I didn't realize I'd fallen asleep.
One moment I was sitting near Viper, the steady rhythm of his breathing grounding me, and the next—pain.
Not physical pain.
Something deeper. Sharper.
I gasped and bolted upright, my head splitting as flashes of images slammed into my mind.
Snow-covered cliffs.
Rough hands tightening leather straps.
The smell of smoke and salt in the air.
I clutched my head as the world spun, teeth gritted while memories that weren't mine—but were—forced their way in.
A longhouse I didn't recognize, older than anything on Berk. Symbols carved into stone walls, spirals and dragon silhouettes worn smooth by time. Voices speaking in a language close to Old Norse, but… different. Careful. Reverent.
A man—tall, broad-shouldered, with tired eyes—kneeling beside a massive stone disc.
The Dragon Eye.
I knew it instantly. Not from my past life—but from his.
"This knowledge is not meant for warriors," the man said, his voice heavy with warning. "It is meant for those who listen."
The scene shifted violently.
Fire in the distance.
Screams.
Steel clashing against shields.
Dragon hunters.
I felt fear—real fear—pounding in my chest as memories of hiding scrolls, smashing stone seals, and throwing journals into the sea flooded me. Protecting knowledge at any cost along with Speed Stinger as they our tribal dragon.
Then silence.
I sucked in a sharp breath and found myself back in the cabin, heart hammering against my ribs, sweat clinging to my skin.
My hands weren't shaking anymore.
They felt… familiar.
Not borrowed.
Not borrowed at all.
I slowly exhaled, realization settling in like a weight.
"These… are my memories," I whispered.
Not from Earth.
Not from my old life.
From this body.
From a boy raised among keepers, not riders. From a family sworn to protect secrets long forgotten. From people who had known about the Dragon Eye long before Hiccup ever laid eyes on it.
And suddenly, everything made sense.
Why I understood the Dragon Eye instinctively.
Why Viper trusted me.
This world didn't just give me a second life.
It gave me a past.
Outside the cabin, I heard the distant sound of dragons calling out over the sea—and for the first time, I didn't feel like an outsider looking in.
I was part of this world now.
And the knowledge I carried?
It was dangerous.
The morning air was crisp, carrying the scent of pine and salt from the distant sea. Viper stretched, claws digging into the dirt, muscles coiling like a spring ready to launch. I grinned, brushing the sweat from my brow.
"Alright, Viper," I said, crouching low. "Let's see how far we can push today."
The Speed Stinger let out a low hiss, tail twitching, eyes sharp and calculating. He knew I meant business.
I held out a hand, feeling the familiar thrill of connection as the system quietly hummed in the back of my mind. I didn't need to see stats to know we were getting stronger—Viper's movements were sharper, more controlled, and his focus was absolute.
I took a deep breath and leapt onto his back, gripping the base of his neck. "Let's start with speed," I muttered.
With a powerful push of his back legs, Viper shot forward like a living arrow. The wind whipped past my face, and the ground blurred beneath us. I leaned low, testing balance, adjusting my weight as he twisted sharply between trees, each movement precise and fluid.
Then I signaled. Viper slowed slightly, crouched, and in a flash, flicked his tail toward a fallen log. The stinger hit it dead-on, paralyzing it for a few seconds—enough to simulate taking out a threat without doing real damage.
"Perfect," I breathed, impressed. "Now let's try target coordination."
I pointed to a group of rocks scattered across a clearing. "Hit the ones closest to each other first—then move outward."
Viper's tail lashed, his body coiling and striking with perfect timing, the stinger paralyzing each target in sequence. My heart raced with exhilaration—no dragon I'd ever imagined in my past life could move like this. And the best part? He trusted me completely, reacting to subtle shifts in my weight and voice without hesitation.
By the end of the morning, I was sweating, lungs burning, but the grin on my face was unstoppable. Viper nudged me with his snout, letting out a low, approving hiss.
"You're incredible," I whispered, patting his scaled neck. "And don't think I'm not going to make you even stronger."
For the first time, I realized that Viper wasn't just my dragon. He was my partner, my first ally in this world, and together… we were unstoppable.
I looked up at the horizon, the Edge sprawling before us. "Tomorrow," I said softly, "we train harder. And then… we make sure Ryker doesn't get the chance to try anything stupid again."
Viper let out a sharp hiss, tail flicking as if agreeing. I knew one thing for sure: we were ready for anything.
The sun was high over the Edge, casting warm light across the clearing. I was practicing maneuvers with Viper—quick turns, precision strikes with his tail, and controlled bursts of speed. My arms and legs ached, but neither of us slowed down.
From the corner of my eye, I noticed movement. Astrid had appeared at the edge of the clearing, arms crossed, watching silently.
I slowed Viper to a stop and wiped sweat from my forehead. "Hey," I called casually.
She stepped closer, smirking faintly. "I see someone's been practicing."
Astrid's eyes flicked to Viper for a moment, then back to me. "He listens well. Most dragons would've thrown a rider off by now."
I shrugged. "He's predictable, if you know what to look for."
Her smirk widened. "Maybe next time I'll join in. See if I can keep up with you both."
I raised an eyebrow. "You sure you're ready?"
She laughed, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "We'll see. Don't underestimate me."
The clearing was quiet for a moment, filled only with the rustle of wind and distant dragon calls. For the first time, it felt like Astrid and I might actually get along—and maybe even push each other further than we thought possible.