Cole Becket let out a silent sigh as he reclined in his chair. He was supposed to be focusing on the teacher who was directing a couple of students in singing a song from the play Spamlet the musical, but he was too busy wondering how long it would be until school was out. All the other students sitting next to him had their binders open and were taking notes, meanwhile Cole subtly put his earbuds in and started listening to The Fold as quietly as he could. He started counting the minutes as they went by, tapping his foot anxiously as he did so.

"Mr. Becket!"

Cole snapped his head up and looked at the teacher who was eyeing him with a scowl on her face.

"I'm not going to tell you again; take those earbuds out and pay attention," she snarled, making the whole class stare at them both. "Your father doesn't pay this school to have you babysat." Cole muttered something under his breath and put his music player away. He knew it was his own fault for deliberately ignoring the teacher, but he still hated being told what to do. He especially didn't like it when the professors mentioned his father; a very well-known vocalist and dancer who had won many awards. He had sent Cole to the Marty Oppenheimer School of Performing Arts just a few months ago, and he had hated it the moment he stepped on campus.

Cole had no interest in becoming a performer like his father. He had no real interest in becoming anything, actually. Well, at the very least he hadn't found anything that he wanted to do. He had thought about running away from school and joining the Imperial Army, but he was a bit nervous about the idea for one particular reason; the very same reason which made him uneasy just to be around other people, especially at school. He wasn't like the rest of them. Cole had a very special, very unique ability.

Ever since he was about eight years old, he discovered that he could control earth. He had no idea why or how, but if he wanted to send a rock flying ten yards, he could do it without even touching it. As the years went by, Cole began to feel a sort of connection to the earth, like it could speak to him in a language he used to understand, but he never had the chance to fully explore that language or his powers with his father constantly pushing him to succeed as a performer.

Cole also never told anyone. Not his father, not his mother, and especially none of his friends. How could he? People already looked at him differently because of his parentage; the last thing he wanted was for them to look at him like he was a freak. So he distanced himself from pretty much everyone he knew, and didn't bother to make any close friends at this new school.

He was dragged out of his thoughts when the teacher called for all the students to come and sing one of their songs together. Cole sang tenor; not that you'd know that because he sang so quietly and with so little effort that had he not been present, it would have made little to no difference.

Class ended shortly thereafter and Cole hurriedly grabbed his things and was out the door before the professor could stop him. He hated when they tried to give him one of those 'I believe in you, but you gotta commit to your lessons' speeches because they were just wasting their breath on him. He had made up his mind long ago that he wasn't going to listen to anyone here or try to learn to sing or dance. Besides, he was no good at either.

He walked down the dismal hallways until he reached his locker and stowed his sheet music, exchanging it for his recital script. The next and final class was acting, and although he didn't mind it as much as singing or dancing, the director would constantly be nagging him about how he was never committing enough to his part or trying his hardest. Cole heaved a deep sigh as he prepared for the worst and took off toward the classroom.

Just as he turned a corner, he suddenly found himself face-to-face with another student—Emi—and nearly knocked her over as they barely missed running into each other.

"I'm so sorry!" Emi cried as she stepped back and hugged her binder closer to her chest.

"No, it's okay, I should've been looking where I was going," Cole replied. "I, uh, heard you got the lead part in the school's upcoming play."

"Oh, yeah, I did. It was no big deal," said Emi as she brushed her silky black hair out of her face and shuffled her feet awkwardly. "And what about you? Anything new.... happening?"

"Detention," Cole said flatly.

"Oh," was all Emi said in reply. The two fidgeted with what they were holding for a few seconds of agonising uncomfortableness.

"Well, I should get going. Acting class and all," said Cole stiffly.

"Oh, right, yeah. I've got singing now, I should get going too."

The two parted ways much like how they had met—suddenly and awkwardly. At times like these, Cole played with idea of actually becoming a performer and setting down roots in the artist community, but there still wasn't enough there to convince him to commit. He still couldn't sing, he still couldn't dance, and he still had his weird powers, which didn't really set him apart from the other kids except in his own mind, but it still made him feel out of place. After all, what was he? Was he even really human, or some sort of spirit or demigod? There was always a part of him that agonised over these questions.

Acting class was long, boring, and exhausting. When the final bell rang, to Cole, it was like the sound of the ice cream truck coming down the street on a hot summer day. But before he could head out the door, he was stopped by the director, Mr. Kawasaki.

"Cole," he said, "have you been practicing in your spare time like we discussed?"

Cole thought about lying for moment, but he was pretty sure that Mr. Kawasaki already knew he hadn't. "No," he replied.

The director sighed. "What's up, son? Is there something wrong? Something you want to talk about?"

"No," Cole said again.

Now Mr. Kawasaki was starting to look exasperated. "Then why don't you ever give a hundred percent in class? And not just my class, all the classes. Why don't you wanna be here?"

Cole didn't say anything for a few seconds. Firstly, he was conflicted about opening up, and secondly, if he did, he was wondering how he would phrase it. "I just don't wanna be a performer," was all that came out.

"Then why are you here?" the director asked.

"I dunno. Cause my dad put me here?" Cole was worried he'd said too much. He didn't really want a long conversation right now. "Look, I gotta go. Detention and all."

"Right, of course. We'll talk more later."

"Fat chance of that," Cole muttered under his breath as he walked through the crowded hallways.

He spent most of detention doodling in his sketchbook. Nothing he would call 'art' but he did think his drawing skills were much better than his singing.

Finally, as the sun was beginning to set, Cole was free to do whatever he wanted. He packed up his things, threw them in his locker, sprinted to his dorm room, got changed, then went racing toward the nearby hiking trail. Cole was a very big and strong eighteen-year-old, attributed mostly to how much time he spent outside playing sports and other activities. As he shook off the last bit of stiffness in his legs, he felt like he was flying down the road.

However strong he was, though, he knew the only reason he could run so fast and for so long was because he had always been abnormally strong, which was one reason he had wanted to play sports when he was younger, but of course his father wouldn't let him.

He arrived at the trail after about a minute and looked up at the towering mountain. It was the smallest peak in a mountain chain that ran the length of Ninjago, and it was also where Cole did his favourite activity: rock climbing. After a long day of being cooped up in a classroom, nothing made him feel better than getting his hands dirty. He also liked it when it was late so that no one would be around to see him practise his powers. Sometimes he would climb up onto ledges where he could sit and try to sculpt things out of rock. Not very cool, but it was the most subtle way he could practise. His powers also came in very handy when climbing in general: if he ever slipped, he could just make a convenient ledge appear that he could grab on to, or he could make footholds in the stone to help him climb faster.

Today, however, he didn't practise. He just wanted to get as far away from his problems as possible. He was frustrated with his whole situation, and climbing was one of the only ways he could clear his head.

There was something off about today that Cole couldn't really define. It was like there was someone watching him—or at least that's what it felt like. There was this presence he could sense not too far away and he wasn't sure if it was good or bad, or even real. When he finally crested the last peak, after twilight had fallen, he finally figured out what that strange presence was. As he stood at the top of the mountain, sweaty and out of breath, he saw an old man with a long white beard, wearing a long white robe, sitting by a small campfire sipping tea. He looked up at him with very striking blue eyes.

"Hello, Cole," he said in a raspy voice.

Cole froze. "Do I know you?" he asked.

He smiled and breathed a quiet chuckle. "I should think not. Come, sit. You must be tired after your arduous journey." Cole hesitated at first, but really what would be the harm in talking with an old man by a fire? He was tired, after all. So he sat on the stone of the mountain across from the man and let the fire warm him from the cold night air.

"How do you know my name?" Cole asked after a while. "Are you one of my dad's friends?"

"No," he answered calmly.

"Then who are you? Why are you up here?" Cole pressed.

"Perhaps that is the question for me to ask," the man countered.

Cole was beginning to get an uneasy feeling in his stomach and felt a strange tingling sensation near the back of his head. The more the old man dodged his questions, the more acute the feelings became.

"Tell me, Cole, why do you climb the mountain?" he asked.

Cole was taken aback somewhat by that question. No one had ever asked him something like that before. "I dunno," he answered. "I just like it." The old man was giving him a look that said 'I can see right through you'. "I-It clears my head, I guess."

"What do you have to clear your head of?" he continued as he sipped his tea.

Cole didn't really want to talk about it, especially with a stranger, but as the seconds wore on, that uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach began to disappear, leaving only the tingling sensation. There was something about this man that made Cole want to trust him. Maybe it was his friendly smile, or his laid-back nature, he couldn't tell.

"I'm kind of in a... situation," Cole began. "My dad... has me enrolled at the Marty Oppenheimer, but... honestly, performing is the last thing I wanna do. I dunno, maybe my dad wouldn't have done it if... if he..." Cole brushed his hand through his shaggy black hair and sighed loudly. "You see... I just... lost someone. My dad should be sad, or angry, or something, but he just acts like it never happened! He spends all his time in this musical group, a-and sends me off to boarding school hoping that I'll do the same! With her gone—" Cole stopped and sucked in a deep breath as he steadied himself. "It's just been hard. I don't really have anyone to talk to about it. I've thought about joining the Imperial army, you know? At least out there I'd be useful. But..."

"What is holding you back from enlisting?" the old man asked.

Cole felt panic rise inside of him. He'd said too much. "Um... I guess... I dunno. Maybe I'm afraid of what my dad will say."

There was a stretch of silence between the two. The man looked at the boy with sad and knowing eyes. "Grief is a strange and terrible thing which can take many forms," he said, stroking his beard. "Some sing and dance. Others climb mountains."

Cole looked up at him suddenly. "Why did you climb the mountain?" he asked.

"To find you, Cole," the man replied. Cole's eyes widened. "There's another reason why you won't join the army, isn't there? Something makes you feel different from other people. Makes you feel out of place."

Cole began to panic again and rose to his feet. "I should get going, it's getting late."

He turned around to leave. "You cannot run from destiny, Cole." Cole stopped. "There is still much you do not know, and much you have yet to learn about yourself." He turned around to face the man as he continued. "I've heard tell of a young boy who can move rock without touching it, command stone without speaking a word. You have a very special gift, indeed."

"Look, whatever you've heard, i-it's not true, I mean—"

"Cole, I understand your fear, but there is no need for it. My name is Master Wu, military advisor of the Imperial Army," he explained, standing up.

"Master Wu?" Cole echoed, his eyes widening. "I'm so sorry, I didn't recognise you!"

"There is no need for apologies, Cole," said Wu gently. "I am in great need of you and your special abilities, if you're still interested in joining the war?"

"Yes, sir, I am!" Cole replied eagerly. He wasn't entirely sure what was happening, but if the Master Wu offers you a job, you take it. He had heard stories of this man; this man who had fought in wars before Cole was born and vanquished evil countless times. He was a military genius and had at one time been the advisor of the Emperor. There was also a lot of mystery surrounding him. No one knew where he came from, or from what family he hailed.

"It is of the upmost importance that you do not tell anyone of this meeting," Wu continued. "I have already negotiated with your headmaster, and you have his full permission to drop out of your studies." Wu stepped forward and handed Cole a small scroll. "I look forward to our next meeting, young Cole."

"You're leaving?" Cole asked.

"There is much to be done," he replied. "And unfortunately very little time to do it. Follow the instructions on the scroll. Cole, there is greatness within you, but also much turmoil. Be wise in the coming months and listen to your elders, or you may find the turmoil overpowering." Wu gave him a warm smile then picked up his tea kettle and walked out of the light of the campfire until the shadows had swallowed him entirely. Cole was left standing on the peak of a mountain with a scroll in his hand and excitement in his heart.

He blinked and had to pinch himself to make sure he wasn't dreaming. The Master Wu had just invited him to join a special military operation, but.... how had he known about his powers? How had that old man climbed the mountain? Surely he was far too feeble to walk all that way on his own.

The only piece of new information he had was in the scroll still resting in his hand. He ripped it open and held it up to the fire light and in very professional writing it said,

Cole Becket,

I'm sure you must have many questions, all of which I will

answer in time, but for now you must rely on faith. Go to

the Yamadera monastery in the Wayward Mountains outside of

Ninjago City. There you will meet the woman Ann Jing Haruto, who

is a trusted ally of mine. Await further instructions.