Author's Note: There is only a two-day wait before the questions this epilogue raises will be answered, so make your predictions quickly.
"How close are we, again?" Spark asked seriously. "I have forgotten." He dropped to land on the rock outcropping that rose from the forest around them, quickly folding his wings. "My wings still aren't the strongest."
That still bothered Ember. Despite the success of the stitches in helping his son's tattered wings heal at all, they had never returned to their previous strength, and Spark was forced to set down more often solely to rest them. Spark sometimes spoke of the scars aching, feeling like they were tearing back open. It wasn't that bad, and the scars remained just memories of a past injury, but it did limit their travel. Maybe that too would fade with enough time.
Not that any of them begrudged him the extra rest stops. The trip was one of months anyway. A few extra breaks from flight weren't going to make a noticeable difference.
Besides... "We should get there sometime tomorrow." He vaguely recognized these woods and the mountains in the distance. Past the mountains, the woods extended for a way and then terminated at the edge of a very familiar peninsula, one isolated from human and dragon alike, a safe place. The place of his hatching.
He was going home. Hopefully, his Sire and Dam were still there. They were the only ones left of his parents, on either side. It had been a long time. So many years, years spent wandering, raising children. Years spent dead.
He hoped they were still there, still happy and safe. Maybe with other children, though from what he knew now, that seemed unlikely.
At the worst, he hoped they were still alive. They would still be in the prime of their lives, given how long Furies lived, but so many things could have gone wrong, be they human, dragon, or pure accident.
That night, as they settled down in a sheltered nook near the base of those final mountains, he couldn't sleep.
Beryl sat up with him, understanding some little of Ember's emotions. Eventually, he spoke, softly as to not disturb Spark, who had managed to find sleep. "What are they like?"
"Kind, caring. My Sire, Herb, is practical and wise. Dam, Thorn, is strong and sure, but vulnerable, in a way. She didn't like me leaving, though she encouraged it." Ember whined softly. "I broke my promise. It's been decades. I never came back."
"I'm sorry, are you saying you broke your promise... because you happened to be either busy raising me and Spark, or dead?" Beryl asked curiously. "Seems to me you came as soon as you could. It wasn't your fault that happened to be a little longer than you would have liked."
"I know, but it still feels like my fault," Ember admitted. "But I still can't wait to see them." He might be clinging to the only part of his past besides Beryl and Spark that might still be around, but he couldn't help it.
They passed the night like that, though Ember woke up to the realization that he'd found at least some sleep, and that Beryl's wing was over him.
It was moments like these that he appreciated the way Beryl managed to maintain treating him both as a friend and as his Sire. It was a subtle balance, but one both of them had found in the many months of travel here. Spark was easy, as his older son didn't know Hiccup, and had no prior attachments. Beryl might have resorted to one or the other, and in doing so lost one of the facets of their relationship, but they had somehow found a middle ground as impossible to define as his own mental status.
That was how these things tended to work. It seemed a quirk of the world that the more important something was, the harder it was to explain to outsiders. He and his sons set off, flying towards the end of the journey. Eventually, the peninsula came into view, looking just as it had so many years ago.
Ember felt a wave of nostalgia and something akin to fear, a foreboding that made him want to drag the approach out, or anything that would prolong the time before the hypothetical reunion.
"We should approach on foot," Ember suggested as they flew. "Grab some prey, bring it with us."
Beryl and Spark, not aware of his ulterior motives, readily agreed, and the three of them dropped into the shaded forest Ember recalled from memory.
"Call if you find tracks," Spark called out, as normal, and they spread out, looking for that first trace that would give them something to follow, something to hunt. For Ember, every step brought back old memories, ones he had not forgotten, but still as potent as if he was just now recovering them.
By degrees the three Furies spread out, losing sight but not track of each other, knowing vaguely where the others were. Ember had just run across the tracks of a small doe when an angry snarl rang through the trees, followed by a surprised and pained yelp. Beryl.
Terrible scenarios ran through his mind, each taunting his bad decisions. They didn't know this place now, no matter how fondly he remembered it, and time passing had ensured his complacency was a mistake. There could be hostile dragons, dragon hunters, or any number of unknown dangers here, and he had treated it like the safe haven of decades past! He berated himself even as he slalomed past trees and leaped towards the sounds, ready to ensure any who had attacked Beryl died.
The scene he found was not one of conflict, no longer anyway. Beryl and Spark were staring wide-eyed at a very familiar older Fury, one with a pale green scale color Ember remembered fondly. Beryl was bleeding, his chest sporting a new wound, not too deep but definitely not some simple scratch. Ember noticed his Sire's claws stained with blood.
Herb turned, hearing his intentionally audible approach, his posture suggesting he was expecting a fight. Both of them froze when Herb made eye contact.
Ember spoke first, his voice light, sarcastic. "I thought you always taught me not to hunt dragons." Apparently, he hadn't entirely lost that particular habit, despite what he had told Astrid all those months ago.
Herb's eyes widened.
No, Ember realized with a jolt, eye. His Sire had a long scar running vertically across the left side of his head, and one eye was clouded and dull. It tore at his heart, seeing that. What had happened?
He didn't realize he has asked that horrified question aloud until Herb closed both eyes briefly, head bowed. "That is a long story."
"This is a day for those." Beryl supplied carefully. "Sire of our Sire." Dragons didn't really have a phrase for grandfathers or grandmothers like humans did.
"Truly?" Herb turned his head, glancing at the two Furies.
Ember snorted softly. "Do you get many random visiting Furies?"
"More than we expected," Herb replied solemnly. "But again, a story for later." He walked slowly over, looking at Ember up close. "You have grown, and gained many scars."
"Life was not entirely kind," Ember replied just as solemnly. "But I finally came back, to keep as much of my promise as I can."
"What do you mean by that?"
"I promised to bring my mate and children to visit," Ember said sadly. "But my mate is gone."
Herb stiffened, before abruptly leaning in and setting his head on Ember's shoulder, a gesture of comfort similar to what Ember had done with Spark. "I see your path has been hard."
"Harder than you imagine," Ember replied honestly.
"But you have returned." Herb comforted softly. "We had worried you were gone. Your Dam more than me, though we both did at times."
"I am sorry," Ember replied.
"Sire. We can continue the hunt, and bring the food..." Beryl supplied, glancing over at Herb. "To the place you told us is the den."
"That would be good," Herb added. "I was out here for the same reason."
"Go. Hunt well and fast." Ember agreed. "I expect nothing but the best, you two. No half-grown deer!"
Spark smirked while Beryl straight-out laughed. "Like the one you brought in last month?"
"Yes. Beat that." Ember challenged, knowing full well it had been an embarrassingly small catch. He grinned as both of his sons set off into the forest at a lope, golden glint and black void disappearing among the shadows and sun of the woods.
"So, what happened?" Ember inquired once they were gone, as he and Herb began walking casually towards home. "Beryl is not one to attack on sight. If he was, I'd be dead twice over." Once as Hiccup, and once as Ember, when Vithvarandi had been using the body.
"It was my doing, I am afraid. I saw a strange dragon and reacted." Herb admitted, not looking Ember in the eye. "I have not had the best experiences with an unknown Fury showing up unannounced."
"Is that how..?"
"It is, among many other things. My eye was not even close to the worst part." Herb groaned softly, a sound of remembered pain and regret. "But that is too sad a tale for today."
"I think today will be a day for sad tales, Sire," Ember replied carefully. "Much of mine is. And it seems much of yours will be as well."
"No." Herb snarled. "I refuse to let this day be tainted by that. Those can be told later. Please, if your past is so sad, do not share it yet. I would hope you and your sons have happy things enough to fill a single day's conversation."
"Yes, we do," Ember admitted. "Though far less than you'd think." Spending a good part of his children's life dead would have that limiting effect.
They walked in silence for a while, eventually emerging and taking to the air, approaching the den he remembered so well. Just like in memory, Dam was relaxing outside, sleeping in the sun at the moment. He and Herb set down in front of her.
The look on Thorn's face as Herb gently woke her worried Ember. She seemed... duller, if only slightly. As if something had been broken and not fully healed in her heart. A part of him hoped his long absence had not caused that pain, and another part hoped it had so that his return could fix it.
Her eyes brightened euphorically when she turned and saw Ember. Through the joyful reunion, Ember watched carefully. That dullness was subtle, and his Dam ignored it in her happiness, but it did not fade completely. Something else was causing it.
The festivities of the day were simple and joyful. Food was provided by his sons, who took turns going out with Herb, getting to know the Sire of their Sire as they provided for the rest. Spark, Beryl, and even Ember regaled Thorn and Herb with lighter tales provided by their lives, many coming from the journey to this place, the time after the defeat of Vithvarandi.
When night fell, Beryl began a slightly riskier tale. That of the No-scaled-not-prey nest, and those who eventually became friends with dragons. Ember had told him of Herb's request, so Beryl skipped over how exactly he had been shot down, and where Spark and Ember had been.
His tale entranced both Herb and Thorn, as alien to their lives as it was. By the time Beryl had concluded with the eventual return to health of the one he called a friend, the night was late.
Herb sat outside with Ember, watching the coast. Thorn, Spark, and Beryl were asleep, worn out by the day of revelry.
"Son, there is much we both have not explained." Herb began. He sounded almost sorry, pained by the admission.
"Agreed. But today was not the time for that. You were right." Ember said confidently. Less confidently, he continued with the question that bothered him most. "Is Dam... okay?"
Herb whined, a sound Ember could only recall hearing a few times. "It is not a physical wound that hurts her. Those heal, or they do not."
"I had gathered as much," Ember admitted. "I have wounds on my soul as well."
"You do. But your Dam's is of a different kind." Herb growled. "One I could have prevented, had I been stronger."
It struck Ember that his Sire was about to explain. There was something about this moment. It was a tipping point, an ending, and a beginning. His Sire's voice did not sound as if speaking of an old occurrence, long over, but of something still ongoing. Ember had been at peace, these last few months. But once his Sire told the story, he was pretty sure that peace would be gone.
Innocent hopes, twisted reality. The way of his life. Ember vowed to himself, then and there, that he would do whatever it took to right any wrong present here. Maybe his life was not meant to be one of peace. His tattered soul had been allowed to heal a little. Now was time for the next trauma, the next calamity.
"Speak." Ember requested. He did not know what he would hear, what had occurred. But ignorance was not bliss, and facing twisted reality head-on was the only way he'd ever acquire even temporary peace.
His Sire spoke, sparing no details. The tale filled him with wrath, sorrow, pity. And at the end, purpose. He had been correct, though this was not something he was going to fight. It was something he was going to have to deal with. The irony was palpable. Flint had already slain the one responsible. Not that it had helped his Dam and Sire here, years before that day, that kill. The damage had been done.
"Where is she now?" He asked quietly.
"She visits every once in a while. She has grown... distant. I do not blame her." Herb looked down, his dull eye as downcast as his good one. "I cannot blame her."
"I do," Ember growled. "But that can wait. When will my sister next visit?"
Author's Note: And so it begins. Notice how I didn't say what had happened, letting Ember know but not the reader? It can be deduced fairly easily, and I am indeed going there. Yes, the sequel will be just as dark, as you can probably already tell.