Author's Note: HELLOOOOOO MK COMMUNITY! It has been a hot minute since I did anything with Mortal Kombat and by golly it feels good to be back. With the release of MK1, I was beyond inspired to return to the characters and settings and kombat… but if there's anything MK1 taught me, it's that the floodgates have been opened and there's no limit to the creative reach of the MK universe. In fact, I'd encourage everyone to try and write your own MK stories. The sky is genuinely the limit when it comes to ideas.

Now, without further ado, let's return to some familiar faces… who may not be as familiar as they once were…


The Royal Archives contained the most thorough account of Outworld's history. Every golden age, every war, every hardship, all was contained within this hallowed wing of the Z'Unkahrah Royal Palace… which is why panicked servants frantically attempted to secure ancient parchments stirred up by violent winds.

Ancient wooden doors blew wide open, sending a hulking mass of metal and muscle sliding across the empty hall behind him. With a guttural grunt he picked himself up, seemingly unphased by the assault an physically unhurt. "That is quite enough, my dear. You have made your point. More damage to my house and its servants is not necessary." Shao Kahn growled. Across from him, stepping through the open doors, stalked Outworld's very own Princess Kitana. Dressed in a blue unitard with matching thigh-high boots and gloves, her bladed fans were drawn and she appeared very, very cross.

"You! You put a spell on me… Made me forget. Forget who I was! Who I am!" She accused. Shao Kahn did nothing to deny the charge.

"Yes, I did. I helped to make you what you are today." He stated boldly. He stood tall, looming over Kitana, but made no move to attack her or defend himself. "The rest of your story has not been put down in writing… But I shall tell you the tale." Kitana paused hesitantly, poised to strike should he say something that displeased her.

"It was within my power to make you believed what I wanted. To break your mind was a simple thing, really. Your spirit, however, was quite a different matter. It was easy to make you forget who you were, or so I thought. In the process you became tougher than I would have thought possible. The art of war came naturally to you, child, and you grew to become one of this land's most proficient kombatants. I have often asked myself if this was Jerrod's influence on you or my own…"

The way he spoke so fondly about her confused Kitana. For a topic so sensitive, even volatile, Shao seemed to speak so trivially about it. "But when it became obvious that you would never truly be mine, I attempted something different. I turned to Shang Tsung and his replication experiments to create a perfect clone of you… Mileena." Kitana paled, lowering her arms as the realization dawned on her.

"What?"

"You did not know that she was cloned from you, my dear. Do not worry… there is no way you could have known… she does not even know. Mileena is a clone, but she is an imperfect one. She is flawed. I wanted her to be you, but she most definitely is not." Shao Kahn described. "I can trust her, that is true… but I cannot love her." He confessed. As the Kahn grew wistful, Kitana hardened herself.

"Maybe she knows more about her true nature than you believe. But one thing is quite clear… she is your true child! Just as surely as I am not!" She snapped. Shao gaze turned fervent.

"And yet you are the one I want for my daughter." He said. "And I cannot let you go."

"Then you must slay me!" Kitana shouted. Shao frowned, a crimson glow coming over his eyes.

"So it would seem…" He growled. A brilliant blast of light erupted from his eyes, consuming Kitana's vision until everything went black. She collapsed to the floor, fans falling from her hands as she fell unconscious. "Death and destruction are worthy tools, Kitana… but I, Shao Kahn, have so many more at my disposal." Shao murmured. Walking over to her fallen form, he hoisted her up into his arms, cradling her like his own child. "I have burned your memories away, child, so once again you will believe you are… what I wish you to be." He whispered. The Kahn then looked to the few scattered servants still watching the clash unfold. "Seal off this portion of the archives. Let none save myself enter." He ordered in a thunderous voice. Terrified servants scrambled to obey as Shao carried Kitana down the hall. As he did, she stirred.

"F-Father…?" She murmured in a bleary voice. "What… happened…?"

"You had a fitful dream, my child. A dream was all it was." Shao gently explained, a lone hand softly stroking her arm. "Now close your eyes and rest. You are safe with me once more. Safe from all who would do you harm. Safe from those who would fill your head with lies. Safe from the past…" Lulled back into slumber, Kitana remained still in what she believed to be her father's hands. Content for the time being, Shao turned left at the end of the hall and strode towards her room. Glancing down at the beautiful woman in his arms, he murmured,

"Safe from the truth."

Truth. It could grind alliances to dust. Shatter bonds once thought unshakeable. Ruin lives beyond repair… which is exactly how Mileena felt.

Lurking around the righthand corner, just beyond the sight of Shao Kahn, the violet clad woman stood stoic, unmoving… save for the tears welling in her eyes. Mileena watched the man she called father, the man she adored and idolized and fervently sought to please, retreat with her so-called sister in his arms… and felt her adoration fleeting with him. His words, spoken in confidence to Kitana, echoed in her memory, haunting her…

"I wanted her to be you, but she most definitely is not. I can trust her, that is true… but I cannot love her."

Mileena felt her life fall apart around her, left in a void that had once been her safe, certain reality. Tears overflowed and streaked down her cheeks, catching on the edges of her violet-hued mask. Despair, rage, desperation, all of them bubbled up within her to form a cauldron of turmoil as Mileena found the strength to start walking… in pursuit of Shao Kahn.

She waited until he left Kitana's room, leaving the exhausted princess on her bed, and then followed him further through the palace before she could not hold it together any longer.

"Emperor!" She barked, barely holding herself together. Shao stopped in his tracks and turned.

"Mileena-"

"I heard what you told, Kitana!" She snapped, interrupting him. "You told her that you love her over me! That you trust me but do no think of me as a daughter!" The Kahn showed only the barest sign of surprise. His expression remained hardened, focused. He refused to show weaknesses.

"Yes. That is what I said." He stated. "And I meant it." His declaration, his utter refusal to dissuade any notion to the contrary, floored Mileena.

"How can you say that?!" She shrieked. "You are my father-"

"You are not my daughter!" Shao thundered, using the same booming voice that made court officials tremble before his decrees. Mileena fell small before him as Shao reared himself to full height, commanding her like one of his minions. "You are my assassin! My servant! My tool…" his tone dropped to a low, dangerous growl, "and that is all you will ever be." Mileena was so much smaller than him. The spitting image of Kitana, right down to the attire (only in pink), Shao knew that in spite of her flaws there was so much Mileena embodied that was perfect. Just like Kitana, she was elegant, skillful, intelligent…

And no less fierce.

With an enraged scream, Mileena lunged and attacked, fingers curled into claws ready to sink into his flesh. But Shao reacted quickly, meeting her head-on with a shoulder charge that struck like a runaway freight train. Mileena flew back and struck the wall, rebounding as she drew her sais. Blood running hot as she lashed out in a fury, Shao raised his gauntleted arms as sparks erupted from metal-on-metal swipes. He warded her off, shrugged off her assault, leaving Mileena fighting air as the Kahn proved the better kombatant. A single backhand sent Mileena spinning until she fell to the floor.

"Enough!" Shao boomed. "You will remember your place, Mileena!" Stomping over, he hoisted Mileena up by her long ebony hair. But she responded quickly and raised a sai behind her to slice off her long locks. Cutting her hair erratically short, Mileena rolled ahead and sprang back to her feet. Her disposition had shifted, her entire persona altered by the way her new short hair fell around her vivid expression. She tugged down her mask, revealing a maw full of sharp Tarkatan teeth… the unique flaw Shao Kahn loathed so much. Snapping open her jaws, she lunged, looking to take a bite out of her 'father'.

But she never made it as Shao's hand grabbed her by the throat, snatching her out of the air.

The Kahn slammed her into a wall before throwing her to a floor, where a hard kick sent her tumbling down the expanse of hall. Battered and bruised, Mileena looked up to see his heavy boot crush her sais underfoot. "I grow tired of your insolence." Shao growled as he approached her. "You will know your place as my assassin. You are my servant, nothing more. Make yourself invaluable, I have no use for weaklings!" As he spoke, he summoned his fearsome wrath hammer, a mighty maul that had reduced the skulls of countless enemies to a bloody paste. Mileena struggled to her feet, bracing herself near a window.

"Is it weak to want a father? You are all I have ever known!" She begged him.

"Grow up, Mileena. You are a clone. A tool forged at my command for me to use how I choose." Shao retorted, levelling a clawed finger in her direction. "Your inferiority to Kitana is only overlooked by your ability to obey my will. If you lose that, then I have no use for you." Mileena paled.

"You would slay me?" She asked.

"If I must." Shao responded. Hefting his weapon with both hands, he drew back and swung. Knowing how deadly his weapon could be, Mileena threw herself out the window, narrowly avoiding his swing by a matter of inches. Glass shattered as she was flung into the open air and tumbled in free fall towards the palace grounds below. Shao did not move to watch, standing still as a sudden breeze filled the hall. Servants came running, concerned by the sounds of kombat and the sudden breaking of glass. "Go to the grounds and see if any remains are to be found. I do not care if there are or not." Shao ordered and the servants did as told…

But they never found Mileena. Battered and bloodied, she had carried herself out of the palace and to the outskirts of Z'Unkahrah. There she found the portals used to traverse the realms, sitting dormant and waiting to be used. In a last act of defiance, she concentrated not on her hurt at the dismissal of her father, the only family she had ever known, but on the emptiness she now felt. She was nothing. A nobody. No longer esteemed and feared by the court of Outworld, no longer recognized as one of the deadly daughters of the Kahn.

And in that moment of concentration her body reacted. Her broad Tarkatan maw began to shrink, skin forming across her cheeks as the size of her teeth were reduced. Her mouth shortened to a normal size that transformed her face into the spitting image of Princess Kitana. Even her amber catlike eyes dulled until they were brown with circular pupils… normal in every sense of the word. At a glance none would ever guess she had Tarkatan genetics mixed with Edenian.

The transformation complete, Mileena stepped into the portal with torn clothing and tear-stained cheeks, departing for regions unknown…


Evening came to the land as the setting sun cast brilliant golden hues across hills and valleys. The colorful glow illuminated a small village set in the pristine landscape, where long wooden houses comprised the width and breadth of the town. Near the end of the village, atop a hill, a older man with long hair and an equally long beard crouched shirtless in a ready position.

His name was Lars. And he was wrestling his son.

His boy came charging towards him, grappling with his broad shoulders as he practiced his Glima technique. It was tradition within the clan to sharpen the mind by practicing such rough-hewn techniques among fellow warriors. It provided a clarity of thought and an understanding of battle. The ground was bad, you did not want to get thrown down. That is where the enemy went. Lars grinned and growled, moving to and fro with his son as his boy practiced. The harder the challenge, the better he would excel. His son pushed and Lars did not budge. Then Lars pushed and his son began to slid across the wet grass…

But that was okay with him.

Using his own momentum against him, his boy curled his legs around his torso as Lars lost all resistance to his movement. He stumbled and fell, his boy hooking around him to claim victory. "I got you! I got you, father!" He declared.

"To claim victory, you must keep me pinned." Lars stated, exercising enough prodigious strength to roll his son over and keep him pinned to the ground, thus ending the round. "You show great skill, Magnus. You are strong. But you will one day be stronger still." Lars rolled to sit and a wearied Magnus climbed into his lap. Together they watched the sun set.

"Father… you always want to wrestle with me after we eat. But how come you don't want to wrestle with Sebastian?" Magnus suddenly asked. Lars glanced down at him for a moment and then sighed.

"Your brother does not want to. Seldom has he ever." He answered. "He prefers to read and write until the light is gone."

"Does… Does that mean you love him less?" The young Magnus wondered.

"No, of course not. I love my sønner equally." Lars promised, wrapping his arms tightly around his youngest. "But as chieftain, I must also think about my people and their future. We are Ynglings. Descendents of Yngvi-Frey. The Njordborn. And one day, my young son, it will be up to you to lead our tribe into the future." He explained. Magnus scrunched up his brow.

"But… what about Sebastian? Isn't he older than me? Isn't he supposed to be the next jarl?"

"Maybe so. But you are strong of body while he is strong in mind. You will need both to lead effectively, but the Ynglings require a strong man who can hold his own in a fight to be their head." Lars told him. Magnus looked up, blue eyes full of youthful potential.

"I won't let you down, father." He promised. Lars smiled.

"You never will, Magnus." He assured him.

Suddenly, a bright green light appeared near the opposite end of the village. It stood in stark contrast to the setting sun and drew the attention of father and son towards it. "What is that?" Magnus wondered. When the light receded, the appearance of a man in dark robes was left behind. Lars frowned.

"Stay here, boy. I will investigate." He stood and threw on his shirt before slipping back into his boots. By the time he did, others in the village had moved to investigate the stranger's sudden arrival…

That was when the same green light erupted from his outstretched hands and shrieks of terror filled the night air. The stillness of the evening was shattered as the the men were reduced to lifeless husks, their bodies crumbling to the grassy ground as their very souls were drained away. Magnus looked on in horror. "D-Draugr…" he whispered, fearing that his people would be transformed into the violent undead.

"Run, Magnus!" Lars shouted. "Go to the woods! Stay there beyond the reach of the village until I come and find you!" His father's command was answered immediately as young Magnus got up and ran. A clamour filled the air as the Ynglings made to answer their violent interloper. Shouts and war cries filled the air, answered with the screams of dying as their souls were drained. Magnus did not look back as the sounds were etched into his mind and he did not stop running until he was ten trees deep into the woods. Only then did he turn around and look in horror as his house was framed by a blackened sky, the glorious sun blotted out by thick, terrifying clouds.

Then came the unholy cacophony of souls screeching through the air, the power of dark, ancient magic unleashed as the village of the Ynglings was consumed by a Soul Storm. Vibrant green energy, growing in volume and force swept across the land like a tornado and Magnus swore he heard his father's voice among them.

Cowering behind a fallen tree as the magic ripped his home to pieces, Magnus covered his ears and wept, screaming to try and blot out the noise of chaos and destruction. The Soul Storm reached the trees causing wizened old pines to bend and sway. Branches were ripped from trunks, needles and cones stirred into a dervish that pelted the shirtless boy. Like raging insects the bit at his flesh and struck him over and over as he curled up into a ball, desperate for it all to end.

Somewhere, in the thick of it, the serpentine voice of a powerful sorcerer made a deafening proclamation…

"Your souls are mine!"