Sub-Zero: Origins

Sareena's Story

Liu Kang's victory over Shao Kahn had left his own teammates in more shock than that which the Outworlders felt, and after the generic "good jobs" and "atta-boys," they returned home in silence. Shao Kahn no longer had a claim against Earth, yet with Kung Lao's murder still so fresh in their minds, they felt no reason to celebrate. Kuai Liang felt the heavy pangs of grief as well, not for the arrogant Shaolin who scarred him years prior, but for his brother condemned to eternal Hell. Himavat had instructed him to save Bi-han's soul, but how could Kuai Liang do that when he brother was already damned? He wished Tomas was here. He would know what to do.

Raiden led the Earthrealmers through a portal to the Shaolin Temple, and the Temple looked exactly how Kuai Liang imagined it would look. Built in a large clearing in the midst of a tropical jungle, seven Buddhist monoliths encircled it like stone sentries at the outermost perimeter, clearly marking the Temple's boundaries. Wide gravel pathways began at these towering stone markers and cut through the emerald lawns like the spokes on a bicycle. At the heart of this giant wheel, numerous wooden structures grew from crumbling stone ones, ruins that spoke of ancient Shaolin history. The monks, all dressed in robes colored yellow and orange, walked around quietly in small groups, if with anyone at all. Kuai Liang decided it was a peaceful place. A good place. 

He didn't belong here.

After Liu led them up a stone staircase that tapered from what appeared to be the main building, he whirled around to face his companions. "The men can stay in the dormitories over there," he announced as he pointed to his right. "Kitana, Jade, I think you can stay in the Healers' hut. I'll show you the way. Johnny, you should come with us as well. They can help your leg."

"Why can't Ray-diddy just fix me up?" the actor asked.

The Thunder God rolled his eyes as Nightwolf trekked where Liu had pointed. Kuai Liang, however, hung back. He gazed at the distant Himalayas, the entire length of them heavily shrouded in gray mist as the jungle gradually gave way to them, and he felt a pain rip through his heart when he tried to puzzle out the Lin Kuei Temple's location where he and his brother had lived their whole lives. He felt so weak, so defeated by the discovery of Bi-han's fate. It was like something terrible just split his soul in two, and then left him to bleed to death in slow agony. He wanted to fight, but what was the use? He was powerless in the grand scheme of things, and he suddenly realized a new and unfamiliar despair stabbed at him the most. It had been years since he last felt this way. In fact, the last time he hurt this bad was the day...was the day when his father said he'd never see his mother again.

The Cryomancer's sudden reverie was not lost on Raiden, who looked at Liu with a knowing nod. The Shaolin monk bowed back and then gripped Johnny by the arm.

"Come on," he said quietly. "Raiden will be along shortly to heal your leg."

The actor looked from Cryomancer to Thunder God, seemed to understand, and grumbled, "Fine." Evidently, he was more perceptive than he let on. He allowed Liu to escort him down the wrap-around porch, and Kitana and Jade followed.

"Your face look like it has been run over by a truck," Raiden began.

"I've suffered worse," Kuai Liang hissed, suddenly aware how tender his eye sockets felt. His head still throbbed as well.

"At your brother's hands?" Raiden said pointedly. The Cryomancer shot him a frosty look, but said nothing as he turned to follow Nightwolf. "Sub-Zero, you are exhausted," the god called out in concern. "Things will be easier to work through when you have rested. You will make better decisions."

The Cryomancer still did not answer, though he knew Raiden was right.

With a young monk's help, Kuai Liang found his way to his dormitory, a tiny room in one of the outermost houses. It reminded him a lot of his room back at the Lin Kuei Temple. Devoid of decoration save for a small Chinese Buddha made from brass, it was a fairly spartan set-up. One of the monks had placed a terra cotta bowl full of water and a clean cloth for washing on the floor. Above the bowl, a cracked mirror hung on the wall opposite the ancient bed. At least it had a bed though, even if the mattress was slightly mildewed with age. The way his back felt cleaved in half, he wasn't confident he could survive the night on the floor.