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Prelude

The dreams come to her in the hours of darkness. Pain and sorrow fill her sight. Haunting onyx eyes gaze into hers, crying out silently, relentlessly for help. She can do nothing but reach out in vain as the image disappears along with screams of anguish. She sits up; a strangled noise escapes her throat.

She can still hear his voice, so gentle, so desperate. So … weak. "Come back," he whispers, "come back home. We need you." She knew this was no mere dream, but what was it? Who was calling out to her, and where, if this wasn't her rightful place, was home?

Chapter One

They had concluded that it had always been. It was a creature that no one could explain, nor account for. It had just appeared one day, intent on ruling their world. It was a planet-hopper, a destroyer of worlds. For years it would be monarch and in the moment it tired of it's current playground it would dispose of the world in an orderly fashion and move on.

Somehow it reached earth. There was an idea that it had been drawn there by the great power, or the stories of the inhabitants, perhaps by both. The reason mattered not, for it was here and they could not defeat it. I wasn't a great warrior but it wielded magic no one had ever witnessed, especially it's ability to shape shift form. Yet, whatever form it took it still carried a heart of evil and ice. It was nothing more than a murderer, a tyrant with a child's theory of possession.

They fought long and hard against it, but it seemed to have no weaknesses. They tried to keep control of earth until their forces were so depleted that it wasn't possible. Only a handful of the world's protectors were left. The rest were in some kind of magic-induced coma in its private collection, its gallery. They were neither dead nor alive, they just were.

Those who still lived on earth hid in terror, hoping their demonic sovereign would stay in it's palace in the sky, a palace that did not belong to it, but one it had stolen form those who were the rightful guardians. It's prisoners.

XXX

Dende's eyes fluttered open slowly as he turned on his side to survey his darkened room. For a moment the shadows seemed to creep from their corners, rushing at him like some sort of vile monster, but there was only one monster around and he always sensed when it was near.

He sighed softly and sat up while rubbing the back of his sore neck. Slept wrong again … damn.

He recalled last night's dream. Well, it wasn't a dream, but a vision, a communication between two different worlds. He had been trying to get through for a while now and had finally succeeded. The only thing left was to let the target know what was happening. He had to do this slowly or his plan would backfire, and probably most horribly. That could not happen. The soul in the other dimension was their last hope and sole defense.

With much effort he forced himself to his feet and padded across the fairly sizable room to the desk in the corner. From a hidden drawer he pulled the log he had always kept. Once it was full of only grand sentiments and unimportant, but entertaining details of his life and the lives of those he watched over. Now the pages were growing restless with dark thoughts and nightmares. Paradise had been stolen and had been unceremoniously replaced by Hell, a Hell that had no compare.

His nimble fingers skimmed over the bound book. It had been a gift from a friend who said, "all those thoughts in that head of yours! You need a place to keep them." She had claimed that he was very interesting and they both had laughed. That was back when the world still made sense. His friend was dead now. It had been jealous of the attention he paid her. She was a human, so vulnerable. Her life had been snuffed out in an instant. One gesture and she was gone, nothing left but her life-less shell and the memories that seemed all too few.

He looked down at his hands and saw them fisted in his lap; his nails were biting painfully into his flesh and had gone unnoticed until that moment. Carefully he pried them apart. He loathed the creature, Padraigan, or Padra, it called itself so vainly. It had enforced that "Master" be placed before it when he addressed it. With crushed dignity and unwavering hatred he had to obey. One day he would see that abomination pay for everything it had done, and everyone it had hurt.

I hope you see it coming, you filthy, arrogant bastard.

Suddenly he felt it, that sick sensation that started in the pit of his stomach and curled through his entire body. It was here. Hurriedly he spun to face his tormentor, just as an arm connected with the side of his head. He was sent spinning onto the floor and into the wall, which was quite a distance away.

"My, my, my." Padra drawled, it was in its female form, a favorite when confronting the Namekian guardian. "We have been busy, haven't we?" She flared coldly at him, her fathomless eyes seemingly piercing his soul and freezing it. He just looked at her like he had no idea what she was talking about. That angered her more. She hated to be lied to and ignored. "Dende, you've been very bad. How dare you. I cannot let this slide. Now, whom should I punish? You or those pathetic earthlings you care for so much?"

As she approached him he felt a great amount of fear and dread. He had gone too far this time. It wasn't going to be pretty … and he doubted he would come out of this alive. Her shadow fell over him and he raised his head, determined to face this most likely end with courage. He only felt terror…

XXX

"Watch out!" A voice cried from across the gymnasium. Zoë Talbet dodged just before a large red ball flew passed her head and struck the girl behind her.

"Out!" The Physical Education teacher announced as the other girl sulked off to the side. Zoë gave a sigh of relief. She was a competitor, always reaching to do better and be the very best. Even in something as insignificant as Dodge Ball. The seventeen year old was a dreamer but worked hard to reach her goals.

The voices of her classmates drifted through her ears, which were unusually sensitive to sound. "Wow! That was amazing. I thought that was going to hit her!" and "Nah, Zoë has always had good reflexes like that." and finally, "Yeah, it's like she knows what's going to happen just before it does."

Zoë smiled softly, inwardly. If only they knew that sometimes she did get the feeling something would occur and it would. She had sensed the ball coming at her before the warning, even before it was thrown at her. She couldn't explain it. She had been that way all her life. She had a lot of dreams that would eventually happen. Little things mostly, like going out with friends or what was for lunch. It was like living in a permanent déjà vu.

Zoë didn't mind it. As unnatural as it was it made her feel special, superior to others somehow. Even if she failed at one of her appointed tasks she could always look at that and remind herself that at least she was a notch above the rest on something. She wasn't conceited about herself or her abilities, but being one of four children she was used to having to fight for recognition.

Sometimes though, her great gift could be an awful curse. When she was ten she had a reoccurring dream that something bad would happen to her best friend at the time. It stopped when she was struck by a car and paralyzed from the waist down. When she was fourteen she had a vision about her father. While her mother was still trying to calm her down a shot rang out from the garage. He had accidentally shot himself while cleaning his hunting rifles.

Again it was happening. Her dreams were turning into nightmares. It wasn't really the dreams themselves that frightened her, they actually concerned and saddened her, it was the sense of dread they gave her, that overwhelming feeling that something big was coming. Something she wasn't sure she could handle.

XXX

Ten minutes later the girl's locker room was buzzing with sound. The adrenalin from the game was winding down and excited chatter filled the air. Zoë grabbed her bad from the back-most bench and weaved her way to one of the stalls. As she reached it she heard a familiar voice.

"Hey, Zo. You goin' to the dance on Friday?" Angela Watson was one of her closest friends.

"No. I'm going to stick at home. Mom is going to be out of town and I promised Stacy that I would spend some time with her." Zoë replied, unzipping her bag.

"Aw, c'mon. Jeremy wants to go with you. Don't you think you two would be the cutest?"

"I'll have to pass." Zoë said absently.

Angela sighed. "Damn, Zoë. I don't understand you. You're always turning guys down - - and cute ones, too. Why?"

"I just haven't found anyone I like, that's all. They're decent enough, but I - - I'm looking for a connection."

"Zoë, you're taking this 'one' thing too seriously, it's high school. You should be dating around. How else are you going to find the perfect guy you are always talking about?"

"I don't want a perfect guy, just someone who can understand me. When I find him I will know. Until then can we please drop the subject?"

Angela shrugged. "Fine, but I don't get how you can stand to be alone all the time."

As Zoë watched her walk away she whispered, "I don't either."

XXX

Pain. Pure, unadulterated pain. The silence made the situation worse. If Padra had been screaming at him, voicing her anger, he could have displaced his attention towards her words instead of fully on the excruciating punishment. The silence was Hell, it isolated him from everything and in this complete darkness it made him feel more alone than ever before. It was a reminder that there was no one who could save him, no one to wake him from this nightmare. It was the ultimate despair.

He began to detach himself from the world, numbed himself to the pain. He felt blood, warm and released from his veins, tumbling, rolling over his trembling, heated body. That didn't matter. He felt the blows, calculated strikes in all the right places. If the beating did not kill him it would break his spirit. He could not allow his will to be destroyed because if that happened all was lost. He would rather die than give that monster what it wanted.

He began to stare at one singe spot in the dark. His vision was drawn to that spot, captured there. He concentrated on it, letting the world fade away and disappear. The spot began to change. He was closing his eyes and entering his own mind. Without realizing what he was doing he reached out to the connection in the other world. He had shut himself off, given up, but his subconscious, his inner desire to survive, too over, calling, calling…

Everything was slipping away, but suddenly there was a light inside the darkness. A name. He was crying her name - - and she answered.

XXX

Zoë dug through her closet. Thus far the perfect outfit could not be found. She pulled out another shirt/skirt set and held it up for her best friend. Tari Caine wrinkled her little nose and tilted her head in analyzation. After a moment she pulled a discarded shirt from the pile and held it up to the skirt in Zoë's hands. The older girl saw what she meant and nodded. This was the one. She grinned and began to change.

"I'm glad you've decided to join us this time, Zoë." Tari said, dropping cross-legged onto Zoë's bed. "I know you hate Dance-Dance Revolution but you're gonna have so much fun."

Zoë laughed. "Yeah, sure. I'm going to laugh at you guys jumping around on light-up pads like imbeciles. I'd say that's a good time."

Tari play glared. She knew Zoë didn't really think they looked dumb. It was her way of showing interest when she wouldn't take part herself. Zoë didn't show much outward emotion to be frank. It wasn't that she was a cold individual; indeed, she was a very warm person. She was just placid, lacking somehow.

Tari called her a 'searcher.' She always seemed to be looking for something. She knew her best friend wasn't normal. Actually Tari was one of the only ones who knew Zoë's psychic secret. Tari had figured it out after watching the other girl for a while. When she had confronted Zoë about it she only smiled and said, "good job." That was how their friendship began two years ago.

Now Tari was watching her again. Zoë was worrying her. She had been acting peculiar lately and had declined to give the reason. Zoë was concerned, if not afraid, of something and Tari needed to find out what. If Zoë was in danger then Tari had to do something about it. There was no way she was going to stand by and watch her be hurt.

XXX

Zoë was finishing lacing up her knee-high boots when it came. A pain like none she had ever felt seized her body, forcing her to double over with a cry of shock and fear. Where was this coming from? Was it another vision? What horrible future was it foretelling? Was it the future? Who was in pain?

She felt Tari's hands on her shoulders, heard her worried voice. That did not matter; Zoë vaguely registered it. Everything was fading around her.

Her mind was switching on, a different sight than the human eye. Everything was changing, twisting, and morphing. Her room began to disappear into a misty gray-scale darkness. A voice from within the haze called out to her; pleading, hurt, and weak. The same voice from her dreams! But she was awake … how could that be?

Zoë stumbled from her room into the hallway. Her hands felt along her path, gripped the walls for support and guidance.

The voice was calling her name. The gentle desperation in the tone was nearly as painful as the waves attacking her physically. "Zoë … Zoë, can you hear me?"

"Yes!" She cried, "I can hear you. Who are you? You're from my dreams, aren't you?"

"Yes. I was trying to reach you, prepare you, but it was all for naught. It is over." Another stitch of pain.

"What do you mean?" Zoë asked, near panic.

"It's over." The voice was strained, saddened. The owner was completely drained. "I've lost and I think I am about to die. There is no hope for my world. I am a failure." Zoë could sense his grief, could feel the self-blame tingling along her skin along with the pain.

"Please, don't talk like that. Surely there is some way."

"You." Fainter. He was losing his strength, and fast. "You were our hope, but I can't help you now. It knows and I have put you in peril. I cannot bring you here anymore."

Zoë fell to her knees as the pain increased. She screamed with her companion in her head. Yet, no matter how much she hurt she thought only of him. She felt his loss, the depths of his despair, and now the physical torture that was being wrought upon him. She wanted to reach to him, hold him, and protect him. She wanted to save him from this "it" he was talking about.

"Who are you?" She asked again, fighting to get to her feet, fighting against the blackness that threatened to creep into the gray around her. "Tell me. I know you, don't I? You're familiar." The haze swirled in her head, muddled her thoughts. She cursed not being able to place him. "Have we met?"

It took a moment for an answer. "We've met, but you wouldn't remember. I must go now. I've caused you enough pain. I wish we had had more time. I'd have liked to have met you." Zoë could feel him slipping away. He was letting go; she didn't want him to let go.

Behind her Tari emerged from her bedroom. Zoë staggered to the stairs, hands grasping the sides of her head. "NO!" She screamed, "No! Please, don't leave me! Take me with you!" Zoë suddenly pitched forward as she tripped on the stairs. Tari tried to reach her, stop her from her descent, but before she could reach her Zoë was gone.

She had vanished into thin air!

This is a story I had posted once before and took down, but now I'm putting it back up again to see who's interested in it. Next Chapter: Gohan and Piccolo get in on the mix and a rescue mission ensues. Toodles.

Mizuki-Sama