On opening her eyes, she had found the door to her cell ajar and the lonely hallway outside quiet and dark.
She did not know how it had happened. She assumed a silent assault by her shadow family and took the opportunity to walk to freedom. Back to her Master; her love and her sisters.
His plan to overthrow Ninjago had been thwarted. To all, it seemed that she had been the mastermind; a sleeping psychopath masquerading as the Royal Couple's adopted Daughter. That was how she had ended up imprisoned for more lives than she could ever live. They believed she had controlled The Sons of Garmadon and she had, in his name. She was his general, his Quiet One. She killed her 'Royal Family' and summoned the Darkness that would tear a hole in reality, all to let her Master take control. She would have sat by his side, ruling the city had the Ninja not endured. Not bad for a street kid she thought and remembered her early life fighting to keep her sisters safe until she allied her life to her Masters'.
They had lost everything and he had saved them; saved her. She gave herself over to him freely and repaid him for saving her remaining family with her devotion and commitment to his cause. She had held his name close to her heart all those years, keeping him safe even at the end, even now.
It had been the sound of bolts that woke her and she had stared into the dark until her eyes adjusted to the darker space beyond the open door. The air passed between captivity and freedom as if drawn into the vacuum of space and she gravitated with it.
In the stillness of the prison at night, the hallways revealed the reason for its silence. Strewn across the floor, the bodies of guards lay crumpled where they fell, staring death in the eye, their faces questioned the reason. There was no blood, no weapon marks. Clean kills. Too clean; even the sharpest sword drew blood.
She should leave, go now, but she hovered in the darkness mesmerised by the bodies of the dead guards. Their ghosts floated around her like a dream that felt all too familiar and the eyes of their corpses stared at her, wide and alert as if about to tell the secret to their demise and in a flash the ghosts settled back in their bodies and she remembered.
It had been her. She had separated their lives from their bodies as if she willed it. Had it taken nothing more than that?
From the far end of the corridor a subtle light rippled. Inky metal limbs sped silent through the space and were upon her just as she registered a threat. The blade sliced cleanly across her throat and she fell.
She saw the face of her assassin move above her, their features flickering, shimmering from black to silver; soft hair, like molten metal fell forward and dark eyes glowed violet. The Quiet One convulsed for air, blood seeping from her throat and as she passed into a black sleep finally she realised that power resided in her and she did not need her body to wield it.
Somewhere between life and death, Gene watched like a shadow as it settled to stillness. Pressing her hand to the wound on her throat the nindroid spoke gently to her foe 'don't worry, you'll live'.
'I may live, but you won't' she thought.
When she awoke, her attacker was dead and she relished remembering everything.