A/N: I proudly present the longest chapter so far! It's a quite important one as well, so I'll just leave you guys to it ;) Once again thank you for all your feedback and support!

Think Of Me – Part 7

Stoick the Vast was awfully quiet on their way back to the village. He had not given her an answer to her question, but had simply shaken his head and gestured for her to follow along. Astrid had followed suit, both her worry as to what had upset the chief this badly and the revelations of last night holding her tightly in their grip.

One look at the sky already told her that something was wrong; the sun was up way higher than usual, which meant the chief had been significantly delayed in fetching her. Especially considering they were already halfway through Berk's usually short fall and with winter expected to rear its ugly head in about a month, the amount of hours of daylight Berk enjoyed was starting to lessen already. When they got to the village however, the severity of the situation started to become clear to her.

Usually, the village of Berk was very quiet the morning after raids; despite their stubbornness, Vikings did need sleep. On this particular morning however, the village was crowded with carts, wheelbarrows and fishing nets, along with the Vikings who used them. As Stoick and her walked through the village, the distraught looks on the villager's faces, matching the chief's, started to slowly pull her back to reality after her surreal experience of the night before. She caught glimpses of her friends as well, but even the twins seemed awfully quiet.

As they reached the plaza in front of the stairs leading up to the Great Hall, her eyes caught sight of the source of the village's misery. She lifted a hand to her mouth in shock and she could feel Stoick protectively put his hands on her shoulders. They stood there for a while, in silence, before the chief of Berk finally spoke. "He's done us in, Astrid."

She nodded in reply, as Stoick did not have to explain to her which 'he' he was talking about. She balled her fists, slightly trembling as she felt her figurative feet firmly hit solid ground. On the bright side, at least she now knew what had caused the blast that'd startled Stormfly last night.

They were hit by a cold breeze, making her shiver and teasing her with the smell of charred wood and burnt meat – which she'd enjoy under any other circumstance. Now however, she was filled with an overwhelming sense of anger and rage as she simply stared at what was in front of her. The warehouses which Berk had carefully stocked with everything it needed to get through the winter had been reduced to nothing more than ash. She grit her teeth, revelling in her anger. This was the Phantom's doing.


It took the Phantom two nights to reappear, which had given her the opportunity to dwell on the overwhelming amount of anger and rage she felt towards him, in spite of her personal experiences during the night of the raid. They did not matter; whatever the Phantom thought did not matter. She'd been confronted with reality; her village came first and she absolutely despised him.

Still, she could not simply leave it like that. She needed to see the Phantom one more time, to put matters back into her own hands and to put an end to whatever it was they had going on. Convincing the chief to let her come back to the arena had not been easy, but she simply had to get this done and over with.

"Astrid, we need you, now more than ever. It's been months now, and you haven't been able to find anything," Stoick had told her, his expression a mixture of coercion and concern.

"Chief, I – I can't give up now! I've been trying for so long, I'm close, I can feel it." She had doubted for a moment, before making up a revelation: "You know the dragons I was supposed to be feeding? I've been starving them instead. They've been awfully quiet; I'm sure they're near dead. He'll show up any night now to get them out. He has to."

The chief had looked slightly taken aback by her made-up acts of cruelty, meant to convince him of how far she was willing to go. Still, he had shaken his head. "We need everyone to help out."

"Please, chief," she had begged. "I'll work as much as I can outside of my shifts; I'll cut sleep if I have to. But please, I'm so close, I can feel it! Just a few more nights!" She'd looked down, her face visibly clouded. "I've only failed you once before; I'm not quite ready to fail again."

That had done it. She'd known it was incredibly low for her to capitalize on their collective and very painful memory, but it'd worked. The chief of Berk had awkwardly hugged her – which was already quite much for him – and agreed to let her go on for a few more nights. And now, she finally found herself in the ring with the Phantom once more.

Hugging Stormfly tightly upon their reunion – her issue wasn't with the dragon after all – she tried her best to keep her calm at first. She'd unleash the full extent of her anger on the Phantom at the most suitable time. The person in question remained awfully quiet however, so eventually she asked: "Did you manage to figure out why the dragons unexpectedly raided Berk?"

She didn't know if the Phantom had picked up on the sarcastic way in which she'd stressed the word unexpectedly, but if he had, he'd decided to ignore it. "Not really. It didn't make sense to me then and it still doesn't now. Maybe the queen's gathering extra food, since winter is approaching? I don't know if she actually goes into hibernation or not, to be honest." She felt her insides boil as her anger rose. Of course, he did consider the seasonal patterns of dragons. Humans were nothing to him, after all. "Nevertheless, I'm sorry, Astrid."

"Oh, I'm sure you are," she bit, about to explode.

"I already said sorry. What are you angry with me for?" the Phantom asked, feigning ignorance.

"Like you don't know," she snapped.

"I actually don't," the Phantom answered. "Aside from the usual of course."

That's when she erupted, the rage she'd dwelled on for the past few days taking control of her. She stepped away from Stormfly, as if that would somehow keep the dragon out of the crossfire. "You're despicable! There you were, being all "oh Astrid, you're so susceptible to empty threats!". Yet you took it all out on Berk nevertheless!"

"Wh-?" the Phantom started, but she wouldn't let him.

"You're such an incredible coward. If you were actually a man, you'd taken whatever anger you were clearly feeling out on me, not on my village." Gods, how she wished she could hit him in his undoubtedly incredibly annoying face.

"Astrid, I don't know what you're talking about," the Phantom nearly stammered.

That sent her completely over the edge. "You blew up our provisions!" she yelled. "All our food, everything we gathered to get us through the winter, it's gone!"

"That was an accident," the Phantom stuttered. "There was a Zippleback, they were about to kill it, and…"

"I. Don't. Care," she fumed. "Winter is coming in a few weeks, as you very well know, and we have nothing. Berk will starve. And that's your fault!"

"I didn't do it on purpose! If you'd let me explain, the Zippleback, it…"

"I do not care for your explanations, because I do not believe them," she spewed. "Clearly, you did know what I'm talking about. You're just too much of a monster to take responsibility for what you've done."

"Fine, then don't care!" the Phantom bit back, now reciprocating her anger. "After all, your village could probably do with a little less feeding. A reduction in the dragon-killing population would help me out a lot!"

"Oh, you're just so full of yourself, aren't you!?" she raged. "Small oversight, mister Phantom. When a village starves, it's not the warriors who die first. Most certainly not. Me, the chief, everyone else, we'll endure. We'll keep the fight going." Although in truth, she did not even know whether that was true. Chances were, no one would make it. Nevertheless, she continued: "You know who die instead? The children, the elderly, the sick. Those that couldn't even hurt a dragon if they wanted to." She scoffed. "You said you're not a killer. But you are. You are a humongous hypocrite. There's no way we'll get everything up and ready again before winter, no matter how hard we work. People will die. And you'll be responsible. The death of innocents will be on your hands."

"But the Zippleback…" the Phantom tried once again.

Revelling in how she seemed to finally have the upper hand for once, she interrupted him: "Shut up! Shut up about the Zippleback! Yes, you're right about the dragons! By Thor's fucking Hammer, I know you're right! But it doesn't matter! Because what you did, what you're still doing, is so incredibly, incredibly wrong!"

The Phantom didn't reply, leaving the arena silent instead. It surprised her; considering she'd admitted he was right about something, she'd expected at least some sort of smartass comment in return. His silence did give her some much-needed time to regather her thoughts however. After the confusion she'd felt when coming out of the arena a few days ago, the shape she'd found Berk in had made everything extremely clear. It had given her the wake-up call she'd sorely needed; no matter what she believed about dragons, her village came first. And the Phantom was most certainly no friend of hers. Not even close. He was her enemy.

"Then what now?" the Phantom finally said, his voice oddly soft. "Why are you even here, Astrid?"

She smiled confidently. After all this time, she finally felt in charge once more; she was taking back control, rather than letting the Phantom control her. He didn't scare her. She had more important things to worry about.

As she walked around the arena and opened the empty cells one by one, she explained: "I'd like to take tonight to say goodbye to Stormfly." After finishing her lap, she walked towards the dragon, who was still eyeing her warily after her earlier outburst. As she hugged her and softly stroked her scales, she could feel Stormfly relax beneath her touch. She smiled at the dragon. "It's not her fault after all." Then, looking sharply at the arena's walls, hoping the Phantom would catch her glare: "But after tonight, you and I are done here. I don't affiliate myself with heartless murderers."

"Okay," the Phantom simply replied.

That took her aback. "I didn't expect you to stand down that easily," she bit.

"It's what we agreed to, isn't it?" the Phantom replied, sounding slightly dejected. "Either we continued, or you'd leave. You've made your choice."

It did not sit right with her that he agreed with her decision this easily, but she decided to ignore it and turned back to Stormfly. The Phantom did not matter. She couldn't possibly care for someone like that.

After a while of wisely keeping his mouth shut, the Phantom decided to discard that wisdom just as Stormfly and her were in the middle of an intense game of fetch. "So what do you expect me to do tonight? Plot how to kill you because you've decided to leave me?" he asked, with something that was apparently a sense of humour to him.

"I wouldn't put it beyond you," she bit, agitated as a result of his intrusion.

"There's no reason to do so, really. I mean, you won't tell anyone in Berk about this because that'd mean your head goes off before mine, so what do I have to lose? I –" the Phantom uninvitedly elaborated.

"Can you keep your mouth shut?" she interrupted him. "I don't care. Kill me if you want to. I'll just be another person to cross off your list."

"Astrid –"

"Don't," she rolled her eyes. "Gods, if you really can't keep your mouth shut, just finish your story about Rome from the other night. At least that has nothing to do with you and everything I despise about you."

"Alright," the Phantom replied, seemingly regathering his senses. Shortly after, he asked, some of his usual strength back in his voice: "Where was I?"

"You were talking about some church," she groaned. She hated herself for even remembering.

"Ah, Astrid, it's not simply some church, to the people of Rome, it is the Church," the Phantom set off, moving on to a detailed description of Rome's religion. As much as she was starting to dread the sound of his voice due to everything associated with it, the Phantom's excellent storytelling abilities did make time go considerably faster. After a while, he got so much into it that their fight and the anonymity between them seemed very far away; although that fight had been quite one-sided. After all, the Phantom had done remarkably little to shoot back at her; he'd sounded oddly resigned. Still, it wasn't difficult for her to remind herself of the kind of person the Phantom was.

As the Phantom moved on to elaborating about the ancient Greek and Roman gods, Stormfly finally seemed to tire of their game and moved to nuzzle Astrid's braid, indicating to her that she was done. She gladly took the Nadder's head in her lap – although it hardly fit – while sitting down against the arena's wall, listening to the rest of the Phantom's story. Gods, how she hated him. Eventually, her curiosity did get the better of her however and made her break her intended silence. "Who are your gods?"

"My gods?" the Phantom asked, seemingly taken aback.

"Yes," she replied, regretting her decision to speak up already. Of course, the Norse gods were the only real ones; she couldn't imagine anything else being true. People in other parts of the world seemed to think differently, however. "What's your truth?"

After realizing that this was a question she would never get an answer to, the Phantom's reply took her by surprise. "Naturally, the Norse gods are mine," he answered. If he'd spoken the truth, that meant he'd actually given her a clue about his identity, she realized. "But I believe my fate is in my own hands," he continued.

She scoffed. "That's awfully vain and arrogant. Not sure what else I expected."

"The Greek actually have a word for that."

"Do they now?" she asked, already feeling like her non-hostile attitude had lasted long enough.

"Yeah," the Phantom replied. "Hubris."

"Hubris…" she repeated, letting their conversation die out.

She did not talk to the Phantom again that night, instead spending her time cuddling with Stormfly and taking in her features one more time. She had undeniably developed a soft spot for the dragon in the short amount of weeks they'd spent getting to know each other. When she eventually spotted the sky's slowly lightening colours, she got up to tell the dragon goodbye. She did not know whether Stormfly understood that this was a permanent goodbye, but she decided against explaining it further. She simply couldn't stand the thought of breaking the loving way the dragon looked at her as she gently rubbed her hand over her nasal horn one more time. She felt convinced once more that the Phantom was indeed right about dragons; however, she could never fully agree with someone who was willing to sacrifice human lives this easily. It had always been her people or the dragons, and it still was. And she'd finally made the choice that was right for her. Had she been able to make it earlier however, she might've been able to spare herself some heartache.

Slightly pained but resolute nevertheless, she retreated into her now familiar cell for the last time. The Phantom let the lock fall into place and for a moment she thought that'd been the last of him. His voice, softer than she'd ever heard it before, soon followed however.

"Good night, Astrid."


Her face acting out an expression of distraught and misery, Astrid faced the chief of Berk head on as he got her out of the cell that same morning. She did not have to explain much; the open cell doors had already done most of the work.

"He got them out, Stoick," she explained nevertheless, gesturing around at the arena. "He just… ignored me…. I – " She bit her lower lip, taking in a deep breath. "My plan failed." She hung her head. "I'm sorry, Stoick."

Berk's chief simply embraced her for the second time in the span of a few days. Nothing else needed to be said and she couldn't help but smile as she returned the gesture. As unconvincing as she was sure her act had been at times, it was done now. With the weight of her lies off her shoulders and the feeling that her life was truly back in her hands, she personally felt strong enough to face the upcoming winter, as hard as it was going to be. She'd finally put her own struggles behind her and she would gladly take Berk's worries upon her shoulders once more, as she always had done and should've done all along. Finally looking at things more clearly now, she didn't know what had kept her so long.

From then on, the days went by quickly. She spent most of them being too busy to think about anything else than the task at hand, which was an ease and clarity she thoroughly welcomed. She gladly spent her time slaving away at Berk's farms, preparing the village's remaining fishing ships and outfitting the few warships the Phantom hadn't destroyed to be usable for fishing as well. She almost felt guilty for the sense of joy she felt, caused by finally being among her fellow villagers again and by life seeming more simple. She was reminded by the severity of their situation each time she laid eyes on Stoick the Vast however, whose stature seemed to crumble under his responsibilities more and more each day. The sight did not just affect her, but severely impacted the rest of the village as well, as whispers indicating the people's worry about the chief's health circulated more than any of Berk's usual gossip. If they did not keep going however, they soon had to be concerned about everyone's health.

Astrid still had vivid memories of one particular winter many years ago. A ruined harvest and depleted fishing grounds had left Berk's provisions severely diminished, although they were nowhere near as small as they were right now. The winter itself had been a very tough one as well, Berk's frozen harbour and what seemed like a near-perpetual blizzard preventing them from doing anything to improve their situation; traders did not come in for months and they were unable to produce anything themselves. Disease had spread through the village before they'd known it, with the sick eventually being quarantined in the Great Hall to prevent the illness from spreading further. She'd been lucky and strong enough not to catch it, but some of her less healthy peers had not been as fortunate. Those who hadn't died before spring had made it through the winter by the skin of their teeth, including the chief's own son. Images of the severely malnourished children still haunted her, even though she had not properly understood just how close it had been for some of them until she was older. And if they did not work hard enough, this winter would be even worse.

Astrid worked until she was completely exhausted and only slept until she had enough energy to get going again, which made the days quickly blur into one another. The dragons had luckily left them alone at night thus far, seemingly satisfied with their earlier bounty. On what she believed was the fifth day, she was working on building a make-shift food storage together with Snotlout – as annoying as the boy was, his lifting capabilities came in handy for manual work like this. Eventually, an increasing amount of noise coming from Berk's harbour drew her attention.

"What's going on over there?" she asked her temporary companion.

Snotlout, looking up a bit dumbfound with three nails held between his lips, shrugged. She pulled up an eyebrow and gestured for him to go take a look while she finished nailing together the planks she was working on. Snotlout jumped up, still overly eager to agree to her requests – she'd told him a long time ago that nothing would ever happen between them – and hurried towards the spot from where one could just see Berk's docks. She barely had time to shake her head in contempt before Snotlout came running back.

"It's – a – boat," he panted, leaning his hands on his knees.

She pulled up an eyebrow. "It's a harbour, of course there are boats."

"A – trader's – boat," Snotlout explained, gesturing wildly without strengthening his case.

Her eyes widened and she dropped whatever she was working on; it could wait. A trader could save their skin, and even though Berk did not have much to trade at this moment, she was known to be particularly… persuasive when it came to getting a good deal. "Come on," she gestured, running towards Berk's cliffs, Snotlout following suit with a pained groan.

As they scaled down the cliffs towards Berk's docks, she could see they weren't the only ones who'd recognized the opportunity. The boat did not look familiar to her, but she was sure she could get something out of it nevertheless. Reaching the docks, she quickly elbowed through the gathered crowd until she eventually bumped into Stoick the Vast himself, who was looking sternly at their saviour, flanked by Gobber. She didn't recognize the trader; it wasn't one of Berk's usual visitors. He looked skinny, his face white as snow despite the amount of hours he must spent out on the ocean, and he had basically zero muscle mass. She could see why he'd chosen this particular profession.

"Like I said, sir," the fragile trader stammered, gesturing towards his boat. "All of my wares are yours. For free. Ph-Ph-Phantom's courtesy."

Frozen in shock, she listened to the chief's response. "Like I said, we don't want your wares."

"But I've got bread, and meat, and vegetables!" the trader tried, still trembling on his feet. "At the Phantom's request!"

"I don't need anything from the Phantom!" Stoick bellowed.

"Stoick, it's food, I mean, shouldn't we at least –" Gobber tried.

"It could be poisoned for all we know, Gobber," the chief countered.

"We can test for that, Gothi and I could –" Gobber attempted to reason with him.

"He has done enough, Gobber!" Stoick argued, showing his stubborn side.

"Do we have a choice, chief?" Astrid interjected. Berk's chief looked behind him, noticing her audacity. "Yes, it's a risk, but at this point, isn't all of Berk starving to death pretty much a certainty?"

Stoick frowned and grumbled something under his breath, before picking the trader up from the dock with ease and swinging the poor man over his shoulder. The trader sputtered for a bit, but then seemed to admit defeat as he realised there was no universe in which he would get out of the chief's grip.

Stoick gestured at Gobber. "Alright then. Get Gothi and the Ingerman boy – he knows his herbs – and check everything. And when I say everything, I do mean everything," the chief added. Then, he proceeded to point at Astrid, Snotlout, and his father, Spitelout, who were all standing close. "You, you, and you." Stoick looked around a bit before spotting Ruffnut and Tuffnut hanging from the mast of one of the other ships, trying to get a better look at whatever was going on. "And unfortunately, you two," he pointed. "With me."

Astrid hurried after the chief as he marched through the crowd, the trader's face becoming even whiter than it already was. Their little procession caught quite some odd looks from Berk's villagers, but the chief did not seem to mind. He eventually put the man down in one of the rooms in the back of the Great Hall, which was normally only used for private meetings with other chiefs.

What followed after that were hours and hours in which they interrogated the trader to the best of their abilities. They worked in pairs; Astrid and Stoick were team 'Seemingly-reasonable-but-not-afraid-to-use-violence', followed by Snot and Spitelout – 'We-argue-more-with-each-other-than-with-you-but-when-we-actually-focus-we're-quite-intimidating' – and as a desperation measure, Ruffnut and Tuffnut would be sent in – 'You-think-you're-driving-us-crazy?-Please-allow-us-to-prove-we-already-are'.

However, after they'd spent the rest of the day interrogating the trader, he still refused to give them any more information about the Phantom – who he was, where he was and most importantly, what reasons he had for delivering a boat full of food to them. Things got even more confusing when Gobber came back with the results of their tests the following morning; even their most obscure trials – Astrid did not want to know how exactly they did those things – had not been able to find a single trace of poison. The food was completely clean and perfectly edible, which Gobber could gladly confirm as he was relaying this information to them with a piece of wonderfully-smelling sausage in his mouth.

Later that day, after their mysterious trader hadn't told them anything new besides the story he'd spun several times now, their situation got even stranger. Another trader ship had docked at Berk, full of food, to be delivered to Berk for free; courtesy of the Phantom. And another one, with the same explanation, arrived later that day. Towards the end of the day after that, they had a total of five traders locked up in different places throughout Berk.

"It just doesn't make any sense," Stoick grumbled as they reconvened a few hours later. "What did you find, Gobber?"

"I know it sounds hard to believe, Stoick," the blacksmith answered. "But so far, it's all clean. We're still testing of course, but the food seems perfectly fine."

The chief of Berk shook his head in frustration. "I just can't wrap my head around it. Why would he send us food, after blowing it all to Hel himself first?" After no one answered his sort of rhetorical question – they were all wondering the same thing after all – he turned to the twins. "Did you manage to get anything new out of the traders?"

Ruffnut shook her head. "Nope, they all keep telling roughly the same, useless story."

"They were asleep on their boat at night, the Phantom came and told them: If you don't sail to Berk and drop everything there, I'll kill you," Tuffnut added, using his best spooky voice. "They were scared to death, they never saw him, yada yada yada, and now they're here."

"That's the short version," Ruffnut summarised. "We've left all the traumatised cowering out, although it was very enjoyable to watch."

"That it was indeed," Tuffnut smilingly concurred.

"Maybe my fist to their face will help them with their memory," Snotlout groaned.

"I doubt that will help, boy-o," Spitelout disagreed with his son. "I'm all for violence, but last I saw was that they looked worn out enough already."

"So then what do we do now?" Astrid asked.

Her question was answered by silence, all of their gazes eventually resting on Stoick. "The Phantom can't be trusted. Since the traders aren't giving us anything more, I propose we release them and send them on their way, ships filled," Stoick eventually concluded.

"Stoick," Gobber started. "As much as we all obviously hate him, the amount of food these traders have brought… It's almost enough to get us back to where we were. And we all know we most likely won't make it through the winter without it."

Stoick took a look at all of their faces, each one nodding in agreement with Gobber. Finally, he sighed. "You're right, Gobber. This is not about my pride. Berk's people will always come first." He stood up from his chair, seemingly having regained his decisiveness. "Tell the people to start unloading the ships. Gobber, check everything nevertheless. Ruffnut, Tuffnut, see if you can get any more out of the traders. Once their ships have been emptied, I'll give them my best regards and will send them on their way." He took a look at the remaining faces. "The rest of you can get back to work."

With that, the meeting broke up. As they stepped out of the Great Hall, the sky was already dark and Astrid decided to head home, hoping she could make up for some of the sleep she'd lost in the past days so she'd feel renewed the following day. She quickly greeted her parents, who'd just come back from one of the emergency fishing trips – which had resulted in a worryingly small catch – and headed up to her room. She swiftly kicked off her boots and landed on her bed. Tiredness setting in, she yawned and rubbed her eyes.

The past week had been an absolute whirlwind. From near-desperation, caused by the Phantom, to what seemed like salvation, also caused by the Phantom. She despised how, despite her having torn herself away from him, he still seemed to be present in every inch of her life. Like there was seemingly no getting away from him.

As happy as she was that Berk's troubles were seemingly resolved, she couldn't shake the nasty feeling that was attached to it. The question as to why the Phantom had decided to help them out still remained. And with the traders refusing to tell them anything more – although, being able to relate to them quite well, she had come to believe that the traders simply did not know more – it didn't seem like that question would be answered anytime soon. Stoick was right; it did not make sense, especially when she tried to connect his actions to the Phantom she had somewhat come to know. He was someone who didn't seemingly do things without reason. Who always had a motive. Had his goal been to get on Berk's good side? She'd heard the whispers in the village; some people did seem to believe the Phantom had saved them, the fact that he'd caused this mess himself seemingly already forgotten. But why would he possibly want to get on the good side of the island he thoroughly seemed to hate?

She wanted to convince herself that she did not need an answer to her questions. Berk would get through the winter, they'd live to fight against the Phantom another day, and that should be it. Still, as much as she tried to make peace with that solution, she found she simply couldn't. As sleep refused to take her, she grew increasingly restless, trying to come up with whatever she could to improve her situation. Despite their conversations hardly ever being personal, she couldn't help but feel that she had seen a small part of the Phantom's soul, provided he had one. And she longed to find out why this soul had decided to save Berk from its demise. She thought back to the last conversation they'd had. She'd been too overcome by rage to notice, but the Phantom had sounded awfully dejected, his usual confidence gone. He'd almost sounded sad.

Astrid got out of bed, lighting a candle and moving towards her window. What little she could see of Berk seemed to have quieted down, most villagers seemingly put at ease by the feeling that disaster was averted. Still, without answers, she couldn't feel that her village's safety was truly guaranteed. As she gazed across Berk, she found herself wondering whether the Phantom would be around tonight as well. Outside of raid nights and the nights they spent together in the arena, she had no idea what usually kept him busy.

Staring out of the window, she couldn't help but conclude that the only person who might be able to give her the answers she so much desired was the Phantom himself. Despite the voice in the back of her head telling not to, she found herself putting her boots back on. She needed those answers. For her village's sake, for Berk's safety, and for herself. She took one more look outside to see if there was anyone who possibly could've seen her, then blew out her candle and agilely climbed out of the window. Torn by her decision but seeing no other way to appease her confused and restless mind, she disappeared into Berk's night – into the Phantom's night.