Preeminent Rising

Author's Note: I have been long overdue to write a Ninjago story... This starts immediately after season 4 and will keep going from there. I plan to follow the main show's story line, but smooth out some plot holes and add a few elements of my own too. Several characters from the show will also make their appearance later on, including the main ninja, Ronin, Morro, Garmadon, Clouse, Chen, Shade, Soul Archer, and Nya. Happy reading!

**Ninjago in all its glory belongs to the Hageman brothers and LEGO. Cover art belongs to me.**

Prologue

Chen's forces were fleeing before the Anacondrai generals, who methodically chased each one down and lifted the struggling figure to the Cursed Realm. They – no, Garmadon – had done it. The battle was won. But at what cost?

For the ninja had not just lost their sensei or Lloyd his father –something else had left the Cursed Realm beyond the generals.

Freedom.

The thought was almost as sweet as the fresh Ninjagan air he breathed. Sights, scents, and sounds that had begun to fade from his memory assaulted his senses. It was… overwhelming. It was… intoxicating. It was… freeing. He was released. He was…

"Morro!"

The name—his name—slipped from his lips, born from the exuberance of the moment. Part of him wanted to race across the land, reacquainting himself with all he'd lost since he'd been Cursed. But he couldn't afford to dally; he had a duty to fulfill. Only then would his freedom last.

The Preeminent must escape the Cursed Realm.

Chapter 1: Cloudy with a Chance of Reflection

Giant, white, fluffy clouds floated across a clear blue sky, dwarfing the lone Anacondrai seated beneath them. Pythor enjoyed watching the clouds—strange, for he'd never wasted time on such idle fancies before. But this wasn't simply idling: the former Serpentine King and Overlord's servant found the clouds helped his thinking.

Yes, thinking, not plotting. Too much had changed in the past few weeks for him to have any clear sense of direction: being captured by those presumptuous imposters, allying himself with the ninja—a longtime foe, no less!—realizing he was the last Anacondrai…

That final point proved the most troublesome. He, Pythor P. Chumsworth, was the remaining one of his kind. Somehow, the other Serpentine had emerged unscathed from their imprisonment, but the Anacondrai had dwindled, faded. And now, without the distraction of a new plan or predicament or even prison, that disturbing reality was finally setting in.

The clouds and—whenever he sat outside at night—stars comforted him with their distant, eternal stability. Beneath them, death stalked the land, affecting all with an equal hand. Rather than feel insignificant when faced with the vastness of the sky, though, he felt at peace. Or at least distracted enough not to feel the fear lurking in the dark corners of his mind.

What did it mean, to be the last of your species? Would he be eventually trapped in a large glass room for all to look at in wonder? Or, worse, subject to numerous studies as scientists raced to determine what final medicinal secrets could be gleaned from his scales or blood?

Perhaps he could turn this to his advantage: he could contract one of those nature shows and go hide in some remote forest, leaving pre-arranged clues for the host to follow before eventually allowing a glimpse of himself in the last segment of the episode. If he played his cards right, he could work with multiple programs, negotiate multiple "unique" clues, and make a killing in profits. He just needed a good agent first.

Ah, who was he kidding? What would he do with all that money—invest it in Wu's academy or proposed tea shop? Secretly fund criminal groups to make life more interesting for the ninja? Donate to an orphanage?

And there was that bedeviled fear raising its cursed head at last: he did not want to be alone. Even Wu, who'd never settled down, shared a bond with his young students. That was part of the reason Pythor had taken to cloud-watching more. It distanced him from the constant, often painful reminder of what he lacked. It was all the more vexing since he wasn't one for self-pity.

What if he endeavored to make peace with the ninja and become not a part of their team but...perhaps a more consistent ally? It certainly offered more appeal than repairing all the burned bridges with the Serpentine. Or embarking on a solo travels in hopes of stumbling upon someone who could tolerate his presence. Hmmph. I must be getting old if I'm that willing to settle for a mob of incorrigible young adults rather than face a new challenge. Of course, he already had a history with said young adults—Oh yes, repeated conspiracy against them, unleashing a creature with apocalyptic inclinations on Ninjago, helping their greatest enemy regain a physical form through capturing Lloyd and brutally draining his powers, no less, andforcing Garmadon to be banished to the Cursed Realm. True, the ninja have given him a small house to live in not too far from their place, but to equate that with acceptance? Ha! He'd be a naïve fool to do so.

Yet Lloyd was remarkably naïve. Pythor's lips twitched into the faintest hint of a smile as he remembered their first meeting: Lloyd a young, trusting child utterly unaware of Pythor's temptation to eat him. Pythor, of course, would not have done such a thing. That sort of thinking had gotten his fellow Anacondrai into trouble in their tomb—he repressed a brief shudder—and he was not one to drop his standards. Though, he reflected grimly, it hadn't all been about standards. As one of the few Anacondrai who had remained certain they would escape one day, he had refused to participate in the demise of his friends as their situation became desperate. He hadn't wanted any guilt upon his eventual release. But images of the virus outbreak and the madness that followed still haunted him…

Solitary confinement can do strange things to one's head if left long enough. For Pythor, meditating in a state of half-hibernation, it had conjured dreams of revenge. Revenge on the Aboveworlders responsible for the horrible fate the Anacondrai had met—and a desire to inflict the same pain. That thought had sustained him for years, all his grief converted into rage and sharpened through cunning. Revenge had helped him survive after the Great Devourer, too.

But now, with revenge no longer fueling him, he felt… adrift. Like a branch floating in a current, stars wandering in the sky. Clouds detached from the world below them.

That was why, in an irony not lost on him, he wanted to help Lloyd. He may have been naïve, but his world had been turned on end too many times. And, Pythor had to admit, he liked the boy. He caught glimpses of himself in Lloyd, and he knew the dangers grief and helplessness could bring. Not to mention that the simple praise from the Anacondrai generals had made him feel… good. Proud, even. It would be a different sort of goal to work towards, but this challenge Pythor welcomed. As a further bonus, if he could win Lloyd over, the other ninja would follow. He would gain acceptance; perhaps, if not friends, than allies who could be trusted; and maybe, just maybe, have a more lasting solution to deal with his fears and uncertainties of the future.

He had quite missed scheming. It was time to get his head out of the clouds and back to reality.

A/N: Getting into Pythor's head was much easier (and fun) than I had expected... Keep an eye out for chapter 2 later this month. Reviews and feedback in general are greatly encouraged!