Ninjago Oneshots

the spirit who strikes from afar

here's the second one-shot in my "generals of the cursed realm" mini series where I explore possible backstory and lore for the ghosts.  this one is about Soul Archer, and explores his "I never miss" claim

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The bet was that he could run faster than the speed of an arrow shot from a recurve bow. He would run down from a hill while the others waited at the top. The arrow would be shot at a target and he would outrun it to reach the target before the projectile. He would do it. He would win, and they'd all realize that he wasn't all talk and no walk. They'd finally treat him like an equal instead of like the punching bag.

He started running, tearing down the hill as fast as he could. And for a moment, he enjoyed it. He loved the feeling of the wind rushing through his hair and clothes, as well as the adrenaline rush. For a moment, he forgot about the bet.

Then he heard the snapping of the bow string and the whoosh of the arrow as it flew through the air... and it pierced his heart from behind. He gasped and fell, dirt and grass filling his vision. He knew the arrow was sticking out of his back and he was bleeding out. He could hear the people on the top of a hill, laughing and whooping as he lay dying.

His friends were laughing. Ex-friends now, he supposed. They backstabbed him. Literally. And they had claimed they would only shoot the arrow at the target. Who knew the target was him and not the tall pine tree in the distance?

Angry and vengeful thoughts ran through his head as he squeezed his eyes shut, hoping that maybe then, death would come quicker. He gripped at the ground beneath him, and he realized it was no longer grass and dirt, but stone and gravel. He opened his eyes and stared.

He was lying in front of a tall, barricaded gate that led into a fortress of dark green and black. The arrow had been broken and removed from his back, though blood still dripped from the wound. His clothes were torn and bloody, his hair tangled and eyes sunken. He knew at that moment, he was dead.

Smoke condensed around him and he could see the form of a woman standing beside him. Then the smoke dissipated and he could see what the woman looked like. Her appearance, while elegant and well put together, was unsettling in some way.

The woman was tall and her hair was in thick braids. She wore a long, dark green dress that had smoke curling off the hems and a belt with a large, green gemstone buckle. Her mouth was ragged and stitched up and her eyes were glowing with a harsh green light. A crown of black stone sat on her head.

He knew that he wasn't going to let his guard down, even if the woman seemed trustworthy despite her appearance. He had done that in his life, made the wrong friends and got involved with the wrong crowd. He had been too trusting, which ultimately resulted in the stupid bet and his life being lost.

"You died an early death," the woman said, still standing motionless by the gate. Her mouth didn't move even as she spoke. "What happened?"

He felt a sudden anger rise and without stopping to consider the fact that telling his life story might not be the best idea, he started talking. "I made a stupid bet," he said. "I betted some people that I could run faster than an arrow flying through the air. Instead of shooting at the target, they shot me in the back."

The woman laughed, the sound echoing around him and making the anger mount up even further. How dare she laugh. She had no idea of what being betrayed was like.

"That's stupid," she said plainly. "No one can outrun an arrow."

"I know that now!" he snapped. "I am stupid."

The woman scoffed and laughed some more before taking out a set of bow and arrows. He bristled and glared at her. The weapons were beautiful, well crafted, and no doubt were meant for him. But for him, it was like a taunt. To be gifted the very weapons that ended his life was almost like rubbing salt in the wound.

"What's this?" he asked, not caring if he was talking back and was violating some unknown rule in this world.

"Your weapons," the woman said. Though her mouth remained stitched up, the corners of it tugged upward to resemble some form of a smile.

"I'm not going to—"

The woman raised one of her hands and he was holding the bow. The quiver was strapped across his back and in his other hand, he held an arrow.

"Shoot something," she said and it didn't sound like a suggestion.

"I can't," he said. Arguing with the woman might not be smart, but he really couldn't shoot. "I have a really bad aim and my luck is horrible."

"Is that so?"

With a sigh, he fitted the arrow to the string, raising it and aiming it at a tall pillar in the distance. He let the arrow fly and a screech filled the air as it flew toward his intended target. It shot past the pillar and disappeared behind a hill. He wasn't surprised at all.

"See?" he muttered, about to turn away. The woman pointed and he saw a flash of green. The arrow had rebounded back, striking the spot he'd aimed at earlier. Just before the sharpened arrowhead buried into the stone, he caught sight of a small green spirit attached to the tip of the arrow, guiding it to the target. "Wait, what?"

"The skreemers on your arrows will guarantee that you never miss," the woman said. "They will take the souls of others, just as how yours was taken from you. And consider this a gift, as some sort of compensation for your untimely death."

"Great," he said sarcastically. "I get a bow and some screaming arrows."

"As an additional bonus," the woman said more forcefully as smoke started to swirl around her once more. "Destiny and fate will always play out in your favour." Her voice was nothing more than an echo as she disappeared, leaving him alone by the gates. The doors had swung open, revealing a courtyard that resembled a training arena more than a place of gathering. "Now train, and achieve mastery over your weapons. As my second in command, I do not want you to fail me, Soul Archer."

He relaxed a bit once the woman was gone. The new power was nice. To have luck in his favour would certainly be beneficial in the future, whatever remained of it. He looked at the weapons in his hands, noting that it fit perfectly in his grasp as if it was made for him. The quiver strap wasn't too loose or too tight and when he reached back to grab an arrow, he swore another one appeared instantly. That wasn't too bad either.

"Soul Archer, huh?" he murmured to himself. It was a cool name. A strange one, but still cool. It was better than his previous name, that's for sure. Then again, anything that happened from now might be better than his previous life.

And he was now second in command to the woman, who was no doubt the ruler of this world, if her crown suggested anything. That was an important position, was it not? He wondered how many spirits the woman had considered before she ultimately chose him.

He decided that, if he was to stay in this strange green world, he might as well do his best to survive. And to do that, he'd have to train, like the woman suggested. He raised the bow, fitting an arrow to the string, and let go. As the arrow flew around the courtyard, he watched, a strange feeling of calmness spreading through his body. This was an ability and power he could get used to using. When the arrow thudded into the target, he smiled.

From her spot on her throne, the Preeminent smiled and closed the small window. The new spirit, wronged in his past life and now bitter, would make a fine second in command.