Chapter 1
The wind howled against the cliffs of Berk, threading through Hiccup’s auburn hair as he leaned against Toothless, his back pressing into the dragon’s sleek, warm scales. The cold salted air filled his lungs, grounding him in the present even as his thoughts drifted toward an uncertain future. He stared down at his map, the corners curling in the wind, inked lines depicting the countless islands they had charted over the years. Yet none of them seemed like home.
He exhaled slowly, his breath visible in the crisp night air. “I don’t know what to do, bud.” His voice carried softly, barely audible over the distant crash of waves against the shore.
Toothless cooed in response, his tail instinctively curling around Hiccup’s legs, offering what little comfort he could. The dragon’s warmth pressed against his side, a familiar and steady presence in the face of his unrest.
“We have to move everyone to a new island soon,” Hiccup continued, tightening his grip on the map. “Astrid is right. Maybe this so-called ‘Hidden World’ is just a fool’s dream.” The admission tasted bitter. He wanted to believe in it, in the idea of a place untouched by war or hunters—a sanctuary for dragons. But dreams alone wouldn’t keep his people safe. And Berk was becoming dangerously overcrowded. The accidents were increasing, the supplies thinning. They were running out of time.
With a weary sigh, he folded the map, fingers lingering over the edges before he tucked it away. Toothless nudged him gently, blinking his large green eyes as if to say you’ll figure it out, you always do. Hiccup managed a faint smile, reaching down to scratch beneath Toothless’ jaw.
The sun dipped below the horizon, casting the world into shades of blue and silver. Dragons soared overhead, their silhouettes dark against the twilight sky as they settled for the night. The familiar sounds of Berk winding down reached his ears, muffled voices, the clang of metal from the forge, the distant laughter of his people as they clung to normalcy amidst uncertainty.
A chill settled into his bones, and he let himself relax into Toothless’ warmth. The dragon’s steady breathing, the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest, was a comfort Hiccup had long since learned to rely on. A soft, almost cat-like purring rumbled from Toothless as he rested his head on his paws. The sound lulled Hiccup into drowsiness, his exhaustion catching up to him. His eyes drooped, the worries of the day slipping away as sleep took hold.
The first thing he noticed was the cold.
It seeped into his bones, sharper than the usual night air of Berk. His fingers twitched, flexing against the frost-coated grass beneath him. The warmth that had once been at his side was gone.
For a moment, his sluggish mind struggled to make sense of it. His body was stiff, muscles locked from the cold. The ground beneath him was damp, rough, all wrong. Then, instinct took over.
Hiccup’s eyes snapped open, his breath hitching as he bolted upright. The stars above stretched endlessly, familiar and distant. His pulse quickened. Toothless’ absence registered immediately, an instinctive panic settling deep in his chest.
“Toothless?” he called softly, rising to his feet.
A low growl answered him, steady and cautious. Hiccup turned toward the sound, his eyes adjusting to the darkness. He spotted Toothless standing near the edge of a cliff, muscles coiled and body tense. His tail twitched, his pupils narrowing as he stared into the dense forest below.
Hiccup moved closer, his heartbeat hammering in his ears. “What is it, bud?” he whispered, following Toothless’ gaze.
Then he saw it.
A shadow shifting between the trees.
His breath caught in his throat. It was a dragon. Not one he recognized. The creature’s silhouette was sleek, its wings folded close to its body as it moved through the underbrush. Even from this distance, something about it felt... wrong. Unfamiliar.
The moment it noticed them, it bolted.
Hiccup didn’t hesitate. “Go!”
Toothless crouched, and in a blink, Hiccup was on his back, gripping the handles of the saddle as they launched into the sky. “Cut it off before it reaches the coast!” he ordered, lowering himself flat against Toothless’ back as they dove into pursuit.
The dragon was fast, weaving through the trees with practiced ease. But Toothless was faster.
They burst out over the treetops, wings skimming the canopy as they gained on their target.
Hiccup’s sharp eyes tracked the dragon’s movements, taking in every detail, the way it darted through the undergrowth, the near-silver sheen of its scales catching in the moonlight. It wasn’t heading west, where the village lay. It was moving north. Away from Berk.
“Stay on it!”
Toothless let out a deep rumble, angling his wings to cut off the dragon’s path.
They reached the beach just as the unknown dragon burst from the treeline, wings flaring. Hiccup barely had time to react before it shot past them, soaring over their heads and plunging into the ocean.
Hiccup cursed under his breath, scrambling off Toothless and running to the water’s edge. The dragon’s shimmering scales were barely visible beneath the waves, its form fading into the depths.
Toothless pawed at the sand, letting out a soft whine. His ears flicked back, his posture uneasy.
Hiccup clenched his fists. Two days ago, he might have dismissed this as coincidence. But something was off.
He exhaled, running a hand through his already messy hair. “We’ll come back tomorrow,” he murmured, eyes still locked on the ocean. “It’s too dark now. We need rest.”
Toothless huffed but shifted to the side, allowing Hiccup to climb back onto his saddle. Hiccup chanced one last look at the waves before nudging Toothless into the air.
They needed answers.
And something told him this was only the beginning.
Hiccup sat heavily in the dim glow of his borrowed home, the warmth of the fireplace doing little to soothe the exhaustion dragging at his limbs. The scent of smoke still clung to his clothes, a bitter reminder of what had been taken from him. His fingers absentmindedly traced the rough wood of the table, splintered in places, worn, but unfamiliar. This house wasn’t his.
His home was gone.
The house he’d grown up in, where his father’s voice had once filled the halls, where he and Toothless had built saddles and sketches by firelight, was gone. Burned to the ground. Reduced to ash by the man they should have seen coming.
A half-empty mug of ale rested in his hand, the taste long forgotten. Toothless lay curled near his feet, his massive body taking up most of the space, his deep breaths filling the silence between the occasional pop of burning wood.
They were leaving. The whole of Berk was leaving.
Hiccup had spent his entire life trying to turn his home into a haven for both humans and dragons, but it was no longer enough. Berk had become a target. With every new dragon they rescued, with every enemy they made, the island became more vulnerable. Now, Grimmel and his hunters had made sure there was no future here, no path forward that didn’t end in bloodshed.
The decision had been made at yesterday’s village meeting, but even now, it sat heavy in his chest. His people had spoken, their voices filled with hope and resignation in equal measure, but the truth was, it hadn’t been much of a choice at all.
His home, the place where his father had once stood tall, where his mother had finally returned to after all those years, had been reduced to ash. He could still see it in his mind, the flames licking at the walls, consuming years of memories in mere moments. He had stood there, watching it burn, powerless to stop it. Berk had always been a place of resilience, but even it couldn’t stand against an enemy like this.
Hiccup sighed, rolling his shoulders in an attempt to shake off the tension. His headache, a dull and persistent throb, had worsened throughout the day. He regretted snapping at Fishlegs earlier, the guilt gnawing at him even as he replayed the moment over and over again. His friend hadn't deserved that, not when he had only been trying to help.
Toothless let out a soft, inquisitive chirp, sensing his distress. The dragon nudged his nose against Hiccup’s knee, green eyes blinking up at him.
"I know, bud," Hiccup murmured, reaching down to scratch behind Toothless’ ear. "I just…" He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "I don’t know."
He closed his eyes, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, his face in his hands. The room felt both too big and too small all at once.
A chest sat near the door, filled with what little had been salvageable from the fire. Some of his belongings were blackened with soot, the scent of charred wood still clinging to the fabric of his clothes, to the few books he had managed to save. He had lost so much, his father’s old furs, the sketches he had made as a boy, even the saddle blueprints that had taken him years to perfect.
That was how Astrid found him.
She entered without knocking, her usual confidence softened by concern. Her blue eyes flickered to the ale in his hand, to the way he slouched in the chair with exhaustion weighing him down. She said nothing at first, simply stepping behind him, her fingers finding the tense knots in his shoulders.
Hiccup flinched slightly at the unexpected touch but quickly relaxed as her strong hands worked through his muscles, kneading away the worst of the ache. Her warmth grounded him, steadied the storm raging inside his mind.
"You know no one blames you for snapping at Fishlegs,” she said quietly. “We all know how much you're carrying right now. But, Hiccup, you don’t have to do it alone.”
Her voice was firm but gentle, the kind of reassurance he didn’t realize he had needed.
Hiccup let out a dry laugh, though there was little humor in it. He sat up straighter, pulling away from her touch as he turned to face her. "I know, Astrid. I do." He exhaled slowly, running a hand over his face. "It’s just… one thing after another. And it doesn’t stop. I keep thinking—if we leave, if we run, aren’t we just proving Grimmel right? That dragons make us weak?" His voice dropped lower, the weight of his doubts pressing down on him. "I should be defending our home. My father—" He stopped, jaw tightening. "He would have fought to the last man."
Astrid folded her arms, her gaze steady as she listened. "Maybe," she admitted. "But your father also fought because he believed it was the only way. You proved him wrong." She reached for his hand then, lacing her fingers with his. "Look at what you’ve built, Hiccup. There are more people in Berk than ever before. More families. More children. You gave them a future."
She squeezed his hand, her next words softer. "But we can’t have a future if we’re all dead."
Hiccup looked away, staring at the fire. His chest ached with the truth of it.
Astrid leaned into him slightly, her shoulder pressing against his. "No one wants to leave Berk. But they trust you. They believe in you. And they’ll follow you because they know you’ll do what’s best for them. You don’t have to carry this alone, Hiccup. We’re with you."
For a long moment, he said nothing. Then, slowly, he let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. The tension in his frame eased, if only slightly. He turned his hand in hers, bringing it to his lips in a quiet gesture of gratitude.
"Thank you," he murmured.
She smiled, small and reassuring. "Always."
For the first time that day, the weight on his chest felt just a little lighter.
The wind howled as Hiccup adjusted his helmet, the worn leather straps digging into his chin. The vast sky stretched endlessly around him, an endless sea of shifting blues and grays, while below, the real sea shimmered under the pale afternoon sun. Waves rolled lazily beneath the Berkian fleet, their movement steady and rhythmic, a stark contrast to the chaos churning inside him.
They had been flying for days. The journey west was grueling, long nights filled with restless sleep, longer days filled with aching limbs and exhaustion that seeped into his very bones. His people were holding up well, but even from this high up, Hiccup could see the signs of wear. Riders slumped slightly in their saddles, their dragons moved just a little slower than before. Supplies were running low, patience even lower.
They were leaving everything behind.
Hiccup exhaled, pressing his gloved fingers into the leather reins of Toothless’ saddle. The guilt sat in his chest like a weight that refused to budge. This wasn’t what he had wanted for them. Berk was supposed to be a sanctuary. He had spent years fighting for that future. But what kind of leader would he be if he let them stay and be slaughtered?
We should have had more time.
Toothless let out a soft rumble beneath him, and Hiccup glanced down. His dragon’s gaze was sharp, locked onto something below. Hiccup followed his line of sight—and there. A dragon.
It wasn’t one of theirs.
It flew low over the ocean, skimming the waves like liquid silver, its sleek body slipping in and out of the water with effortless grace. The sight made his heart lurch, recognition striking like lightning. The same dragon from before. The one that had vanished into the sea.
It wasn’t flying west. It was veering north.
His breath caught. His mind raced. Was it leading him somewhere? Was this a coincidence? Dragons didn’t just appear—not ones he didn’t recognize. Everything about this felt wrong. And yet…
He had to know.
“Hiccup!”
He blinked, drawn from his thoughts by a familiar voice. His mother pulled Cloudjumper closer, her long red hair whipped wild by the wind, her expression sharp with concern.
“Son,” she greeted, firm but gentle. “How are you holding up?”
“I’m fine,” he answered quickly. Too quickly. Her gaze lingered on him, all-knowing. But he pressed on. “Actually, I wanted to check the rear. Make sure no one’s lagging behind.”
Valka raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. Still, she didn’t argue. “Be careful.”
“I will.”
Without waiting for her to change her mind, Hiccup turned Toothless toward the horizon. They made a quick loop around the fleet, before finally turning away.
“Follow that dragon, bud.”
With a low purr, Toothless adjusted his wings and dove toward the sea.
The air thinned as they descended, wind tugging at Hiccup’s cloak, the sea growing closer with every beat of Toothless’ wings. The horizon stretched wider here, the clouds thicker, tinged with a strange, pearlescent sheen. Beneath them, the silver dragon moved like a ghost, slipping in and out of the water, leaving barely a ripple.
They kept pace, each minute stretching longer than the last. Hiccup couldn’t shake the sensation creeping along his spine. It was more than instinct now—it was something deeper. A pull, ancient and insistent, coiling around his ribs and whispering follow.
He didn’t speak at first, too wrapped in the strange quiet that had overtaken the air. Even Toothless had slowed, wings gliding rather than flapping, as if caught in the same trance. His movements were smooth, deliberate, every twitch of muscle and flick of tail muted by the strange heaviness that blanketed them both.
It wasn’t a chase anymore.
It was a calling.
The sea below grew darker. The sky dimmed, not the slow fading of twilight but an unnatural, immediate loss of light, like the sun had slipped behind a veil. Hiccup’s thoughts dulled, dragged into the haze surrounding them. The cold settled deeper now, less windchill and more like the air itself was thinning, growing distant, unanchored from reality.
Misty tendrils began curling across the ocean’s surface, creeping around Toothless’ wings and coiling up into the air like reaching hands. They didn't roll in, they simply appeared. Hiccup blinked, struggling to focus as the last edges of daylight were swallowed in fog.
“Up,” he whispered, tapping Toothless’ side. “Just for a second. Let’s get above it.”
Toothless hesitated, an unfamiliar pause. That more than anything made the hairs on Hiccup’s neck rise.
“Up,” he said again, voice firmer.
They surged skyward, cutting through the dense mist. Cold bit at his cheeks as they broke through, but it was nothing compared to what he saw.
The sky above was wrong.
The stars stretched endlessly, but they weren’t his stars. New constellations dotted the sky, unfamiliar and haunting in their arrangement. The moon, full and bright, cast silver over the world below. But it had been a crescent last night. He was sure of it.
Panic prickled beneath his skin. His stomach was turning. His breath quickened. He pressed a hand against his chest, as if that would steady the frantic beating of his heart.
How much time had passed?
How far had they flown?
He looked behind him, expecting, hoping to see a glimpse of the fleet, of Berk, of anything familiar. But there was nothing. Just endless ocean, an unfamiliar sky, and the vast unknown stretching in all directions.
Toothless let out a low whine, shifting uneasily beneath him. Hiccup gritted his teeth, fighting against the fog still lingering in his mind.
They needed to go back.
Now.
"Southwest, bud. We find the fleet, then we find land."
Toothless let out a huff of agreement, shaking off whatever trance had taken hold of him, and turned in the direction Hiccup pointed.
They flew.
For what felt like hours, they flew.
Time bled between heartbeats. Hiccup’s grip remained steady, but fatigue tugged at his body. He didn’t know how far they’d gone, only that the silver dragon was gone now, lost in fog and sea, and the pull that had once led them forward had begun to fade.
Then, just when despair threatened to settle in, something broke the horizon.
An island.
Massive. Dark. Rising like a sleeping titan from the sea. Jagged cliffs loomed in the mist, their edges sharp as blades. Hiccup’s pulse surged as flickers of light danced along the ridges, firelight, faint but real.
There was civilization here.
But no dragons. No wings overhead. No roars. No nests. No flicker of movement above the cliffs.
Something wasn’t right.
Still, they had no other choice.
“Let’s land,” he murmured.
Toothless responded with a tired growl, angling downward until they touched down near the rocky shoreline. The moment Hiccup’s boots hit the ground, his knees nearly gave out. The pull that had led them here disappeared entirely, severed like a thread snapped taut and then released.
Toothless moved slowly beside him, his limbs heavy with exhaustion. His tail brushed against Hiccup’s leg, a silent question.
Hiccup gave a tired chuckle. “Yeah, I know. Not our smartest plan.”
He looked around, the wind carried the scent of salt and damp stone as Hiccup stepped further onto the unfamiliar island, his boots pressing into the damp earth beneath him. He barely felt the cold anymore, his exhaustion was too deep, the weight of their flight pressing heavily into his bones.
Toothless shifted beside him, his movements sluggish with fatigue. His wings drooped slightly, the exhaustion in their bond unmistakable. He let out a low chuff, flicking his tail against Hiccup’s side as if to say, this is a bad idea.
Hiccup huffed a tired laugh. “Yeah, well, so was following that dragon, and look where we are now.” He ran a hand through his tangled hair, tugging lightly at the ends in frustration. “Lost, stranded, and cold. Sounds about right.”
Toothless grumbled, his ears flicking back, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he sniffed at the ground, his pupils narrowing slightly as he took in their surroundings.
The island was massive, larger than any they had seen before. It was made almost entirely of stone, jagged cliffs rising high into the misty sky, their peaks obscured by the low-hanging fog. The edges of the land curved like the bones of some ancient creature, dark and looming against the midnight ocean.
And yet, there were signs of life.
Faint glows flickered in the distance, tiny pinpricks of fire dotting the cliffside, scattered like distant stars. The sight should have comforted him, civilization meant people, and people meant answers. But instead, it sent unease curling in his stomach.
Because there were no dragons.
Not a single winged shadow in the sky.
No distant calls echoing through the cliffs.
No sign of nests, or roosts, or anything that suggested these people had ever lived alongside dragons at all.
It felt wrong.
Hiccup swallowed hard, shaking off the creeping sensation in his gut. He needed rest. They could figure everything out tomorrow.
He turned back to Toothless, who had already begun the process of settling in for the night. The dragon had chosen a small outcropping near the water, half-hidden beneath a hanging stone ledge. With practiced ease, he circled once before flopping onto the ground, sending up a small puff of dust as he did so.
Hiccup chuckled, shaking his head as he set down his pack. “Yeah, yeah, you get the good spot. I get it.”
Toothless let out a soft purr in response, his eyes half-lidded as he flicked his tail around Hiccup’s legs, tugging him closer.
Rolling his eyes, Hiccup gave in, setting up camp in the space Toothless had all but claimed for them. He stripped off his flight armor piece by piece, his fingers numb as he unfastened the clasps. The night air was cold, biting at his skin even through his layers, but Toothless’ presence was warm—solid and reassuring.
By the time Hiccup finally lay back on his cot, his muscles aching and his eyelids heavy, Toothless had already curled around him, pressing his large head against Hiccup’s side. The dragon’s steady breathing, the warmth of his scales, the familiar comfort of their bond—it was enough to pull Hiccup under almost instantly.
As sleep took hold, he mumbled into the night, his voice barely above a whisper.
“I couldn’t do this without you, bud.”
Toothless rumbled softly in reply, his tail tightening around Hiccup’s legs as if to say, I know.
Then the world faded.
The scent of damp stone and woodsmoke filled the air when Hiccup stirred.
At first, he wasn’t fully awake, still tangled in that strange, dream-heavy sleep where the real and imagined blurred at the edges. His body ached in too many places to name. It felt like gravity had doubled in strength, pulling him deeper into the earth.
He blinked up at the muted gray sky, clouds thick and unmoving like wool pulled over the world. There was no sun, not really. Just light filtered through mist, dull and cold. The ocean’s breath rolled against the shore in soft, rhythmic waves, steady, repetitive, the same sound over and over, like a lullaby that had forgotten how to end.
Toothless was still asleep beside him, curled tight with his tail tucked over his snout, his wings draped over his sides like a blanket. His breathing was deep and slow, rumbling in his chest like distant thunder.
Hiccup stretched cautiously, a sharp ache running down his spine and into his prosthetic. Every muscle protested. His fingers were stiff with cold, his shoulders tight with tension. He sat up with effort, running a hand through his tangled hair, pulling it out of his eyes. He felt heavy. Not just tired, but weighed down by everything—by the flight, by the mystery, by the reality that they were somewhere completely unknown.
He glanced around, eyes scanning the shore, the cliffs, the mist-choked horizon, none of it familiar. No landmarks, no markers. No ships on the water. Just jagged rock, black sand, and the slow rise of a forested ridge in the distance. His mind reached instinctively for a name, for a memory to anchor him, but came up empty. This wasn’t anywhere on the maps. It wasn’t even close.
There was no time to rest. Not now.
He had a village to find. And answers to chase.
He rose slowly, dust and dew clinging to his clothes as he adjusted his belt and armor. His flight leathers were damp and stiff with salt, the edges of his cloak caked in sand. His prosthetic clicked into place with each step as he tested his balance. The air here was different, heavier, more saturated with moisture and something else he couldn’t name. It made his skin prickle.
Toothless let out a low, sleepy grumble but didn’t stir.
Hiccup glanced down at him and smirked. “Lucky you,” he murmured.
He crouched beside the dragon, gently running a hand along the curve of his neck. Toothless twitched slightly under his touch but didn’t open his eyes.
“Stay low. Hunt if you need to. I’ll be back before sundown,” Hiccup whispered.
One lazy eye cracked open. The look Toothless gave him was flat and unimpressed, a quiet are you sure about this that Hiccup had seen many times before.
He smiled faintly. “I’ll take that as an ‘okay.’”
Toothless huffed and tucked his tail tighter around himself.
Leaving Toothless behind was always hard. It felt like losing part of himself, like severing something essential. But this wasn’t Berk. He didn’t know what kind of people lived here, what kind of laws they followed, or what they might do if they saw a Night Fury appear out of nowhere. For now, caution won.
Hiccup slung his pack over his shoulder and turned toward the cliffs.
The path upward was steep and jagged, slick with moss and slicker still with the morning mist that clung to every rock. He moved carefully, placing each foot with purpose, leaning into the slope with practiced balance. The air changed as he climbed, the briny tang of sea spray gave way to the musk of livestock and smoke, faint but unmistakable.
He wasn’t far.
As he crested the ridge, the village revealed itself.
It was carved into the cliffside like something grown, not built, wooden houses nestled against stone outcroppings, their roofs thick with thatch, beams weathered but sturdy. Smoke curled from chimneys in thin spirals, drifting upward into the mist. The architecture was tight, efficient. But it wasn’t Viking. Not even close.
The beams curved inward. The windows were narrow and shuttered with iron. And the symbols, etched into doorframes, burned into beams, weren’t Norse runes. They weren’t even close. They flowed like water, intricate and winding, like the lines drawn by river currents or carved by ancient winds.
Hiccup slowed as he entered the outskirts.
The people moved around him with purpose, their voices clipped and low. Farmers in heavy wool coats bartered at stalls. Children ran barefoot through puddles. A blacksmith hammered away at a strange, squared-off anvil. Their faces were hard—lined with wind and salt and survival. They were dressed simply, but nothing about them was unfamiliar to him as humans. And yet…
They all glanced his way.
Just a flick of the eyes, but it was enough.
Their gazes stuck to him like burrs, sharp and curious and something else.
Not fear. Not awe.
Wary silence.
He walked further in, weaving through the narrow lanes of the market. He caught fragments of speech as he passed, slurred vowels, coarse consonants, a dialect that danced on the edge of comprehension. It wasn’t Norse. But it wasn’t completely foreign either. Like an old cousin of his language, distorted by time and distance.
He paused at the edge of a stall covered in furs, where a child sat quietly in the dirt. Blonde-haired, green-eyed. Small and smudged with dust. She didn’t smile. She didn’t blink. She just watched him with eyes too sharp for her age.
Something about her froze him.
He crouched slowly to her level, keeping his voice soft. “Hello,” he said, cautious. “Can you understand me?”
She stared for a heartbeat too long.
Then, a single nod.
Relief stirred low in his chest. “I have a few questions. I was hoping you could help me.”
The girl looked up at the older man behind the stall—her guardian, likely—who was too focused on his haggling to notice. She leaned slightly closer, lowering her voice.
“O’ course, me lord,” she said.
Hiccup stiffened. Me lord.
The words hung in the air like a misfired arrow.
That wasn’t right.
But he couldn’t afford to react. Not yet.
“I need to know where I am,” he said slowly. “What’s this island called? Are we near Berk? Anywhere in the archipelago? Do you know anyone who speaks Norse?” He hesitated, then added, “And have you seen any dragons?”
The girl tilted her head, confusion and calculation mingling on her face. Then she answered.
“This island’s called Skagos,” she said matter-of-factly. “Ain’t heard o’ no place called Bark.”
Skagos.
The name meant nothing. Not a whisper in any map he'd ever seen. But the way she said it, so confidently, so certain, sent a chill trickling down his spine.
“And what about the archipelago?” he asked.
“I don’t know what an arch-ee-pail-go is,” she said, slowly sounding out the unfamiliar word. “But the nearest land is Westeros. They speaks Common there. Like here.”
Westeros. Common.
Neither word belonged to any chart he had ever read. But they sounded… almost real. Like something pulled from the edge of a dream. Wrong—but not random.
His heartbeat thudded harder in his ears.
Then she added, almost casually, “I haven’t seen any Targaryens or dragons here ever.”
Targaryens.
He didn’t know the name. But the way she said it, like it meant something obvious, triggered something primal in him. She had linked it with dragons without hesitation.
His breath caught.
“But theys in Westeros,” she added quickly, “In King’s Landrings and Dragonstones.”
More names. King’s Landing. Dragonstone.
Unfamiliar, yet they echoed with weight, like places that had stories behind them, histories. Places where dragons still existed.
This wasn’t just a distant island. This wasn’t anywhere near Berk.
This wasn’t his world.
Something in him buckled at that realization, but he didn’t let it show.
He nodded slowly, his voice steady. “And where is King’s Landing? Dragonstone?”
The girl pointed south without hesitation, her small hand rising to trace past rooftops and cliffs and the endless misty sea beyond.
Hiccup followed her gaze, staring into the gray distance. His jaw tightened.
South.
That was his direction.
He reached into his belt pouch and pressed a coin into her palm. Her fingers curled around it instantly, her eyes going wide in quiet awe.
“Thanks,” he murmured. “For the help.”
He rose, brushing the dirt from his knees, and turned back toward the path that had brought him here. He walked quickly, weaving through the crowd, ignoring the weight of stares clinging to him like wet cloth.
Only once he’d passed the last building, the last patch of cobblestone, and stepped out onto the cliffside again did he let himself exhale.
The air was sharper here. Cleaner. Empty.
And unfamiliar.
He looked south, wind tugging at his cloak, eyes narrowed against the distant light.
This place wasn’t just lost to him.
It wasn’t his world at all.
But somewhere down there, in that strange land of kings and dragons and ancient names, was the key to getting home.
He would find it.
He had to.
He turned toward the coast, toward the place where he’d left Toothless, and began the long walk back. He didn’t know how far this journey would take him. But he would follow it to the end.
Because his people needed him.
And no matter how far he’d fallen from the map, he was going to find his way back.