A pounding headache woke the woman from her sleep, and she slowly sat upright as she held her skull in both hands. She had no idea who she was, or even where she was. The dark, candlelit bedchamber was not familiar to her, but then again, she had no idea why it should be. There was nothing in her mind but a brilliant white curtain that overpowered everything behind it. When she concentrated and tried to pull the curtain back, something sharp and hot like a fireplace poker stabbed the inside of her brain, prompting her to groan in agony.

Finally, the woman gave up.

Soon after the pain subsided, she surveyed her surroundings again. The small room disturbed her. A tapestry of a great and bloody battle hung over a four-poster bed constructed of some humanoid creature's bones. She sat on its mattress, curling the sheets around her body like a protective shield as she stared apprehensively at the grotesque suits of armor flanking either side of the heavy wooden chamber door. The bodies seemed normal enough, but the eyeholes in their helmets had been fixed with ruby red lenses that bubbled out like an insect's eyes and glowed in the candlelight, making them look more like evil sentries than inanimate objects.

The woman felt decidedly uncomfortable in that room, and her fear was reinforced by her lack of memory. She had to get out. Of this, she was certain. So after she slid from the gruesome bed and crossed the short distance to the door, she slipped into the grand hall. It too was dimly lit by candles, and it featured more of the same décor. Bizarre suits of armor like those in her room were evenly spaced several feet apart. On the walls above them hung immense tapestries of more violent battles; some took place on the sea, some on the land, some in dense forests, and some in barren black landscapes. A massive man wearing a mask made from bone was featured in them all. Sometimes he was on the front lines charging into battle with a hammer, and sometimes with a spear, and then other times he sat astride a weird beast at the rear of his army. His colors and insignia flew on banners around him. Whoever owned this castle or palace, presumably the man in the tapestries, had clearly meant to intimidate and terrorize his servants and guests by demonstrating his military might.

It worked. The woman crept through the halls in fear of him, as if he, wherever he presently was, could see her sneaking about and darting behind suit of armor to suit of armor. She knew not what she looked for, only that she was confident it could not be found here in this grotesque nightmare of a place, under the ever-watchful red eyes of that terrible man.

Yet interestingly enough, she was certain she knew him, and not merely because she stood in the middle of what had to be his palace. A different kind of tapestry, a portrait, lured her into the open hallway. The woman stood beneath it in awe, studying the way he put his hands on his hips, and the way his bare, muscly chest puffed forward in pride as he glared upon the corridor with his menacing expression. For a second, she saw a graveyard somewhere far away. Now, standing in that hallway and concentrating on him intently, she felt his hot tongue lick her neck. Her skin suddenly crawled. He had touched her, and it had not been a pleasant exchange.

The woman was so focused on the painting that she did not notice the short man standing behind her. He placed his hand on her shoulder and she jumped with a startled squeal. So much for trying to be quiet. She whirled around and faced him, noting the aged wrinkles around kind, almond-shaped eyes. His hair and eyebrows were snow white, a stark contrast to the black silk robes he wore on his thin body. He smiled broadly at her, and she thought she recognized a trace of relief in his expression.

"Hello, little one," he greeted. For the first time since waking, she knew she was completely safe in his presence. The woman felt instantly at ease. He gently cupped her cheek with his old hands.

"Who are you?" she whispered nervously as she looked up and down the hallway. She suspected she was not supposed to leave her room.

"My name is Xiao-Ping," he told her. "But I think the real question you want to ask is 'Who am I'?"

"How'd you know?"

"Because I'm smarter than the average bear," he joked as he patted her cheek reassuringly. "And listen to this old bear when he tells you something very important, my good, precious child: do not, under any circumstances, trust a man named Rain. And guard your trust for others jealously."

"But I don't know anyone named Rain," she protested. "At least, I don't think I do."

"You will, little one. You will. And he will try to lead you astray. Water flows inside of his soul like it does in yours, but inside him it is stagnant and polluted. Do not let him corrupt the purity of your Water. From all Water does life has its beginning."

Then he seemed to stare off in the distance, and he did so intently to the point that the woman turned around to see what it was he was looking at, but saw nothing of note. Then Xiao-Ping closed his eyes. "Become one with this great sea of the Waters of Creation. Dive deep into it until you have lost yourself. And having lost yourself, you will find yourself again."

She shook her head in confusion. "I don't understand."

He opened his eyes and stared deeply into hers. Though she expected to see rich brown, she was surprised by a blue so dark it was black. The color mesmerized her into tranquility, like she was standing on a shoreline staring at the sea. When she came to that conclusion somewhere deep inside her mind, she suddenly felt like she was floating on water in a vast ocean, and she wanted to stay there forever.

But Xiao-Ping had no such intentions of letting her linger in that peace. He averted his eyes to her hand and tenderly grabbed it before threading his fingers through hers. Now he looked up at her once again. "Your name is Anya," he said with such conviction that she felt something bend inside her mind to the point of snapping. A blinding pain exploded through her brain then, and she crumpled as blood dribbled from her nose onto her white dress. She dabbed at it with her fingers, groaning on all fours until the headache subsided.

When the pain finally released its hold over her, Anya staggered to her feet and noticed that Xiao-Ping was gone. She glanced around in confusion, but then shrugged. At least he'd told her what her name was before he took off. And it was a name she liked. There was a certain lulling melody to it.

Xiao-Ping was soon replaced by the sound of metal clanking and men shouting in the distance. At first, she panicked, certain that whoever kept her in this palace had discovered she was out of her room and was now searching for her, and she thought of running in the opposite direction. But when she listened more carefully, she realized it came from a room at the end of the corridor. Her curiosity compelled her to investigate further, so she crept towards the noise.

The double wooden doors at the end of the hallway stretched from floor to the cathedral ceiling, and they were slightly ajar as if someone had tried to close them but hadn't completely succeeded. Anya squeezed through, thankful that she was thin because she still had to suck in her belly to enter. If she was even ten pounds heavier, she wasn't getting in the room unnoticed.

Inside was a massive two-level chamber. The upper level, the one she stepped on, was more like a balcony that overlooked the level below. It was vacant up here, even devoid of the demonic suits of armor, and it was shrouded in darkness. Below, however, was a brilliantly lit room that appeared to be where warrior's trained. Anya noted the stacks of practice weapons – swords, axes, knives, bo staffs, and more – strategically placed around the room. There were dummies shoved into corners, and a ring roped off with thick cords. But what forced her to choke on her breath were the warriors standing around the ring as two men sparred inside it.

But they were not men like anything she'd seen. Or at least, so she thought. One man had yellowish skin and beady orange eyes, giving him a decidedly freakish appearance. But what frightened Anya was his mouth full of three inch long needle-like fangs, almost like that of some prehistoric monster she instinctively knew but could not remember the name of. On his arms, or rather protruding from his arms, were bony blades that curved out well beyond his fingertips.

His opponent looked more reptilian like the prehistoric beast she imagined; he had green, scaly skin and his yellow eyes were divided by a vertical pupil. Drawing further parallels, Anya noted the three-toed feet armed with sharp claws, and she feared his big toe, which was substantially larger than the others because a massive claw shaped like a hook protruded from the tip. Something told her that he could eviscerate a person if he decided to jump on the poor victim.

The woman watched the two creatures fight in the ring, cheered on by their fellow warriors, also of the arm sword and claw hook persuasions. Neither fighter seemed afraid of the other's freakish natural weapons, and neither did they go easy on each other for drilling purposes. It soon became apparent that the match was to the death, and there was no love lost between the two races. In blinding fury, the man with swords jutting from his forearms attacked the lizard man, but with primal growling consistent with the raspy and guttural tones of a reptile, he retaliated and spat some sort of green goop at his enemy. But while he missed his target, it splatted onto a nearby wall and dissolved it like acid. This volley of attacks continued for a couple minutes before the reptilian creature finally did as Anya predicted: he jumped feet-first into the other and ripped the man's belly in one fell swoop.

She couldn't stifle her scream as hot, steaming entrails exploded onto the mat and blood pooled around the killer's feet. She tried to cover her mouth, but it was too late. Every last man beneath her spotted her lurking in the shadows. One of the bald, toothy men, pointed one of his arm swords at her and screamed, "Get the human!"

Anya wasn't going to wait around for that. By the time they ran up the stairs to the balcony, she had long since fled from the training hall and was now bolting as fast as she could in the opposite direction. Her bare feet kept tripping over the long skirts of her dress, and when she lifted the excessive fabric to help her, it had the opposite effect: her speed involuntarily decreased. Still, she wasn't going to let a lizard man eviscerate her with his toenail, so she pressed on, darting around sharp corners while the ruthless tyrant in the tapestries followed her with his red eyes. Suddenly, an alarm sounded around her, starting above but echoing through, and it was deafening. Anya dropped her skirts to cover her ears, but to no avail.

And then something raced by her unseen, though wind heralded its presence. Timid like a prey animal, she stopped and cowered, gazing around for the newcomer but saw nothing. A second later, however, something invisible tackled her and shoved her into the marble floor with a hard crack. The air exploded from her lungs, and Anya gasped to recover her breath. As she choked and tried to gulp in air, her attacker materialized on top of her. It was one of the lizard men, though not the one from the cage match. This one's face was protected by a mask and cowl much like…much like…whose? she vaguely wondered. But in the exposed eyes, she saw his reptilian eyes more clearly now. Coated with a slimy membrane, she noticed that he had not one, but two sets of eyelids that he blinked in a uniform pattern every time.

He studied her with those eerie eyes as he pinned her to the ground with a clawed fist clamped over her throat. His touch enraged her on a level she did not know was possible; how dare he touch her like he had the right? Anya's fury compelled her to start punching him in the face and mask without restraint. She scarcely noticed the way her knuckles split open on the sharp corners of the lizard man's mask, and how those cuts wept more blood onto her clothes and skin. He tolerated her abuse only for so long before he finally back-fisted her in the jaw, snapping her head violently to the right. It hurt, and now she spat blood from her mouth as her cheek and eye orbit swelled into painful balloons, but that wasn't what made her burst into tears. And she couldn't identify why if someone cared enough to ask her.

"Get off her, Reptile, you dirty animal!" a deep voice snarled. Anya looked through teary eyes to see a handsome man dressed in an ornate purple tunic worn over a tight black undershirt that slightly exposed his muscular chest. Clearly a warrior, he wore protective black armor on his wrists, elbows, knees, and boots. Lines of gold thread trimmed his uniform, and even the black shoulder pads pointed upwards at a sharp, curved angle.

Reptile obeyed his command like a dutiful underling, and when he scurried off, the newcomer knelt beside her to offer her a helping hand. Anya gratefully accepted it, but was jolted by sudden apprehension. She couldn't explain her sudden and irrational fear of this man who'd saved her from evisceration and was now, very gentlemanly, helping her to her feet. And yet, there it was, like a handful of wriggling worms packed into a tight ball inside her chest.

Further confusing her was the man's angelic face. Sparkling amethyst eyes framed by long, black lashes were set into a strong face with a patrician nose and a joven lightheartedness in his expression. He wore his longish black-brown locks in a top-knot on his head. The top knot, additionally, was decorated by a gold cuff that almost looked like a crown, and someone had etched an ornate reptilian creature with wings, claws, and fangs around it. It glimmered in the candlelight, seemingly alive, almost as if the tiny animal would fly off the accessory and out the corridor. The man in purple looked at her with such compassion and adoration that Anya couldn't understand why she felt leery of him.

Perhaps Xiao-Ping had been wrong.

"My darling girl," he began, "are you all right? Reptile tends to be too exuberant in the hunt. He mistook you for something else."

"I'm not some prey," she snapped as she wiped the tears from her eyes.

"Of course you aren't," he replied gently as he took her hands in his and caressed them. The dull ache in her swollen knuckles and cheeks subsided. As they gradually healed before her eyes, she felt something like warm water flow soothingly into her soul. This man, whoever he was, existed inside it and flooded every hole in her spirit. And it felt…wonderful. Anya gasped without meaning to when she tried to swallow her excitement.

"Who are you?" she whispered, mesmerized by this man who'd somehow magically plunged into her depths.

What seemed like a sad expression crossed his face. "Yes, we were worried you'd suffer memory loss as a result of your injuries."

"What?" she asked, bewildered. "What injuries?"

"Come with me," he said as he threaded his powerful arm beneath hers and pulled her close. "I'll tell you everything." He looked at the crowd of the arm sword guys and the lizard men and casually shooed them away. "Go about your business," he commanded. The one called Reptile crossed his arms and nodded to his people. He was clearly unhappy with the order, but they all obeyed. The others obeyed as well, and Anya's benefactor refused to resume his conversation with her until they were gone. And then he led her down the corridor, back to the room she initially found herself in.

"My name is Rain," he announced.

Immediately, Anya remembered Xiao-Ping's warning and she recoiled at the sound. She pulled away. A startled look crossed his face as she said, "I'm sorry, I don't know that I can be around you," she said. "Any of you. I was told you were not to be trusted."

"By who?" he asked, his face calm as he stopped and studied her. It was a normal reaction to such an accusation, she decided.

"This guy I just met. His name was Xiao-Ping. An old man."

Rain raised an eyebrow and smirked. "It sounds like he's not the one to be trusted, my darling Anya. We have no servants or warriors in the palace by that name. I don't know who he is or where he comes from, but I think it's entirely possible you imagined him."

"I'm not making it up," she growled.

He threw up his hands in deference. "I believe that you believe," he said. "But you took a very nasty shot to the head. Terrible things can happen to the brain when the skull is injured like yours was. You and I have known each other since we were children. We're betrothed to be married. Of course you can trust me!"

"We're…we're betrothed?" Anya repeated. That didn't sound right. But, if it was true what he said about her head injury, perhaps it was and her brain was merely malfunctioning.

"Indeed, my love," he smiled as he stepped closer and gripped her by her waist. He kissed her on the forehead, and once more butterflies floating on a warm current of air flew through her body.

"Rain, how…how did I get hurt?" she asked as she impulsively stepped closer to him, enjoying the way he wrapped his arms around her. She looked up at his face.

"A band of rebels led by a terrible man plotted an assassination attempt against the royal family," he explained.

"Royal family?" Anya repeated as he took her hand and started leading her down the hall again.

"Yes, my darling girl, you're one of the royal family. You're an Edenian princess because of your engagement to me. I am an Edenian prince, and more importantly I'm the son of Argus, the Elder God."

"I don't feel like a princess," she blurted out, and it was true. In spite of the beautiful clothes and the so-called Edenian prince insisting she was his fiancé, she felt like it was also wrong.

But Rain had an explanation for that too. He smiled as he pushed a thin lock of her brown hair behind her ear and then led her inside her room. "You always say that, my love. It's because you were not technically born into nobility. But my heart refused to be ruled by class divisions and ancient traditions. I loved you and made you a princess because I could find no one more worthy of the title in all of Edenia."

"Oh," she mumbled. Anya wished she could remember that. It sounded terribly romantic to her, and deep down she suspected that such storybook loves were her guilty pleasure in life. "I apologize," she began as she sat on the edge of her bed. "I interrupted you. You were telling me about the rebels."

A dark, angry cloud crossed his face. "Yes, I was," he replied. "Their leader, a Cryomancer named Sub-Zero, attacked our armored entourage heading from this palace to the dock where are ships are docked. You were with me. During the battle, I was separated from you. Seeing how vulnerable you were, that monster took advantage of you and smashed you in the head with a club he made from ice. I managed to fight him off before he did worse." Rain now took Anya's hand, which now trembled in fear, in his own to comfort it. He kissed her knuckles. "I failed you, beloved," he said. "For that, I'm sorry."

Anya gulped down a terrified breath of air, and felt frightened of the rebel leader, Sub-Zero, but she also felt terrible for Rain, her betrothed, who was now wracked with guilt for what had happened to her. "It's not your fault," she said gently. "I'm sure you did everything you could to help me."

"I did," he said, nodding his head eagerly. "And I immediately put out a bounty on his head. 10,000 gold pieces for whoever brings him to me alive so that I might teach him a lesson in manners towards women."

"Rain, what's a Cryomancer?" she asked. The word sounded familiar to her, and she suspected it was because she'd heard it before.

The dark expression returned. "They're a race of people who can manipulate ice. They once held very privileged positions as King Jerrod's elite guardians. But greedy and evil, they betrayed him to Shao Kahn, who easily killed him and took his wife by force. They are the Hydromancers enemies as a result because we always remained loyal to our King, even in the face of death."

"What are Hydromancers?" she asked now.

"You and me," he said with a smile. "As far as I know, we're the last."

"But what are we?"

Rain wrapped a strong arm around her. "As the Cryomancers control ice, we control water. But we can also heal, and we can read minds and feelings to a limited extent. But only through physical touch."

"I don't think I'm what you say I am," she said, but her voice was disappointed rather than defiant. "I don't think I can do any of the stuff you just said. When you touch me, when anyone's touched me since I've woken up, there's been nothing remotely like that."

"Hmmm...perhaps your injury made you forget how to use your abilities. I will work with you to retrain you."

A smile now spread over his cherubic cheeks. He got to his feet and pulled her with him. Then he led her to a full length mirror standing in a candlelit corner near the window. Rain gently pushed her forward and then wrapped his hands around her waist as he stood behind her. His hands, Anya realized, felt good on her hips. Part of her wanted him to touch her everywhere.

Rain chuckled at that. "I heard that," he teased her.

Her cheeks flushed in embarrassment at being caught. "Sorry," she bashfully replied.

"Don't be," he said as he pulled her tighter. "I can oblige you if you want."

"Why are we in front of this mirror?" she asked, changing the subject quickly. Xiao-Ping's words still blared at her not to listen to anything he said.

Rain pointed to the mirror. "Look at your eyes, beloved," he said. "Only a true Hydromancer has eyes that color. It is like the color of the storm clouds looming over a village at night. And yours are especially beautiful to me."

Anya bent over to better see what he meant. They were as he said, like storm clouds electrified by purple light. "Wow," she muttered.

"Yes," he said as he pulled her by the waist, whirled her around to face him, and started guiding her towards her bed. "You are a stunning creature. You always have been. And I'm grateful that the Elder Gods have blessed me in this fashion."

Rain lowered Anya onto her back, and hypnotized by his charm and adoration, she let him climb on top of her to kiss her. The man in the purple uniform ran his hands over her smooth, skin-tight dress, and as she began to breathe heavily, he groaned lightly. Anya rested her hands on his as she slid them up his arms and to his shoulders. They locked together behind his neck and got buried in his longish hair, and she used her leverage to pull his face to hers. Instinctively, she found his lips and kissed them. Now he breathed harder, sucking down air rapidly as he buried his fingers in her long tresses before running a hand down her back. Electricity jolted through her spine and legs. In excitement, she curled her toes and wrapped her arms around the back of his neck to hug him while she kissed him. He murmured his approval before a new man suddenly appeared in the room through a portal.

"Rain, I promised you could…wed her when I was done with my work," the stark white bald man with red tattoos hissed as two other figures, a mechanical man of sorts and a solid black wraith with skin the color of death, flanked him.

"What does it matter, Quan Chi?" he arrogantly countered as he slid off Anya's body.

"The what is my own to know," the other cryptically replied as he crossed his arms behind his back. "Though it is extremely important that she remain unspoiled until the time is right, it does not otherwise concern you. Exercise some control over your baser animal instincts, young Prince." He looked at the mechanical man. "Smoke, you will guard Princess Anya to ensure Rain doesn't do anything foolish before their wedding night."

Anya was curious to know how this Quan Chi knew what they were up to, and why it was imperative to keep her "unspoiled," but she was even more intrigued by the mechanical man, Smoke. He was familiar to her as well. She looked at his black visor as he offered a hand to help her off the bed, and saw nothing beyond. But then, even though she touched a gauntlet, she suddenly remembered a bridge in a vast city. Smoke was there, fighting a man in black. She did not know the mechanical man's opponent, but she recognized him somehow. He was…beautiful. Not in his features so much – although they were more handsome to her than Rain's – but in his fierce determination and skill in combat. It was like admiring the tiger for being so fast, so accurate, so deadly. A peculiar longing to meet this stranger burned within her.

What can I say, Kuai Liang? a voice, her voice, echoed over the mental image. You're my Spongebob. Though the sight of the bridge rapidly faded away, Anya now felt warm lips, not icy ones like she expected, beneath hers. The kiss took her breath away as much as it had his.

Now Quan Chi and the dark figure were leading Rain from her bedchamber, and it jarred her from her bizarre daydreams that somehow evoked guilt in her heart. All of this felt wrong, and she couldn't pinpoint why. Dammit all to hell! She couldn't remember what part of it was right and what part of it was wrong because she couldn't remember period. She stifled her frustrated tears as she looked up at her betrothed.

Rain looked back at her with a licentious grin. "Don't worry, my darling girl," he called before he left the room. "The sorcerer can't stop me from having my way with you forever. I will savor every inch of your body."

Anya said nothing, only faintly smiled to hide her true feelings of confusion and her thoughts of the mysterious person named Kuai Liang.