Hello again everyone! Sorry for the embarrassingly long delay - I had totally underestimated schoolwork and the process of Master's application.. And tbh, it is a bit hard to strike a balance in between academic writing and fiction-writing, imo.. (I can't remember the number of times I wrote standard transition words like however, thus, therefore etc when typing this out x_x)..
Anyhow, first, a round of thank yous to my reviewers and birthday wishers! ^.^ *cakes, muffins, treats and Kenshi posters for you all! :'D*
PunkRoseBlitz - Aww dearest! Thanks so much for your heart-warming comments! *hugs* With every update, I try my best to outdo the previous update, and trust me, this attempt resonates with the readers - Hope you like this one too! :'D
Obelisk of Light - You are very welcome, my friend! And honestly, it feels so darn good to gain your approval on the Storm brothers! *pumps fist in the air!* xD I hope you like this one too - esp. the little Edenian surprise in the end! Thanks again! xD
Iceangelmkx - Thanks so much for your comments! :'D I'm glad you bought Idite and the Takahashi retcon - admittedly, it was nice detailing that out, but I doubt we will ever see it come to fruition in canon :'( Anyhow, that's what we're all here for, right? xD I hope you like this update too! xD
Poe's Daughter - Thank you sooooo much for the comments! :'D And I really was tensed about that - I guess I should have known I have such awesome readers who don't have to rely on the sexy, inyourface action to enjoy a story xD I actually did not have that interpretation in mind, but like the showing/telling thing you shared on tumblr, I'm glad to see this panning out that way too - you just stick with whatever interpretation you feel touches you the most xD Hope you enjoy this one too xD
BrutusSilentium - Thanks so much, my friend! Hope you like this too! :D
Hell-On-Training-Wheels - Awww, my buddy! *hugssss* I swear, I'll make it up to you with all those tissue boxes with a good, satisfying Suchin/Kenshi love story arc... *rubs hands with glee while laughing like an idiot* xD I'm really glad the Fujin/Raiden write-ups worked out - it's kinda weird thinking how a an elemental deity would 'think' per se, but meh.. I'm just happy it worked out in the end xD Thanks again for the boost-up, buddy! :'D
Disclaimer: I own nothing, and no one. But dang, it's just so darn good to write these people out :P
The Takahashi Family Saga
Of Bonds of Blood
III
'Ahh… the youngest Takahashi… how I long to taste your blood..'
He had never seen the looming chamber before, yet the mere sight of it filled him with a piercing sense of déjà vu. Even in his dream, Takeda felt a vague connection with the place. Although he could not explain with words, he felt it resound within every atom of his body; an elemental, yet forgotten call, yearning to be answered.
The marble figures stood mighty and tall, their faces drawn into furious scowls in the eerie blue light, long shadows accentuating and adding to their ferocity. Most of them were armoured, and all bore weapons of every kind – yet their stern faces were fixed toward a certain point, below…
'Would it be as sweet as his?'
A single man kneeled, dwarfed by the towering statues that surrounded him. On his knees, trembling, as if taking in a silent judgement from his marble audience.
'Have faith in me, son…' Could it be… him?
But there were no pleas made, no defenses given, no confessions uttered. The deathly silence was only filled by his struggles, his uneven breathing as it echoed and bounced off the walls.
'Heed him son! He will always protect you…' Suchin's forgotten voice rang in Takeda's ears.
'If only he had not succumbed to his madness…'
With a muted groan, the man plunged a sword into his abdomen – and the chamber was immediately filled with a shrill, inhuman screech that threatened to thrash his eardrums.
The man threw his neck up and let out a quivering gasp as he removed the katana from his abdomen, gore spilling in rivers from his mouth. But it was only then that his face became visible. Etched in profound agony, dirty with caked blood and mud, a months' worth of unkempt beard…
And pearl-white eyes that bled crimson down the length of his bruised face.
'Close your eyes, Takeda…'
'Kazimir would have made a good host, child...'
There was no doubt about the identity of the man now. Whispers from what seemed like centuries ago, haunting his mind…
It was, indeed, his father.
Before the realisation took root in Takeda's confused, dreaming mind, Kenshi had driven the ancestral blade deep into his heart – with the cry of an animal at the brink of its own, fearful death.
'But no matter... the son will take the father's place…'
He did not register when Kenshi pulled the blade out finally, or when he collapsed into the gory mess. All Takeda could fix his eyes on, was the visage of his mother. Pale and translucent, yet beautiful as a portrait – she rushed towards the bloody man, crying. Her raven-black hair cascaded down her back, in a silken curtain, as she crouched beside her dying beloved.
The blood flowed from countless wounds on his father's battered body, staining the marble floor underneath him. Now, the crimson flowed and took the shape of a roaring dragon – while the blade of Sento shattered beside it…
'If only your father had listened… But perhaps you will….'
In his dying moments, Kenshi brought up an arm, shakily, wiping away her tears; while Suchin continued to rain her kisses down his face.
'You are still loved, my son… I am not dead yet…'
The distinct, husky baritone of Takahashi Kenshi rang in his ears like a soft, haunting lullaby - whispered to him the eve of his departure, years ago… The only proclamation of love he had ever received from this deserter of a father…
And now, he lay in his mother's arms…
A moment later, Kenshi's hand, cupping Suchin's face, became lifeless – sliding down her chin before thumping onto the ground.
Takeda felt hot tears stream from his eyes, yet he could not move, nor make a sound. It was real. They were real – and this was the first and last time they would ever be together.
'But I'm alone now…'
The last Takeda registered, was an explosion of blinding light that consumed everything, and a final, deafening clap of thunder that shook him to the core…
Shore of the Sea of Blood
Outworld
The temperature had dropped to a chilly breeze, and snow continued to fall unperturbed from Outworld's deep purple skies. It must be nearing midnight, he surmised mentally as he continued to walk up the steep climb, knowing he needed to rest for a few hours. The steps, taken forcefully yet with a subtle grace, did not break the swordsman's concentration. He would always be unconsciously alert outside of Earthrealm; even though he hardly had any attachment to his homerealm in his heart.
There was just something latent, something profoundly unsettling about Outworld that made him hypersensitive to everything around him. He guessed it had to do with the vile, gory history of the realm – for it was true, every blade of grass and every pebble of rock almost seemed sentient if he focused too closely on them; as if still screaming in terror of the rule of the current Kahnum, and her predecessor, Shao Kahn, that they bore witness to.
He had seen more dead spirits stalking its plains and valleys than alive Outworldians – always restless, and usually hunting for revenge of a wrongful death. Kenshi shook his head at the thought – it bought a memory too dear to him, one that was perhaps plagued by a similar fear.
Outworld, was an evil place, to his imagining. He wondered if it had been so even before the terror of the Kahns…
As he put his musing to rest, Takahashi Kenshi finally arrived at the cliff overlooking the Sea of Blood. The pristine snow now began to fall heavily, as the temperature dropped even further. The weary traveller pulled his armoured coat tightly around his form, for warmth, expelling a long breath in a fog of vapour. He reached the remains of a tree – split horrifically into two by an unknown force of some kind. Perfect altitude, he thought, as he shrugged out of his woollen shawl, and laid out on the ground, before sitting atop it.
No being – living or dead – currently made itself known to him in his spiritual vision, and neither did he see anyone from his vantage point of view as he overlooked the shore, listening to the violent waves crashing with an angered furor over the walls of the Kove nearby.
The sound soothed the swordsman, as he sat atop his shawl, looping his arms over his knees, and burying his face in the crook of his elbow, breathing deeply.
If he was to be honest with himself, there was no literal use of this trip. He had no new lead in tracking down the Red Dragon, and neither did the Special Forces commission this journey. He never even liked Outworld, to begin with. Yet he had strangely felt the need to travel its plains, its mountains and its deserts again. In fact, it was during his trek through the Kuatan Jungle that he thought that he ought to cross over to Seido, the Order-realm; perhaps training there, as Cage did briefly, could set his heart at ease.
He doubted it. But Kenshi had nothing else to go on either.
The cold bit his face, as he released a deep sigh. As he recollected the events of the recent past, he realised how much better off he was having Suchin not appear in his visions or dreams at all. Now, he could not stop thinking about her – crouching underneath a blooming tree, staring wistfully at the horizon in wait for him, and their son…
A bittersweet pang of emotion arrested his heart, and the swordsman emitted a shuddering groan, closing his eyes tightly shut as the vision danced in front of his eyes. He angrily shook his head, as if trying to shake off the images to no avail.
A moment later, he had opened his knapsack, and fished for his instrument – to clear his mind a bit.
After rummaging through its contents, he finally felt his fingers brush his bamboo flute. Kenshi retrieved it, feeling it down its length before he got in the position – holding it to his lips, brows furrowed beneath the blindfold in a bid to concentrate.
And from atop the cliff, he played a mournful song into the silent night.
Each note, each inflection of the tune dripped with a peculiar, sweet pain. Kenshi closed his eyes, giving himself to the music that echoed back to him – picturing his Suchin, imagining her dancing and smiling in lush green fields – as he'd left her in Lampang. Happy, content, free…
His sense of hearing closely took in the notes that echoed back to him – allowing him to form powerful images in his mind of the spanning landscape all around him – including the path he would take as dawn broke.
As much as he tried to exorcise his grief, Kenshi became vaguely aware that he was merely reshaping it. Changing its form, softening it, trying to make it more bearable, at least for a few more days. Yet his lachrymose song reached out to the tortured, cursed environment of the realm; as if, trying to wipe away its tears and soothe its agony, in lieu of easing his own soul…
By the time he ended the song in a final, haunting note of the flute, Kenshi was so immersed in his thoughts in a fleeting moment of peace, that he did not register that he was not alone anymore.
"We doubt entertaining the empty air was your aim, trespasser. You are not welcome here."
The unison of voices spoke lowly, threatening in its cool tone. Kenshi was startled at first – the feeling wearing off in favour of a quickening wave of annoyance.
He disguised both the reactions to perfection, beneath a carefully curated air of nonchalance. The swordsman merely cocked his head to one side, the corner of his lips pulling downward in a scowl, preferring to retort to the enforcer than answer him directly.
"Sneaking up to listen now, are you, construct?"
"We are not amused, Earthrealmer. Begone this instant! The Kahnum does not take favourably to your kind," warned Ermac, floating in front of the swordsman, who continued to remain seated, almost bored.
Kenshi lazily raised his head to regard the enforcer, lips curled into a sneer, slightly disgusted.
"Thousands of souls, but none your own… Pity you have to take orders from that deranged half-blood, Ermac."
"Our loyalty is bound to the realm, and it is the realm alone that we serve, swordsman."
"It's Kenshi, construct."
Ermac arched an eyebrow, taking in Kenshi's brazen smirk – as if the threat of the enforcer meant nothing to him. As if they were known acquaintances, or even friends, instead of foes caught in the midst of an unwanted ceasefire of hostilities.
Given the lack of an attack from the Earthrealmer, the construct reserved his judgement. Instead, he crossed his arms over his chest – deeming it beneath him to grace the foolishly frank remark with a reply.
Kenshi let out a breath from his nose, almost bemused himself. He was aware of the Ermac's abilities, given how he had sensed strange telepathic signals merged with his spirit energy. The enforcer deliberately launched his tirade, knowing the swordsman was caught elsewhere in his mind – not completely over the thought of Suchin yet…
He wouldn't let that transgression go so easily.
"Are you aware of how terribly you've aged?"
With a satisfied sneer, Kenshi witnessed the spark of anger crackling through the construct, as the multitudes of souls reacted within him. At once, he registered the slivers of rage, annoyance - even traces of good humour and hilarity rise within it. Yet these were all silenced with a roaring cry of anger from within; it was a call that he answered with unquestioning servitude.
His master's call.
"Impudent fool! 'Age' matters not to us – we are not compromise-"
"Your lies are futile, Ermac. You are weaker than before. I see you wilting under Kahn's onslaught as it ravages you internally." Kenshi scoffed. "Seems the Kahnum is not treating you well, either."
"We find it ironic to hear you say that. Especially given your treatment of your ancestors… " Ermac remarked, hinting at the broken blade of Sento. "We are aware Earthrealm's souls are inherently worthless, but apparently even the progeny cannot care for its ancestors' souls. It would be amusing, if it weren't so disgraceful."
Kenshi gritted his jaw, enraged; his lower lip quivering with anger that he struggled to suppress. He found himself unable to answer, and that frustrated him even more.
The construct gave a low laugh, mocking the swordsman in a chorus of voices.
"That is a true pity, sightless one. We were hopeful you may eventually learn a minute modicum of telekinesis from your elders…"
"The Sento merely strengthens my telekinesis, Ermac. These powers are part of my lineage. I wouldn't expect an assemblage of dark magik, subsisting on borrowed souls to understand these bonds of blood."
"Yet your pathetic bonds do nothing for you. We have seen you harness your powers in kombat; and they are as weak as they are incorrectly applied. You are noth-"
Before even he could finish, Kenshi held up a hand, sending a blast of telekinetic energy centered at Ermac's chest. Encased in a blue glow, the projectile caught the construct unawares, as he was thrown a few metres back. Had it not been for his levitation, Ermac would have fallen off the cliff, and met grave injury if not certain death.
"Did I do that correctly?"
Unknown Location
Near Mount Godwin-Austen,
Sino-Pakistan border, the Western Himalayas
3.49 AM
The crackle of thunder roared in the chasm of the mountains, rumbling in a terrifying sound that caused the young Takahashi to jolt awake from his nightmare.
Shaking, sweating and caught in the tangle of his meagre sheets, he gulped in air and clasped two hands over his mouth, trying to keep from screaming loud from sheer horror, and waking his fellow fighters.
'Mother was there! And… him! What's goin-'
'I will find you in time, little one… All in time…'
The dark, grovelling whisper surrounded him, bleeding in from the walls, the floor, the air - terror taking him in a vicious grip, squeezing the breath out of him as he struggled to find his voice. The darkness itself had become alive, taking a tangible form as the entity then laughed maliciously – the evil mirth raising the hair on the thirteen-year old's forearms.
'I am Shirai Ryu, and I will not run from this!' He immediately threw back the covers, and glared around him, searching fiercely, but untactfully for the enemy; while steeling his back and making fists of his clammy, shaky hands.
In the darkness of the sleeping quarters, he only heard his shallow breaths reverberating back to him, with an occasional, sleepy sigh or a rustle of sheets from his sleeping counterparts.
A firm hand reached up to him from the darkness, and stayed his fist with an unrelenting grip.
"When will you ever learn, boy?"
Hanzo's voice was cross as always, but deeper than usual, indicating he too had been woken up from sleep. Yet the low rumble was quiet enough to not be heard by anyone else.
"Master Hasa-"
A dark hand clasped his mouth, silencing the young Shirai Ryu warrior before he could complete his words. Hanzo stepped from the shadows, into the sole sliver of moonlight that illuminated the common sleeping area.
"You can fight when you are blind, even surrounded, Takeda… But you cannot fight when you do not understand your opponent," he growled, his tone belying a latent anger that the boy feared was aimed at him.
Sensing his tension, Hanzo withdrew his hands, and took a step back. Then without warning, he began to walk away, signalling to Takeda from behind his turned back.
"Follow me."
The Grandmaster led him through a network of passages, to an antechamber beside his own personal quarters. The area was cordoned off to the Shirai Ryu, and no one besides Hanzo Hasashi himself entered this part of the temple.
"I don't understand, Master Hasashi… What was-" Takeda stopped short, struggling to make sense of what was on his mind. Everyone has nightmares, he was not stupid enough to ignore that. Hearing that ominous voice, seeing that strange cavern… his mother's crouching form as she consoled his dying….
He immediately shook his head, and corrected himself before he could even think the paternal relation in his mind. 'Kenshi's … suicide?'
"I too heard, what you heard, Takeda. And that was a voice I would never wish to hear again."
Takeda narrowed his eyes, as his lips parted in surprise, and thought. "But… how?"
The Grandmaster opted to ignore his pupil's question.
They took a sharp left, and immediately faced an old, wooden doorway, carved with ancient, calligraphic kanji that the young trainee had not yet learned how to read. Hanzo applied pressure with both hands, and with a slow creak, the door eventually opened inwards.
Hanzo wordlessly entered the chamber, lighting the torches against the walls, allowing it to be washed in a yellow light from the raw flames. It was a small room, locking away more of the dangerous, bladed weapons that could only be wielded by high-ranking Shirai Ryu, or the Grandmaster himself. Up along the wooden walls, variants of the kunai, and an assortment of knives and swords hung; of kinds that Takeda had never seen before, glittering molten from the light of the fire.
Hanzo merely continued to walk towards the center of the room, where moonlight from an open crevice above, fell squarely onto a raised platform – atop which a marble-white dagger floated.
The Kamidogu.
Hanzo nearly sighed with relief as he saw it untouched from its mount. This was a dangerous weapon, one whose exact nature was unknown to even him. Yet after spending eons in the Netherrealm, he had learned about its powerful ministrations – how deadly it could be should it ever fall into the hands of a Nether demon.
Hence, Raiden entrusting it into his care, despite the bad blood in between them.
Yet that voice he heard…
"Takeda!"
The young boy nearly jumped as the ninja sharply called his name. He had been fascinated by a unique, bladed form of the kunai that was on display. Small, sharp razor blades protruded from the length of its rope in a strange feat of engineering, and he wondered how one could wield it in a sparring match; Takeda had thus, forgotten that he was in the Grandmaster's presence, entirely.
With a rush, he briskly walked up to Hanzo, standing beside him with arms folded at his front. Hanzo nodded to him, and Takeda directed his gaze to the sight before his instructor.
The moment his azure orbs fixated on the Kamidogu, a searing wave of white-hot pain flared across the young teenager's temples, hitting him with the ferocity of a thousand of the same kunai he had been enamoured by, merely a few moments ago.
Instinctively, Takede clenched shut his eyes, as a gasp escaped his lips. The images from his nightmares began to flash before his eyes, each vanishing before he could properly register it. Holding his head in his hands, the boy took a step back. Though to his relief, he felt the pain abate as quickly as it had hit him, and his vision, blurred by tears, swim back into focus.
Hanzo immediately reached out, and held his shoulder in a reassuring manner. "Are you alright, young one?"
Takeda was mildly taken aback by Hasashi's soft tone, and an unintended fatherly disposition. He felt a rush of anger at the thought, and almost considered shrugging the hand off aggressively. But somehow, the boy felt drained of all energy, and he merely nodded his response, knowing it would just be easier that way, for both of them.
"J-just a headache…" Takeda wiped the tears away with the back of his hand, and exhaled through his nose.
Hanzo grunted his reply, accepting it. His eyes lingered on the young boy's form momentarily: the olive skin tone, the razor-sharp angles of his face, that firm jawline - barely into his teenages, and he had already become his father's spitting image.
"That voice…" he then began after a brief pause. He returned his gaze to the dagger, yet chose his words carefully. "Did it… show you something?"
The young Shirai Ryu raised an eyebrow, and turned to face Hanzo Hasashi. "How did you-"
"Your answers are more important than mine, for now, Takeda."
The boy folded his arms over his chest, and turned his head sideways; a stance that conveyed his annoyance far loudly than the boy can ever dare to speak in, in front of the former spectre. Eyebrows furrowed, Takeda tried to vaguely discern what was worth revealing, and what was not…
"State all of it."
Biting his lip in anger, Takeda puffed indignantly, before he recounted his vision to the grandmaster – taking special care to detail his father's sufferings, whilst skim over his mother's presence as he did so.
Hanzo frowned deeply toward the end of it – struggling to make a connection of the demonic voice, with this sad, almost wishful retelling of an abandoned boy as he saw his parents in a dream.
"It-it probably means nothing, Grandmaster…" Takeda shrugged at the end of it, though he struggled to make eye contact with the ninja.
After a long, awkward silence, Hanzo, exhaled lowly, uncrossing his arms and folding them behind his back. The prospect of Kenshi's demise was definitely alerting, but the Shirai Ryu somehow believed he would need to see it first, to truly believe it.
He wondered if he should tell him about his lineage, what his father imparted to him about his mind powers, and how this dream of his could perhaps be more important than he cares to admit.
But then, far more than the futility of the exercise, Hanzo reminded himself of how this was never his domain, to speak with. Hanzo Hasashi was not Takeda's father – and this was not his secret to share, no matter how the boy felt toward him.
Notwithstanding Kenshi's abandonment, Hanzo felt compelled to favour the boy's father. Takeda will learn of it, in his own time.
"You should not worry yourself; Kenshi is a formidable warrior, more than capable of-"
"I do not care, Master Hasashi," shot back Takeda icily, his voice trembling as he fixed bloodshot cerulean eyes accusatorily at him. "I could not care less about that bast-"
"Takeda!" scolded Hanzo, glaring at Takeda angrily, his eyes narrowed to murderous slits. "Kenshi is your father, and-"
"My father is dead to me, Grandmaster! Kenshi died the moment he abandoned me here! Nothing can change that!" Takeda almost screamed, his fists shaking at his sides.
Hanzo merely arched an eyebrow, as he frowned at his impetuous student. As justifiable as Kenshi's cause was, he could still not find a single fault with Takeda's own anger. Damnation, evidently, manifested itself in various ways…
"Nothing but, perhaps, the man in question himself," he replied back to the boy, huffing exasperatedly. "Many of your own peers would kill to find their name, their kin in this world, Takeda. You cannot forsake your blood with a mere declaration..."
Takeda bowed his head and closed his eyes, his rage cooling to a low simmer – more melancholic than breeding from fury. "I am the forsaken one, Grandmaster. Just… please don't mention him to me again…"
Hanzo paused, before ending the conversation finally.
"Agreed."
Outworld
The duo's fight had begun from a mindless spar to an enraged battle. Utilising all tricks, techniques and strategies at their disposal, Kenshi and Ermac fought viciously through the darkest hours of Outworld's black midnight – each seeking to severely punish the other, for their own convoluted conceptions of trespass. One, merely performing his duty to the realm, the other angered by the disturbance caused by the former.
Kenshi manipulated the Sento as easily as if it were a mere extended limb, crimson apparitions of his ancestors appearing to deliver the blows he orchestrated – while Ermac dispensed blows by the multitudes of his souls, as if his hands had an independent volition of their own.
The thousands that Ermac had prided himself on, had indeed met their match – in similar numbers.
Yet perhaps the greater battlefield went on unseen from atop that ill-fated cliff. It did not take place within the physicality of the two beings; it was fought in their minds.
Ermac had not expected the dualist approach; as much as he loathed to admit, it was evident that the swordsman's telepathy was perhaps far acutely developed than his telekinesis. What he had once vaguely felt as a mild sense of paranoia, of being watched during the Outworldian invasion of Earthrealm, was now as if a dark specter threatened to take over his mind.
Long before he absorbed Shao Kahn, Ermac would have found himself a battleground in between the contesting emotions. All he felt now, was either relentless fury or unbound hunger that drowned out every other voice or affect. He thought the luxury of experiencing emotions beyond this binary, was perhaps long-lost to him.
Yet with every minute that passed, he felt compelled to reject the Kahn's hold over him.
With the loss of his spirit energy on this mindless fight, Ermac felt the loss of his consciousness as a being of kombat. Kenshi's powers weakened the singular, uncompromising control of Shao Kahn over the enforcer's mind, as it blocked the thoughts of his remaining souls. As vague as it was, it almost felt to him as if the swordsman was perhaps, fighting a battle to somehow liberate him – even though the notion itself made no sense to Ermac.
However, he was still not going to admit this defeat so easily.
"You will die for your insolence, swordsman!"
"As will you, for yours!"
The blade of the katana sliced through the construct's muscles, grazing by his arms, and waist, but not stabbing entirely through. Ermac remained undeterred; pain was as foreign to him, as it was useless. Being the vessel that he was, he barely felt it – it was the wastage of his spirit energy that concerned him.
With a frustrated roar, Ermac wrenched the Sento from Kenshi's hands telepathically, levitating it so that it was far beyond, and above his reach.
Ermac was not aware of what exactly transpired; yet immediately after that act, the construct's entire being was wracked with a crippling pain. As if a long-forgotten entity was tearing and clawing its way out from within the center of his chest. He raised a gloved hand to touch the center of his chest: he felt as if his sternum would burst through from within, his bones shrieking and shattering from some hidden psychosomatic force he could not detect, nor defeat.
His hands touched a smooth torso; there was nothing that could account for the pain.
Ermac's hold on the Sento disappeared, as the enforcer howled in excruciating agony.
The dark skies and many moons of Outworld bled out from his vision, slowly replaced by an ecru roof with royal blue and gold embellishment – all decorating the center that was the Seal of Edenia….
"Edenia…"
More than ten thousand years ago,
Edenia
"Jerrod, quiet now! You'll wake the child!" playfully scolded queen Sindel, trying and failing to maintain a stern visage. Clad in white, silk robes, she remained seated on the bed, absolutely radiant as she blushed, enhancing her beauty. The Edenian simply oozed grace and warmth, and few could have guessed she had given birth merely hours ago.
"Please, let me see it!"
In their personal quarters, King Jerrod bothered with no pretenses, no airs of authority. As statesman-like and gracious as he had been to all subjects of his kingdom at the birth of his daughter, he knew he could not maintain that formality within the bedchamber, alone with his beloved.
Jerrod let out a hearty chuckle, holding the rustling package away from Sindel's outstretched hand, as he got off the bed and walked to a small, golden crib, only a few feet from their own bed.
He smiled in wonder at his little miracle; the child slept peacefully, unaware of their parents' commotion. He held out a gloved hand, and lovingly stroked the curve of a chubby, rosy cheek. 'My daughter…' he wondered, awe-struck once more by the sheer simplicity of the overwhelming love he felt in his heart.
"She will grow up to be beautiful, and strong, like her mother…" Jerrod murmured thoughtfully.
"And wise, and just – like her father," Sindel completed from her end.
Raising his neck, he regarded Sindel once more – his kind eyes reflecting a gratitude so profound, he had no words to express it otherwise. Sindel smiled back her response, and sighed contently.
In a single move, he rose from his position and returned to his seat beside his wife, grasping her hand gently, before bringing it to his lips and kissing it softly. Sindel lowered her eyes, glancing up at him from underneath her eyelashes. With a sombre expression, he placed the package in her hands then, grasping them firmly with his own two as a signature of his trust.
Sindel quizzically regarded the package – revealing away the silk wrapping before gasping in awe. The circle of gold promptly slipped from her fingers and landed in her lap as she glanced at her husband, absolutely shocked.
It was the Royal Edenian Seal, a solid-gold emblem that signified eternal authority over the territory of Edenia – one that transcended the bounds of time, and mortality.
"Jerrod! I cannot accept this-"
"Hush, my love," Jerrod whispered, placing a finger at Sindel's lips to silence her. "You are not merely bound to Edenia now – you are destined to rule it long after I am gone-"
"Do not speak in such way-"
"For now, forever; always and beyond. This would be nothing but a mere mound of gold, but for the promise it carries… Promise me, that you and young Kitana, will never bow down to any tyrant…"
He softly combed a stray lock of white hair behind her ear, gazing earnestly, pleadingly into her eyes. Sindel was aware of the troubles of the realm, the mounting attacks of the Outworldian tyrant now draining their defence resources, jeaopardising the security of the realm. This was a promise of accession; that she would take up and rule in his stead, while he left them to fight Shao Kahn's forces.
Yet she could not fight the unexpected tears that sprang up to her eyes. Jerrod kissed her forehead, and cupped her face in his hands, forcing her to meet his gaze.
"This, is the only way I can protect you and our child…"
Edenia's fate was now tied to her, and their daughter. It was a call she could simply not refuse.
"I promise, my King…"
The fleeting memory paralysed Ermac; he barely registered Kahn's fading screams as Jerrod's soul defeated him, drowning out his malice and consolidated its hold on his being; however temporary the respite was.
Kenshi stood motionless, the tails of his blindfold fluttering with the direction of the now howling winds. He had sensed a change in Ermac's very constitution, akin to an internal breakthrough - and promptly exited his mind. And now, since the past few moments, all he could witness, was an eerie calm in the eye of the storm within the construct's being – all seemed to be strangely at peace, for now.
It deeply unsettled the telepath, yet he preferred to remain silent to this… transition.
With the fallen King Jerrod's consciousness, combined with his own powers, Ermac found himself sympathising with the swordsman's troubles. They were not merely at the same wavelength, despite the millennias that separated them; they were both, in fact, witnesses to the heartbreaks of fatherhood, of being defeated, and deprived of themselves…
"You are wrong, swordsman. We do understand the 'bonds of blood' that you spoke about earlier…" finally spoke Ermac, the unison of his voices shrouded in a hushed, melancholic tone.
Kenshi's eyes widened from underneath his blindfold. He suddenly realised he now held the audience of an entirely different company. This was not Ermac, the Kahnum's enforcer - a heartless, brutal murderer…
"We are aware of what it means – to be estranged from your loved ones, swordsman."
If he chose to remain silent before, Kenshi was rendered simply speechless now. Lips barely parted in surprise, he found himself too stunned to reply – vaguely registering in some part of his mind, that this is what the victims of his telepathy must feel like.
Ermac then, levitated back to the ground. He turned on his heel, and walked to the edge of the cliff, his posture unusually erect, hands folded behind him – wistful emerald eyes fixed at some undefined point at the horizon – as if too engrossed in his own thoughts to expand any further.
A moment later, the swordsman regained his composure, clearing his throat loudly. He then beckoned the katana back to its sheath telekinetically, and walked up to Ermac, who did not turn back to acknowledge.
"Should I take that as an apology then, enforcer?" he prodded cautiously, folding his arms over his chest.
A small silence fell in between the two, as Kenshi mentally debated whether he ought to attempt delving into the construct's mind and seek answers, or should he leave him be. Finally deciding on the latter, he nodded to himself, and turned his head to regard the enforcer again.
"Cross over to the Kove, and find your way across Drylands, to the Lake of the Elders. A vessel departs every eve for the village of Makebe. The portal to Seido falls in the midst of the sea-journey…" he paused briefly, before he turned his gaze, fixing them on the silent swordsman.
"We pray you find some modicum of peace, even if we cannot."
Kenshi bowed to the enforcer, who in turn accepted his act. Then, without caution, Kenshi walked closer, and placed a gloved hand on his shoulder, as one would with a fellow soldier.
"You will be unbound one day, my friend. Farewell."
So... this marks the end of the third arc! FINALLY! XD
I think this chapter has the longest list of cameos and character appearances: Kenshi, Ermac, Takeda, Hanzo, Sindel, Jerrod, Kitana... Shao Kahn and Raiden too if you look too closely :P But hopefully, I've done justice to 'em here ..
So again, just some references/tidbits just for fun :P, though this update didn't require too many to begin with :P
"Did I do that correctly?"/"You will be unbound!": Interestingly enough, these are very specific dialogues that Kenshi says in MKX to Ermac during the fights, usually after throws, or after a certain combo in the Kenjutsu variation. A throwback to the first timeline, and pretty nifty imo ^.^
Ermac's MK9 ending: partly inspired the last half of this chapter. As I wrote on Tumblr, the second timeline Ermac is too weak to develop a unified personality of his own - thus most of the time, he relies on certain dominant souls taking charge of him. In one of the intros in MKX, Kenshi specifies "one of your souls fights for dominance" - its unclear who this is, but I think that's probably Shao Kahn. But despite the non-canonicity of Ermac's MK9 ending, I thought it'd make sense to have Jerrod and Kahn fight for dominance.. And as it is, Jerrod understands the 'bonds of blood' far, far better than Kahn, hence the ending..
(Also, had no idea how utterly tragic Jerrod/Sindel are... *cries*)
Hanzo's weapon-room: Indeed, Takeda was observing the traditional bladed 'whips' he later grows up to use :P
Blood demon: See the first chap of this arc, but you know who he is :P
Outworld areas: The Sea of Blood, the Kove, the Drylands, Makebe, Lake of the Elders, etc - I know I took liberty with most of them.. But hey, I suck at navigating and map-reading, so bear with me xD The last few locations (and the Portal falling in the midst of the sea journey) were taken from an Outworld "Map" I found on MK Wiki - It's either from Deception, or the Deadly Alliance - so yeah :P
(I honestly cant remember anymore! X_X)
Now that this is done... I think I'll be taking a bit of a break now.. :) I have at least 2-3 more arcs planned in my mind, but as I said before, real life is becoming too hectic and I don't want to keep this hanging in the middle anymore.. Just give me a month or two - I'll probably be back by mid-December, or so. Until then - a huge THANK YOU to everyone who has read and reviewed this so far! Honestly, you guys don't what this means to me! :'D Have a great time, guys - and do write to me and let me know what you think of this! :'D Adios!