The village was quite lively after dark. Ember came across several people going about some business in the night, none of them giving him a second look. This place must be on some well-used travel route, for its inhabitants to be so inured to visitors. Even small one-legged teenagers wandering around after dark, their eyes too experienced to belong in such a young body. Ember laughed softly, seeing one of the only buildings open to the public. He might be able to pass as an adult here, but in a place such as this, no one would care. He'd have no issues entering the only tavern on town. The question was, would Vithvarandi be there?
It depended on which villager she had picked as a disguise. She'd keep their habits to ensure the illusion, so if she'd picked a drinker, she would be there. Besides, there was no way for him to check the people asleep in their houses at the moment, and it was likely this tavern also doubled as the town's inn. He subtly checked that his daggers were all in reach, all hidden, and entered the tavern.
It was actually quite crowded. Every man in the village must be there, along with quite a few of the women and several children. It held the atmosphere of a small Great Hall, food and alcohol going side by side with stories and arguments, all in good fun. Ember felt a brief pang of melancholy, but it was quickly snuffed out by the reality of what he was pining for. Nights of isolation among others, ignored and cast aside even in festivity as the screwup and runt, or more recently constant attention that just felt wrong compared to how it had been before. No, he didn't miss that, and he didn't really miss Berk. The few things he did miss were either dead, like his father, tied to Beryl, like the cove, or old fragments of the past, like Gobber.
The tavern was spread out, space between tables providing a small fragment of privacy completely ignored by most of the patrons. All save one, who sat in a corner of the room. The figure wore a cloak, but the hood fell as the stranger looked up, seemingly bored, slumped over a mug of mead. Her face was thin as if slightly annoyed at all times, her blue eyes glinting in the torchlight.
Eye contact was made. Ember felt the blood rush to his head as the stranger paled, though she tried to hide it. He didn't recognize her, but that made no difference. She knew him, of that he was certain, which meant he had already found his quarry.
But he had to be sure. He carefully walked over, sitting at a nearby table, facing her. There was no way he was turning his back to her. They stared at each other for a few moments. Nothing was said.
Then the woman held up a shaking hand, carefully displaying a palm clear of scars. She did the same with her other hand. No scars there either. It was a simple display of fear, showing that one meant no harm and held no weapon, but it to Ember also showed that she was definitely not Vithvarandi.
Ember's mind worked as fast as it could, sorting through the logic of the situation. She knew him, knew his appearance. Was scared of him, or of something. Had proved she wasn't Vithvarandi. Where was Vithvarandi?
A scrape of a chair behind him caused him to whip around, his hand moving to the hidden hilt of one of his knives. Another woman sat across the table from him, her face troubled. She spoke quietly.
"I want no trouble. Not here."
"Too late." Ember snarled. "You take it with you wherever you go."
"I wish to talk, not fight," Vithvarandi replied.
"To try and convince me to join you once again. Give it up already." Ember wanted to stab her then and there, but that would cause too many issues. She'd return in some random form and attack. He would be forced to shift to a draconic form to better defend himself, and all Hel would break loose.
Vithvarandi seemed to know that. "Please. Manipulation and force have failed us. I have been... permitted," her face twisted, her voice still sad, "to speak to you."
"What does that mean?" Ember asked, curious in spite of himself. Something felt off.
"Surely you understand." Vithvarandi turned her palms over, revealing the scars on her palms. "Two scars, two personalities. That which the person starts with, and that of the first kill. Memories trapped in the same head, personalities fighting for dominance. Clearly, you as Hiccup triumphed over whatever old dragon you were stuck with, despite his advantage in years." Her voice was musing, but now it turned dark, as did her expression. "I was not so powerful against my first kill."
"I don't know what you're trying to tell me," Ember replied. "And my patience is fading."
Vithvarandi snorted. "We have all the time in the world. But my dominant side is impatient, just like you. She is letting me speak, or more accurately embracing my ideals for the moment, so I will be brief. Vithvarandi is not my name. It is hers."
"Sure." Ember deadpanned. "I don't believe a word. It's too convenient, to blame everything you've done on your other half."
"The truth is never convenient. I killed her, the creator of this ability, because back then neither of us knew how to stop it from consuming me in the first hours, and I wanted to stop her from dooming more of her test subjects. But she was old, so much older than I. Our personalities could not be more different, and where I had always wanted only to be whole, she wanted power, control. It is no surprise which of us won the inevitable battle for control, and which was relegated to little more than an ineffective conscience."
"Why do I care?" Ember questioned, not at all convinced. Though that wasn't to say Vithvarandi was lying. It made sense and explained why she was so amoral.
"Because she wants you to leave us alone. Or join us, but neither of us believes that is an option now."
"You bet it isn't an option," Ember growled, the sound threatening despite his human throat.
"I would say I regret that, but I cannot regret my part in it. I was the powerless voice whispering that it was not right, that you were your own person. More than that I was incapable of." Vithvarandi frowned.
"So what, tell me, does your 'dominant side' think you can do here?" Ember asked angrily. "Because so far, you haven't done much."
"I am to request you forget us. That you go and live your life. We will not trouble you, and clearly, the dragon whose memories you were burdened with has been relegated to the same position I am in. You can forget me, and both of us can find what little joy there is in endless loneliness. Or, if you were serious, dying like a mortal."
"You assume much." Ember gritted out. "That I subjugated or even fought the other memories. That I'm willing to forget. That I'll let you continue like this."
"Now you are the one speaking unclearly." Vithvarandi pointed out. Her face was troubled.
"I am not Hiccup. I am not Ember. Our memories never fought for control. There is no secondary person relegated to a corner of my mind, trapped. We are one. I do not even think with two different minds now. Whatever struggle you and your other half are going through, it's not mandatory, inevitable. So there's one thing."
"That makes no sense. Which body do you consider your own above all others?"
"Both. Truly both. I am as comfortable in one as in the other." Ember's mind moved to another topic, another bone of contention between them. He couldn't attack her without endangering innocents here, but such limitations would not exist outside of the crowded tavern. He needed to get her to leave. Angering her enough to make her give up would work. "And that means I blame you for all of it. My own death. The death of my mate. The death of my father. All. Of. It."
"Well, so much for that." Vithvarandi's inflection had changed, and something was ever so subtly different about her now. "She never is any help."
"I suppose you're the one she blames for all of this." Ember deadpanned, frustrated. If he had his way, he'd be driving her out to face his wrath and the wrath of his sons right now.
"The one you know, of course," Vithvarandi replied. "She never sees the need to do what is necessary. I would offer once more for you to join me..."
Ember stood, his knife in hand. "You can go to Hel first."
"You are intent on sending me there?" Vithvarandi asked sarcastically. "Your morals are clouded. Unwilling to kill a dragon, but willing to kill an unarmed woman, in full sight of half this village."
"That's always bothered me." Ember retorted, not caring about the audience they now had. "You know better than any human that dragons are just as intelligent. Why do you refer to them as animals?"
"Habit." Vithvarandi stood, facing Ember. "Custom. Does it matter? I don't care about their lives, and I don't care about the lives of those around us. They will die anyway. But you care. Which is why I set this up."
"Set what-"
"I knew you'd find me. So take this as a warning." The woman Ember had originally mistaken for Vithvarandi came over, followed by three burly men with cudgels. She pointed at Ember.
Vithvarandi continued speaking. "Or maybe a test. Their lives are meaningless. Will you endanger or take them to get at me? Seems like an internal conflict to me." She smirked.
"You." One of the men grabbed Ember's shoulder, fingers gripping painfully. "No fighting in here. The woman here says yer causin' trouble."
"I start no trouble." Ember shrugged the hand off, sheathing his knife. "But sometimes I finish it."
"Not in our village. Especially not by threatenin' miss Jacin's sister." The guard gestured to the woman, and then Vithvarandi. "They are villagers. Yer a foreigner."
That explained that. Ember pitied the woman who had lost her sister to Vithvarandi, who likely didn't even know it yet. He also cursed Vithvarandi for setting all of this up.
"I'm thinkin' a night in out jail will cool you off, little hothead." The burly Viking continued.
Ember didn't bother resisting as the men took him out of the tavern. He would not injure or even kill innocents caught up in Vithvarandi's little game. He was marched across the shabby intersection that formed the center of the town to a small building, one that consisted of just three dingy cells with iron bar fronts. The guards didn't even bother to check for knives other than the one he had been holding, which had been confiscated. They left him there.
Ember wasn't particularly bothered by that. Vithvarandi wasn't getting out of this town undetected, even if he was delayed by breaking out of this jail. This wooden jail. She had meant to send a message, and possibly get him to consider just giving up, not to seriously hinder him. There was no chance of that. If anything, his resolve was stronger now.
The door to the jail opened, and the woman who had pointed him out to the guards slipped in, closing it behind her. Her face was pale, but she walked confidently, coming to stand on the other side of the bars.
Ember stared at her, waiting for her to speak. She had some reason for this.
"Why are you here?" Her voice betrayed her uncertainty. "Malin has never harmed or wronged anyone."
"I'm sure she hasn't." Ember laughed sadly. "I'm sorry for your loss."
"What loss?" Jacin said quickly, confused. "None of this makes any sense. My sister never leaves town, but a few days ago she told me a teenager with a prosthetic leg and green eyes wanted to kill her. I thought she was being paranoid, but then you show up."
Ember stared at his palms, slightly saddened by having to be the one delivering the news. "Your sister is gone, Jacin. The one who has taken her place is who I am hunting."
"She's not gone. You spoke to her not half an hour ago." Jacin eyed him suspiciously. "Are you crazy?"
"No." Ember showed her his palms. "See these scars? They are marks. Have you noticed them on her hands recently?"
He knew she had seen them when she refused to meet his eyes. "Yes, I have. She said she cut herself by accident..."
"Six times, at perfect right angles, matching on each hand," Ember said dryly. "Sure."
"Okay, then what are they marks of?" Jacin countered.
"How to explain this..." Ember mused darkly. "Suffice to say, they are the outward sign of a morbid form of immortality. Your sister is dead, and a monster has stolen her body and memories."
Jacin blinked. "You are crazy."
"I am very tired of being told that." Ember retorted. "What I have said is the absolute truth."
"Which, by your own logic makes you just as much of a monster." Jacin pointed out lightly, clearly convinced he was lying.
"No, it gives me the capability to be one if I wanted. I choose not to be, and that makes all the difference." Ember growled. "I'll avenge your sister, just as I will my mate and the countless others she's slaughtered. My sons are helping."
"You can't be a day over sixteen." Jacin pointed out.
"In this body." Ember retorted, standing and approaching the bars. "Look, I don't really care what you believe. But you at least deserve to know what happened to your sister, so I told you. Whether or not you take it as truth isn't my concern." He pulled a knife out of its sheath and began attempting to pick the lock on the other side of the bars.
Jacin watched him impassively. "You think I'm just going to let you escape?" She grabbed the knife from Ember's strained grip and set it next to the other that had already been confiscated.
He laughed darkly. "No, but I figured it was polite to try to leave in a way that didn't trash the place first." He needed to stop wasting time, but trashing the wall and busting out that way might bring the whole building down. Besides, he had an idea he wanted to try. This was a perfect time.
Ember stuck his hands in between two of the sturdy iron bars, mentally preparing himself. The fires of transformation didn't seem to follow the normal rules of fire. They had substance, pushed any mass they came into contact with, far more powerfully than he could. Transforming took several seconds. With all of that in mind, he triggered his transformation to his Night Fury form and immediately began to push at the bars.
The flames came from his palms and immediately put an immense amount of force into repelling the mass he was in contact with. As his form bent and shifted, he managed to bend the iron bars apart, a groaning screech accompanying the displacement. It was an odd feeling, the borrowed force of the flames giving the illusion of him bending iron like warm wax, only the barest resistance felt through the fire. He immediately shifted back afterward.
The bars were now so bent as to form no barrier whatsoever, a large gap in the middle more than wide enough for him to slip through. Jacin was staring, pale and wide-eyed, shaking in fear. He stepped through the bars and quickly retrieved his daggers, keeping them out.
Before he left Jacin darted to stand in front of him, still obviously terrified. "But my sister isn't… whatever you're saying!"
"Aside from the scars," Ember said calmly, "I'm sure she's acting a bit different. She remembers everything, but does she act like she would? Have her priorities abruptly changed? Her opinion of certain people?" Vithvarandi might understand the life of the one she was impersonating, might remember it, but that didn't mean she would make the same decisions. It was still her ammoral personality playing a part.
"Well…" Jacin shook her head in denial. "She's just a little paranoid… now…" Her voice trailed off.
"I'm betting," Ember pushed, "that she's also not caring about other people now, And she's a bit less empathetic in general, right?" Maybe Vithvarandi was good enough to fake that, but Ember was betting not. He had seen those traits in her impersonation of Stoick. It would never be enough to think something was wrong, if one did not know Vithvarandi existed, but once that possibility was raised…
"Why?" Jacin blinked, a tear rolling down her cheek. It seemed she had finally accepted the truth. "I thought she was just acting strange… but she's not herself anymore?" A pause. "Can I get her back?"
"I am truly sorry. If we had succeeded in killing her earlier, you would not have lost her." Ember bowed his head. "But that thing out there is no longer your sister, and would likely have killed you before she moved on."
Jacin stuck a hand out, grabbing one of his knives. He let her take it, intrigued as to what she planned on doing with it.
"I'll get vengeance myself." She gritted out, her face cold.
"You didn't strike me as the type," Ember responded. Hadn't she been mourning a second ago?
"My sister is dead, and some creep is impersonating her. I'll manage."
"I understand that." He recalled having Beryl shoot Vithvarandi when she was impersonating Stoick and the hot rage that had descended on him immediately after. "But she is too dangerous. Killing her in one form just knocks her into another."
"I'll risk it," Jacin said, her eyes as cold as her face. "Besides. You need my help to find her quickly."
"Lead the way." Ember gestured towards the door, handing her his other knife and drawing two more. "Best to be fully armed."
Jacin strode quickly out, concealing the knife under her cloak. Ember moved carefully, sticking to the darkest parts of the village, avoiding the flickering torches. He followed Jacin, who brought him to a nondescript house in the middle of a row of similar houses and quietly unlocked the door.
He entered behind Jacin, quickly moving to place his back to a wall. There were muffled noises from the other room.
Jacin moved over and stuck her head through the doorway. "Malin?" Her voice was calm, though Ember could see her hands shaking, clutching his daggers. "What are you doing?"
Vithvarandi responded from the other room. "Packing. That boy will come after me, and I don't want to be around when he does."
"Why is he after you? You never told me."
"I wish I knew. But he is." Vithvarandi was a very good actor, but it was clear to Ember that Jacin wasn't buying it. Maybe she could tell now that something was slightly off, like he had with Stoick.
"Well, I'll come with you," Jacin said.
"No! I need you... safe, here. Not chased by some crazy murderer." Vithvarandi's voice had faltered.
"Fine." Jacin grimaced at Ember, her eyes cold and dead with grief. "At least come and say goodbye."
Vithvarandi walked into view and hugged Jacin. "Goodbye, sister."
Jacin whispered in the imposter's ear. "Goodbye, monster." Then the daggers she held in her hands were driven into Vithvarandi's upper back, one on either side of her spine. Vithvarandi's gasped in shock, falling back.
Jacin scowled at her, eyes brimming with tears. "You might look like her, talk like her, remember her, but you are not her. It's obvious, now that I know to look."
Vithvarandi crumbled into that familiar pile of black ash.
Ember sprung into action, a knife whipping out even as Vithvarandi's next form materialized. It took the male Viking in the chest, and he too crumbled into ash.
In the brief respite that granted, Ember yelled at Jacin. "Get out of here if you want to survive this!"
Jacin eyed him coldly. "I don't." She hefted both knives. "My sister was all I had left. This is as good a way to go as any."
There was no time to argue. Vithvarandi's next form was a Gronckle, which slammed through a flimsy table in a rush to get at them, to crush them under its bulk. Jacin clumsily stumbled out of the way, ineffectively slashing at the dragon's rock-like hide as it passed.
Ember had no time to shift forms completely, but he wasn't planning on it. The ability to change forms was powerful, but he was coming to realize the flames that accomplished that shift were useful in their own right if used correctly. He triggered the transformation and slammed both hands out in front of him, flames flooding from them just as the Gronckle made contact. Far from crushing him, it felt like he hadn't even hit it. Vithvarandi staggered back, clearly concussed by the unnaturally powerful blow. Ember snarled at her in his draconic form, firing a tiny plasma blast directly into her eye. The small explosion was followed by a deep bellow of agony.
Vithvarandi charged again, this time shifting as she did, clearly intending to use the same trick he had just stopped her with. Ember rolled to the side, barely avoiding the mass of black flames that smashed straight through the front of the house. The roll hurt his wings, splinters of wood digging at his scales and wing membrane, but the alternative would have been much worse.
He immediately shifted back to his human form, a smaller and nimbler shape in the trashed house, and pulled Jacin free of the wreckage. The house was groaning ominously, now deprived of what was probably a load-bearing wall.
Jacin stood unsteadily, bleeding slightly in a few places. Without speaking she began to run towards Vithvarandi, who was standing in the form of a somewhat small red Nadder.
Ember shifted, leaping and grabbing the Nadder's wing just before it could lunge and eviscerate Jacin. He felt responsible for the reckless woman. Suicidal was probably a better description of her behavior, to be honest. She stabbed the Nadder in the side, leaving his knife embedded there. Vithvarandi bucked, slamming Jacin to the ground as she freed herself from Ember's jaws, her wing edge dripping blood, scale and flesh hanging limply off from where his sharp teeth had torn them asunder.
Their fight was drawing attention. This time Ember was ready for the response. Before anyone could get a good look he shifted back to his human form and reengaged. It was like a twisted parody of dragon training so long ago. A woman fighting a Nadder alongside him, rushing in as he did. He jumped to the side as a Nadder spine slammed past him, embedding itself firmly into the ground where his feet had been. He needed to hold out a few more seconds...
Vithvarandi could tell something was off. She stopped, cocking her head to the side in confusion.
Ember grinned at her. "You forget. This isn't Berk."
Two heavy arrows slammed into Vithvarandi's side and she staggered, deeply wounded.
"They fight dragons here," Ember finished, stepping forward even as several Vikings he recognized from the tavern piled onto Vithvarandi, yelling and shouting drunkenly as they protected their village from the rampaging dragon. The shouts of surprise as her body collapsed into ash and was replaced with another Nadder were confused but angered. They took it in stride, immediately moving to take on the new Nadder.
"They're not going to remember this tomorrow," Ember remarked. Vithvarandi was overwhelmed by a good old-fashioned Viking beatdown, giving Ember and Jacin a moment to regroup. He looked over at Jacin, who was panting and staring at the fight.
"Will they kill her?"
"No," Ember replied, seeing Vithvarandi preparing to flee, her eyes wild with fear. "But to follow means you'll need to ride. My sons and I can finish her."
"No way am I letting her go," Jacin replied, staring at Ember. "I'm going, no matter what."
"Then get on!" Ember snarled, shifting forms as he saw Vithvarandi do the same, throwing off the aggressive Vikings to flee. He flicked his head back at his back, clearly giving her permission.
Jacin nodded abruptly, her eyes still devoid of any emotion save cold rage, and clumsily jumped on, her arms around his neck. He set off into the sky before any of the nearby villagers could react to his new form, before they could attack. Vithvarandi, now in the body of a larger green Zippleback, fled the village by air, flying with speed likely born of pure fear.
Ember roared powerfully, the call to hunt, to pursue prey. It felt appropriate. Vithvarandi was truly the prey now. His sons fell in on either side of him, the three of them tailing the Zippleback. This was a hunt, nothing more. Extremely intelligent and devious prey, and a deadly fight at the end, but still just a hunt, with his sons aiding. The dark night sky replaced forest, flight replaced stealthy running. Vithvarandi took the place of the prey, and the hunters remained in their element.
"Who is the woman?" Beryl asked as they powered forward.
"A fellow victim, and an ally," Ember replied shortly. "This time will be the last. She can't have many more forms. We've killed so many, and she hasn't had much of a chance to rebuild her twisted stock."
"Yes," Spark agreed. "We will avenge Dam."
"Avenge everyone she's ever killed," Beryl added.
"End this nightmare." Was Ember's contribution, said coldly. "Once and for all."
One last hunt. The prey was tiring, its trail clear as it struggled to put distance between it and the hunters. The stars blinked as the prey crossed in front of them, a two-headed silhouette blackening the night sky with her presence.
The two heads reminded Ember of what Vithvarandi had claimed. What would it be like, a prisoner inside one's own body and mind? Maybe what his two sides had done, merging so seamlessly, was not normal. But who could define normal in this case? There were only two of them, with two different outcomes to personalities merging. Maybe it would be different for every single pair of individuals forced to coexist like this. They'd never know because there were only two of them in existence.
Soon to be one, if Ember had anything to say about it.
Author's Note: Next chapter is the finale of this story. Final predictions should be put out now, as there are only two chapters, an epilogue and… something… else left before we move on to When Nothing Remains.
In response to the guest reviewer SisterofNight, who has been catching up: Really, you were told of the symbolism? Glad to hear you like it. It's always nice when someone who's new to the story reviews as they catch up.