Prologue

As soon as the Elder awoke, he knew something was wrong.

He opened his eyes, taking a moment to push the drooping antennae out of his face. He reached down and took hold of the long staff that served as the symbol of his status as Elder, and planted it into the ground in an attempt to raise himself from the sitting position his people favored when sleeping.

"Let us help you, Elder!" called an eager voice.

Two young children rushed to his side to offer their assistance.

"Thank you, my children. This body is old and stiff."

As they placed their hands upon him, the Elder could not help but note the difference between himself and his young charges.

While his skin was paper-thin, and had the color of aged moss, theirs was full and shone a healthy green. Even their antennae were upright and attentive. They were the picture of healthy, young, Namekian children.

So it was with an even greater sense of sorrow that he knew both their lives were soon to end.

"Did you dream of great things, Elder Mollusk?" asked the smaller of the two.

"Not this night, Klam." Should he tell them of his fear? Or would that only rob them of what happy time they might have left to them?

"Oh, I see. Oysta and I were hoping for a new story."

"Don't bother the Elder with that now!" Oysta objected. "Are you alright, sir? You seem ill at ease. Shall I fetch one of the adults?"

"No, no. Do not trouble yourself. Take me to my chair, please."

The boys led the Elder Namekian through the hallways of the nearly-empty city. Once, this had been a place of laughter and song, of quiet and reflection. Now it was only a city of the dead.

"What of the others?" asked the Elder.

"It is still night time. The others are asleep. Klam and I were awoken by the cold, and a moment later, we heard you stirring."

"That is good," said Mollusk. "Let them sleep, and be at peace."

They arrived at the Elder's Throne Room. Mollusk took his seat in the large chair, decorated like the rest of their city, to call to mind the shell of the snail. He could feel his discomfort increasing. The cold was growing stronger. He knew the other adults were already dead.

Mollusk looked down at his two sons. Oysta and Klam, the last children who would ever be born to this lost tribe of Namekians.

Klam smiled up at him. "Story?"

"Klam! Leave the Elder be!" Oysta rebuked his brother.

Mollusk smiled. He could understand the boy's wish for entertainment. There was very little beyond the brothers' studies to keep them occupied in this place. Each Namekian reproduces by laying eggs. Mysteriously, there had not been any children born to this last generation. As time went on, and the population grew old and died off, all hope had seemed lost, until after many days of fasting and prayer, the Elder finally laid a single golden egg that had contained two infants. Twins were a rare and momentous event for Namekians. It was hoped that this would bring glad tidings. Oysta and Klam were twins, but Oysta was taller and more mature. Klam had become Oysta's unofficial responsibility. They looked after each other. But they had been born into a world without children. So the brothers had no one else with which to play.

Mollusk could feel the source of the coldness growing stronger.

He now resolved to fight it, as best he could. For although his body was frail, his mind and spirit were still as hard as iron. But it would require concentration. And the boys must not be aware of the struggle, lest they become distressed and distract his work. They must all three be focused on the same task, without the young ones knowing the purpose.

"I have an idea," said Mollusk. "How about you two tell me a story, for a change?"

"Us!?" exclaimed Klam. "But we don't know any!"

"That is not true. Your studies involve all types of tales from our past. Why don't you tell me the story of the Old World?"

Klam moaned, "But we already-"

"Stop being difficult, Klam," Oysta interrupted. "The Elder says that we must know our history, so that we can pass it on to our offspring."

Oysta's idea of a happy future pained the Elder. But time was short and he knew he must drive all other thoughts from his mind.

"Begin the tale," Mollusk instructed, and he hung his head, as if in prayer. In reality, Mollusk was mentally seeking out the cause of the disturbance, and attempting to confine it.

Oysta and Klam turned to face each other. Stories told in Namekian required two parts, one to tell the tale, and one to question it.

"In the Old World," Oysta began, "we Namekians worshipped the Dragon Gods."

"And were we right to do so?" asked Klam, acting as the devil's advocate.

"The Dragon Gods protected us," continued the first boy. "They offered us magic and whispered secrets in our ears. But we were deceived. The Dragons were not gods. They were from the Land of Shadows. When the True Gods discovered this, they were displeased, and they made War on the Dragons. The True Gods banished the Dark Ones from the light."

"But that was not the end of sorrow, was it?"

"The Dragons' crimes were too great. They could not be allowed to live, but the gods lacked the power to kill the Dragons. So they had to be sealed away. The Namekians had gladly partaken of the words of shadow, and lamented their abomination, but the True Gods were kind. They offered us the chance to use our forbidden knowledge to make amends. We were uprooted from our beloved soil and made to stand-fast against the dark, at the other end of the universe. And so now, we use our magic to guard the Dragon's Tomb until the end of time."

"But are we not alone?"

"The filth and sin of the Dragons' magic was rampant in the universe. This darkness had even the power to reshape worlds. But it could not be destroyed, as it had taken root. So, like the Dragons, it too must be sealed away. Contained, and given structure. The True Gods took all the random magic loosed by the Dragons and bound it to seven magic balls. Our brothers stayed on the home world, and were made custodians of those seven sins, those Dragon Balls. We guard the Dragon's bodies, while our brothers guard their sins."

"All you have spoken is true," said Klam, finally accepting the story as per the ritual. "We will watch and obey, for we must atone."

While the boys recited the ancient tale of their wayward ancestors, Mollusk had been stretching out his senses and spirit in an attempt to press back the advancing darkness. The boys' tale had aided him in focusing his mind against the threat he feared he perceived. After millennia, the Dark Dragons were breaking loose.

Mollusk could not begin to imagine why this was happening now. The Dark Dragons had been sealed away by the True Gods untold ages ago. And as atonement for worshiping the false idols, this tribe of Namekians had stood guard above the seal ever since. In all that time, never had the Dragons so much as stirred. And now the Elder could feel the bonds of Namekian magic failing. Old magic, put in place long ago, and maintained through their constant suffering and prayer, gone!

The coldness, it was the sign of their approach. Mollusk knew that the only other Namekians in this city, on this small planet, were old and feeble. The cold had crept into their bones and extinguished their lives. He and the boys were all that remained. His boys….

"I don't like that story. It makes me sad," said Klam, interrupting the old Namekian's ruminations.

Mollusk could sense his strength waning. He was not going to be able to stop this. He knew he should continue fighting, but it was strange. It was almost as if nature itself was giving over to this dark force. Mollusk almost got the feeling that he was suppose to let this happen. A sense of comfort pervaded him as he thought of relaxing. Letting whatever was to come… come.

"It makes us all sad, my child," said the Elder, lifting his head. "But we must learn the story well. For it tells us of our place in this universe."

They all sat quietly for a moment, Mollusk gazing at his children. His fear for their safety had eased as well. He was a religious man, after all. A man of faith. He would trust.

"Father," said Oysta meekly. This was the first time Oysta had called him anything other than Elder in a long time. "I'm getting colder."

"Me too," added Klam. "And sleepy."

"I know, my sons. Come here."

The boys crawled into their father's lap. And all three snuggled into each other for warmth.

"What's going on, father? Why is this happening?" Klam asked.

"There is a purpose for all things, my sons. These events too will make sense in time. We have our part to play. All things do."

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S-Shield's notes

So this is my first published fan fic. It's about Dragon Ball Z, obviously.

I want to thank those of you who read this far, and I hope you'll keep reading.

Please, leave a review and let me know what you think, good, bad or indifferent. I'm just looking for a little feedback.

Thanks again.