Chapter Thirteen | The Royal Blacksmiths

                                    

                                          
*I  DO NOT OWN THE NINJAGO UNIVERSE AND ITS PAST, PRESENT AND EMERGING CHARACTERS. AND THE PLOT OF THE SHOW.  I ONLY OWN MY CURRENT CHARACTER | SAMUEL JASON HOLLAND. *

The ancient pyramid loomed ahead, its jagged silhouette cutting into the grey horizon like a dagger poised for bloodshed. Inside, the Serpentine slithered with purpose, their tongues flicking in and out as they sensed the air for any signs of movement. The walls, etched with forgotten symbols, echoed the soft hissing of their whispers, an eerie symphony to accompany their hunt for the elusive Constrictai Fangblade. 
Pythor, leading the group with his sinister grin ever-present, clutched Sam's bow staff as though it was a prize, Pythor still claimed it as a trophy ever since Sam lost in the fight against the Serpentine generals in the sewers. His long, purple scaly form moved like a shadow through the dim corridors, casting long, jagged reflections on the cold stone walls. Behind him, Skales followed closely, his mind focused solely on the Fangblade they sought, until–
Thud!
Skales smacked into Pythor's back, the sound effect sent loose stones clattering on the floor. 
"Ugh," Skales growled, rubbing his snout, his red hypnotic eyes narrowed even in further irritation as he glared at the back of Pythor's head. "Why must we stop? The next Fangblade is just ahead."
Pythor turned slowly, his elongated neck curling as his eyes burned with annoyance. He raised his staff, the twisted metal catching the dim light, and with one swift motion, Pythor stuck the stone beneath them. The floor trembled violently in response, a web of cracks spreading like lightning across the surface. Dust from the ancient stone rained down from the ceiling, swirling in the state air like a storm of forgotten time.
"What good," Pythor hissed, his voice dripping with venom, "is unlocking the Great Devourer with foud Fangblades, if we're not around to see it? Get the boy."
Skales muttered something under his breath but moved to obey. Two Serpentine, their scales glistening like wet obsidian in the faint light, slithered over to where Lloyd was chained, his small frame dwarfed by the pillars around him. With a flick of their tails, the chains fell away. 
Lloyd blinked in surprise. "Oh, you're letting me go?"
Pythor's smile stretched wider, but there was no warmth in it. Only malice. "Heh. Only to fetch, my dear boy." He beckoned Lloyd toward the edge of a dark yawning pit. The boy hesitated, glancing down into the abyss where sharp rocks and treacherous traps lay in wait.
"Do step lightly," Pythor added, the mockery in his town was unmistakable. 
Lloyd gulped, his small hands trembling as he approached the ledge. His legs wobbled, and he almost lost his footing. A frightened yelp escaped his throat as he flailed for balance. 
Pythor watched with cold amusement, his thin lips curling into a sneer. "Bring me the Fangblade, and I'll let you go." 
Lloyd hesitated, his gaze lingering on the pit below before he turned back to the towering Anacondrai. His heart pounded in his chest, but he mustered the courage to speak, his voice steady despite the fear gnawing at him. 
"And Sam's staff," Lloyd added, the words surprising even himself as they left his mouth. There was an unusual firmness in his tone, Pythor's eyes narrowed slightly at Lloyd's confidence. 
Pythor's sneer faltered, but he quickly recovered, his mocking grin returning with a dismissive wave. "Fine," he said, the word dripping with false generosity. "But only if you fetch the Fangblade."