Author's Note: Welcome to my newest story in the Mortal Kombat fandom. To all my old friends and followers, it's nice to see you all again, and to my new readers, I hope you enjoy your stay! I'm sorry you haven't seen me for a bit; I've had family troubles. Yes, I'm still working on Aftermath, and have an update in the works, but this plot bunny just started gnawing at my brain and wouldn't stop until I wrote out the first few chapters.

Anyway, this story takes place roughly 19 years after the events of The Curse of the Dragon Medallion, and roughly 5 years before the events of MKX. Without saying too much too soon, it follows the (mis)adventures of Kuai Liang and Anya's oldest daughter. It's slightly AU simply because when I first started writing my trilogy way back when, I obviously didn't anticipate MKX's storyline, and I instead followed the earlier MK games. Oops. Anyway, without further ado, here you go. It has begun! Enjoy, and if you'd like to review, I'd love to hear from you :)

Outworld, 19 Years Ago

The water of the Sea of Blood stretched out before Reiko, gleaming from the hundreds of fires engulfing the war ships that ran aground centuries ago. Those eternal flames – testaments to the Emperor's military might – provided the only light for miles in all directions. The voice of the sea was seductive to his ears – never ceasing, always whispering, clamoring, murmuring, inviting the soul to wander in abysses of solitude. All along the white beach, up and down, there were no people in sight, but a bird with a broken wing beat the air above, reeling, fluttering, and finally circling down to the water where it would soon die like him.

Earlier that evening, Reiko had found Shao Kahn's battle armor still mounted inside the armoire in his sleeping quarters. The General, in his grief, had put it on, leaving his own robes on the stone floor of his foster father's room. But now that he was standing beside the sea, absolutely alone and full of despair, he cast the unpleasant, prickling plate armor from his body. For the first time in his life, he stood naked in the open air, at the mercy of the elements, and the warm breeze that beat upon him, and the bloody waves that beckoned him to come. How strange and awful it seemed to stand naked under the sky! How invigorating! He felt like some newborn creature, opening his eyes in a familiar world that he'd never before been allowed to know.

The foamy wavelets curled up to Reiko's white feet and coiled like serpents around his ankles. He fearlessly walked out. The water, in spite of the heat in the Wastelands, was shockingly cold like a gust of wind from the Bīnglěng Di Dìyù, but still he trudged on. The touch of the sea was sensuous, enveloping his body in its soft, close embrace like the arms of a passionate lover. For a moment, he hesitated.

He remembered the night the Edenian armada had attacked the forces of Outworld, and how King Jerrod had raided his ship and thrown him overboard to drown, and he recalled the terror that seized him at the fear of being unable to regain the shore. He did not look back to it now as he did then, but instead he thought of the grassy meadow he had traversed when he was a young orphan boy, believing that it had no beginning and no end. Now, he was tired. He thought of Quan Chi and Shang Tsung, certain they'd murdered the Emperor and were now using all the resources and warriors in Shao Kahn's powerful arsenal to do gods knew what. But they should not have thought that they could possess him, Reiko, High General of Outworld, the Emperor's adopted son, in body and soul.

Exhaustion pressed upon and overpowered him. Goodbye – because I love you. His mother's voice whispered hauntingly through his mind as she died. He did not know what she meant; he did not understand. He would never understand. Perhaps his adopted sister, Kitana, would have understood if he had seen her one last time – but it was too late; the shore was far behind Reiko and she was long gone anyway. He looked into the distance, his mind unable to wrap itself around the eternal vastness of the sea. The familiar terror flamed up for an instant but then sank again as quickly as it rose. Reiko heard Shao Kahn's voice, and then Kitana's. He heard the barking of a golden dog that frolicked in the field of his youth beside him. The heavy boots of the Emperor thudded as he walked across the dirt. The hum of bees. That deep voice commanding the other soldiers to teach the young boy how to fight.

Reiko began to move forward again, but abruptly stopped when he felt the sudden surge of life, a creature appearing nearby where there had been none. He raised a hand, and the weapon he'd casually laid aside with Shao Kahn's armor heaved itself into his waiting grip. The scythe was enormous, taller than its wielder. Its blade was a hideous thing, jagged and crafted like the wing of some great beast, longer than Reiko's outstretched arms fingertip-to-fingertip.

He squinted, peering into the dimness, and made a swift decision. As quickly as he could think it, his scythe flowed, fluid for less than the blink of an eye. He was now holding two weapons where there had only been one: two smaller crescents, thick and heavy. Blades that would be easier to swing and thrust through the violent gusts than the longer, broader scythe.

"I didn't know you could do that."

Reiko had never heard that voice, dusky and sneering, before. Frowning, he turned and began to trek back to the intruder who now stood idly upon the sand. He was, upon first glance, a monstrous entity. The skin from his nose and cheeks down had been carefully peeled away to reveal the skull beneath. A topknot the color of death's shadow peeked through his galea helm, and the wild strands fell to shoulders clad in angular plate armor and red and black robes. His entire aspect was lean and strong, and when Reiko stepped from the bloody water, it took him a moment to realize that, as tall as he himself was, he barely reached the stranger's chin.

"I am Reiko," he said simply. His voice was low, sonorous, devoid of pomp or vanity. "My scythe is bound to me by the Emperor's spell. Whatever tools I require, it can emulate. Now tell me why a soul from Chaosrealm is trespassing in Outworld."

"You recognize my people. I'm flattered."

"Don't be. Lord Koa'tal told me about your kind," he said. "My Emperor told me more about you. Care to guess who I'm more likely to believe?"

The intruder sniggered softly. "Surely you know better than to listen to rumor and gossip, General Reiko."

"Depends on who's spreading the rumors." He clutched his twin scythes even tighter and cast a subtle, challenging glance at the intruder.

The visitor crossed his arms as if he hadn't seen the veiled threat. "I am a Cleric of Chaos. My name does not matter." He cast his gaze at the sea, his cloak rippling like a banner in the breeze. "Such a lovely place you've chosen to end your life. Very…you."

"I enjoy the view," he drily remarked.

"Heh. I've heard you were a sarcastic bastard."

"What do you want, Cleric?"

Clearly, the man had no interest in answering Reiko's question, at least not yet. "Why do you wish to kill yourself, General? Because Shao Kahn is dead?" He scoffed at that. "Your loyalty to your Emperor is pathetic. Commendable, but pathetic."

"I need not the approval of an anarchist minion from the Realm of Chaos."

Again, that irritating little laugh. "I can see why the Emperor kept you as his pet all these long years."

Reiko's nostrils flared in barely controlled fury. He narrowed his eyes. "What do you want, Cleric?" he repeated. "You're wasting my time."

"Indeed," he agreed. "I want you to die. You must first lose everything if you are to gain everything. Baptize yourself in blood and water, General." Unimpressed, Reiko stared at him somberly, refusing to dignify his statement with a response. So the intruder continued. "I know of the prophecy you heard in the temple the day you laid siege to the Kreeyan homelands. It is why you wish to die today. You feel as if the goddess failed you, and you would rather die than bend a knee to another tyrant."

For the first time in what felt like eons, both of Reiko's eyes threatened to pop from his face. He had never shared that prophecy with anyone; it had been his most jealously guarded secret, never once uttered aloud. "How could you possibly know that?" he hissed, prickling at how close to his heart this stranger had gotten.

The Cleric scowled. "You might devote some effort toward not being offensive," he told him. "Considering that I'm offering to help you."

"You? Why?"

"Because if you succeed, I will have a powerful ally sitting on the throne of not just Outworld, but of all the Realms. I can stand at his side as he changes the very fabric of reality. And because, power and alliances aside, the legacy you seek for yourself is almost as fascinating to me as the greatest of this universe's creations."

Reiko had doubts and suspicions, of course; would have been a fool not to. And this Cleric would have been as great a fool not to expect him to have doubts and suspicions. But in the end, his words intrigued him.

"Very well. I'm listening-"

"Give me your weapon," he ordered, interrupting him. "Whole, that is."

The General glanced at him uneasily, acutely aware of his nakedness and vulnerability. But then he clanged both scythes together, and the two individual weapons became one once more. He twisted it around and then, with a simple flourish of his wrists, placed it in the Cleric's outstretched hands.

Not particularly impressive in any way, it was just a plain scythe, clunky and thick. The Outworld smiths had been crafting sleeker weapons for centuries, if not longer. The intruder frowned. "I was expecting something more…" And then he shrugged. "Well, no matter. Your blood will reign, General. But first, it must run."

At that, he swung the weapon into Reiko's middle. The General, suddenly struggling for air, collapsed to his knees as blood spurted over the fingers now pressed to the wound. Even with a skeleton mouth, the Cleric gave the impression of a sly grin. "I suppose I probably ought to have mentioned that first thing, shouldn't I?"

Reiko's fist was clenched around the haft of his scythe, which was now dripping with his blood; he didn't even remember summoning it back to him. Had the Cleric been nearer, it might well have been his throat in the weapon's place. He finally found his voice, and mustered a cry of pain. It pierced the air, shrill and painful, a sound as much spiritual as physical. And something both spiritual and physical answered his call.

If the surging power of life and the crushing weight of despair took a physical form, they would have been the same homicidal red as the mist that billowed out of nothing from the sand around his feet. A growing staccato resolved itself into the deafening sound of a heart beating. It flowed into Reiko steadily, healing the mortal wound the Cleric had inflicted upon him, feeding him raw energy, rejuvenating and strengthening his will to live.

"Better, yes?" the intruder asked.

"What…did you do to me?" Reiko gasped as he slowly rose to his feet.

"I gave you a taste of the power of Blood Magik," he explained. "Through it, you will ascend to godhood, General. But first, you must retrieve a particular artifact that is, unfortunately, currently well-guarded in Earthrealm."

"And what is this object I seek, Cleric?"

"Shinnok's amulet," he simply replied.