Into Shang Tsung's Island.

Chapter 11: A wolf in the sorcerer’s den.

“Out of every cursed place he could have chosen…” Mileena muttered as she stepped through the portal, her boots grinding softly against fractured stone. She exhaled through her nose, eyes narrowing as she took in the ruins before her. “He picks this fucking place.”

The portal snapped shut behind her and Skarlet, leaving them alone within the decaying remains of Shang Tsung’s island.
Mileena clicked her tongue, folding one arm across her waist as the other rested lazily near her sai. “I seriously can’t believe this man’s ego.”

The island answered her with silence, but not an empty one. The air itself felt wrong, thick with old and dark magic, damp and decaying stone/architecture and something faintly metallic lingering beneath it all. Dry blood covered the stone floors … or perhaps only the memory of it. The once-grand structures stood broken and hollow, their towering arches split apart, statues crumbled and blackened stone veins faintly pulsing with residual sorcery.

Mist clung low across the ground, curling around shattered pillars and collapsed stairways. The moonlight barely reached them, filtered through a perpetual haze that gave the entire island a suffocating, dreamlike quality. It wasn’t dead…It was waiting for the return of its master.

Once, this place had been alive, vibrant with warriors, spectacle and deception. But that had always been a lie. Beneath the surface, it had housed **** chambers, flesh pits, and unspeakable experiments. Those who fought here knew the truth, even if they never spoke it aloud.

Shang Tsung had let it collapse after his defeat at the hands of Earthrealm’s champions… but like its master, the island had endured.

And now, it welcomed them back.

Mileena stepped forward, gaze dragging across a collapsed tower, her lips curling faintly. “Still standing after all this time… stubborn place.”

“Perhaps,” Skarlet replied calmly as she moved beside her, her posture composed, her eyes already scanning every shadow and angle with quiet precision, “it reflects its master.”

Mileena glanced sideways at her, amused. “Meaning?”

“That it refuses to let go of what it once was,” Skarlet answered, her tone measured, almost clinical. “Even in ruin.”

Mileena huffed softly and looked ahead again. “Calling this place ‘home’ now would be generous,” she said, voice edged with dry amusement. “It’s more like a grave that refuses to stay buried.”

Skarlet inclined her head slightly. “A fitting description.”

They began their walk toward the courtyard, their steps echoing faintly through the island's hollow remains. The distance was not long, yet the environment made it feel stretched, distorted, as though the island itself resisted their passage.

“Or perhaps,” Skarlet added after a moment, “he enjoys standing in the shadow of his own failure… reminding himself how bad of a host he was.”

Mileena let out a quiet laugh. “Are you calling him a masochist?” A beat passed as she smirked to herself. “Or does he just have a thing for being humiliated?”

A faint curve touched Skarlet’s lips beneath her veil. “Both are plausible.”

Mileena chuckled again, softer this time. “I like this version of you.”

Skarlet did not respond, but her eyes flickered briefly toward Mileena before returning to their surroundings. Always vigilant, always calculating.

Silence settled between them again, but this time, Mileena didn’t rush to fill it. Skarlet noticed. Her fingers twitched subtly at her side before stilling again.

Skarlet's mission was one: to keep a close eye on Mileena and keep her safe. She planned to do so successfully…yet her mind lingered on her conversation with Syzoth and Ermac. She didn’t want to, but perhaps they had a point. If Mileena could be swayed here, if Shang Tsung succeeded, then everything would change. Her loyalty would be tested, and her blade would sharpen.

And if that moment came… her greatest threat would not be an enemy.

It would be hesitation. She had never hesitated before, yet it would prove inevitable soon enough. She didn’t want to do it…deep down she knew she was supposed to be a cold-blooded assassin Shao Kahn crafted, but her heart and mind were conflicted on her.

“You are awfully quiet, my queen,” Skarlet said at last, her voice cutting cleanly through the silence, controlled but observant.

Mileena blinked, pulled from her thoughts. “Hmm?” she hummed softly before exhaling. “Oh… I was thinking.”
There was something different in her tone…subtle, carrying an unspoken softness and sorrow.

“Is it bothering you?” she added, glancing toward her.

Skarlet raised a brow slightly. “Your silence?”

Mileena nodded faintly. “Yes.”

A brief pause followed before Skarlet straightened slightly. “Forgive me, my queen. I did not mean to imply—”

“It’s fine,” Mileena interrupted, her tone gentler than expected.

That alone caught Skarlet off guard.

“I suppose it makes sense,” Mileena continued with a faint, self-aware smile. “I do tend to talk more than Kitana or Jade.”

“That is true,” Skarlet admitted, regaining her composure. “But I was not judging, only observing.”

Mileena smirked faintly. “Of course you were.” Then, after a small pause, she added more quietly, “If you want to know what I was thinking… I can tell you.”

That was unexpected for the hemomancer. Still, Skarlet nodded. “I am listening.”

Mileena’s gaze drifted forward, but her focus had shifted inward. “Skarlet…” she began, her voice tightening ever so slightly. “Have you noticed my sister… being distant these past weeks?”

The question came softer than she intended.

Skarlet’s eyes sharpened, though her expression remained composed. “In what way, my queen?”

Mileena exhaled slowly. “She avoids me, unless we’re in council. Even then… she doesn’t look at me unless she has to.”
Her steps slowed, barely noticeable, but enough to be felt. Skarlet noticed.

“In the halls,” Mileena continued, “she changes direction. Speaks to Jade instead. Keeps everything… formal.” A bitter breath left her lips. “She’s never done that before…it’s concerning.”

Skarlet lowered her gaze slightly, considering her response carefully. She had a theory on why this was the case. It was most likely that Kitana had found out the truth about Mileena’s birth. She was most likely conflicted about what to do and believe. “I have observed it,” she admitted. “And I found it unusual.”

Mileena looked at her now, something uncertain flickering beneath her composure. “Do you think she’s angry with me…?”
Skarlet studied her carefully. “Perhaps,” she said evenly. “I cannot say whether you have done something wrong… but I can confirm this.”

Her eyes met Mileena’s. “She is distant. And colder than before.”

The words landed with precision. Skarlet watched closely, expecting anger, deflection…something familiar from her like resentment. Instead, Mileena’s expression faltered.

She had been called a monster her entire life; By enemies, by servants, by whispers in the dark…But never by Kitana. Mileena cared for her sister…no, loved her. For her to show this side, this reaction in a genuine way, one that Mileena could sense and see, hurt her to her core. She knew something had happened between them, perhaps at first she was irritated and angry at her actions and words, but now it only saddened her; she never wanted Kitana to see her that way…the way everyone saw her, as a monster.

“…I see,” Mileena said quietly. And for once, there was no edge in her voice: only something softer, something filled with sorrow. “Thank you,” she added after a moment.

Skarlet hesitated, a rare occurrence. She almost spoke, almost offered something resembling comfort, but the instinct felt foreign… misplaced.

Fenrir’s influence was spreading further than she had anticipated. “…Of course, my queen,” she said instead, inclining her head.

Mileena nodded faintly, though her thoughts were already spiralling…Why? What had changed? What had Kitana seen? Their arguments had never lasted this long. Never this cold. This felt different, deliberate. Like the way Kitana had once looked at Shao Kahn, one filled with disdain.

Mileena’s jaw tightened. Her thoughts drifted, unbidden, to Fenrir. To his presence, his warmth, the way he grounded her. The way he saw her, not as a weapon, not as a mistake… but as something worth holding onto. Maybe this cold feeling from Kitana led her to search for comfort in him more and more. Just to be wrapped around his arms after making love to each other was enough to reassure her; She exhaled slowly, she wanted to address these fears and concerns with him. But she wasn’t even sure herself; now she knew for sure. Something had happened that changed Kitana’s perspective on her…something she would find out as well, as much as she feared what it was.

But now there was something more important to deal with, something that was well above this personal war in her. The meeting, one they were just about to enter.

The two women stepped into the courtyard, boots grinding softly against cracked stone slick with moisture and age. What had once been a grand building now stood hollowed and decayed, statues split down the middle, their faces eroded into silent screams; banners long rotted away, leaving only frayed cords swaying in the damp air. The throne at the far end sat abandoned, fractured. Its gold dulled to a sickly bronze under the pale wash of moonlight filtering through broken archways. The air itself felt wrong, heavy with old sorcery, damp rot, and something deeper beneath it all… something not dead, only waiting for the return of its master.

“Greetings.” A voice came from the shadows to their right, smooth but edged.

Reiko stepped forward, armour catching what little light remained. He didn’t rush; he didn’t need to. His presence carried weight on its own. “I was beginning to think you wouldn’t bother answering the call.”

Mileena let out a chuckle, slow and amused as she tilted her head. “And why is that, my dear Reiko?” Her tone was playful, but her eyes weren’t. “I figured leaving things in your hands would end the same way it did last time.” A slight smile formed behind the veil. “Poorly.”

Behind her, Skarlet exhaled a soft, restrained chuckle, her gaze already scanning the perimeter.

Reiko’s expression hardened instantly. “Need I remind you…” He said, stepping closer, his height casting a looming shadow over Mileena, “…that I dealt with the soldiers you sent after us?”

Mileena didn’t move; instead, she narrowed her eyes threateningly. Reiko’s loyalists had been hunted these last couple of days after his defeat at Sun Do’s. They had been stirring up trouble by raiding armouries or making insurgencies and or recruiting people to their cause…it had already led to the **** of many guards trying to stop them...and townfolks who refused them. “I’m aware,” she replied, her voice cooling into something sharper. “I’m also aware that you’re slaughtering your own people to prove a point.” Her eyes narrowed. “Tell me… does it make you feel powerful, Reiko? Killing those who used to follow you?”

His jaw tightened. She took a step forward now, closing the gap deliberately. “Then again,” she added lightly, venom tucked neatly beneath silk, “you always did enjoy licking my father’s boots. I suppose the taste of dirt is familiar by now.”

Reiko’s lip curled. “And I never expected you,” he shot back, “to kneel for an Earthrealmer. Shao Kahn would have had your head for less.”

“Who says I’m kneeling?” Mileena replied, a faint, dangerous smile tugging beneath her mask. “You assume far too much.”

“I don’t assume,” Reiko said, glancing briefly at Skarlet with the same disdain before locking back onto Mileena. “I’m always sure. Perhaps Shang Tsung and Goro believe you two aren’t helping him…But I can see between the lines.” His smirk returned, “You like the Earthrealmer, you would have followed us that night.”

Mileena gave a soft, mocking hum. “Or perhaps,” she said, circling slightly, forcing him to turn with her, “I simply enjoy playing with my prey before I decide how to kill it.”

Reiko let out a low chuckle, stepping past her toward the centre of the courtyard. “Then you chose the wrong one.” He glanced back over his shoulder. “Kitana was always better at choosing her battles, always better than you.”

Mileena’s hand twitched, just slightly, her fingers curling into a fist near her hip. The movement was small, but Skarlet caught it instantly, her own hand shifting just enough to intercept if needed. A silent warning. A silent restraint.

Before the tension could snap, “The meeting hasn’t even begun,” another voice echoed, smooth and laced with amusement. Water spiralled into existence nearby, coiling upward before collapsing into form as Rain stepped forward, robes untouched by the damp decay around them. He didn’t advance further.

He didn’t need to.

His presence alone pressed into the space. “And already you’re proving why the Earthrealmer continues to outmanoeuvre you, Reiko.”

Reiko scoffed. “Bold words for an Edenian.”

Rain’s eyes sharpened. “King of Edenia,” he corrected, voice tightening. “You would do well to remember that.”

“I see no crown,” Reiko replied flatly. “Only a man clinging to a title someone else earned.”

A heavy, echoing stomp cut through the exchange. “Enough.”

The ground trembled slightly as Motaro stepped into view, his massive frame dwarfing the fractured columns around him. His hooves struck the stone with deliberate ****. “All of you posture like kings,” he muttered. “Yet none of you hold anything.”

Reiko turned sharply. “You forget yourself, centaur. I’ve won more battles than your entire kind combined.”

Motaro’s lip curled. “And yet here you stand. Still losing.”

A low, rumbling laugh followed.

The air seemed to grow heavier as Goro entered, each step deliberate and powerful. Four arms flexed as he rolled his shoulders, surveying the group with open disdain. “You allow him to speak to you like that?” he said to Motaro.
“Pathetic.”

Motaro turned fully now, towering, unyielding. “I’ve never lost to the Earthrealmer,” he shot back. “Especially not two against one.”

Goro’s eyes flared. “Because you hide behind walls while warriors fight your battles.”

“And you lose them,” Motaro snapped.

The air tightened, no one moved to stop it…They were waiting for the first strike.

“For all your victories…” a new voice cut in, calm, measured and already in control, “…you all stand here united by failure.”

Silence fell. Above them, where the throne once commanded dominance, a figure hovered before descending slowly, robes untouched by gravity itself.

Shang Tsung had made his presence known.

He landed without a sound and somehow… that was louder than anything else. “I would suggest,” he continued, hands clasped behind his back as he stepped forward into the centre, “that you listen… instead of reminding each other why you lost.”

No one spoke. Motaro stilled; even Goro held his ground without advancing. Mileena and Skarlet exchanged the briefest glance, sharp and knowing. The game had begun.

Shang Tsung’s gaze drifted across them all before settling, precisely, on Mileena.

“Princess Mileena…” The way he said it made it sound like a memory… not a title. “Or perhaps I should call you,” he added smoothly, “Queen Mileena nowadays.”

Mileena let out a quiet, amused breath. “Whichever suits your mood, sorcerer,” she replied evenly. “Though I’d advise you keep up with current events.”

A faint smile tugged at his lips. “Of course.”

“Then get on with it,” Motaro snapped, stomping once. “Speak your piece.”

Shang Tsung didn’t even look at him. “Patience,” he said calmly. “We are still… incomplete.”

As if summoned by the word itself, a green-black rift tore open behind them, its edges crackling with necrotic energy. From it stepped Quan Chi, pale, composed, his presence colder than the island itself.

“Now,” Shang Tsung said softly, glancing toward him with the faintest hint of satisfaction, “we may begin.”

Quan Chi folded his arms, silent, observing.

Shang Tsung stepped forward, claiming the centre fully now, no longer just present, but dominant. “You all know why you are here,” he began. “A problem stands before you.”

“Then name it,” Rain said coolly.

Shang Tsung raised his hand, silencing the Edenian prince. Then he said with measured,
“The Earthrealmer… must die.”

The words settled like a blade pressed to the throat of the courtyard. Mileena didn’t react outwardly, though her eyes flicked briefly to Skarlet.

“And how do you propose we do that?” Goro asked, arms crossing.

Shang Tsung’s smile returned, subtle and assured. “Together.” That word alone drew tension across every face. “An alliance,” he clarified, pacing slowly, forcing them to track him. “Shokan strength, centaur might and the loyalist forces. Combined… with our mastery of the arcane.”

Quan Chi inclined his head slightly.

Goro scoffed. “You expect me to fight beside them?” he said, jerking his chin toward Motaro. “I owe no allegiance to centaurs nor you, sorcerer.”

Motaro laughed. “It’s alright, Goro,” he added mockingly. “Why even bother showing up to the war? We don’t need you. You shokans couldn’t finish the job when it mattered. Now it’s our time, as always, to fix your people’s disasters.”

Goro stepped forward instantly, but this time, Reiko moved, placing a firm hand between them.

“You can tear each other apart later,” Reiko said sharply. “Right now, we need each other. Whether you like it or not.”
Motaro exhaled through his nose. “We don’t. That’s how simple it is.”

“On the contrary,” Mileena’s voice cut in smoothly. All eyes shifted to her. She stepped forward just enough to claim presence, but not dominance.

“You do,” she continued. “Fenrir is more powerful and cunning than you might think. From what I remember, he defeated all of you here at least once in combat, and he has earned the loyalty of the military.”

Skarlet’s gaze sharpened slightly.

“She’s right,” Rain added quietly, watching her with interest. “We’ve all underestimated him before.”

“Is that how you see it, Mileena?” Shang Tsung asked with a raised eyebrow.

“It’s not my point of view,” She said, keeping up the charade. “It’s a fact.” The group was fully focused on her now, Skarlet was cautious now on Mileena’s words…Was she acting still? As the meeting went by, it was harder and harder to tell. “With the help of my sister and Jade, he has unified the military under his banner, and he has Barongs spies and crows all around the palace and the cities. He’s well-guarded, skilled and powerful. Don’t underestimate him again.”

“Then why haven’t you poisoned him by now?” Rain asked with an accusing stare.

“Because I didn’t bother,” She added with a playful shrug. “I kill him…and then what? They would probably kill me the moment they found his body. I’m not suicidal compared to some of you.”

Quan Chi and Shang Tsung looked at her thoughtfully. Perhaps they did underestimate her instead. Mileena was cunning, or perhaps she always was and just knew how to keep appearances…good. Shang Tsung smiled; his plan was forming in front of his eyes. “I agree. So, what will it be, generals?”

“Then the question remains,” Quan Chi finally said, his voice cutting clean through the tension. “Who rules… when he’s gone? No one here would accept the other,” he continued. “So I offer a solution.”

Shang Tsung’s smile deepened, ever so slightly.

“After his ****,” Quan Chi said, “you settle it the only way Outworld respects.” He paused, allowing his words to carry weight and presence.

“Mortal Kombat.”

Goro grinned. “Now that… I can agree with.”

Motaro smirked approvingly.

Reiko nodded once. “Aye.”

Rain said nothing, but he didn’t object.

Shang Tsung spread his hands slightly. “Then we are agreed?”

One by one, they nodded. “Yes,” Reiko answered.

Goro stepped forward, raising a fist. “Then we prepare.” His roar shattered the stillness.

“TO WAR!”

One by one, the others vanished into their own portals, leaving the courtyard to empty itself in uneasy stages. The air grew heavier after they were gone, as if the island was holding its breath. For a few moments, Shang Tsung and Quan Chi remained behind, speaking low and close enough that even the night seemed unwilling to catch their words.

Shang Tsung stood with one hand at his chin, the other resting lightly against his shoulder as he studied the darkened courtyard below. “And you believe this is worth pursuing?”

Quan Chi’s gaze lingered on Mileena and Skarlet across the courtyard while he answered. “It is a possibility. I need more time to test it and to confirm it.” His voice was level, deep, and cold with the kind of certainty that never needed to shout. “But yes… we should be concerned.”

The island around them looked as broken as its history. The ruined towers leaned at strange angles, their stone cracked open by time and old sorcery. Vines crawled over shattered statues. Pools of rainwater reflected the moon in broken fragments. It felt like Shang Tsung’s domain in every sense; rotting, watchful and alive in the worst possible way.

Shang Tsung’s expression tightened. “A Nephilim…” he repeated slowly, almost tasting the word. “Then he has more tricks than we thought; that would explain why he matched us so closely.” A faint, dangerous calm settled over his face. “I had believed their line extinct by your inquisition on them.”

Quan Chi’s mouth twisted into something close to contempt. “We did. The last one was removed nearly two decades ago.” His eyes narrowed, and for the first time, there was something sharper than hatred in him. “I was there, I drew the final blood of both mother and child.”

Shang Tsung turned his head slightly, studying him. “And yet we are speaking of it now.”

“We should be,” Quan Chi said. “If the theory proves true, then he becomes a problem you will not want to ignore.”

Shang Tsung gave a slow nod, already thinking through the implications. “Then I’ll see what I can uncover.” He folded his hands behind his back, all composure and predatory. “How do you sense it? The Nephilim bloodline, I mean.”

Quan Chi answered without hesitation. “Demons can sense the Netherrealm,” he said. “Especially when it has touched flesh it should not have. Nephilim are harder to sense due to them not being full demons…Most never even learn what they are before we find them.” His gaze sharpened. “But the trace is there, if you know how to feel for it.”

Shang Tsung hummed thoughtfully. “So, it isn’t certain.”

“No,” Quan Chi said flatly. “Which is why it matters. Unchecked, such bloodlines become burdens later. Better to remove them early.”

Shang Tsung’s eyes drifted back toward Mileena, and his voice lowered with renewed curiosity. “You are thinking of something else.”

Quan Chi let out a slow, humourless chuckle. “I am.” He stared at Mileena with a look that was almost clinical. “I am concerned he spreads.”

Shang Tsung arched a brow. “You mean children?” A faint grin touched his mouth. “I do not believe he has gone that far.”
“Perhaps he did.” Quan Chi said, his tone had gone colder still. “If he leaves offspring behind, then you are no longer looking at a single threat. You are looking at a bloodline. One that could grow stronger with age, harder to kill, and impossible to ignore once it has taken root.”

Shang Tsung’s smile thinned. “And if that bloodline were mixed with Edenian blood and heritage…”

Quan Chi did not let him finish the thought. “I would rather not imagine it.” That was all the warning needed.

“Understood,” Shang Tsung said at last. “I’ll gather what I can.” He glanced toward the women below, his smile returning slowly. “And your lord’s plan? Still in motion?”

Quan Chi’s eyes cut to him. “Yes. You remain with us, do you not?”

It was not a question.

Shang Tsung gave a soft, contemptuous laugh. “Of course, I care nothing for Earthrealm. Let it burn. Let Shinnok have the ashes if he wishes. When the time comes, I will stand with you.” He tilted his head. “I assume you will stand with me when the generals begin killing each other?”

A thin line of satisfaction moved across Quan Chi’s face. “The alliance remains.”

Shang Tsung smirked with malice, “Good.”

Quan Chi’s grin widened just enough to be cruel. “Bring me his blood, by whatever means you prefer. I will confirm whether he is truly one of them.”

Shang Tsung smirked. “Oh, I already have it.”

Quan Chi’s brows lifted slightly in interest, but he was already turning away. The necromancer opened a portal behind him, the green-black rift splitting the air with a hiss of fire and grave-cold magic. He stepped through without another word, and the wound in the air sealed behind him.

Below, Mileena and Skarlet had turned toward their own exit, the courtyard now their stage and the island’s broken ruins their witness.

“We know what they want now,” Mileena said quietly, her earlier sharpness gone. “Fenrir was right. The Shokan and Motaro are the first problem.”

Skarlet nodded. “Then they must be dealt with before anything else.”

The two of them started toward their portal, but stopped when slow and measured footsteps approached behind them.
“Leaving already?” Shang Tsung asked.

His voice was gentle, almost amused. It carried the ease of a host welcoming guests that had never been welcome at all.
Mileena turned with a cool smile. “The meeting was becoming dull.”

“Dull?” Shang Tsung echoed, as though the word pleased him. “You surprise me, Mileena.” He looked at her for a moment, then at Skarlet, then back again. “Tell me, my dear queen… has your sister been treating you poorly lately?”

Mileena froze. The change in her expression was small, but Skarlet saw it immediately. A subtle widening of the eyes. A breath that caught and did not quite recover. Shang Tsung had found the seed and placed his fingers inside it.

“How would you know that?” Mileena asked, careful now, though irritation slid beneath the words.

Shang Tsung smiled with the ease of someone who had already won. “I have known you both since childhood,” he said. “And before I left, things were already strained between you.”

Mileena said nothing. But that silence was enough as an answer.

Shang Tsung stepped a little closer, lowering his voice as though offering a kindness. “There is something that has altered Kitana’s perception,” he murmured. “Something long buried in shadow. Something about her… and, more specifically, about you.”

Skarlet’s posture stiffened. She wanted to interrupt, to cut him off, to **** him back into the lie of a larger conversation, but she did not. Her duty held her in place. She needed to listen. She needed to remember.

“What is it?” Mileena asked at last, and this time there was less confidence in her voice than before.

Shang Tsung’s smile deepened almost imperceptibly. He was pleased. Not because she asked, but because she needed to.
“If you want the truth,” he said softly, “you should search my old records. My chambers. Beneath the bed.”
Mileena stared at him.

“The code is zero-two-eight,” he continued, his voice dropping lower. “Read them for yourself. Then decide who has been lying to you.” He leaned in just enough for only her to hear the next part. “Or don’t,” he whispered. “And keep wondering why your sister looks at you as if she no longer knows you.”

The words struck like poison.

Mileena did not move, breathe, or blink for several long seconds. The courtyard, the island, the moonlight…all of it seemed to recede around her as the doubt took root and spread. Not a scream of despair or anger, worse than either.
Confusion. And beneath that, fear.

Shang Tsung stepped back, satisfied, and brushed a mocking glance toward Skarlet. “Farewell. Send my regards to Kitana. I am certain she will appreciate them.”

His laugh followed him as he vanished into the dark.

Mileena remained where she stood, unmoving, her body rigid as if the ground had turned to stone beneath her. The words kept turning over inside her, each one finding new ways to wound. Was he lying? He had sounded sincere…Too sincere.
But Shang Tsung always sounded sincere when it served him.

Did Kitana truly hate her now?

Did she ever love her?

The thought made her chest tighten.

“Mileena…” Skarlet said carefully, taking one step toward her. “Are you—”

“I’m fine.”

The words came out harder than she intended, sharper than steel. Skarlet stopped immediately.

“Yes, my queen,” she said at once, inclining her head. “Forgive me.”

Mileena did not answer. She opened the portal again with a motion that looked almost mechanical, like her body was moving while her mind remained behind on the island with Shang Tsung’s words. The air around the rift flickered green and dark, swallowing the ruined courtyard in fractured light.

She had felt lost before, but never like this. Not since Fenrir had come into her life and given her something warm enough to believe in. Something steady enough to hold.

And now even that felt threatened.

She stepped through the portal with Skarlet at her side, the sorcerer’s island fading behind them into moonlit ruin. A battle had been lost tonight.

And Shang Tsung, patient and smiling in the dark, had won.