Chapter One
In the beginning, there was nothingness.
The only sound was Frost's rasping breath in the dark. It was cold, more than freezing as she shook uncontrollably in a mixture of fear and shivers.
The last thing she remembered was the horrified look on her sifu's grizzled face as he desperately tried to save her from herself, but he was too late. It had felt like ice water was pumping through her very veins as her own powers overtook her, cold enough that it hurt, terribly, as she watched the world blur. The ice had come from within her own body and power, freezing her from the inside out, consuming her as she stood frozen, helpless.
Then there was nothing but the cold and her own terrified thoughts.
Now, it seemed she was awake again, cold and alone in the blackness, but decidedly alive. She was lying on her back, on something hard, and the texture under her bare fingertips suggested that it was stone. There was more of it on both sides, close enough that she could only move a few inches. Sitting up merely brought her forehead into painful contact with the same material, and she rubbed her sore head ruefully, wondering where she was and how on Earth she got there.
The stone above her was nearly unyielding, but when she pushed with all the strength her awkwardly bent arms could produce, the slight scraping noise told her it wasn't one solid piece. Maneuvering her legs up as best she could, she pushed with all her might, but with no visible effect. There wasn't even a crack. She had to admit the shivering of her limbs wasn't augmenting her efforts, but she pushed again, and again, and again, more from fear than hope.
Finally, the top cracked slightly, and she let go of the breath she hadn't realized she had been holding. The light streaming in was brilliant, almost blinding her, but it still didn't illuminate the entire space. But she saw enough to see her confines for what they were…no one ever wanted to be on the inside of one, no matter if they realized everyone would have their turn in a coffin. Was I dead? she pondered, as her stomach twisted with a sickening lurch. She swallowed back the urge to vomit and renewed her efforts to break free.
After several minutes of frantic pushing, she managed to clear a few inches of the lid. A few moments later, she squeezed through the space she created, and she blinked at the brilliant light of the room, standing half in, half out of an elaborately carved tomb. As her eyes adjusted to the bright light, she saw the entire room was filled with carved sarcophagi, all on low platforms. It was clearly a burial chamber…and quite an ornate one at that.
The pristine stillness of the space was unnerving, and she immediately felt like an intruder. She stepped shakily down onto the platform her tomb rested on, and sat down heavily, her wobbling legs failed her. She was still shaking all over, although she would have claimed it was from the cold or exertion rather than fear of whether there was anyone watching besides statues of unfamiliar warriors along the walls. The warriors had been frozen with all their armor on, and their perfectly preserved bodies made them look ready to leapt from their icy restraints.
Her eyes continued to adjust, and she began noticing more of the chamber. She realized the light was so strong because it was streaming in from a large crystalline structure high in the massive ceiling and the light was reflecting off of the ice covering almost every surface. Her first thought was that she was deep in the Ice Temple she had begun to call her home, but the space felt… foreign in a way she couldn't properly describe. Yet at the same time it seemed familiar, like she had walked into a relative's house without knowing.
There was strange chain mail armor resting on every sarcophagus except hers. It was covered in ornate dragons, jaws open to seemingly tear into any enemy that dared come close. The helmets were strange, spiked creations, with a chain mouth guard to hide the face. She slowly crawled around to the other side, but there was none there either, which brought her to another thought. Had the sarcophagus been empty, or had she been placed in a stolen tomb? What had happened to the original owner?
The hair on the back of her neck stood up-and so did she, backing away as fast as she could, her steps echoing off the frozen walls. They sounded harsh in the dead silence, like they would wake the others resting in their stone beds; she couldn't help but wonder if some of them hadn't been mistakenly buried like herself. The whole place felt suddenly unwelcoming, beautiful as it was. The dead should not be disturbed.
She fled the chamber, out through the carved doors and running blindly into the catacombs. If she had gotten in the burial chamber, there must be an exit, somewhere.
Her breaths were coming in great shaking gasps as she slumped against the same sarcophagus she had climbed out of. It seemed no matter which way she turned; the tombs seemed to lead her back to the same burial grounds. The halls were built like a maze, turning back against themselves, and she crossed a used path more than a few times by accident. The slick coating of ice made all the halls look the same. It was as if the dead meant to keep her there with them until she joined them permanently. She even wondered briefly in a moment of desperation if she should just crawl back into her resting place and speed things along.
But the same stubbornness that had caused her to believe at one point that she could handle the Dragon Amulet kept her going now. She didn't want to be here, didn't want to be trapped. More importantly, she wasn't ready to die, especially not after nearly succumbing to it so close in the past. But…how long ago was it?
She had to admit she didn't know. It could have been hours, days, months… There were indications that she had broken a seal of ice in her struggles, but she didn't know how fast it had accumulated, nor how it got there. Someone could have made it, the same way she and Sifu could. Were the sarcophagi sealed with ice? Did it form? Was it meant to keep people in?
That last thought made her stop again. Had the person who buried her known she was still alive? What if it were some kind of punishment? She couldn't imagine Sub-Zero being so cruel, but if something had happened to him…
…or maybe he was that angry. She had betrayed his trust spectacularly, she had to admit, and her heart sunk. Why had she thought she could control the Dragon Amulet? She couldn't even make anything more than her simple weapons or cast an ice projectile like Sub-Zero. She had put both him and the clan in jeopardy when she snatched the amulet. They would never take her back.
She looked dejectedly down at her uniform of blue and black. She had been so proud to receive her colors, but now they just seemed to be a symbol of just how badly she screwed up. Only she and Sub-Zero were permitted to wear the blue of the ice elementals, like their forbearers. Now she had gone and done dishonor-to herself, and to her colors.
Maybe I deserved this.
Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to her feet once again, ignoring the insistent growling of her stomach. The hunger was gnawing angrily at her insides, but at least it let her know she was alive and distracted her from the nasty chill creeping into her bones. It felt like the cold was coming from her very core. But, there was nothing edible in the catacombs as far as she could see, just ice and stone and dead bodies. Well, maybe the dead bodies were edible, she thought, but she wasn't quite ready to go that far yet. She wasn't sure she would ever be.
The corridors were mostly featureless, just long stretches of ice-covered rock reflecting the light from the occasional larger chamber. Someone must have taken great care when carving them out, because there was no place unlit by the reflecting light. Perhaps they were also meant to confuse as well as allow passage, because traveling hall after identical hall left Frost with the sensation she was trapped. No matter which way she turned, she couldn't help but feel she had gone that way before. It was certainly disorienting, to say the least.
In Frost's opinion the stillness and quiet was worse than getting lost. There was no movement besides her, no noise besides her own steps and heavy breathing and the occasional clattering of her teeth. It felt like she was slinking around in a sacred place more than she was escaping possible death. She would have given anything for a companion, even a furious Sifu. Just someone…anyone…alive.
It was then she caught the flash of light and felt the cold bite of steel in the soft flesh under her chin, as a figure in black and blue rounded the corner and thrust a spear at her. The armed warrior had made no noise, and she wondered if she had been followed or just come upon. She tried to form her kori daggers in defense, but she felt no power running through her hands, no chill running through her veins. The only cold was the vestiges of the freeze from the Dragon Amulet. Whatever power she had was gone, and she faced her attacker unarmed.
She raised her hands slowly, attempting to be as non-threatening as possible as she eased her head up and off of the blade itself. A few scarlet drops slid down the spearhead and splashed on the ice below as both adversaries watched. They froze as soon as they hit the cold ground, glittering like rubies against the pristine ice.
The spear wielder was regarding her coldly with ice-blue, almond shaped eyes, and the contrast between the vicious gaze and the height disparity would probably have been amusing in a situation that wasn't possibly life or death. Frost had to look down several inches to meet the gaze of the petite woman threatening her life, adding an odd visual power struggle to an otherwise cut and dry control contest. However, she had learned long ago not to underestimate someone smaller, especially a trained warrior. They had a nasty tendency of being able to slip out of your reach.
As the two females sized each other up, Frost noted in quick succession the large geometric tattoo on the small forehead and several piercings on the woman's face. Her long, black hair was tied back in a queue that fell far below her waist, and there were a multitude of scars on her neck and shoulders that were too regular to have been inflicted in battle. If she had to hazard a guess, Frost would have said that this was a masochist, not the kind of person she wanted to go up against-masochists had an unsettling tendency to rarely give up.
The woman was dressed in loose clothing-a blue short-sleeved tunic and baggy, black pants, complemented by a pair of thick sandals. They were clearly designed for ease of movement, but the fabric looked thin and not suited for keeping in warmth. It seemed to be an odd outfit for such a cold place, but she showed no signs of feeling the freezing air. Maybe this woman carried the same abilities she had discovered within herself, perhaps…
But none of the arctic-dwelling cultures Frost knew of dressed like that, and she found herself at a loss as to where this woman came from. If she came from one of the Earthrealm native tribes she would have dressed warmly by custom, wouldn't she?
Finally, Frost spoke, as calmly as she could manage under the circumstances. "I don't mean any harm." But the strange woman had no reaction except to prod the spearhead a little higher, making Frost rise up on her toes to avoid the tip from sinking farther into the soft flesh between her jaw bones. Her heart was starting to race as her list of viable things to do rapidly shrank to surrender and die. This woman meant business and she didn't seem too inclined to negotiate. "Can you understand me?" she asked with a desperate tinge to her voice.
There was no response again, but there was an almost thoughtful look in the icy, almond eyes. Then, as suddenly as the spear was forced into Frost's face, it was pulled away, and the woman circled her slowly, watching carefully for any signs of movement. Frost did her best to be as still and calm as possible, not wanting to find the speartip buried where it would do more damage. A less than gentle prod in the small of Frost's back knocked her off balance, and she stepped forward with a small, "Oof."
The pressure remained, and she took the hint and continued walking, taking care to keep her hands visible, as shaky as they were. The black-haired warrior still wasn't talking though, and merely signaled to Frost that she wanted her to turn by hitting her hard on her left hip with the butt of the spear, almost immediately earning Frost's complete animosity. No one treated her like that, not even Sifu-and he had the power to turn her inside out if he wanted to. But the thought of Sub-Zero only made her sigh again in disgust of herself.
She didn't understand why this woman was being so overly hostile. It wasn't as if she had been caught peeing in one of the graves or looting the coffins. Well, maybe the woman thought she had stolen the missing armor, but wouldn't it have been obvious that she didn't have it now? It didn't seem fair to be treated like a criminal when all she had done was wake up in the wrong place. This little warrior was rapidly gaining on her list of people to hurt, earning a place just slightly lower than that bitch, Sonya…
Another sharp pain in her left side told her to turn again, and she forced herself to keep going and not turn around and ram that spear up its owner's nose. She wasn't sure she could take the little warrior without a weapon of her own and try as she might, the familiar tinge of cold just wasn't forming in her hands. It wasn't quite clear what had happened to her kori powers, but she suspected it had something to do with the Dragon Amulet. In any case, she didn't want to face down an angry, malicious, and armed opponent without them. At least this idiot might even be leading her out of the catacombs.
The continual prodding was driving her mad though, and she hoped they would find the sunlight soon so she could ditch the spear bearer and find some heat. She hadn't been this cold since the first night she had discovered her kori abilities years ago, and even then the feeling had gone away in hours. Walking through the cavern here felt like she was walking through a meat freezer.
They came to a halt in front of a wall in one of the larger burial chambers, and stood beneath a blue banner with a curved script Frost couldn't read. The spear was jabbed into the back of her knee, and she bent it quickly as she was forced to kneel down. The steel pointed at her face was more eloquent than any "stay still" could ever have been, and she remained silent and motionless as the woman pushed aside the lid of the nearest tomb easily and beckoned her to it.
Coming closer, Frost could see that the lid was hollowed out on the inside and covered in scrapes. It seemed used to being removed and thrown about. Hesitant as she was to be forced into another coffin, Frost peered inside the stone vessel and was reassured by a visible man sized hole with a ladder beneath. This was why she hadn't been able to find the exit. But why hide the tombs so well? She knew the Egyptians did that for their pharaohs, but somehow, she didn't think she was lost over there.
The woman was glaring at her, obviously annoyed that her captive wasn't moving fast enough. When I get out of this, I'm shoving that spear through her chest, Frost thought with equal malice, but climbed slowly into the sarcophagus and grabbed hold of the rungs. They were startlingly cold on her fingertips. She had forgotten what ice felt like before she had begun to control her fa jing. She had barely touched the bottom when the diminutive stranger jumped down after her (not even bothering to use the ladder,) and landed neatly with only the slightest of sounds.
A beam of light broke through the hall ahead, and the stranger prodded her towards it. There was a gentle breeze running through the corridor too, and Frost's heart leapt at the promise of fresh air, even if it was chilly. Her captor seemed to feel the same way and hurried her along, until a clear opening in the hall came into view, which Frost was only all too eager to head through.
