You were a cursed spirit. You died a rather... memorable death, although your memory was hazy at times. You were banished to the Cursed Realm in death, being trapped there for what felt like centuries. It was horrible! Either way, you were minding your own business in the Cursed Realm, being trapped and bored and whatever else. Keyword being were. Past tense. Suddenly, the smell of burning wax hit you. Candles? You furrowed your brows in confusion... and then you found yourself somewhere new. A monastery room, clean and organized, it seemed to be fairly empty...

.

...Then you noticed the candles lit around the room, the symbol drawn on the ground, and, of course, the dark-haired male holding an old book. Wait, a person? He had dark brown hair, and unnervingly red eyes. He looked... surprised to see you.

Garmadon set up candles around the spare room, locking the door so his brother wouldn't chide him for the unwise act of bringing back the dead. He lit the candles, grabbing an old book he'd nabbed from the library. Most of the books belonged to his father, the First Spinjitzu Master, so he was sure they would have what he'd need. He flipped through the pages, finding a spell to bring back a ghost. He was fairly sure it wouldn't work, but he'd deal with it if it did. After all, he could just send the ghost back!

...He couldn't.

You were sat on the floor in front of Garmadon, him mentally chiding himself. He couldn't bring himself to send you back to the Cursed Realm, from what you had told him, you didn't deserve your fate. He sighed, combing a hand through his messy hair.

"So, first of all, you're not leaving my sights until you can prove to be trustworthy." He warned darkly, shooting you a glare. "And if my brother, Wu, catches you, I didn't summon you. Got it?" He was not about to deal with his kinder brother's scoldings... even if they were well deserved.