(Second person POV)
Metal screeches.
Your eardrums burn.
Death.
He whispers something indiscernible.
And then he's gone.
Again.
Slipping out of your grasp whenever your fingers get too close. He's right within reach but distant at the same time, dangling right in front of your face like an unkept promise; so close yet so far. He's near enough for you to feel the warmth radiating off his body, close enough for you to smell his familiar amber-scented shampoo, but was too far for you to reach, to grasp on, to hold no matter how far you reached.
Soon, the last traces of his presence disappears again, draining your world of its colour as you feel yourself be plunged into a wintry atmosphere. Again. His warmth fades, his scent dulls, and his aura goes up in a whisp, never to be seen by you again. You feel sick, sick, sick as you watched him go, your body disobeying your control, refusing to move or even fill your eyes with water to blur the memory. You feel your Void Crystal pulse in its place over the centre of your chest as if mourning his disappearance in a way you could not.
Suddenly, a harsh cold grasp grips your arms as pain shoots up your limbs, smoky-grey claws carving bloody half-moons into your skin as you try to struggle to no avail. Your body was frozen and refused to move in the slightest, forcing you to endure the assault with no hope of escape. You feel a presence behind you as the thick graphite-coloured fog begins to devour you, enveloping your body in itself.
It whispers in a broken scratchy voice that seemed neither feminine nor masculine, neither old nor young, just pure... horror."҈҉҈҉A҈҉҈҉҈҉҈҉c҈҉҈҉҈҉҈҉c҈҉҈҉҈҉҈҉e҈҉҈҉҈҉҈҉p҈҉҈҉҈҉҈҉t҈҉҈҉ ҈҉҈҉m҈҉҈҉҈҉҈҉e҈҉҈҉..." it creaks, the noise it makes sounds more like static than words. "҈҉҈҉A҈҉҈҉҈҉҈҉c҈҉҈҉҈҉҈҉c҈҉҈҉҈҉҈҉e҈҉҈҉҈҉҈҉p҈҉҈҉҈҉҈҉t҈҉҈҉ ҈҉҈҉t҈҉҈҉҈҉҈҉h҈҉҈҉҈҉҈҉e҈҉҈҉ ҈҉҈҉v҈҉҈҉҈҉҈҉o҈҉҈҉҈҉҈҉i҈҉҈҉҈҉҈҉d҈҉҈҉ ҈҉҈҉i҈҉҈҉҈҉҈҉n҈҉҈҉҈҉҈҉s҈҉҈҉҈҉҈҉i҈҉҈҉҈҉҈҉d҈҉҈҉҈҉҈҉e҈҉҈҉ ҈҉҈҉o҈҉҈҉҈҉҈҉f҈҉҈҉ ҈҉҈҉y҈҉҈҉҈҉҈҉o҈҉҈҉҈҉҈҉u҈҉҈҉... ҈҉҈҉A҈҉҈҉҈҉҈҉c҈҉҈҉҈҉҈҉c҈҉҈҉҈҉҈҉e҈҉҈҉҈҉҈҉p҈҉҈҉҈҉҈҉t҈҉҈҉ ҈҉҈҉t҈҉҈҉҈҉҈҉h҈҉҈҉҈҉҈҉e҈҉҈҉ ҈҉҈҉c҈҉҈҉҈҉҈҉h҈҉҈҉҈҉҈҉a҈҉҈҉҈҉҈҉n҈҉҈҉҈҉҈҉g҈҉҈҉҈҉҈҉e҈҉҈҉҈҉҈҉s҈҉҈҉... ҈҉҈҉A҈҉҈҉҈҉҈҉c҈҉҈҉҈҉҈҉c҈҉҈҉҈҉҈҉e҈҉҈҉҈҉҈҉p҈҉҈҉҈҉҈҉t҈҉҈҉ ҈҉҈҉t҈҉҈҉҈҉҈҉h҈҉҈҉҈҉҈҉e҈҉҈҉ ҈҉҈҉p҈҉҈҉҈҉҈҉a҈҉҈҉҈҉҈҉s҈҉҈҉҈҉҈҉t҈҉҈҉.... ҈҉҈҉a҈҉҈҉҈҉҈҉n҈҉҈҉҈҉҈҉d҈҉҈҉... ҈҉҈҉a҈҉҈҉҈҉҈҉c҈҉҈҉҈҉҈҉c҈҉҈҉҈҉҈҉e҈҉҈҉҈҉҈҉p҈҉҈҉҈҉҈҉t҈҉҈҉ ҈҉҈҉m҈҉҈҉҈҉҈҉e҈҉҈҉-"
You didn't understand what it meant. Who was this... this... cloud of mist? Why was it torturing you over and over like this? What does the past have to do with the present? Was it speaking of your past or its past? Or perhaps it was just the past in general?
You didn't know and frankly, you didn't want to know. You didn't want to figure out whatever the past contained. You didn't want to know about who you were and how you got here. You were content as it is in the present, just you and Dart roaming around in search of your teacher. If your sensei could join, then that would be even better, but that was the future, which has little to nothing to do with the past. What if learning about yourself changes everything? What if the person you were was a terrible person and your teacher won't want you anymore once he finds out? Isn't the past just better off buried in the past-
YOU ARE READING
Void - Ninjago x Female Reader
FanfictionNothing. That's all you remember of your past. That's all you know about yourself, and hell, that's probably all that you will ever be in the future. Or so you thought. Unfortunately, life has an annoying habit of putting those around it in for a w...
