That night, Hiccup's conversation with Jolene continued to run through his mind in laps. Over and over he had to process what Jolene had told him. It was defiantly a lot to process, and on top of that, he was the only one she had told in confidence.

"I'm a witch."

Those three words buzzed around his head like angry hornets. And they stung his every thought as they continued to swarm.

Now, sitting at his desk, rough sketches of Toothless scattered across the wood, he tried to shrink the feeling of needing to tell his father. But his promise to Jolene is the only thing that keeps him upstairs.

Not long after Jolene left, Stoick had returned home after a long day. Hiccup had left him a cup of tea and excused himself upstairs without supper, doing his best to pull the sleeve of his tunic over his hand. Needless to say he had lost his appetite for the evening, and he even felt a little nauseous. There was a definite feeling of excitement and worry mixing together inside his heart. Joy because he had finally found someone who shares the same burden and understanding of having theses powers, but worry because of the many secret and powers that Jolene might hold.

Strangely, it gave Hiccup a new sense of motivation to get back to the magic training. It had been at least four days without his training with Grandmamma, and now that's he's deciding to get back to it, he worries that she will deny him. But something tells him she won't.

But what made it so different now that Jolene was a witch?

Was it because she understood?

Was it because he didn't want her going through his alone?

How is it that one girl had somehow managed to make him feel so much better about, everything? They barely knew each other, and yet Hiccup senses that they've met before.

An instant connection.

But then Hiccup starts to suddenly have flashes of the dream. The dream where he finds a beautiful woman playing the piano in the woods. Then his mother giving him the ribbon, and her words. "Never forget who you really are."

Then the words of the woman. "That woman, she's always ruining my music."

Something about the ways he said made him feel more cautious around her. He knew better to trust his mother. But what was it about her words that made him feel cautious. Did it have something to do with the woman?

And the strangest thing is that he felt it somehow connected to Jolene. No doubt her beauty matched with the woman in his dreams perfectly. But if that's the case, why did it seem she hated his mother? Especially since Jolene has doesn't even know about Hiccup's mother.

How the two connect is still unknown.

His energy draining with every thought, Hiccup decides to drop it and ready for bed. Pulling the quilt over his body, Hiccup blows out the candle as he hears Toothless come in from the skylight and ignite his bed. With his eyelids closed, the fire had a soft glow to it, and once it died down, Hiccup thoughts overtook him and he slept.

Hiccup stared down at the village as he maneuvered through the congested sky. Slushy rain streaked his eyes, turning the whole view mottled. Snoggletog lights blurred into glowing smudges, while the bright holiday tree melded into a shapeless mesh of colors.

As Hiccup edged toward the main road, a sifting of white snow slowly began to replace the sleet. It collected on the houses in fluffy specks, the downy flecks bringing Hiccup's thoughts back to the upcoming holiday. Rows of trees swished past on the left, clumps of wild mistletoe clinging to their barren branches like tangled knots in petrified hair.

He flew over the Square and through the Plaza. It was then he felt a brush on his elbow. Looking over his shoulder, he was surprised and in shock to find a pair of Night Fury wings on his back, flapping by themselves, and yet he felt no brisk of air.

Am I dreaming again?

As his thoughts began to regenerate, it dawned upon Hiccup that he wasn't even questioning where he was even going. Even if this was a dream, why is that he knew where he was going, and yet he didn't? His body just flew over the village, as if it was controlling itself, leading him somewhere. And he didn't question it.

Each part of the village he recognized, using the Snoggletog tree as a marker, he branched out his vision toward the houses and the forest and the Cove. His body suddenly took a dive and he nearly crashed into the snowy earth, when the wind picked up and he was hovering only a couple feet above the ground. As he blindly navigated his way around, soon he came upon an unfamiliar part of town. Hiccup knew every back alley and shortcut, but he hadn't explore this part of town given that it was barren and old. In fact it was slated for demolition last summer.

A shudder runs through Hiccup's body at the memory of his battle with Hadrian.

They had had a hand in the demolition. Pounding through walls and crashing through floors. Wood shattering everywhere and splinters embedding themselves into his skin. It had taken Hiccup a few days to stop his habit of rubbing his hands along his arms to check for the ominous glowing marks that were seared into his skin by the Doppelganger. By the end of the battle, Hadrian had been locked away in a spellbook and trapped with Grandmamma's cabin.

The neighborhood and since been demolished, until Hiccup watches the land bleed from the snow laden ground to a grey ash-coated desert. Looking ahead, trees, black and dead, stood innumerable before a glowing violet horizon. Leaden and tatters, the clouds hung low in the slate-colored sky, while the interlocking boughs of the tree created a webwork of shadow patterns over the ash coated ground. On either side of him, through the network of trees, he could see only a single house though its structure was far less recognizable.

The foundation beneath supported a mere frame, the façade itself in crumbling ruin. Doors and windows lacked panes and wood, giving the home the appearance of blackened skulls, their vacant entrances like slack-jawed mouths gaping in shock.

A burst of wind slipped past as he continued to make his way down the desolate street. It was the first breeze he felt since he even entered the dream. Cool and brisk, it carried with it a familiar scent.

Finally as he closed in on the home, his body suddenly jerked to a stop and with a heavy flap of his wings, he flew up until he was hidden within the clouds. And yet he could still see the house perfectly. He did his best to remain focused as he saw a figure make its way up the three steps leading to the porch. The structure and built of the figure made it unmistakable.

Snotlout.

He knocked on the door and Hiccup watched as a bright blue mist, emanating its own light hovered over to the door. Not even extending out a limb, the door opened and Snotlout smiled. He raised his arms up, as if ready to embrace a hug. But the mist simply hovered in its palace.

At the head of the mist, a small hole slowly opened, and inside, needle-like teeth exposed themselves. In the shape of a ten point star.

Then in a blink, it swooped and swarmed Snotlout. Hiccup was about to scream for him, but he watched in horror as Snotlout suddenly became gaunt and inhuman. The flesh of his cheeks sank father inward to revel the contours of his skull, his lips shriveling back to expose rows of his teeth. His nose dissolved into a hole while his eyes, hollowing, became sunken pits lit by two distant pinpricks of light.

And the whole time he was smiling, as if he was enjoying it.

Hiccup felt the scream grow and claw at his throat like an angry bird. He made no move, even though his heart thundered in his chest. Then his eyes flicked to behind Snotlout, and suddenly there was an endless expanse of apparitions lined up behind Snotlout. They all fidgeted, eager to be the net contender. Hiccup stared in shock at what they were doing.

He watches helplessly as the mist finally retracts from Snotlout, leaving him grey and gaunt. He falls to his knees before flopping on the porch. The mist then grows and expands until it flies over the lineup and Hiccup watches at the figures reach up and cry for it, and when it descends, they morph into screams. But they don't retreat.

Suddenly it felt like everything went still. The figures vanished, and Hiccup jolted as he sees the mist almost look up to him. Whispers crawled from it, sounding in a strange rhythmic pattern. "Tellekli!"

In an instant, it dispersed into smoke, rushing him like a gust of wind. Hiccup had no time to scream before the tendrils of vapor wrapped around his throat. He felt himself dropping. He felt that same feeling in his stomach of when he and Toothless do a steep dive. He lifted his hand s to claw at the looping threads of swirling mist. His nails scraped his own skin, but the tightness remained. He spun and rotated in every direction as he tries to pry the unfeeling fingers. He twisted. Stumbling backward to escape, he bumped into a mountainside ricocheting off. He descended faster, almost crashing into the woodlands.

The inky swirls whisked around him and Hiccup held his breath, afraid of what would happen if he dared breathe in any part of it. Hiccup fought the urge to shut his eyes, to shut it out. He forces his wings to keep flapping, regardless of which direction he'd wind up. Meanwhile, he trained the fringe of his vision on the thick black branch that was coming up inches to his right, his attention zoning in on it.

He felt a brush across his lips. The mist made a disembodied whisper. Growling, Hiccup jerked his head away from it. He lifted his leg and kicked hard. The mist seemed to loosen, and his foot wen through smoke. Seizing his chance, he flew for the branch, groping his hands around it. It wrenched off the tree with a snap and Hiccup began taking swipes at the darkness around him. The branch sliced through the tendrils again and again with no effect. The haze slid back from him. Hiccup finally breathed in fresh air and swooped high into the clouds. He breathed in and out as he tried to find the mist. When he saw it, he charged, the branch whistling as it arced through the air. Again the things lithered back, lost once more amid the thickening murk.

With a deafening howl, the mist charged for him, claws materialized, outstretched. Hiccup swung the branch again, but it dispersed at the last second, splitting into multiple wisps, each separate strand whisking off in its own direction until he wasn't sure which way to turn. Hiccup went suddenly still as he felt the tendrils return, wrapping their way around his waist from behind before transforming into arms. He felt a pull into a cold presence; he feels the breath down his skin and bones.

"Don't touch me!" Hiccup railed.

Hen raised the branch and jabbed it backward. The branch sailed through nothing, the momentum of the action serving only to knock him off balance. He teetered, catching himself with his wings frantically flapping to regain balance.

He heaved in sharp, quick breathes, and his gaze darted around his surroundings.

But the mist was gone.

The branch disintegrated into ash in his hands.

As he felt his heartbeat slow, it surged again as his back began to feel lighter. He started to bounce, down and he looked over his shoulder to find his wings shriveling. The hissing of fire burned holes through his skin, like the Red Death. Slowly his wings faded off and he began to spiral downward.

No.

No!

He tried to flap but it was useless. Soon his wings became ash and he was left alone as the wings seared his hair and skin. The ground grew nearer.

Hiccup screamed.

His howl, primal and fierce, priced the nighttime silence.

He strained against the floor, his hair whipping at his face. Twisting and writhing, he finally yanked free from the hands that grasped for his wrists. Scrambling back, he slammed into the kitchen table, banging his skull on the wooden frame.

"-iccup!"

His eyes sprang open. The room swirled into focus.

He blinked rapidly at the light that radiated from the hearth, his heart thundering in his chest, manic as a captured bird.

"Hiccup, wake up. Wake up, son."

He gasped, heaving, and swallowed the air in gulps.

Someone patted his cheek. He seized the large, warm hand between both of his, his attention narrowing on the spiked gauntlets that encircled one wrist and the slim red hairs that poked out from beneath the sleeve of a familiar forest green tunic.

Hiccup looked into the face of his father. He stared at him hard, eyes searching, his dark brows knitted together. He glanced from him to his skylight. Upstairs. Closed. The crack and rumble of thunder indicated a stormy night. Hiccup felt a hand brush his cheek, and he flinched. He turned back to his farther, whose eyes strove to make contact with his.

"Hiccup, look at me. You were dreaming, son. Dreaming."

He heard himself whimper as he scooted to sit up. His empty stomach churned, and he swallowed in an effort to repress a wave of nausea. Stoick grasped him by the shoulder, and Hiccup collapsed into his arms. He pressed his face into his neck and released one long, choking sob.

"Shh," he hushed. "Just a bad dream. That's all."

Over his shoulder, he caught the sight of Toothless hovering close by, his face anxious, etched with delicate lines of worry. He drew near and sank onto the floor, next to Hiccup, placing a cool tongue to Hiccup's brow. That was when Hiccup saw Gobber standing near the open fireplace. Hiccup quaked in his father's arms while the adrenaline made its final rounds through his system. Fingers twitching, he curled them into the sleeve of Stoick's tunic.

"It's okay," his Dad said as he rocked him, his voice firm, commanding, as though his saying so held the power to make it true. He stroked Hiccup's back, and Hiccup could feel his hand smoothing over shoulder blades moist with specks of sweat.

Hiccup shut his eyes and tried to slow his breathing. To bring his heart to normal speed and return his mind to reality. While his father rubbed his back, Toothless licked his forehead, the nimble tips of his forked tongue tucking flyaway strands, smoothing his hair.

All the attention made Hiccup feel so small, so helpless, like he'd somehow reverted to being five years old again.

Only his father couldn't tell him that nightmare weren't real.

Because he knew better.

"What happened?" Goober gently asks.

Hiccup numbly shakes his head no, and Stoick glares at Gobber, motioning now's not the time. "It's all right son. I'm here. I'm here." Stoick coos. "I'm sure it was just a nightmare."

"No." Hiccup mumbles, barely audible. "I fell. Through the ceiling."

"You're fine, Hiccup. You're okay."

"Uh, Stoick . . ."

Hiccup feel Stoick glance up at Gobber's voice, and Hiccup can feel him go rigid. Hiccup weakly forces himself to turn his head, and immediately he wishes he hadn't looked. His throat tightened and he whimpered. Tears stinging his eyes and Hiccup could've swore he felt his heart shrivel.

The quilt and pillow of his bed were stuck. Between the floor level dividing the bedroom and main floor. They hung there in suspense, mocking Hiccup like the dead bodies dangling at the gallows. A bolt of lightning created grotesque shadows across the ceiling. Gobber gasped and Stoick tightened his hug on Hiccup.

"What am I Dad?" Hiccup begs. "What's happening to me?"