This, is Berk. This lone island in the middle of nowhere. It's my homeland. In part. This pile of wet rock is twelve days north of hopeless and a few degrees south of freezing to death, located solidly in the Meridian of Misery. Sounds dark, I know, but the place itself is like this. Dark, almost lifeless, full of problems… My village is sturdy. In a word. There's no better way to describe it. And trust me, because I tried. This little village has been here for seven generations, and still, every single building is new. Even though everything around looks sad and anyone would expect nothing from us who live here, we gratefully have fishing, hunting and even charming views of the sunsets.

Now, I said there were problems here. These only problems are the pests, as the residents call them. I like referring to our 'pests' as animals fighting for life. Most places have these common problems, like mice or mosquitoes. But no. We are the exception. We are the black in a sea of white. Because we here have…

I open the heavy door of my house. My eyes meet with the figure of a Monstrous Nightmare, my ears encounter the sound of its strong wing beats, my heart races knowing all this. The huge dragon shoots liquid fire right at me. I react before I can even think. My back slams the door shut, right on time. The fire gets through the sides. "Dragons…!" I mutter for myself.

Dragons, the fire-breathing, bloodthirsty animals who raid us almost every night. Daytime is the very special exception. I take various breaths to steady myself, and get ready to go out. I slam the door open, smiling as I look all around me. Most people would live, but not us, we're Vikings. We have stubbornness issues. And dragons do too, that's why they keep coming. A Viking falls from the black night sky, probably flown way by an explosion caused by a dragon. I stop abruptly, proceed to run to the other side. A Viking running stops me again, so I try to run towards the other side. An axe falls feet away from my feet. Oh great, will I ever get a chance to continue?

Almost forgot. My name's Hiccup. Great name, I know, but it's not the worst around. Parents believe a hideous name will frighten off gnomes and trolls. Heh, like if our charming Viking demeanor wouldn't do that.

Finally with a chance to make my way up, I run past various Vikings. They tell me the same story I always get, "What are you doin' here?", "Get inside!", "Hiccup, what are you doing?", "Get back inside!" They never get tired. It's always the same, but yet none of them do anything to drag me back. Here, I'm the invisible boy. No one cares about me. Everyone ignores me, makes fun of me, hates me, whatever. I try not to care, but I do care, because it's not just once or twice, it's every time, every day.

As I run up the walkway, a Monstrous Nightmare gliding close to the ground shoots fire at the waving grass. I almost jump directly on the melting lava, if it wasn't for a huge hand that grabs the back of my shirt with a very angry, "Hiccup!" And I immediately recognize who it is. Enormous hand, commanding voice, who else could it be? "What is he doin' out agai- What are you doing out?" the man holding me off the ground asks around, pissed off. His face shows concentration and disdain. He shoves me forth, saying, "Get inside!"

That's Stoick the Vast, chief of the tribe, best dragon killer alive. They say when he was just a baby, he popped a dragon's head clean off its shoulders. Do I believe it? Stoick grabs a wooden cart, lifting it up like it was a simple tree branch. With an angry grunt, he throws it at the starry sky, that way hitting a passing Nadder. The cart shatters to pieces against the dragon's body, making it lose balance of flight for a moment. Technically, I don't quite believe Stoick's story. Not only because I hate him (he doesn't trust me, he doesn't listen to me, and many other negative things), but because it's basically impossible to leave a dragon headless while being a tiny baby.

Stoick nods triumphantly with his shoulders as he watches the dragon fly away with fierce on his eyes. He turns to one of his fellow men, asks calmly, "What do we got?"

"Gronkles, Nadders, Zipplebacks," the man starts frantically. "Oh, and Hoark saw a Monstrous Nightmare!" The Viking looks at his side, noticing how a dragon obscured by the shadows of the night is flying towards them. It blows fire, making an explosion that sends scorch flying around. The man takes cover on his shield, but Stoick doesn't even seem to care. Lowering his tone, he asks, "Any Night Fury?"

"None so far."

Stoick brushes a piece of flaming shrapnel off his shoulder plate. "Good." Night Fury. I have the feeling that I'm going to turn crazy whenever I hear that name. Oh boy, if they knew the secret behind this wonderful dragon. Yes, I called a dragon wonderful. I have many reasons to do so. What for others is a nightmare coming to life, is for me a dreamland that only lasts for some minutes. That's another reason of why everyone leaves me behind; no one likes my way of thinking. Well, I don't like theirs. See? Problem solved.

I hide behind a house quite far away from any dragon. From there, I see some of the teens: Snotlout trying to be cool, Fishlegs running awkwardly with his tiny legs, the twins Ruffnut and Tuffnut fighting over a water bucket (and breaking it in the process) and… Ugh, Astrid. For being the only girl of about my age around, she's detestable. Always caring about herself, making fun of me… I hate her. And she hates me. Astrid enters Gobber's stall. He's the man I follow, the one who lost a hand and a foot fighting against a dragon on his own. Quite the brave yet stupid thing to do.

I take a look around. Gronkles tear off the fish poles on the ground. They are chubby dragons, with a big head. Their jaws are wide, full off sharp teeth. Their eyes are side by side, but they don't have really good eyesight. Their wings are tiny, I still can't figure out how they can fly with that. Near them, various Deadly Nadders hop around roofs. They are known for being always blue, though I've seen some red and purple of them. Their tails are full of retractable venomous spikes, so it's not the good idea to fight against them. A Hideous Zippleback is around a house. Those things are sneaky and have two heads. One spreads gas around a house, and the other head ignites it, exploding the building to then fly away, passing by the catapult tower Stoick is in.

I hear a man yell, "They found the sheep!" After hearing that, I know it's my moment to act. As I run towards a cliff, I see a Monstrous Nightmare flying around Stoick. It ignites the lower part of the catapult, then ignites itself. It's kind of a nasty habit these dragons have. The Nightmare climbs the tower and bursts trough the walkway, giving Stoick a death stare. He spins his hammer around, muttering something I cannot hear, and smacks the dragon twice. The Nightmare counterattacks with a dangerous, vicious smack of its jaws, thing that Stoick dodges. Now, it's the time. They are busy, expecting a visit. My visit. The maximum prize, they say, is the dragon no one's ever seen. Why no one? Well, first, it's black. Second, it's fast. How do I know this if no one's ever seen it, you ask? It's just because…

I'm that dragon.

I'm a Night Fury. The unholy offspring of lighting and Death itself. I was born a half-dragon half-Viking, with no idea of how, with no idea of why. Night Furies aren't common dragons. There's only one. And they have it around all the time. When they play with me as a human, they play with fire when I'm a Night Fury. It's my darkest secret. My only secret to keep. If Vikings knew I'm a dragon, they would either kill me or banish me. If dragons knew I'm a Viking, they would kill me for sure.

This is my real side. When I'm a Night Fury, I'm power unleashed. I can make everyone pay for what they do to me. I just wait for nighttime, transform, and have some fun. I am black, jet-black, perfect to blender with the sky. No one sees me, but no one can un-hear me. I have two large wings, along with two side fins and two tail fins to keep me stabilized and give me extra speed and balance in flight. My head, flat, has eight ears, three on each side, the upper ones the longer and the lower ones the shorter, and two others placed between the main ears. My eyes change completely from human to dragon. When I'm this fishbone they call Viking, my eyes are innocent and don't show this power all Vikings show. When I'm a Night Fury, however, they are huge, lime green, with black pupils that can change in size depending on my mood. I'm the perfect dragon. Everyone knows it.

I dive-bomb. My wings make a subsonic whine as I near Stoick's catapult tower. The Nightmare goes away, knowing I'm coming. Stoick looks at the sky, uselessly searching for me. I hear it, the desperate yell they always scream when I'm close, "Night Fury!", "Get down!"

And I shoot. I don't have fire or lava like the other dragons. I shoot plasma balls, the most powerful dragon weapon there is for sure. The catapult shatters to pieces. I'm so having fun right now. "Jump!" yells Stoick, hopping down the exploding tower. I dive again. I shoot again once everyone is clear of my path. The next, I glide around, seeing how everyone runs and yells and looks at the sky. I'm the son of the sky. When I fly, I don't feel the cold, I just feel free. I close my eyes in delight as the wind gently strokes my wings. It's so peaceful, it feels great up here. You don't care about anything or anyone. It's just me and the whispering wind who greets me as I fly by. Yes, it's good to be a dragon. It's good to be your own dragon.

Having relaxed enough, I search for another tower to blow up. I see one, near a cliff, perfect for me to destroy. I dive towards it, narrowing my eyes, concentrating. I shoot, fly through the explosion, and I could have sworn I just saw Astrid with a bola launcher. But I must be dreaming. She never goes alone when the powerful Night Fury is around. Suddenly, a bola wraps my body. My legs, wings and one of my side fins are tangled. I lose flight. I lose balance. I lose everything that made me powerful up here. I scream as I fall at an outstanding speed towards the forest. This is going to hurt.

I hit the ground with immense force. Part of my body and my tail rip in half a tree, I scream louder, feeling a horrible pain on the tip of my tail. I fall down a terrain elevation, hit the ground again, and lose consciousness.

They brought me down.

Me. A Night Fury.

Has been brought down.

Nothing makes sense now.