She was dreaming again, always the same for the last two months. Always it was the same figure, a shimmering blue form, feminine. Ahead of her lay the mountains that Tara called home, behind the figure lay nothing but destruction. Her every breath was a flame that rose into the sky and then fell to the land around her. The eyes were pale blue flecked with red.

From the mountains came the strongest fighters the retreat had produced, the guardians who had kept the reclusive city safe. Each one fell as the figure struck, first her moves resembled those of a kickboxer, then those of a judo expert, then her movements matched those of a prowling animal, for every warrior to meet her, she had a style that finished the fight swiftly and bloodily. Then, there was only Tara, she ran forward, swung a kick, spinning with the momentum to swing another. The figure took the first solidly to where her ribs would be, the second kick she scoop blocked, swinging Tara around into a shin kick to her hip, a knee to the stomach left the back of her neck open to the blow that would inevitably kill her, and just as that blow came, she screamed herself into consciousness.

Tara Maclay sat bolt upright, sweat dripping from her hair and body. The nightclothes she had worn were also drenched in her sweat. Not the thought of instant death had had Tara in this state, although the men and women of Lithlua only practised martial arts to keep themselves and their loved safe, death was something that would inevitably come, just as the tides on her favourite spot on the beach. Tara knew the feeling that she felt whenever she dreamed, she had failed to protect her home.

The blonde was brought out of her thoughts by a knock on the door of her room, she uttered a shaky 'come in' and the door opened. She raised a weak smile as her best friend, Shiva, walked into her room. Shiva had often rocked Tara back to sleep over the last couple of months, her reassuring arm around her waist as she leant back, her head on Shiva's shoulder. Shiva enfolded her friend in a warm hug and Tara's now ragged breathing calmed down. A week ago, she had told the head her coven, Jenny, about her recurring dreams. Tomorrow, Jenny had promised to see her.

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The two struck blow for blow, the redhead and the brunette. First, the redhead would swing two punches which would be blocked before she dipped her thigh to meet and cushion the roundhouse that her opponent threw. To anyone watching, the two figures might be putting on a fighting demonstration, and seeing that Faith and Willow knew each other so well, it might as well have been. Both fighters were clad in one-piece bodysuits which left their hips bare, the only difference being the colour. Faith's was jet black while Willow's was silver. Willow ducked under the punch her friend threw, pushing Faith off balance as she nudged her elbow into the back of Faith's swinging arm, Willow crouched and spun, kicking Faith's legs from under her, Faith quickly recovered, rolling to her side, ducking her head to her left before rising and elbowing Willow in the back of the head.

Willow fell to a knee and swung her free foot towards Faith's ribs, she felt her foot caught and rolled with Faith's twist of her foot that may well have broke her ankle had she been serious. Willow's back hit the ground hard knocking the breath from her, Faith pounced at her and Willow kicked her legs up, sending Faith to the floor, Willow continued her backwards roll to straddle Faith, with a roar, Willow swung her fist towards Faith's head and stopped an inch short. As Willow crouched, she had heard Faith tap the ground, a gesture of submission, acknowledging that her friend had bettered her this time.

Both girls stood, Faith brushing herself off, "Dayum, Red, you are seriously preparing for the tournament, huh?"

Willow sighed as the girls got to a bench and sat down. Her thoughts turned inwards to the last two years. She and Buffy, a girl she had come to call her sister, Joyce having taken her in when her parents died, had fought in the first All-Style Freestyle fighting tournament, a collection of the best fighters around the world representing different fighting styles. As they travelled the road, one night, Buffy had simply disappeared. Willow had looked all around for her sister but she was nowhere to be seen. Though Willow had managed to finish the tournament in third, a place that anyone would have been overjoyed with, as she walked home, her head was dipped in shame. They had not seen Buffy again until the second tournament.

Willow had walked along the path towards the next battleground, on instinct, she had ducked her head, a stone soon flew to the ground from beside her. She turned as she heard a thump on the ground and she looked on in shock as she saw the red-clad form of the blonde, no emotion in her eyes. Willow had tried to talk to her but Buffy had blanked her. In their tournament fight, it had been obvious that Buffy had learned some new moves, her style was alien to Willow, Buffy had tried to grind Willow into the dust, punching even after a KO was called. Willow was lucky to escape with her life. Buffy hadn't been trying to win the match, she had been trying to kill her.

"I'm going to bring her back."

This seemed a random enough statement, but Faith knew what she meant. "Joyce awarded me my Third Dan yesterday evening, I am entering the tournament also." Willow turned to look in Faith's eyes, the pain that lay behind them. To Willow, Buffy was a sister. To Faith, she was a lover. She had never got over Buffy leaving, "if you can't beat some sense into my girl, then I will."

Willow nodded her head at her friend and, for now, rival. "Then tomorrow is the last time we shall see each other until we meet in battle," Willow took Faith's hand in both of her own, "good luck."

Faith nodded at Willow's sincere words, "you too, rest up tonight, tomorrow we will go separate ways into the first city."

Willow nodded, the two girls stood and hugged before retreating to their quarters and their own thoughts.

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Tara bowed her head in front of Jenny, Shiva held her hand in a comforting grip. Their friendship had grown over the years as the two had become regular sparring partners before close friends akin to sisters. Shiva shook loose her black hair streaked with a deep blue as she concentrated on supporting her friend. As they had approached Jenny, they could both see that the news was not good.

"Your dream, the elders have cast thrice and…they found it to be prophetic." Tara gasped, her breath caught in her throat. "Prophecy is strong, destiny can often seem to be inevitable, but it is not. A million actions shall take place before here and there."

"W-what can we do about it?" Shiva noticed Tara's stutter and rubbed her thumb reassuringly across the back of her palm.

Jenny considered the question in her head, it was one that she had thought about long and hard. The people of Lithlua were a peaceful people, but if Tara's dream were to come to pass…"There is a tournament, the All-Style Freestyle fighting tournament. The organiser featured in all visions concerned with your dream, he fights the champion at the end of every tournament and we believe that he plans to bring about the destruction that you have seen. I award you and Shiva your Third Dans qualifying you to enter the tournament."

Shiva nodded her head, "if Angelus must be stopped, we shall stop him."

Jenny nodded her head. "There shall be many fights between now and the final, I have only one lesson to teach you. I ask you this, the cheetah is the fastest animal in the animal kingdom, but what is its weakness?"

Tara answered, "the cheetah often lacks the stamina of its prey."

"Indeed, he who goes all out from the start will not win, he may against a Kyu, but not against a Dan ranked fighter and certainly not against a titled one. Remember this. My children, win with honour, lose with dignity and you shall never disgrace yourself, evil cannot ultimately win against good no matter how bad the situation looks."

Jenny sniffed back a sob as two of her closest students turned from her, "Thespia, protect my children."

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Buffy awoke. She could remember nothing that had occurred before the last two years. All she knew was that her mother, sister and lover, neither of whom she could now remember, had died. She, the redhead, had killed them, Angelus had told her so. Pain filled her voice as she rose to begin her journey, she uttered a mantra that had echoed around her head for two years. "She will die, she must die."