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"My winding hall of memory,

Lined with portraits of you"

"Wake up, Sister."

A touch on her shoulder casts off the veil of sleep, and the day rushes in. She cannot see the light coming until it blinds her. Cannot feel it until it burns.

This is the way she knows the blade which pierces her abdomen.

Arms go numb. Legs, too. Body inert.

But she is still trapped inside.

She forces her body to cry out, because the Pain is not a dream anymore. Not like it used to be. Now it is real, and it erupts from inside of her.

This frightens her.

This Immobility. The not knowing until it is there, until it is too late.

The blade burrows into her stomach, stops mere inches from her spine. It rests there, waiting, radiating frost. Fear. Her numb fingers grasp at the hilt, begging it to go away.

Then the blade fans out, nearly bifurcates her at the waist. Again there is Pain, that flaring crimson, so acute now, but there is also Force. The person inside of her shrieks, but her body only gasps pathetically.

Her eyes, still unseeing, drown in tears.

It is only when the fanned blade pulls out that the girl inside her and her own body reconcile, become one, and she finally sees, finally feels the blood spilling from her stomach. And yet she can only see the void: where the blade came from, where she will go, for it is calling her name.

And in that stillness there is a silhouette, a silky outline of a person she feels she knows. An afterthought of a ghost.

The blade shoots out from the black, toward her eye.

She cries out: "Sister!"

But the word only comes out in blue, tattered ribbons. Stripped of meaning, echoing forlornly into the abyss, a hollow realm beyond her reach.

Her and her body separate before the blade reaches her pupil. The girl in her chest falls back asleep.

Back into the world she came from.

I

"Our bodies sleep – our shadows dream"

"Sister."

Her first word, or her last?

What does it mean? she thinks. To have one? To be one?

She does not understand. Does not care to. But there are some things she does understand. And, in understanding them, these things are hers.

She understands the jade sensation of wet grass on her bare feet. She understands how the sky, alive with fiery hues, curves down and vanishes beyond the Edenian mountains. She understands how the lowlands below the great palace slumber beneath an eternal mist, for she watches them every day, unfailingly. And when the sun goes down, she watches the fog thicken, creep over the black landscape like a thing alive. It does something to her, but she cannot decide which part of her feels it. Her heart? Sister once told her she had one. She believed her sister then. Still does.

But she does not understand, as she approaches the edge of the cliff overlooking the courtyard, why the two men sparring down below become larger as she gets closer, and the sky does not.

She hides behind one of the trees perched on the cliff's edge, presses her body against its rough bark, and looks down upon the courtyard. The evening canvas of Edenia stretches out before her, like a picture resembling memory – the view from the royal palace. She watches the two men exchange blows, dressed in deep mahogany gis. But they cannot see her. The lavender mask concealing her face makes her illusory – even she believes she does not exist.

A strong roundhouse kick to the chest sends the shorter man with the close-cropped hair to the ground, landing hard on his back. The woman imagines the color of the pain: a dense cobalt, spreading along his spine. He yells through his teeth and his partner laughs in triumph, offering his hand. The fallen man accepts the hand, stands up, his posture bent from the pain. His partner pats him on the back unhelpfully, and yet both of them smile.

"I'd thank you not to break my back before a real conflict calls for our skills, Addas," says the loser, coughing.

"Don't tell me you cannot handle a bit of roughhousing, Raphael," laughs the winner. "It is all in good fun."

Raphael scoffs, limps his way back to his side of the mat.

She takes notice of Addas's bald head, silhouetted in the light of the setting sun. His shadow is long, statuesque; it reaches along the length of the mat and consumes Raphael.

"I am serious," says Raphael. "We are yet young. We must apply the wisdom of Masters Irnest and Raiden, lest we rush headlong into foolishness."

Addas widens his grin, loosens his stance - a sign that the training is over. "You are paranoid, my friend. You have not changed. The Queen would not see Edenia enter needless war so soon after the death of her surrogate father." He shrugs. "And with whom would we fight? Our allies in Earthrealm? Or the remains of Outworld's forces? Surely neither would be inclined to participate in yet another game of Mortal Kombat."

Raphael, too, slackens his stance. "You are right. I do not doubt Queen Kitana's wisdom. She shows reason where her father did not." He crosses his arms, ambles toward Addas. "She is more like her mother in that regard."

"And yet you do not sound reassured." Addas's expression is suddenly sullen, serious. He seems to know full well the source of Raphael's anxiety.

She leans in as their voices soften.

"How can I remain assured of Edenia's stability," whispers Raphael. "When the Queen keeps fragments of a past best forgotten at her side?"

They do not turn their heads - they already see her out of the corners of their eyes. Despite her discretion, despite the small cluster of trees in which she hides, they watch her just as she watches them. She feels them looking at her Tarkatan eyes, brooding in still silence; feels them appraising the garb of the Edenian royalty she wears; feels them looking at her mask, and knows that despite its function, they are not fooled. Perhaps they are wiser than she first thought.

No, they do not see me, she thinks. They fool themselves into thinking I am here.

"We'd best not talk about such undesirable things here, Raphael," says Addas, gesturing toward the steps leading down to the city. "Let us return home, where the carnivores of the royal family do not hound our every step."

She watches them make their way down the endless staircase leading to the lowlands, disappearing into the mist.

Disappearing, unlike their words, sharpened like arrowheads in her direction.

The primal urge to descend upon them as they spoke about her, to toy with them, taunt them, and eventually kill them, drives her fingers into the hard bark of the tree. The image of the scene is clear in her mind; why did she not act it out? Her other hand hovers near the sai tied in her sash, her fingers clawed around its hilt as she watches the fighters vanish.

The moment she realizes she's hissing is the moment she notices that there is someone behind her.

She draws her sai, directs its pin-point edge at the woman's face.

The woman's eyebrows jut up, eyes widen, the rest of her face concealed, like hers, by a cerulean mask: standard attire for the Queen's personal retainers.

"I beg pardon, mistress," the woman stammers, bowing. "The Queen requests your presence in her study within the hour." The woman waits for her mistress to lower her sai. She does not. "Actually…she requests that you come as soon as possible. Um, when you are able, that is."

She wisely shuts up. A moment later, her mistress slightly lowers her sai, and her eyebrows slacken from their scowl.

The retainer girl bows again. "Lady Mileena," she says, and steals away, steps charged with fright.

Mileena watches her disappear into the gardens. Disappear, as is the tendency of so many Edenians. Like the very mist from which they emerge. She regards the sai held fast in her grip. Its presence, suddenly real, sends a painful shock of shame through her. The weapon slips from her fingers and fumbles into the grass.

Whatever she might have said to the girl, those words are gone for now. And so she leaves. Picking up her sai, she disappears into the palace which overlooks all of Edenia.

Evening light filters through stained glass windows, painting the hallway in myriad hues of lavender, azure, and jade. To Mileena, these colors are as music, amorphous, her synesthesia composing somber melodies in her head. She feels naked walking down this carpeted path, so brazenly out in the open. The golden ceiling arches high above, as if the palace had originally been built to house a gargantuan saurian race. The sheer scale of it diminishes her, enough that she can trick herself into thinking she is invisible. But the friction of her bare feet against the carpet fosters its own sound, its own sensation, which always brings Mileena back to reality.

And it is always annoying.

"Lady Mileena."

The words ring out from the left and right. The two guards flanking her bow deeply, having emerged while she had been distracted. Their eyes are tightly shut. She knows it is out of fear. She does not respond, despite a nagging urge to speak, for once, instead of act or attack. But they are nothing. If she lets them be more than that, she would not be able to survive here. Unfortunately for Mileena, the word "survival" has lost its meaning, like so many other words taught to her in those eons before her life began.

Her entrance into the Queen's study is soundless, much to Mileena's delight. She adores spying upon her sister, tricking her. Kitana stands before the fireplace, her arms crossed. She speaks to herself, or perhaps to another, conjured by her own imagination. Mileena can hear little of what she says, fragments of words like "Earthrealm" and "watch" slipping through. She inches along the velvet carpet, watching her sister's shadow dance along the opposite wall, cast there by the fire's light. Despite the shadow's statuesque posture, it still flickers, wracked by motion and light.

Shadows always project unease, disquiet. Mileena knows this well, for that is one of her earlier memories, one of the few she has never once doubted. Her own shadow watches from the other end of the wall, and it, too, dances in silence.

"I would prefer speaking with Raiden directly," says Kitana, seemingly to herself. "Though his efforts are to our advantage, Edenia cannot commit to helping Earthrealm without knowing how many of my father's forces still remain."

Silence. Mileena inches closer, inspects her sister's profile, her masked face lapped by the firelight.

"Very well," says Kitana. "One more thing, Sir Cage. 'Kitana' will suffice from now on. 'Babe' will not."

'Sir Cage', wherever he may be, does not respond. Mileena notices the shadows on the wall become startlingly still, as if they are paintings, separated from the bodies that cast them.

"You have been sneaking around the courtyard again." Kitana meets Mileena's stare out the corner of her eye. "You are not as discreet as you think, Mileena."

"'Sneaking'?" says Mileena, pretending to be shocked. "Why, Sister, I do not sneak! Others sneak. I watch."

"And others watch in kind." Kitana turns to Mileena, arms still folded. Her fingers are wrapped around a silver amulet, laced with a string of miniature pearls. "I understand if you do not trust the people here at the palace, but that is no reason to stalk every passerby on the grounds. Your handmaiden, in particular, is growing more nervous than usual."

Mileena presses her fingers to her mask in contemplation. She saunters toward her sister and says, "Who…watches me?" She raises her eyebrows to indicate a grin. "If you are so trusting, that is."

Kitana's mask shifts - a concealed smile. "A friend, if you want me to be specific."

"Friend…?" Mileena tilts her head to one side. Such a confusing word. It is not alien to her – she knows its common meaning, but has never heard Sister use it like this. "And who would a friend be, Sister?" She enunciates the word carefully, as if it is her first time saying it.

Kitana's expression shifts from one of amusement to startled confusion. Mileena is surprised; is the question really so strange?

"Jade, if you really must know," says Kitana. "There is little point in hiding it. She was looking for you and I called you here to address that fact."

"Jade is a…friend?" Mileena's eyebrows perk up as she says the name. She twirls a lock of her own hair around her finger. "Hmm…no, I think Jade is only Jade, sister."

Kitana squints. "Er…what?"

"Well, you see, she is a girl, kind of like you, but not exactly. She walks, talks, and dresses like a girl. She is very pretty like a girl, she can fight, and she can be very cross. She is not funny, but then again most girls are not funny. That all makes her a person. And that person is Jade. And Jade is Jade. And if Jade is a person who is Jade, then that means Jade is Jade is Jade, so…"

She tilts her head to the other side, the lock of hair tightly braided around her finger. "What makes her more than that?"

Kitana gawks at her, but Mileena only stares back, honestly intrigued.

"Mileena, I did not call you here to get trapped in another one of your vicious questioning circles. When did you learn to be so inquisitive, anyway?" Mileena shrugs, her eyes squinted in a smile. "Jade should be here in a few moments. You can ask her yourself."

Mileena gasps excitedly, clasps her hands together.

"'Jade is Jade is Jade'…ugh, it's like talking to a child," whispers Kitana as she turns back toward the fireplace. "Actually, it is talking to a child."

"I can hear you!" chides Mileena. She takes her finger out of her hair, and the braid comes undone like a dark parasol, twirling and dancing, until it falls still along her cheek.

The minutes come and go in flickering waves, the fire casting their two shadows along the wall, as if painting a portrait of the two of them. Kitana tends to a bundle of scrolls laid on the short table beside the fireplace. Curiously, it only takes her a few seconds to peer over one before moving onto another. She must be really fast at reading, thinks Mileena, or they are just pictures. The mystery is enough for Mileena, whose eyebrows perk up with quiet curiosity as she watches from afar.

And she is the first to notice when, several minutes later, Jade enters from the opposite doorway, dressed in her green assassin attire. She pauses at the entrance and nods respectfully to Kitana, who returns the gesture.

"I trust your rounds went well?" says Kitana, rolling up the last scroll and setting it on the table. Jade nods. "That is good. I have reviewed the intelligence gathered by your agents, and have decided that we need a small reconnaissance team for this next task…"

She continues her explanation, the words fading into incoherence to Mileena, whose attention slowly strays to Jade. Mileena buries her hands in the headrest of the couch she is standing behind, her head cocked to one side as she tries to decipher, visually, this particular woman whom Kitana so easily calls a "friend."

In the midst of their conversation, Jade steals a quick glance over to Mileena, then quietly says to Kitana, "So you've decided to bring her here."

"Are you surprised?"

"I'm only surprised that you could coerce her into doing anything. She is very…elusive, Kitana. And not in the manner I would prefer."

Mileena leans forward on the couch. "Oh, don't be rude. I can hear you, you know," she giggles. The two of them glance at her awkwardly. "Hello, Jade," sings Mileena, drawing the last word out into a whisper. Kitana and Jade look visibly disturbed, even with their faces half-concealed. This is Jade's usual expression whenever she chooses to speak with Mileena, which is a rare occurrence in itself.

"You do not look out of place, Mileena," says Jade, gesturing toward Mileena's robes. "I will say that much."

The compliment is unexpected, but somehow relieving - Mileena cockily raises a shoulder and giggles mischievously. A gift from Kitana, the lavender dress, influenced by the kimono style popular in Earthrealm, had been intended to make Mileena blend in as a member of the aristocracy. Her way of wearing it off-the-shoulders, however, infuriates Kitana, who often insists that Mileena is "doing it wrong" and should learn how to "dress properly". Jade's comment obviously does not help Kitana's case, if Kitana's glare is any indication.

"You will need to change into something more suitable, Mileena," says Kitana. "I need you and Jade to head to the forest in the south before nightfall."

Jade's eyes widen. "So you are sending us by ourselves? You were not joking when you said 'small reconnaissance team.'"

"I was planning on having you and Jade investigate the borders of Earthrealm and Outworld, respectively," says Kitana to Mileena. "But my contact in Earthrealm has just informed me that things seem stable on his end. I am redoubling our efforts and sending you both to investigate one of the more active regions of Outworld insurrection."

"Who is your contact in Earthrealm?" asks Jade. "Master Raiden, I presume?"

Mileena grumbles at the mention of the name. Images of lightning bursting from someone's hands, followed by a stinging pain on her skin.

"Raiden is…distracted," says Kitana, taking notice of Mileena's reaction. "It is difficult to explain. I do not have all of the details, but it seems that nobody has seen him since the death of Shao Kahn. I received this latest report from Sir Cage, who told me as much."

Jade raises an eyebrow. "Johnny Cage? You mean the lech?"

"Indeed."

"But I thought he was an idiot."

"He is an idiot," says Kitana. "But as far as relaying information goes, he is competent enough. He has this annoying obsession with the word 'babe', though…"

Mileena approaches the two of them, her shadow on the wall joining theirs in a fluid dance. "And who are we to pursue, Sister?" Her voice teems with anticipation. She feels an elation which was not present before; that kind of excitement which is only fostered by directive, by a task. She feels, somehow, alive, more so than she has in the past few lazy days. Jade notices this, and eyes her with more suspicion than usual.

"I cannot tell you the whole story now. There is not enough time," says Kitana. "I have enclosed the details of the mission to Jade, so I suggest you leave it to her to worry about that. Suffice it to say there are still some people who would see our realm threatened, even in this new era of peace. If we wish to keep that peace, we must root out such corruption."

"There is supposedly a band of mercenaries in the forest to the south," says Jade. "My scouts believe that they are agents from Outworld. If that is the case, then we must deal with them swiftly."

"That is all we can say," says Kitana. She then glares at Mileena for a moment, the connection between the two of them nearly tangible. "Control and discretion, Mileena. Despite what you may feel, this is not a game."

Mileena shrugs, her eyes squinting in a concealed smile. "So serious! You are no fun, Sister!"

She flutters her eyelashes at Jade. "I shall prepare myself. One moment, please…" she coos, and then slinks out of the room and into the hallway leading to her room, her robes trailing behind her in a dancing sway. When she feels she's disappeared from view, Mileena leans up against the wall, concealed in shadow, and peers back into the study. She sees Kitana and Jade exchange glances of equal parts frustration and reservation.

"Watch her, Jade," says Kitana. "Please. This effort cannot fail. We are taking a heavy risk sending her with you. I do not want anything to happen to her."

"You do not even have to tell me," says Jade, taking her leave.

Mileena does not know what drives her sister to say this, to command that she be watched, followed, but it frustrates her. She wishes she had more time to think about this. But more of a mystery is Jade, who evades definition, even if Kitana calls her "friend." Mileena only knows that Jade is gone, and will be waiting for her, watching, for reasons that escape her.

In return, Mileena will watch back, and she'll have her game after all. And so she steals into her chambers, the rules of her contest already brewing in her mind.