The mist clung thick over Berk's cliffs, rolling like a restless sea. The village stirred uneasily in its fog, voices raised in quiet debates that never truly ended. Some whispered Behemoth was their savior. Others swore he was their doom.
But Behemoth wasn't there to hear it.
He moved silently beyond the village, boots sinking into damp earth, trench coat swaying with each measured step. The air tasted of salt and iron. His claws flexed absentmindedly at his sides, the faint glow of his necklace guiding him through the gloom.
At the edge of the island, half-hidden by vines and stone, a cavern yawned wide. Its mouth was scarred, blackened by flame, as though a thousand battles had carved their memory into the rock.
Behemoth paused at its entrance. His tail flicked once, horns glinting faint in the morning light. "It's been a long time…" he muttered, voice low, nearly swallowed by the fog.
The cave swallowed him whole.
Inside, the air was damp, heavy with age. Faint streaks of crystal veins ran along the walls, pulsing with soft golden light—the remnants of his father's flame. His boots echoed against the stone as he walked deeper, past claw marks gouged into the rock, past the skeletal remains of prey long forgotten.
Finally, he reached the chamber.
It was vast, the ceiling lost in shadow, the floor scarred with deep burns. At its center sat a mound of blackened stone, cracked and hollow. The place where a younger Behemoth had once curled against his father's side, listening to the steady rumble of Zephyros' breath.
He knelt, resting a clawed hand against the stone. The cold seeped into his skin, but in his mind, he could still feel the warmth that once lingered here.
"Father…" His voice trembled, though he steadied it quickly. "You told me to live. To endure. To rule. I have done all three. But I wonder…" His violet eyes dimmed, narrowing at the cracks in the stone. "Do I rule… or do I simply survive?"
The silence gave no answer. Only the faint drip of water from the ceiling echoed through the chamber.
Behemoth's hand curled into a fist. He remembered the cries of hatchlings slaughtered. The roar of his kin as chains bound their wings. The helpless rage that had driven him to slaughter men by the thousands.
That rage still burned, deep and endless. But over it lay something heavier—pity. Sympathy. For his kind, broken and scattered. For the humans who, in their ignorance, had feared dragons so much they forgot their own fragility.
It was why he tolerated Berk's foolishness. Why he spared them instead of burning them to ash.
"Unity," he muttered bitterly, the word tasting like smoke on his tongue. "That's what you believed in, isn't it, Father? That only together could we endure. And here I am, wearing human skin, begging tamers and farmers to stand beside me. Would you laugh… or approve?"
The crystal veins flickered faintly, pulsing like a heartbeat. For a moment, Behemoth swore he felt the weight of Zephyros' gaze upon him.
Then the vision shifted. Shadows slithered across the walls, twisting into shapes that were not his own. Eyes glimmered within the cracks of the cave—sickly, pale, hungry.
The entities.
His necklace burned hot against his chest, and the vision snapped away. The walls were bare once more, though his claws still smoked faintly.
Behemoth exhaled slowly. "So. Even here, they test me." His tail lashed, claws scraping sparks against stone. "The shield weakens faster than I thought."
He rose, his form tall and shadowed against the glowing veins. For a moment, his hybrid skin rippled—scales shimmering beneath flesh, his wings twitching just beneath the surface of his back. It took effort to keep them hidden, effort he would not have wasted if not for the fragile alliance outside this cave.
They are not ready to see the full truth, he thought grimly. Not yet.
Still, the idea gnawed at him. The humans did not yet understand the power of their bonds. If they could awaken it, perhaps they would be more than liabilities. Perhaps they could stand as more than prey.
Behemoth smirked faintly, though it was humorless. "If they survive long enough to prove it, maybe I'll even teach them how."
He turned, walking back toward the cave's mouth. The faint glow of the necklace dimmed, leaving only the echo of his father's flame behind.
Outside, the mist had begun to lift. In the distance, he could hear the faint rumble of voices from Berk—arguments, laughter, fear.
The alliance was fragile. He could feel the cracks widening already. But he would not shatter it yet.
Because when the shield fell, when the entities poured through… they would need every ounce of strength, every drop of blood, every shard of flame.
And Behemoth intended to see who among them would rise.