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told himself, There are two sides to everything. Fear of the unknown and the courage to discover. Concentrating on taking a step at a time, he raised one foot from the mud with a slurping pop , put it down in front of him, then lifted the other foot and put it ahead of the first. He approached the light slowly, and as he did he had a fleeting recollection of what it had been like to be a baby learning to walk.
    One step and then another and then another, he walked over to the bolt as it twitched and whipped in front of him. He stood less than an arm's length away, could feel the tingling heat as it rose in waves from the bolt, forced himself to cover the last two steps...
    As the young man reached the earthbound lightning, it began to twine around him, under his arms and around his waist and down his legs, swallowing him and lifting him from his feet and then suddenly carrying him into the sky with speed and fury that caused his mind and senses to whirl. And when he finally came to rest after what may have been a moment or a lifetime, he beheld and edifice that beckoned and welcomed and ennobled him...

CHAPTER FOUR
     
    Shang Tsung's long, trying years of work were almost at an end.
    He had spent over ten years on the island of Shimura in the East China Seas, in the ruins of an ancient Shaolin temple on the slopes of Mt. Takashi. Years studying scrolls that his agents had stolen from alchemists and magicians worldwide. Years working with minerals and liquids, fire and blood. Years trying to find the incantation and formula that would open doorway between our world, the Mother Realm, and the demon realm, the Outworld.
    There were so many tales... so many myths... so much rumor. The fourth century B.C. Greek philosopher Joncles had written in one scroll that the mortal world and "dark reaches" were formed when the goddess Gaea died, her body becoming our world and her evil, unborn children being flung into the cold void to create the dark reaches. That would correspond to the legend of P'an Ku – though Shang Tsung had never read that P'an Ku had been responsible for the Outworld.
    Could it be so? he thought as he knelt on the dark, dirty marble floor of his laboratory. Shang Tsung continued to sprinkle a pouchful of black powder around him in a circle, a mixture which included the ground-up bones of the dead and phosphorous powder from the walls of the caves of the idiot priests in the foothills of Mt. Ifukube. Could it be, he wondered, that even the first and greatest god was subject to a Yin and Yang? The Yin was that which is negative and dark and feminine; the Yang was that which is positive, bright, and masculine; and the interaction of these qualities was what influenced the destinies of events and creatures, from the tiniest insect to the humans who believed they were more important.
    There were so many ideas, philosophies, and religions. The Egyptian scribe Am-ho-tep wrote that he was able to move through the barrier between this world and the "god-world" by feeding on a mold from the walls of tombs and holding hands with the newly dead. The Japanese alchemist Mosura Radon claimed to have reached the "dead place" by drinking a potion which allowed him to remain conscious while dreaming, and go wherever he wished. A scribe for the Syrian king Enkmisha swore that the potentate stood waist-deep in a pool of blood from seven different creatures and summoned by a demon comprised of all those creatures: the body of a horse, the horns of an ox, the wings of an eagle, the feet of a wolf, the tail of a snake, the eyes of a cat, and the voice of a human.
    So many theories, Shang Tsung thought. He smiled; coupled with his dark, deep-set eyes and high, hollow cheekbones, the grin made his face seem incongruously skull-like. Within minutes, he hoped to know which of the theories, if any, were true and which of them were false.
    After he completed the circle, Shang Tsung stood. Tall and lean, with his shiny black hair that hung