Hiccup's eyes gently fluttered open. It was around midnight. The sky a black velvet with little holes of light sprinkled everywhere. Hiccup looked to his left and saw his dragon sleeping soundly.
A hushed hiss echoed from the edge of the woods. Hiccup pushed himself to his feet as it called. His face neutral, his feet walking in a smooth and swift motion. He entered the woods without a sound.
He would occasionally look left and right, but it was clear he was the only one. For now.
His walk brought him casually to a gathering of trees near the edge of the Cove. He stopped and looked around, as if waiting for someone. He would kick a few stones, traces his fingers along the bark of an oak.
Suddenly a snap was heard. Hiccup looked up and turned. Three Outcast men and Savage materialized form the trees. Weapons ready, but when they saw it was Hiccup, their weapons lowered.
"Ah, Hiccup." One Outcast said, but Hiccup didn't reply.
"It's that time again. Go get Alvin." Savage said.
As the guard left, a Changewing materialized and walked up behind Hiccup. It hissed and Hiccup turned, as if he could understand him. Leaves ruffled behind him and Alvin appeared with the guard.
"Ah, well hello Hiccup. Back so soon are ya?" he asks, but he knows Hiccup won't reply. With a raspy laugh Alvin says, "They should have all kids like this. Obedient. Respectful. And no talking back."
"I believe he's here for another assignment, Alvin." Savage says.
"Very well then. I was just getting tired of reading the Changewing pages anyway." He says.
The Changewing Dragon wisps by Hiccup and circles behind Alvin. "Now then, Hiccup. I need you to get me some information on the Whispering Death." As he talks, the Changewing's pupils swirl in the hypnotic motion, like it's translating Alvin's unheard words into the hollow shell that is Hiccup. Like someone snuffed out the old Hiccup and replaced with someone
There was nothing he could do. This wasn't the Hiccup everyone knew and remembered. This was the puppet of Alvin's who could not talk back, let alone fight back. Someone completely foreign to everyone.
The monster inside of him. The monster he didn't even know lived inside him. Only to be released when the darkness calls.
At the mercy of the Changewing's power, Hiccup stood still. Eyes wide and staring at the dirt ground as he received Alvin's orders.
"And make sure you don't disturb other residents." Alvin finishes, tossing Hiccup a long thick black cloak along with a new knife.
Translation: If anyone sees you, make sure they never see the light of another day.
Hiccup nodded in reply. His once beautiful emerald green eyes, now stark and cold, the concentrated green of pale jade.
"And take this." Alvin says as he tosses a mask to Hiccup. "Just as a precaution." Then his disappears into the foliage, and the Changewing dissipates into a tree behind it.
Hiccup swirls the cloak around his back and pulls the hood over his head. He looks down at the mask. A ghostly white with crimson red scars trickling down from to mimic tears. Outlined in smudged black kohl. Air holes in the nostrils for breathing.
Hiccup took a deep breath. And in the exhale, brought the mask to his face. As if on cue, lightening rippled through the sky.
The puppet was now on the prowl.
He got some distance, and with a heavy leap, he was on the branch of an oak tree. He leaped from branch to branch until he reached the outside of the village.
All of the houses gave off a warm welcoming glow. There were the occasional villagers who were outside tending to last minute chores, but none even took notice to the other. Hiccup leaned out, stretching only his neck to break the gathering of bushes. He looked left, then right. No one.
He jumped and landed silently at the trunk of the tree and ran for the village. He hid behind the back walls of houses and cut through any alleys that would lead him faster to his destination.
Soon, the intimidating statues that guarded the Great Hall was in his sights. A sudden sound from behind made him rigid. He turned and found Gobber just closing up shop. Singing his little tune.
Discomfort immediately welled in his chest, thick and black as an oil spring.
It's as if something stirred in him, and now he wanted to call to Gobber.
Call for . . . help.
But his mission was clear, and he had to make it now. Since Gobber didn't see him yet, he made no waste. He ran for the Great Hall.
There was no sign of pursuers, and he didn't dare looked back thinking that id he did, there's no way he'd make it back. He pried open the door and slipped inside. The fire that always burned in the pit gave off a warm orange glow as he entered. There was no one else in the hall. Thunder cracked outside.
He looked all around the border of the pit until he reached the head of the pit where Stoick the Vast always conducted meetings. There it was. The book. He had to make hast.
He lifted the corner of the brown parchment book. He peeked into the opening and peeled apart the pages, keeping the book open just a crack. He took a quick glance up to the door. At no sign of anyone, he returned his eyes to the book.
Its spine made a soft creaking noise as he pulled it open all the way. It went easily, as though the pages spent more time being pinned apart than clamped together.
Black writing covered every inch of buttery paper, followed by drawings of each dragon to give a visual representation. It was too the most beautiful handwriting he'd ever seen. Each loop and every curl connected cleanly to make the writing itself appear as perfect and uniform as a printed front.
It baffled him how someone could sit and take the time to form letters so meticulously. He checked around him one more time before flipping the page over and there, his suspicions confirmed, he found more writing.
In some places, there were big spaces where he had written around drawings. They were more like loose sketches, actually, the lines never certain but nonetheless making pictures. They were strange sketches too. Big, scary lizards that could breathe acid and smoke.
He leafed past another page, this time daring to read a little of what was there. But at the same time, it's like he almost knew what was there.
It all seemed too familiar.
He glanced up, stooping slightly to try and see through the slightly ajar double doors. No sign of anyone. His eyes darted back down to the page, searching for the places where he'd left. He'd read just a little bit more. It wasn't like it was a personal journal or anything, right?
Dragons of all different kinds appeared on each page. All with unique abilities and powers. The names seemed to match the appearance for the dragons perfectly.
Monstrous Nightmare.
Gronckle.
Deadly Nadder.
As he flipped to the next page, something about the dragon hit an unknown mark.
Night Fury.
The entire thing was blank. Execpt for a few rough sketches of the creature.
"I really need to update this already."
The puppet whirled around left and right. Who said that?
He looked back at the pages. The familiar feeling growing inside him. He couldn't explain it, but he wanted to explore the feeling make sense of it, and reading the book seemed to help.
But just as he was about to read the name of the only accounted Night Fury found, the book was thwacked shut.
The puppet first stared at the sausage-like fingers that pressed the cover down, then gradually his eyes traveled up the hairy arm and then father still until they met reluctantly with a pair of eyes.
They narrowed on him in distain, and the way they looked at him made him feel like at any second, the air was going to constrict and choke him lifeless.
"Can I help you?" Gobber asked, but he could tell he didn't want a reply.
Gobber swung his arm forward, wailing an axe, and the puppet jumped out of the way in time, landing on the other side of the pit.
"Not bad you, but you're not getting away that easily." Gobber said as he pried his axe free.
The puppet stood up and readied a knife in his hands, spinning the blade out for protection. Gobber ran for him, and the weapons clanged together, they pared and broke apart. He couldn't leave without that information.
He dodged an oncoming attack from Gobber as he heard a metallic whoosh. The axe stuck into a column of the Hall and he then slammed his knee into Gobber's diaphragm. He felt the air leaves his lungs, but just in case, he flipped his knife and stabbed it into Gobber's sternum. Blood slides along the silver in a single sinuous streak as puppet twists to the right, and yanks it free.
Gobber makes a wet gurgling noise in the back of his throat. Puppet then slams his leg into Gobber side, squirting out blood like a hose, and then slowly crumpling to the floor.
Puppet wipes the blade on Gobber's vest before walking back over to the book and ripping out the pages of the Whispering Death; not even bothering to read it anymore.
He rolls it up and places it on the inside pocket of his cloak, then head for the door, not even bothering to clean up the mess.
Running around trees and power leaping over bushes, puppet looks to his left and sees the Cliffside. The sky becoming a lighter blue, then purple. Dawn is fast approaching. He needs to make this fast.
The distress of his body soon made him realize how fast he was running and how hard it would hurt tomorrow. He quickly looked around, and then ducked into an abandoned cave. Staying near the mouth, he removed the mask and took deep breathes of fresh non sweat-polluted air.
Water dripped from the back of the cave and echoed back. The only sounds apart from his heavy breathing. Heart beating rapid. He licked his lips which were now dry from the run. He couldn't stop now, he had to complete his mission before sunrise.
Taking one final breath, he placed the mask back on and bolted out of the cave. His cloak leaving behind a black surrounding in his wake, he made his way to the Cove.
Once he reached the edge, he climbed down and onto the soft dirt. Looking around, he found who he needed. He's a few yards away, his face, shadowed by the branches of the tree he stands under.
Puppet rounds his way toward the spot, and with a few steps out, they were a foot away from one another. He had just handed Alvin the scrolls, when a voice rang out from behind them.
"Stop! Give those back!" Gobber yelled as he charged for the two. Stained gauze wrapped around his stomach.
"Finish him." Alvin ordered before disappearing into the shadows.
Puppet waited as Gobber climbed down into the Cove, breathing heavy and clearly not as strong as he was in the Hall. An eerie smile crawled across puppet's face. Imitating a grimace.
"Whoever you are, you're going to pay for that!" Gobber said.
Puppet chuckled. It's amazing how little you care about other people when you can live behind a wall of plaster and paint. Even if it is just the size of your face.
As Gobber charged forward, with a flick of his wrist, puppet sent a handful of marbles scattering across the dirt.
Gobber slipped and landed hard on his back, knocking the wind out of his lungs. He opened his eyes and looked up to see puppet towering over him, all tall straightness and stone pale.
Puppet raised his foot over Gobber's face, and slammed it straight down, knocking the Viking unconscious. Gobber now lies senseless on the ground. The blood permeating the gauze, arms relaxed above his head.
Puppet smirks and gently slips the toes of his foot under Gobber's side, then with a simple flick of the toes, Gobber's body rolled in the cold water of the Cove.