Author's Note: Another early post as opposed to a late one. By next saturday my schedule is back to normal, so no more early ones or late ones. Also, the sequel to this story is done. It's 160,000+ words. More than half again what this story clocks in at. It will continue this story's posting schedule with no break, so anyone who dreaded the end of this, rest assured there's thirty more chapters coming, though the next book is not horror. This isn't really that much Horror except in an existential, psychological way either, to be fair.

Spark shifted uncomfortably, looking around the small clearing on their home island they were standing in as if making sure they were truly alone. "Vithvarandi? Is she the one..?"

Ember shifted back to his draconic form, the very mention of their enemy's name making him cautious. "Yes, she is the one responsible for so many deaths. Mine, your Dam's, my human side's Sire, and many others. We were hunting her down when I found this place again."

"But we had lost her." Beryl shuffled in place, clearly not liking what he was thinking. "Because we're not the greatest at tracking by scent."

"Yes, Nadders are much better equipped for that." Ember mused absently, recalling several examples of...

The realization hit him. "No."

"We need to track her," Beryl said calmly, though his body language still conveyed unease. "And it just so happens that you, by my memory, dealt the killing blow on Stormfly's body that night."

Ember growled. "I will not be like her." It felt different to use any body besides the two he truly had a claim to. Though he had felt that way back when all of this was new. Regardless, even if he'd eventually come to integrate Stormfly as thoroughly as Ember, which he was pretty sure wouldn't happen, that didn't mean he wanted to. She, to be entirely frank, was not someone whose personality traits he wanted blending with his own.

"You don't have to be." Beryl continued. "But we can either run forever or go after her and end this. Until we do end this, we need to do whatever it takes."

Ember didn't like that either. But Beryl was right, to a point. They couldn't afford to pull their punches, not when Vithvarandi didn't.

"You are going after... the one who killed Dam..." Spark mused, his tone darkening. He looked up, his face twisted in anger. "Find her, whatever it takes. And I am going with you."

Ember wavered, faced with the determination of both of his sons, and knowing it was necessary.

It was necessary.

He bowed his head. "You are right, no matter how much it pains me." Vithvarandi needed to be stopped, no matter what. He took a step back, making sure he had space. "Here goes nothing."

That space in his head was there, as always. He recalled Stormfly, how she looked, the two legs and wings, the beak unique to Nadders, shining blue scales. Merging that image with the space in his head did the trick. His vision fell away.

This time was different. Before the memories could truly take hold, both sides of his mind working in tandem forced them... askew, somehow. There was no good way to describe the sensation. As if he had been pulled out of a scene and set at a remove, watching from behind a pane of glass, seeing through Stormfly's eyes and knowing what she thought but not thinking like her, being her.

His guess had been correct. The first time was the only time memories were absorbed, so powerful that they counted as his own. He was experiencing this with his mind intact, seeing it at a remove. Memories came and went, a few standing out enough for him to pay attention to.

Stormfly burst from her shell, swimming up in her first moments of life, breaking the surface of a warm pool on some bright and sunny island, surrounded by other infant Nadders, her parents squawking at her. She was fed, though she had to wait until her minutes-older siblings ate. Jealousy was one of the first emotions she ever felt.

More memories of childhood, of being the fifth hatchling in a clutch of eight. Of her older brothers and sisters, her younger sisters. An often-squabbling, always preening family.

Time passed. Eventually, she learned to fly and followed her parents back to the Nest. To the domain of the Queen, where it became apparent they were unwilling subjects.

Ember paid more attention to the outskirts of Stormfly's perception. The flickering shadows on the edge of her vision, things she dismissed. Beryl. He watched carefully the few times Stormfly interacted with Beryl. Beryl told all the younger dragons of Spark and was ridiculed for it after a few months.

It broke Ember's heart, the few glimpses Stormfly had caught of the Night Fury, growing more and more despondent as it became clear Spark wasn't coming. Becoming withdrawn, disappearing in the melodramatic squabbles and life of the nest, isolated.

Stormfly, however, didn't really care. She cared about her own well-being and status, and that was about it. Status demanded she go on as many raids as possible, so she did. Ember tried to ignore the cries of pain, the damage Stormfly's white-hot magnesium flares did to humans and building alike. It was almost a relief when she was netted and captured on Berk one raid.

Here he paid more attention, noticing the subtle details.

It had been Gobber who netted Stormfly, though she didn't know him, for obvious reasons. He had thrown her into the Nadder pen in the arena immediately, while the raid was still going on. Stormfly had been in denial for a while, though reality set in soon enough.

Weeks passed, time in which Stormfly languished in a cell, spoke to the other captives. Then she was let out, some indeterminable time later, in an event Ember recognized as that second day of training. It was interesting to see that from Stormfly's perspective, the teens really had looked like squabbling insects, not worth her time except as entertainment. He saw himself, in an odd out-of-body experience.

More experiences passed, though Ember didn't really pay attention. He specifically ignored the fight with the Red Death, having no desire to relive that. What came after, however, was what he had never seen before. Those months he had been unconscious.

It began the night after the defeat of the Red Death. All Stormfly knew was that the dark one who had spun futile tales would let no dragon near his charge, unconscious and broken though it was. She didn't really care. Her blond-furred charge was trying to tell her to do something. She had nothing better to do, so she tried to understand.

The blond-furred one gestured at the dark dragon and shook her head. Then she barked in a commanding voice, motioning for Stormfly to go over there and...

Stormfly thought she understood. Her charge wanted the dark one out of the way, for some reason, away from his injured charge. She knew how to do that. "Tale-spinner!" She squawked, using a taunting term the young of the nest had come up with, just to irk him. "Come over here!"

Tale-spinner barely even looked over at her, his eyes heavy with sorrow. "Yes, because using that name is a great way to get me to listen to you." He said quietly. "It is Beryl. I will not respond to anything else from you."

"Whatever. Come over here." Stormfly chuckled quietly when the dark one left his charge, not noticing her blond-furred charge creeping up from another direction.

The dark one reached her, his posture conveying deep weariness of mind and body. "What is it?"

Stormfly noted that the dark one's charge was being conveyed to rest on the back of the two-head that had its own No-scaled-not-prey riders. She didn't care why. "No reason."

The dark one growled in frustration. "Then why-" He turned around and stiffened when he saw his injured charge being flown away. "What are you doing?!"

Stormfly didn't bother to watch him once it became clear he wasn't going to offend her own charge. She was happy her trick had worked.

Her blond-furred charge came over and got on her back, asking her something in that incomprehensible language, likely to follow. She did, noting smugly that the dark one had to ride one of those floating tree contraptions back, like a No-scaled-not-prey.

The No-scaled-not-prey had a hard time adjusting to them living in the same places, roosting on the rooftops. Scaring the animals that for some reason weren't for eating, despite being kept in the open where anyone could just take them.

But things were working out. Stormfly noted smugly that her charge was taking control of smoothing issues out, forcefully smashing any disturbance that came to her attention. In the meantime, she worked with her charge. They developed a way for her charge to tell her what she wanted easily and quickly. One noise meant to be quiet, another meant to go get that. Stormfly learned them eagerly, happy to demonstrate that she understood her charge just as well as that smug old lump-dragon who knew what the No-scaled-not-prey said all the time. That was a worthless skill, but understanding simple commands was smart. Like what her kind did in general, having simple calls to alert the whole pack.

It irked her that the dark one was learning the language of the No-scaled-not-prey, even though he never left that single wooden hut that his injured charge was rotting in. She asked him why he was sticking around one who was clearly going to die, and he snapped at her. Several times. She concluded that he was being immature, and left it at that.

Then one day the sickly one woke up, despite her being sure it would die. Her charge even greeted it affectionately, for some reason. After they had raced that day, her charge had paced and ranted for hours, angry, likely about that display of affection. Stormfly wasn't sure why, but again, it didn't matter.

After that, the dark one had been insufferably smug, happily helping his lame charge walk, going everywhere with it. The other dragons had taken to calling the broken one the dark one's missing piece, and vice versa, and had also taken to calling the dark one Beryl, as he had said so long ago. There was no scorn for a giver of false hope now. All the other dragons had forgotten all the times the dark one had given the younger among them false hope, the hope of a swift dragon with scales that glowed like the sun, coming to challenge the Queen and save them. Why did no one else care about that now?

After a few weeks, the dark one and his charge left, and Stormfly was happy. Though that stupid idea with the staining liquid did bother her. It bothered her even more when the dark one and his charge returned and immediately defied the order of her charge, the broken one putting the staining liquid on himself and the dark one, clearly spiting her charge. She ended up reminding 'Beryl' of his past wrongs at their next meeting, happily scoring a point over the one who had somehow taught his charge to understand them.

Simply put, she was jealous now. If only her charge could learn this. She spent a full day talking non-stop at her blond-furred charge, hoping she'd pick it up, but to no avail. When she got fed up, she headed out to the shore, intent on fishing to take her mind off of the failure.

Ember watched impassively, knowing what was coming.

A local No-scaled-not-prey waved Stormfly down, clearly in distress. She landed, squawking inquisitively. Did it want her charge? She knew where-

A sword swung from behind the treacherous No-scaled-not-prey's back, and she knew no more.

Ember gasped, falling straight forward, his body numb and mind overwhelmed. Like before, it had only lasted a few seconds. The working of this new body was slightly familiar, but the deep familiarity he'd had with that of a Night Fury was not present. Clearly, the lower quality of memory also distanced him from muscle memory. More than a fair trade. He'd had no idea just how scatter-brained and self-centered Stormfly really was. Definitely not a personality he wanted to be merged with his own.

His mind randomly latched onto one of the things he had seen. It hurt to know Astrid had pretty much immediately regretted that kiss, the first day he woke up. But at least it definitely wasn't his fault, as he hadn't done anything. She had clearly gotten over whatever vague affection she felt towards him while he was unconscious those months.

After a moment his vision cleared. His head was on the ground, body splayed awkwardly out as it had fallen. Beryl was visible on the edge of his vision.

"Gods, Stormfly was such a jerk." He groaned. "I don't like to speak badly of the dead, but seriously. She enjoyed taunting you, Beryl, for no real reason other than she could." He hated remembering that from Stormfly's perspective.

"I knew that already." Beryl snorted. "Remember why you did this, please."

"Right, that." Ember tried to recall how Stormfly had often tracked down anyone she wanted to find by scent alone. His more current memories provided Vithvarandi's scent. He awkwardly clambered to his feet, trying to get used to the very different distribution of weight. A stocky and heavy tail along with only two legs made for an odd combination. Flying was going to be difficult. Actually...

"I think I need to get used to this body before we go looking for her scent trail," Ember admitted. "I need to be able to fly."

Spark eyed him dubiously. "You cannot now?"

"I don't know. It was different last time. This time I don't have the muscle memory." At least that explained why Vithvarandi was somewhat clumsy and inefficient in some of the more exotic bodies she had used for combat, such as the Snaptrapper. Apparently, one needed to relearn and reacquire the skill they could vaguely remember having.

That was another thing. Unless he tried to bring them up, Stormfly's memories had faded almost entirely. That was a relief. He began awkwardly running around the clearing, having no goal other than to familiarize himself with this body enough to attempt flight.

Spark snorted, watching in obvious amusement. "Nadders are awkward."

"I'm sure... it's just me... that's awkward." Ember huffed out between laps. Running with two legs was normal enough, but the added weights of his tail and wings were new.

Beryl began running alongside him, loping easily at the halting pace Ember was setting, his tongue out. "Come on, Stormfly was faster than that!" His voice faltered mid-taunt, but he kept the carefree mood going despite the awkwardness of what he had just said. "Maybe you need motivation!"

Ember sped up through sheer force of will, making his awkward body move faster, recalling as much of Stormfly's muscle memory as he could. "I've got motivation."

By noon he was up in the air, though there were a few close calls. Nadders needed to take a much more active role in flying than Furies, especially to maintain the same pace. Getting used to flapping many times more often had led to some quite harrowing plummets. They were on the trail now though, heading towards the beach, where hopefully the scent trail would still be traceable.

Spark seemed in a good mood, flipping around Beryl as they flew. He was quite maneuverable, even more than Beryl, though some of that was likely due to being smaller and lighter. After a few particularly daring flips, Spark stuck his tongue out.

"Come on, have you gotten slow?"

"We need to conserve strength, Spark," Beryl replied. "But no, I haven't!" He flipped midair, batting Spark's face with the tip of his wing. It was on. The two tumbled through the clouds, tagging each other in a series of increasingly risky maneuvers. Spark was a smaller target, but Beryl was skilled in avoiding his smaller but older brother's moves, deftly jolting away at the last moment. Their joyful roars echoed through the noon sky.

Ember would have grinned, had his current body possessed the capacity. Actually...

Beryl and Spark were both shocked when Ember barreled in between them, tagging each with a single wingtip as he plummeted in free-fall, back in his Night Fury form. The two brothers shared a look of surprise that quickly morphed into determination, and darted after their Sire, accepting his challenge.

The flight back to that beach passed far quicker than any of them had anticipated, time eaten up in games of maneuverability and agility. Ember reveled in playing with his sons, something he had long anticipated and never been able to do, not to this capacity. All three of them were fully grown, Night Furies in their prime. Speed was their element, alongside the night itself. Any other dragons would have faltered at the sight, sure the three reckless Furies would foul each other's flight and doom themselves to fall, flipping and spinning so close to each other, tagging with wingtips despite the extremely likely possibility of that upsetting the tagger's balance.

They laughed in the face of doubt, taking the time to temporarily drop the burden of reality. A moment to act as if all was as it should be, as if immortal murderers and Queen dragons did not and had never existed.

Reality rudely reintroduced itself at the first sight of the beach, the stained and shattered place of battle, still blood-soaked and dotted with glass spires of death. It was a gruesome sight.

Spark shuddered mid-air, dropping away from the game. "This is the place?" He asked carefully, seeming to dread the answer.

Beryl snorted angrily, swooping around high above the signs of carnage. "We came close here. Next time will be successful."

"Yes," Ember absently agreed, shifting back to Stormfly's body in the air, already scenting the very subtle trail where the Terror abruptly transitioned to a Nadder. Vithvarandi's scents might change when she changed forms, but a line drawn alone was followable no matter how many different colors it took. This was usable. Without even setting down they set out after the trail. The mood was solemn now, determination marking every wingbeat. Despite not having truly fought or met Vithvarandi, Spark was as determined as his brother, his face set in a stone-cold glare.

Whether driven by vengeance, necessity, or self-preservation, they were all ready to end the chase, to end the danger to humans and dragons alike.

The trail hopped several small islands and sea-stacks, places Vithvarandi set down along the way to stop from dropping of exhaustion. The chase had been a grueling affair of days, not hours, and to follow the same path a second time was slightly vexing. The time soon came, however, where instead of searching aimlessly, having lost sight of Vithvarandi, Ember led the way confidently, Vithvarandi's trail never faltering. It was only slightly annoying that she had apparently only altered course slightly in the cloud bank, turning just enough to lose them. The trail continued, eventually bringing them to land. That was when it got difficult.

They set down on the rocky shore, Ember leading the way.

Spark balanced precariously on two boulders, his wings outstretched to maintain his precarious perch. "Why are we setting down? Is she here?"

"No. She must have continued on foot." Ember growled, frustrated.

"Because we would have just flown by, not knowing she was below us." Beryl reasoned calmly, though his voice held an ominously sharp edge. "So we follow."

"We do." Ember agreed, walking forward, still following Vithvarandi's scent, though it had changed again, to something he didn't recognize. Something fast, judging by the surprisingly strained trail, which indicated that she had been moving quite quickly, not leaving much scent behind in any one place.

The continued chase became frustratingly slow, Ember forced to remain in Stormfly's body to track Vithvarandi, incapable in this form of running anywhere near as fast or effortlessly as a Night Fury could. As Beryl and Spark were. His two sons took over hunting, moving so much faster than Ember could that they were able to run down prey and catch up to him while he continued forward at this body's top speed. It was frustrating, but there was no alternative. They spent several days moving along the ground, traversing miles of forest and more of open plains. Always ready to fight, expecting to be ambushed. No attack ever came.

Those days also saw Spark returning to something closer to what Ember remembered as normal. His son's nightmares did not fade, but Spark assured them that being woken immediately every time they began was infinitely preferable. It showed in his demeanor, his increasing energy as the days went by. He and Beryl had mended any lingering resentments, and things were somewhat normal. Somewhat, because while Spark seemed to be returning to his old self, Beryl had changed in good ways in the past years. Though physical age might deny it, Beryl was the older brother in action and maturity now, while Spark was still immature mentally, as if he had stopped growing all those years ago, and only resumed now.

It mattered not, in the long run. They were together, and soon they'd hopefully be free of the only remaining torment, the only fragment of the past that clung unpleasantly.

Once that had been dealt with... Ember now knew how to return to the island he and Flint had claimed all those years ago, the island they had raised Spark and Beryl on. There was nothing there now. However, knowing where it was gave Ember a reference point. It was possible now to retrace his steps, those years of wandering. To find his way home, truly home. To see if things there had changed if things had maybe stayed the same. It had been so, so many years. His promise to one day return had been broken by his death. If all of the current predicament could be resolved...

No. He couldn't afford to look ahead yet. Despite them being the hunters, Vithvarandi's defeat was in no way ensured. She seemed like one to hold back many last-ditch plans, just in case the unthinkable happened. One to take steps to ensure survival. She was down but in no way out.

That was his train of thought when they reached the crest of a hill and looked down upon a small town. It was in the shape of a four-way crossing, a single intersection branching into four dirt roads, lined on both sides with buildings. A quiet, small place that barely survived on whatever trade or game kept it afloat.

Ember felt like roaring in frustration when Vithvarandi's trail pointed straight at the village. She was likely stocking up on bodies, and this village, small though it was, likely had dozens of people in it. She'd gotten here days ago.

"Is she still there?" Beryl wondered out loud, having figured out why Ember was frustrated. "There are still people walking around, so she hasn't taken everyone."

A quick circling of the village on foot from afar confirmed that Vithvarandi hadn't left. She was still there, for some reason. Maybe she planned to hide in the anonymity of the crowd, impersonating some luckless villager for a while.

It didn't matter. There were only humans here, and Ember had over the last week realized something. Something important, something easily overlooked.

It was twilight when they confirmed that Vithvarandi was still in the village.

"Now what?" Spark asked, looking down on the unsuspecting town. "We could lay waste to it, drive her out." He didn't sound like he liked that idea.

"Definitely not." Beryl retorted, his teeth out and snapping angrily at Spark. "We will not massacre people to get at her, and making enemies is a bad idea. They aren't completely helpless. She would just slip away during the chaos and hope one of those villagers got lucky."

"Beryl is right." Ember hesitated and then decided. "You two watch the sky and the village. If anyone leaves during the night, attack." No normal villager would want to wander such a tangled forest as lay beyond the hills.

"And you..." Beryl groaned. "Are, of course, going in there on your own."

Ember shifted to his human form, grinning as he checked his multitude of daggers. "If either of you has a human form tucked away somewhere you can join me. But seriously, I can find her, and hopefully whittle her forms down in the village." He hefted the long hunting dagger.

"How will you find her?"

"Using something I really wish we had thought of on Berk," Ember replied, holding up his hands. The ones marked with the distinctive scars both he and Vithvarandi bore. The scars the transforming flames originated from and disappeared into. "This thing is always there, no matter the body." He had checked, it was even on the edge of Stormfly's wings, lacking a paw there.

"So you will know her by her scars?" Spark concluded, his voice dubious. "Do No-scaled-not-prey go around showing each other their paws like that?"

"No, but I'll figure it out," Ember responded confidently. "There aren't a lot of people there. It shouldn't take that long to check them all." Less than a hundred people. A few days, at most. He was glad he still had the money made from selling those skins so long ago. "I shouldn't be in there more than a few days at most, likely much less. Oh, and if I roar, all bets are off."

"Got it," Beryl growled, eyeing the village. "We will wait. No one leaves this place without us knowing about it. We can even check them if they leave during the day."

Creeping through the forest, stalking travelers and looking at their palms? Nothing said that wouldn't work. "Good plan."

Ember walked down the hill towards the village, the light of the sunset fading as he descended, torches lit to cast the village in an ominous light. His plan was actually quite simple. Be seen. He had no other human form, and Vithvarandi was sure to recognize this one. Either she'd flee, or she'd attack. It was time to end this.