Spectral Guide (MKE-5) (2024)

The light of the full moon washed over the highlands of east Hungary. There was a stillness in the air, an unsteady calm that could be disturbed by the whooshing wind or the cawing of a dark creature lurking in the forests. A lone solitary figure sat cross-legged on the precipice of a grassy cliff. The moon cast a silver glow over his shape, illuminating the contours of roughly worn samurai armor. The armor was strapped to the meditating shape of a wandering Ronin named Kenshi Takahashi.
The wind whispered through the tall grass, sounds that would be muted to an ordinary person, but to one with his heightened senses they were like a soft tune in the night. His breaths were measured, a silent mantra of regret and determination as he centered his thoughts to quiet the storm of conflict from within. The memories of his past and what led him down this solitary path were a constant tide lapping at his focus. In those moments of remembrance, he re-lived the pain of losing his betrothed Suchin to the merciless onslaught of the Red Dragon clan, the shame of his exile and the despair when he’d lost his sense of sight.
Those moments he only allowed to fester only long enough to fuel his resolve to seek redemption for his failures instead of the desire for vengeance that once consumed him.
The wind tugged at the tatters of his crimson headband. The scent of blood and his recent battle lingered on his armor, a grim reminder of the path he had chosen to roam the world and dispense justice. His breathing was deep and even, his heartbeat a steady rhythm that seemed to match the pulse of the very earth beneath him. Yet, amidst the quietude of the night, a distant echo resonated within him, a call from the abyss of despair.
Suddenly, the serenity of his meditation was shattered by an invisible force. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up, and the air grew thick with a spectral presence that caused Sento, the ancestral sword of his ancestors, to hum in his hands.
He inhaled deeply, feeling the weight of unseen eyes upon him, and a shiver of premonition crept along his spine. The whispers grew stronger, clearer, and he knew that the spirit that had beckoned him across the vastness of the merged realms had found its way to his side.
"Shang Tsung," the spectral voice murmured, a feminine whisper that pierced the silence like the keen of a banshee. The name hung in the air, thick with loathing and fear. Kenshi's fists tightened around his sheathed sword. The spirit watching over him had manifested into the transparent shape of a floating woman with lifeless eyes. Though he could not see her on a physical plane, her astral shape resonated in his mind’s eye like visible winds, allowing him to see what could have once been a very beautiful woman in life.
But there was no beauty to be found in the emotions pouring through this connection he felt to this spirit. He felt only anger, pain and fear. But there was something else too. A hopeful call the longer she watched him, hollow eyes peering through as if seeing into his soul.
"Who calls to me?" Kenshi murmured. He waited and listened, the voices of his ancestors humming with mutual expectancy. It seemed the spirit would offer him no answer until a quiet voice pierced through the veil.
"My name is Sonya," the spectral voice whispered, her tone reverberating as if it were echoing from a labyrinth. He knew the truth. She was a soul torn between worlds, her presence was a phantom touch against the fabric of the night. He could sense no ill-intent from her, but rather an unyielding sense of determination that could be admired. "I need your help, warrior,” she said.
Kenshi was no stranger to helping those in need, but he had never aided a spirit before.
"What is your plight, Sonya?" he asked, his voice a solemn rumble in the quiet. “What is this connection we share?”
“A common enemy…” She whispered, her form looming closer to him. He showed neither fear nor discomfort, even as he felt the cold wisp of her face mere inches away from his own. Sonya's sigh was a ghostly breeze that tickled his ear. "A sorcerer, Shang Tsung, holds my body captive," she confessed, her voice tight with anger and despair. "On All Hallows Eve, he plans to perform a ritual that will corrupt my soul so he can enslave me as his bride. You are the only one who can free me…Please, my soul can only elude his grasp for so long."
“Shang Tsung…” Kenshi whispered with anger, an emotion shared with the souls of his ancestors from within Sento. In the years he’d spent hunting down the sorcerer who deceived him, Kenshi had never heard a whisper of his whereabouts until now. To know that Shang Tsung was alive and planning to enslave an unwilling woman into being his bride awoke the ronin’s righteous fury.
"I will come for you," he vowed to the spirit, his promise resonating in the night. "But you must guide me, I must understand the nature of this bond between us."
The spirit's response was a gentle caress of energy across his temple. The contact felt intimate in a sense, but its purpose was to show him things; memories of herself, her captivity and where his journey would lead. The ruins of an old castle many leagues away.
"Find your way. I’ll be watching over you," she instructed.
With that, her presence faded, leaving only the echo of her words in the chilly night. Kenshi stood, the wind tugging at his tattered clothes. He unsheathed Sento, the blade singing as it cleaved the air. He'd had enough rest. All Hallows Eve was only a week away, he had to hurry.
Traveling by foot kept him in tune with the Earth beneath his feet more than any animal that could carry him. But with his Spectral Guide, he was able to navigate the road ahead farther than his senses could reveal to him.
The journey was fraught with danger, but Kenshi faced it head-on. He encountered a gauntlet of creatures from the bowels of both Netherrealm and former Outworld, each one seemingly more twisted and nightmarish than the last. Some were mere beasts, while others bore the sneer of intelligence, hinting at a more sinister force guiding their actions. Each creature fell to Kenshi's blade, Sento's edge slicing through the air with a supernatural precision guided by the unseen hand of Sonya’s spirit.
“You’re close, Kenshi…” Sonya whispered with a weak voice.
He felt her energy wax and wane the closer they reached their destination as she fought against the unseen bonds that tethered her to the mortal plane. Her whispers grew weaker, yet her resolve remained unbroken. Her spirit grew paler and more invisible, a testament to the dwindling time she had outside her corporeal form. Kenshi's steps quickened to the point he was sprinting at full-speed, driven by the urgency that thrummed through their connection.
“Stay with me, Sonya,” he called to her desperately. He couldn’t fail her--he wouldn’t!
‘Swiftyl!’ Sento all but shouted at him in his thoughts, his ancestors reacting to the urgency.
All Hallows Eve had arrived as Kenshi approached the castle ruins, the stench of sulfur and putrid vegetation suffocated the air. Sonya’s voice had gone quieter, and in its place rose the harrowing sound of a familiar voice chanting amongst the ruins.
Shang Tsung’s voice. Sento in his scabbard was shaking restlessly with the call to shed his enemy’s blood. Kenshi refrained from reacting to his darker impulse for retribution and took a cautious approach. He felt no fear as he approached the ruins, his senses assaulted by the green wash of magical energies. The stone steps carried him up towards an open area lined with broken columns and debris. There were torches born on each one with Jack-o-lanterns at the foot of them, their sickly green glow hinted at the trapped souls kept within; sustenance for the hungry sorcerer using their power to fuel his ritual and keep the empty husk on the altar alive.
Kenshi was fueled by a burning desire to free Sonya from her otherworldly prison. Her whispers grew fainter until she had grown silent. He knew she was being pulled back to her body, the battle for her soul now more critical than ever. His hand tightened around the hilt of Sento in his grasp as he stood near the threshold, feeling the whipping wind of the sorcerer’s dark magic funneling around the altar. The power of the ritual was building, a malignant force that made his skin crawl and the very air taste of sulfur.
In the center of the chamber stood a stone altar, upon which lay the body of Sonya Blade. Her spirit hovered above, a faint glow in the dark, her eyes filled with fear and determination. Kenshi knew that he had arrived just in time.
“Do not resist me, my sweet Sonya,” Shang Tsung said with a commanding voice, his palms hovering over the woman’s motionless form as he poured his soul-magic into her, beckoning her spirit back to its vessel. Her long hair was splayed out, her mature beauty accentuated but also dishonored by the white dress the sorcerer had forced her to wear for the occasion. “Soon I will make you the queen you deserve to be. MY queen.” He chuckled evilly.
Shang Tsung was dressed in robes and a heavy cloak that painted twisted shadows across his features. His eyes gleamed with wicked intent as he senses Sonya’s spirit being pulled back to her body. Once her soul was returned, he would twist it until it changed her every waking impulse to serve his needs. Before his spell could be completed, the sorcerer felt himself get thrown back by an invisible force. He collided against a broken column, the spell having been severed from his concentration.
“Who dares?!” He scowled as he sensed an approaching presence. A presence he recognized and thought to have perished long ago. “Takahashi? I thought you were dead.” He sneered, his shock at the blind swordsman’s presence was mixed with wariness upon experiencing this unforeseen power he commanded.
Kenshi's eyes, though blind, gleamed with a fierce light as he crossed the threshold. "You will answer for your crimes tonight “Song”,” Kenshi declared, his voice dripping with loathing as he used the fake name Shang Tsung had once used to deceive him. “And you will release Sonya Blade!”
Shang Tsung climbed to his feet, dusting off his robes with a flourish. "You fool," he said with a mocking smile, "still seeking redemption, still clinging to the hope of righting your wrongs. But you are too late. Sonya's soul is almost within my grasp."
With a twirl of his cloak, the sorcerer stepped in front of the altar, running his hand along unconscious woman's body with possessiveness. Sensing this, Kenshi's blood boiled and the hilt of his weapon burned in his palm. "She belongs to me now," Shang sneered, his eyes gleaming with a predatory lust. "And once I claim her, she will serve as both my queen and my weapon...right after I finish what I started!"
The air crackled as Kenshi and Shang Tsung charged at each other, their animosity poured into every attack. The battle was a dance of fury and precision, telekinesis against dark magic. Shang Tsung's eyes flashed with malicious glee as he threw balls of fire at the blind swordsman, but Kenshi simply waved a hand, and the flaming projectiles dispersing midair before shattering into a shower of sparks. The blind swordsman's reflexes were not those of a mere mortal—his psychokinetic abilities had grown exponentially since he had been tricked by the sorcerer.
Sonya's spirit hovered closer to her body, seizing the distraction to return to her vessel.
The fight waged on and grew more intense as Shang Tsung, unable to land a hit, grew frustrated and locked against Kenshi in a tug of war. "You think you are my equal, you blind fool? I will rip your soul out and feed it to the lowliest creature."
"You mean yourself?" Kenshi jabbed, unfazed and smirking as he sensed the sorcerer's ire escalate. "You will relinquish every soul you've stolen," he whispered, his unseeing eyes gleaming behind his headband, "beginning with my ancestors!"
As the two were locked in kombat, Sonya's soul slowly eased back into her body until her eyes suddenly snapped open. For the first time in what seemed like ages, Sonya felt life in her being as she gasped for breath, green eyes staring towards the inky black skies.
Her body was weak from its forced inertia, but she wasn’t about to let that stop her from fighting back. With a snarl of rage and a spurt of adrenaline, she threw a punch at Shang Tsung's smug face, snapping his head to the side. The sorcerer's concentration was lost and Sonya used the opening to wrap her long legs around his waist. Her powerful thighs snapped against his sides locking tightly around his midsection, causing him to gasp as his ribs shattered,
Her toned legs, trained from years of combat, were stronger than any steel chain. Her ankles locked in front of of him with an unyielding grip as she glared up at the back of his head with hatred.
"S-Sonya--you--" The sorcerer tried to wrench himself free, but the suddenness of the action took took him aback as he felt his torso squeezed like a vice, distracting him from the fatal disadvantage he was in as Kenshi unsheathed Sento from his scabbard.
"Do it! Finish him!" Sonya cried out to Kenshi with a weak voice.
Kenshi took full advantage as he lunged forward and swiped his blade down across Shang Tsung's chest before piercing the tip through his dark heart. Trapped between the woman he sought to control and the man he deceived, Shang Tsung could do nothing but succumb to the fatal wound that pierced a hole into his being. Almost instantly, a burst of green light shot from his body along with the pouring river of crimson blood.
Shang Tsung’s eyes widened in shock as his life force and every soul he'd stolen was drained from his body. With a final, guttural sneer, the sorcerer's body crumpled over, lifeless. The dark magic that had held the captive souls dissipated allowing the emerald wisps to pass on into the next life. Kenshi stood still, calm washing over him.
"It is done," Sento whispered in his thoughts.
Sonya, still weak but now fully in control of her body, unwrapped her legs from around the corpse. She slid off the altar, her bare feet touching the cold stone ground; feeling the chill seep into her bones. Before she could take another step, her balance was challenged and she began to slip.
"Sonya!" Kenshi caught her in his arms, his touch firm but gentle.
Sonya felt the warmth of his body and the reassurance of his presence. For a moment she clung to him, feeling comfort and strength that she hadn’t felt in what seemed like an eternity. Angry pools of wetness collected in her eyes. She had been trapped in a prison of despair, close to being turned into the brainwashed slave of an evil monster. But now she was free.
"I'm fine," she shrugged Kenshi away, her legs wobbling beneath her, trying to stand on her own. But the warrior’s arms remained steadfast, a silent offer of support she hadn’t realized she’d needed until now.
Her eyes searched his face, feeling the heat of his presence. "...Kenshi," she whispered, her voice hoarse from disuse. Shakily she reached forward, pressing her palm against his outstretched hand. Her words didn’t seem enough to convey the depth of her gratitude, but she hoped he could feel it in her trembling touch. Kenshi felt the weight of her soul’s burden as she leaned into him. The spiritual connection between them remained strong, a bond forged not by sight but by a shared purpose and longing for a life lost.
“Please, let me help you,” he whispered to her. Her pain was palpable so he did what seemed natural to him as he wrapped his arms around her, holding her close. “You are safe now.” He could sense a stiff resistance to her, and it made sense. This was a woman who prided herself on being strong and seldom allowed herself to be vulnerable, even to her own distant family. But this connection they both felt offered only understanding and with it, a sense of trust, allowing her to melt into his embrace.
She said nothing but allowed a silent tear to trek down her cheek. She exhaled shakily, savoring the sensation of physical comfort, of life seeping into her being. “It’s been so long…since I’ve felt this.” Looking up at Kenshi, she saw not just a hero, but a kindred spirit, someone who understood her pain and her struggle. "You didn't give up on me...Why? I know you hated him, but..."
Kenshi's expression softened, his eyes hidden by the crimson headband, yet she could feel the depth of his gaze. "Sonya, I may not know you long, but I know what it's like to be a pawn in someone else's game," he replied, his voice a gentle rumble. "I know what it's like to be betrayed, to feel the weight of a lost love... And I know what it's like to fight for a second chance."
Her eyes stared at his face, wishing she could look upon his eyes. Her in-depth longing was made apparent as her fingers tenderly brushed against his temple, threading the blindfold. Kenshi tensed ever slightly, inhaling softly as her fingers continued their slow caress down the softness of his cheek to his full lips.
"Thank you," she murmured, the words barely audible. Without thinking, she leaned up and pressed her lips to his, a silent plea for comfort. The warmth of his lips was more than she had felt in ages. Kenshi went still, surprised by the unexpected contact but soon enough responded in kind, brushing his mouth across Sonya’s soft pillowy lips. Sonya’s heart fluttered with an unexpected warmth.
Slowly he deepened the kiss, his hand cupping her cheek. The kiss was a spark of life in what had been a night of death and despair. Sonya’s arms wound around his neck, pulling him closer, as if trying to meld their very beings together. The warmth of her mouth was like a balm to his soul, soothing the anger and sorrow that had haunted him for so long.
When they finally parted, she leaned against him, her breath mingling in the chilly air. "I never thought I'd feel anything again," she murmured, her voice raw with emotion.
"You are not alone, Sonya," Kenshi whispered back, his heart aching for the woman he’d only just saved. The one whose spirit guided him a path towards redemption. He felt a kinship with her, a shared burden of loss and a desire for justice that went beyond mere words.
“Neither of us are,” she added, caressing his jaw tenderly. She leaned in and kissed him again, but this time it was different—it was not just a kiss of gratitude, but one of desire. A desire that borne of adrenaline and a longing for human contact.
Kenshi felt the shift in her embrace, the way the curves of her body pressed against him. He knew what she craved and he found himself wanting to give her more than just that. Even as they kissed, he used his telepathy to whisper into her mind, his thoughts brushing against hers. "Sonya, is this truly what you want?"
She went still for a moment, surprised by his voice in her mind. Her green eyes stared at him, and he felt the weight of her answer in the way she nodded and voiced in her own thoughts, “More than anything.”
If Kenshi needed any further convincing it was offered as he felt the voices of his ancestors pressing into his thoughts from Sento itself, “Soul Mate. Bond. Mate. Love.”
With that, Kenshi pulled Sonya into his arms and claimed her lips passionately. It was a kiss full of declaration, the spark of a new journey between two united souls. His fingers moved through her long blonde locks while his other hand cupped her cheek. Sonya moaned softly, pressing herself against the roughness of his armor while her hands held onto his waist. The warmth of her body against his was intoxicating, and he knew she felt the same.
Their kiss grew more fervent, tongues dancing together as if reaffirming their shared connection. Kenshi’s hands found her soft curves, tracing the lines of her warrior’s body beneath the thin fabric of the dress she wore. The heat of her skin and toned muscles were truly a wonder that he longed to feel against his own flesh. Steadily he began to shed his armor while Sonya peeled off the dress she wore. Naked and eager, the two collapsed on top of the nearest flat surface which happened to be the altar where Sonya had lain helplessly only a short time ago. Except now Kenshi was on his back with the blonde woman now straddling his waist, their heated loins brushing against each other.
Sento’s voice grew more insistent, urging Kenshi to claim her as his. Kenshi closed off his thoughts, allowing them to concentrate only on the beauty that stood before him. Sonya took hold of his aching member and slowly drew him into her heated core.
Kenshi’s breath hitched as she sheathed him entirely, her muscles tightening around him in a way that defied his every expectation. Slowly she began to move, each thrust brought a symphony of sensations to his sense of sight. Her slick heat enveloped him in a way that his heightened touch could feel as if he were seeing it.
Despite his blindness, he saw her in his mind’s eye, her sculpted muscles flexing and her breasts bouncing with each roll of her hips. Her beauty was not just of the flesh, but of the soul, and it filled him with a warmth that burned away inhibitions.
Her eyes gazed down on him as she moved, a slow and sensual rhythm that grew more urgent with every passing moment. Kenshi’s hands gripped her smooth waist, guiding her movements as she rode him with the fierceness of a warrior and the passion of a goddess. Her breasts bounced with every movement, and he felt the urge to taste them. He leaned up and took one of her ample mounds into his mouth, suckling it teasingly, feeling her nipple stiffening under his tongue. Sonya moaned, arching her back and throwing her head back in ecstasy.
Their lovemaking was fierce, a dance of passion that mirrored the battles they had fought on their journeys. Each thrust, each starving kiss, each caress was a jolt of electricity spurring their bodies towards a building climax.
They carried on long into the night, now laying on a soft mound of earth beneath the stars witnessing their passion. Sonya’s legs wrapped around Kenshi’s waist as he pushed into her, filling her with his length. Kenshi groaned loudly, the feeling of Sonya wrapped around him was unlike anything he’d ever experienced—it was heavenly. Life-giving.
Sonya’s moaning cries only stimulated him further like an enchanting tune he would never grow tired of. Sensing her unraveling beneath him, he quickened the intensity of his thrusts, listening with great satisfaction as her cries of pleasure grew to greater heights. Their climax was building to a breaking point as Kenshi felt the pressure build inside him until he could no longer hold it back. As if sensing this, Sonya’s ankles locked across his back, her nails dragging down his back. With a roar that echoed through the night, Kenshi released his seed deep within Sonya, the force of his climax causing his world to explode in a wash of colors.
Sonya’s climatic wail came shortly after, her toned legs quivering around him as she was bombarded by orgasmic waves that slammed into her. They remained intertwined, breathing heavily and basking in the heat of their coupling. Nothing was said, but their emotions seemed to pour off of each other clear as water. Kenshi held Sonya tightly, kissing her tenderly as he cradled her face in his hands. Their breathing grew steadier as their hearts slowed.
Sonya’s hands slowly removed Kenshi’s blindfold, staring into the milky-white iris that stared blankly back at her. “Good to see you,” she whispered. He felt her gaze upon him, but instead of pity, he saw only admiration and wonder.
With a sigh of contentment, Kenshi made to pull out of her, but Sonya’s legs tightened around his waist, holding him firmly in place. She didn’t want this moment to end, didn’t want to lose the feeling of his heat inside of her. "Not yet," she whispered, her voice hoarse with desire. "Just a little longer."
“Of course,” he whispered back.
Her hands slid down his back, feeling the slickness of their combined passion and the heat of his body. Kenshi’s muscles tensed, and she felt the pulse of his manhood within her. He groaned, the sound resonating through her chest, but made no move to withdraw. Instead, he leaned into her, pressing his forehead against hers.
The night air grew cooler as the first light of dawn began to break over the horizon, casting a warm glow across their sweat-slicked skin. Sonya’s eyes searched Kenshi’s, finding them closed in concentration, his face a mask of serenity amidst the aftermath of their union.
They remained entwined, basking in the quiet aftermath of their passion, until the first chirp of a distant bird echoed through the ruins, a call to the new day. With reluctance, Sonya lifted herself off Kenshi, the cool air making her shiver as she watched him remove his sword from the lifeless body of her former captor. She felt a sense of closure, of justice served.
The two of them gathered their clothes, their movements slow and deliberate. Sonya draped a discarded cloak and warm leathers over the small dress. Kenshi sheathed Sento with a sense of finality, the sword's whispers of approval and satisfaction resonating in his mind. He offered Sonya a hand, helping her to her feet. Her legs were stronger on her own now as she managed to stand, her hand now in his.
The sun’s first rays pierced over the mountains, casting a radiant light across the ruins.
"Where to now?" Kenshi asked his new companion as they made their way away from the ruins. He thought she might wish to search for her wayward daughter, Cassandra, or perhaps track down the pirate captain who had consigned her to Shang Tsung. But perhaps he misjudged her eagerness to throw herself back into a chaotic spiral as she stood still to take in the scenery.
Sonya took a deep breath, feeling alive in a way she hadn’t in so long. "Wherever we're needed," she said. Kenshi nodded as they walked with a newfound confidence. The weight of his quest had been lifted but he knew that Sonya's would still linger over her shoulders until she faced her past.
And he vowed to be by her side when she did. Together, they headed towards the horizon. The path ahead was fraught with unknown perils, but together, Kenshi knew that he and Sonya would face them head on, as lovers and soul-mates in arms.
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By Smokescreen117