Epilogue

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The stars glittered coldly from the clear night sky, with but a few faint wisps of clouds stifling their light. A full moon glimmered through those clouds now, only just beginning its waning stage. A lone mountain stood out against this sky. Within the shelter of this mountainside stood a door. Beyond this door lay a small house built into the hill itself. Within this house was Matilda.

It'd only been several days since her return to her own realm. It felt good to be back home, but it took work to forget the other place she'd left behind. Bad memories were easier to forget when there weren't good memories mixed in with them.

That night she was sitting comfortably before a roaring fireplace. She sat upon a small couch, surrounded by books with a blanket thrown across her lap. It was there she decided to go through her small bag that acted as her regular purse, to clean it out. She made it a habit to organize her bag after long adventures, and by now her hands had almost completely healed from their dark burns and sore blisters.

First were the empty potion bottles. Making a mental note to refill them, she stacked them neatly on a side table. Next were some exotic herbs, a gracious gift from Sky Pelt. She would experiment with them later, and perhaps create a new potion. Along with those she found her quill pen and notebook, followed by other small knickknacks she took along on her quests.

Sorting these things out in her lap, a small object she didn't recognize glinted in the firelight. Hesitating, making sure she wasn't seeing things, she took it and held it up to her eye.

With a jolt she finally recognized it—some object for amusement she'd had a long time ago, one she'd given as a gift to someone else in more recent years. It was an object of many dark, iron rings connected together to make a single ring, with a pattern engraved in each piece. When lined up together the image of a little dragon showed up on the ring.

Her heart jumped strangely, in a painful sort of way. She remembered giving that thing to Cole, a long time ago. What's it doing here?

For a while she stared at it wonderingly. Then she quietly said to herself, "Ah, kid... You may try to forget about this story, but I shan't ever forget you."

* * *

"This ends now, Samukai."

Jay frowned at the plastic replica of Samukai's head in his hand. "Nope. Pretending this is the actual Samukai doesn't make cleaning the museum any more interesting." His voice rose in exasperation. "This is so lame! We're ninja, not janitors!"

"Come on, Jay." Lloyd entreated his friend while the others worked around them. Dust was being swept away, rubble collected and tossed into the trash, and broken replicas were being searched and gathered for repair or for storage. They'd spent several hours now, working to clean up the Ninjago Museum of History. The ninja had all underestimated the amount of damage done during the Day of Departed debacle, and now they were paying the price for it.

Lloyd pointed out that if it weren't for the events of Day of the Departed: "...this place would still be in one piece," he finished, using that wise-sensei tone of voice.

"Yeah, and whose fault is, that, Cole?" Jay whipped around to glare at his friend standing in the corner, handling a painting of Sensei Yang.

Cole rolled his eyes. "OK. How many more times do I have to say 'I'm sorry' for accidentally unleashing the ghostly forces of evil that attacked Ninjago?" He tossed the painting into a wheelbarrow and grabbed the handles.

"How high can you count?" Jay muttered.

Without warning, heat surged down Cole's arms. A familiar glow shone through the sleeves of his uniform; an unearthly, orange light. He could barely make out the jagged pattern etched down his arms beneath the sleeves.

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