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She’s so small.
Shang Tsung stared down at the newborn in his arms; he didn’t seem to notice that he was shaking. It wouldn’t take long for one to realize that she wasn’t a normal child. She had teeth, razor-sharp ones. The infant also had tiny claws on her equally tiny fingers.
But despite these uncanny features, she still was a baby. She was unaware of what was to be her future. She didn’t have to know right now; she couldn’t. She could just sleep.
The sorcerer looked at her with an expression of awe and melancholy. Here she was, a masterpiece created by him and his magic. In her, he saw the echoes of a child he had never known, the one he could never bring into the world by more natural means. For years, he had yearned for the joys of fatherhood, only to be met with the cruel reality of his own infertility. And yet, here she was—his creation, his daughter, in all but blood.
With trembling hands, Shang Tsung drew her close, holding her against his chest as if she were the most precious treasure in all the realms. In her, he saw the culmination of his hopes and dreams, the embodiment of his deepest desires.
“You are mine,” he said, his voice quiet. “My beautiful creation, my daughter.”
He pressed a feather-light kiss to her small head.
Oh, how he wished things were different. That she was truly his.
"If only you could be spared from the path that awaits you," he murmured, his voice tinged with regret. "If only you could remain as you are now, my precious child, peaceful and innocent."
His eyes stung; he squeezed them shut. He wanted to keep the tears away, but he knew there was no point in fighting it now. He gently stroked her cheek as a tear strolled down his face.
"Forgive me, my child," Shang Tsung whispered, his voice barely above a breath. "Forgive me for the role I have played in shaping your fate, for the part I have played in aiding the Kahn's plans."
The sorcerer sniffled, the guilt coiling in his chest.
With a gentle caress, he brushed a small strand of hair from her forehead, his touch tender yet filled with resolve. He wanted to make sure he could raise her himself, even if only for a little while. He wanted to watch her grow. Shang Tsung may never be able to have a real family or child, but he wasn’t going to ignore this chance to try.
With a heavy heart, Shang Tsung whispered a solemn vow into the stillness of the chamber. "Mileena, I will raise you as best as I can, my child," he murmured, his voice barely more than a whisper. "I will cherish every moment that we have together, for I know that our time is fleeting.”
And as he gazed down at Mileena's slumbering form, another tear slipped down his cheek—a tear for the innocence that would soon be lost, for their future that could never be. But through the sorrow and regret, there burned a flicker of determination—a determination to make the most of the time they had, no matter how short-lived it may be.