tunnel, ignoring the distant yells of his father. His steps are weighted and his stride is long. Lloyd feels so unreasonably frustrated, the need to smash something heavy on his fingertips. His hands flex at his sides uncomfortably as he huffs.

Concentrated evil, huh? He thinks to himself. Haven't heard those words for years.

Eventually, he reaches the deep trenches of mud once more, dredging his uncomfortably wet boots into the muck.

"Your father will explain, huh?" He throws his hands around, not bothering to use his powers to light up the tunnel in that eerie green haze. "No wonder, he used this stuff to take over Ninjago!"

He talks not to himself, but to the voice.

"It's ironic, isn't it?" The voice tauntingly responds, but Lloyd doesn't seem to take its words as taunting anymore. "That your father used the dark matter to his own will, yet won't even allow you near it?"

Lloyd huffs. It was right, why could he not be near the concentrated evil? It's not like he was gonna jump into a pond of unidentified goop, did his father really think so lowly of him?

And then the thought hits him.

He's been spending too much time with Wu.

Yes, that's it. His father had spent so much time with that old fool that he was starting to become him. He was even talking like him, it was terrible.

Before he can finish his thoughts, the voice jumps in suddenly, unsolicited.

"But I do have to agree with Garmadon."

He pauses in his walking. Mud creeps up his pants. "What? Why?"

"The concentrated evil... it doesn't just turn one evil. It takes your free will, you will lose your humanity in an instant."

Lloyd swallows the frog in his throat.

The sudden concern from the voice... It was strange. It was insincere but honest. He waited for it to continue, to finish what it was going to say. But it goes silent. He's disappointed that he's now intentionally seeking out the voice.

He'd nearly made it to the end of the tunnel before it whispers to him, cold and malevolent.

"I want you to have free will when you lose your humanity."

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