The streets were drenched in the filth of society. Horses, gifts from Earthrealm carried carriages that carried people and goods through the streets that were once mere foot paths. Tudor homes over the stone foundations now erected with their jettied floors through upperclass within the palace city. It bustled like a hive, all ignorant of the cursed eyes that bore through each and every one of them as Shang Tsung crossed the wicked paths back to the palace walls.

He tucked under a dark grey woolen cloak of herring bone design with a hood crafted of the square cloth that then draped down to his ankles. A penannular brooch held it together, crafted with the ends fastened into two shards of Kamidogu.

He traced the veins of the city until the machicolations of the palace walls allowed arrow heads to peer down at him and only pull away when he revealed himself to the guard ahead.

Ding!

A great weighted bell rang throughout the city beyond the palace to signal the middle of the day. The great timber doors threw wide like a gate for Shang Tsung and several others that had gathered to enter the palace grounds.

As he was welcomed in, Shang Tsung tugged close to the left wall and pierced through the wall of Osh-Tekk and Outworlder guards. One, a tall man that towered over him was pressed against his side by the former sorcerer and a whisper carried up like a moth to his ears.

"Bring me to the Khan, immediately."

The towering man nodded and stepped out of line just as another took his place. He lead Shang Tsung ahead toward the palace in silence and with great obedience.

The man wore chainmail, rounded and riveted that hung from shoulder to just above the knees. He wore padded armor underneath that in a very dark grey as only the nobles would be seen with the ability to wear jet black.

Boots and gloves, bracers and pauldrons of leather, he was well protected for an average soldier in a world with little magic left to pass through the steel and wool. If Shang Tsung had his power back, the man would have been as good as naked.

What was once Shao Kahn's fortress, now stood as Skarlet's palace. The meeting hall was etched deeper into the stone structure than even Shao Kahn and Kitana had. Skarlet had found the once sealed chamber used by Shao Kahn to meet his most trusted servants and laid claim to the skull throne.

With each cold step up toward the old chamber of the great Kahn, Shang Tsung pushed those memories from his skull as they tried to scratch the surface of his mind. The many beatings, the meetings, and the times Shao Kahn had declared war, enemies, allies, raped, killed, or sat in solitude to think as the world burned around him had been long forgotten by the equally wayward sorcerer until the door finally opened to the sight of the old skull throne.

"Skarlet Kahn, your adviser Shang Tsung wishes to speak with you."

The towering guard was quite soft spoken for his size. She eyed him as she would any man or woman and nodded with approval to allow the sorcerer through the hallowed harrowed gates of time.

Iron steel cauldrons of fire burned warmth into Shang Tsung's bones as he entered the Kahn's throne room. Those pits of bowls of burning wrath carved beneath arched spines that created stone alcoves within each side of the walls save for the exit and the entrance.

Pillars with blades that fixed their points half way up the bone like stone structures held the roof over their heads with the threat of death at their heels. There were four in the chamber, two closest to the throne, and then a ten foot break before the next set of two rows were set by the entrance.

Candelabras stood to greet him like slender guards with glaring eyes between the gap of the pillars so each step burned with radiance and threatened to catch Shang Tsung's wool aflame should he dare to close the gap between fire and sorcerer.

At the furthest point from Shang Tsung sat the skull throne. A horrible structure of iron, bone, and stone that glared down at him as it sat ten feet high with deep set eyes in a skull carving that crested the top of the throne. If Shao Kahn sat here, the tip of his horns on the skull helm would have stabbed into those eyes, but here, Skarlet, in the same skull helm reached just the cheekbone. She may have been shorter than Shao Kahn, but her presence was equally frightening.

"My Kahn."

Shang Tsung bowed low in a great display of deference to the new Kahnum. The purple bluish haze of the Outworld atmosphere met with the reddish flame inside as the torn flesh design of the window behind her emphasized the horrible sight that was Shao Kahn's demonic aesthetic.

Skarlet herself, Kahnum of Outworld stared down through the skull once worn by the Kahn's before her save for Ko'atal, and waited for Shang Tsung to speak his mind as he often would.

Black and red, the color of blood accented her hair and the attire of fabric never worn in outworld by even the rich. She was like a goddess of horror adorned the skull throne and cast judgement, silent and damning upon Shang Tsung as she waited.

"I see you have found the old throne of Shao Kahn."

"What is your business?"

He stood before her, four meters from her presence and spoke his mind.

"What was done atop the pyramid of Argus must be reversed."

"As an Outworlder, I will age slow and gracefully, then die as Kahnum of Outworld. You, a mortal and only Outworlder by choice will wither faster and your treachery will fade from this realm long before my skin begins to crease."

"You crave your dark magic as much as I do mine, Skarlet Kahn. Tell me I am lying?"

She would not.

"We have no enemies with exception of Reiko, the last relic of Shao Kahn's army. We have no allies either. The gods are trapped in Earthrealm where they likely sit wasting away in worship. We are meant for far greater things you and I."

"I was crafted into the perfect slave for Shao Kahn. My purpose now is my own design. Yours, however, is now to be crafted into my perfect servant."

"Yes, Skarlet Kahn, but I can do nothing in this current state."

"You cannot usurp me, and you cannot anger those Gods that wither away in Earthrealm, nor the ones you have forgotten reside in Edenia and the Netherrealm."

"Then what would you have me do? Wither and die as my life's work and wisdom fades with me?"

She stood from the great throne and approached the sorcerer who seemed to cower before her, not scared, but with shame and self loathing.

Skarlet pulled free her left hand from its black leather glove and gently freed the cloak from the taut pinning of its brooch to inspect it closer.

"You gather the Kamidogu?"

"What choice do I have?"

"Raiden destroyed them all." She reflected for a moment as she remembered the desperation Shao Kahn felt for these old religious relics of the great reptilian king Onaga. "They are useless anyway."

"I do not seek to chase the dead, my Kahn."

She pressed the Penannular brooch in his hand and closed as the needle point stung into him. Her eyes through the sunken holes of Shao Kahn's bone helm almost reflected the fire in her eyes. She could see nothing but treachery in this pitiful man, and yet his words still echoed these ancient halls like a silent teacher, guide, or ghost that ultimately survived to this moment in time as all others before him hadn't.

"Outworld, like Earth, Edenia, and all the other realms has its protectors."

"Shao Kahn was one of them."

"Raiden may not be able to travel to Outworld, but those Gods not involved in the battle of Armageddon still retained their powers."

"I will find Outworld's Protector then."

"So be it," she paused to take her place at the throne and just as he turned to leave, she added, "if anyone could find the way then it is you, Shang Tsung."

The towering guard turned with sorcerer, but the Kahn ordered him to remain. Shang Tsung would leave the palace on his own with the throne room door closed tight behind him.