The hall in Berk was alive with shouting.
"Madness!" a villager spat, slamming his mug against the table. "You saw the monster—wings darker than night, fire like a demon's breath. And you want us to trust it?"
Another shot back, "And what choice do we have? Did you not see the way the dragons bowed? Even the Night Fury bent his head! If Behemoth wanted us dead, we'd already be ash."
Around the long hearth, the arguments swelled. Fear mixed with anger, distrust with awe. For every voice calling Behemoth savior, another screamed monster.
Hiccup sat near the end of the table, his head in his hands. Toothless crouched beside him, eyes darting around the room, tail twitching in irritation at the clamor.
Astrid leaned closer. "This isn't getting us anywhere," she muttered. "They're too divided. Half the village wants Behemoth gone. The other half thinks he's our only hope."
Hiccup sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "They're not wrong. He's both."
That earned a humorless chuckle from Fishlegs. "So… a savior who could kill us all in our sleep. Great. Comforting."
Snotlout threw his arms wide. "Bah! You're all overthinking it. Big scary dragon-man shows up, throws some fire around, flexes his abs—" he gestured dramatically, "—and suddenly everyone forgets who the real hero is." He thumped his chest. "Me!"
Astrid groaned. "For Thor's sake, Snotlout."
"Toothless, roast him," Hiccup muttered under his breath. The Night Fury let out a low, amused trill, smoke curling from his nostrils.
The laughter that followed broke the tension, if only for a moment. But soon, the weight of Behemoth's words returned.
Unity.
Hiccup raised his head, eyes sharp now. "Listen. Behemoth said something—about bonds, about unity. I think he meant us. Riders and dragons. We've been fighting together for years, but…" He hesitated, glancing at Toothless. "What if we've only scratched the surface of what's possible?"
Fishlegs blinked. "You mean… there's more?"
Astrid leaned forward, intrigued despite herself. "Like what?"
"I don't know yet." Hiccup tapped his fingers against the table, mind racing. "But think about it—every time we've survived, it wasn't just because of weapons or training. It was because of our dragons. Because of trust."
Toothless nudged his shoulder, letting out a soft coo as if in agreement.
"Trust," Hiccup repeated, softer this time. "Maybe… if we can deepen that bond, we'll have a chance. Against Behemoth, against those things he warned us about."
Astrid's gaze hardened, her warrior's instinct sparking. "Then we test it. We fight for it."
The others glanced at her.
"Tomorrow," she continued, "we hold a trial. Rider and dragon, one against another. Not to kill, but to push. To fight as if our lives depended on it—because they will."
Snotlout grinned wide. "Finally, something fun. I've been itching to show Hookfang who's boss anyway."
Hookfang snorted, sending a burst of smoke straight into his rider's face.
The hall erupted in nervous laughter again, but beneath it, the idea took root. A test. A trial. A chance to prove themselves—not just to Behemoth, but to themselves.
That night, as the villagers dispersed and the riders gathered on the cliffside with their dragons, something strange began to stir.
Fishlegs sat cross-legged in the grass, Meatlug curling around him like a living furnace. His breathing slowed, his palms resting against her warm scales. He whispered softly, nonsense words at first… until his mind quieted.
And then he felt it.
A pulse.
Like the beat of Meatlug's heart, but within his own chest. His eyes shot open, and there, faint but real, lines of glowing stone-brown ink crawled up his forearm, forming into jagged markings that mirrored Meatlug's rocky scales.
"Uh… guys?" Fishlegs squeaked.
At the same time, Astrid sparred with Stormfly, wooden staff clashing against wingbeats and tail strikes. Her movements grew sharper, faster, until for a moment she felt Stormfly's instincts flowing through her body—dodging before the attack came, striking where her dragon's eyes aimed.
A searing heat traced itself across her shoulder. A mark, faint but jagged, the color of storm-blue lightning.
"By Odin's beard…" she whispered, staring at it.
Hiccup stood apart, Toothless at his side. The bond between them had always been different—stronger. As he reached out, resting his palm against the Night Fury's snout, he heard it.
Not words exactly. More like a whisper carried on the wind. A murmur of dragon-speech, broken but undeniable.
His breath caught.
"Did you say something?" he asked.
Toothless blinked at him, then rumbled low, the sound echoing strangely in Hiccup's mind.
The tattoos. The whispers. The growing bond.
It wasn't random. This was something deeper, something Behemoth already knew.
And as the night stretched on, each rider discovered their own markings, their own whispers.
By dawn, Berk's cliffs bore witness to something no one had ever seen before—humans marked by dragons, glowing faintly in the morning light.
Not enemies. Not masters. Not pets.
Partners.
But they weren't alone.
High above, cloaked in shadow where cliff met sky, Behemoth crouched. His coat shifted with the breeze, faint strands of purple in his black hair catching the rising sun. His tail swayed lazily behind him, horns faintly glinting in the light.
The sight below drew a faint smile across his lips.
So… they've begun.
His violet eyes traced the glowing tattoos, each one unique, each one proof of what he already knew: dragon and human were capable of far more than either realized. The bonds were awakening—raw, unrefined, but promising.
"To think," he murmured under his breath, voice deep but quiet, "my father may have been right about them after all."
For a moment, the memory of Zephyros' voice flickered in his mind: Trust the bonds, Behemoth. Even the smallest spark can light a fire.
Behemoth's smirk sharpened, almost feral. "Still… a spark is not enough. Fire must be tempered in blood."
He turned, stepping back into the mist that wreathed the cliffs, his trench coat trailing behind him. His presence melted into the fog, unseen, but his words lingered like a vow.
"They'll need to bleed for it… if they're to stand beside me."
Far below, Hiccup turned suddenly, scanning the cliffs. A shiver ran down his spine, though he couldn't say why.
"Toothless," he whispered. "Did you… feel that?"
The Night Fury growled low, ears twitching, eyes locked on the distant mist.
But by then, the shadow was gone.