He coughed and fumbled through the dank and enclosed space.
Throwing his arms out, Hiccup found a narrow set of walls on which to brace himself. He turned, but his footing slipped on the jagged edge of something hard, and he tripped forward slamming onto the stone, sending up a rush of dust. Striking a flint, Hiccup manages to find a brace to place it in.
The light confirmed his worst fear. Bones and ash scattered the floor. His fingers curled in the grit as he pushed himself onto his knees.
No wait, he thought. Not bones at all.
Hands shaking, Hiccup slid his fingers beneath what had looked to him a moment before like the cap of an ancient skull. It was, instead, the broken sliver of a porcelain face, the curve of a cheek all too evident in the outline. All the pieces were similarly identifiable. Broken fingers, like tiny tombstones, lay scattered in the dust. Half of a hand here. Part of an arm there. A jaw. And ear.
Hiccup flung the shard aside. He stood, wiping his hands on his grime-caked pants, then pressed them to either wall to steady himself. His toe son caught on something hard and he faltered, collapsing onto an ascending stretch of stone steps. Pushing himself up on trembling arms, he peered toward the top of the stairs.
Light peeked through the clearing haze of dust. Several feet above, he saw an open doorway.
Squinting, Hiccup could detect a curtain of green vines handing over the archway in a spilling cascade. Flowers dotted the vines, their heavy heads lolling sleepily amid waxy green foliage. With a gasp, Hiccup pulled himself onto his feet. He mounted the ash-coated stairs and rushed to the doorway. Parting the vines with one hand, he passed through the archway and into a circular room. Countless crimson buds climbed the iron-gate perimeters, their interlacing boughs and vines thick enough to form a living wall between the interior of the room and whatever lay without.
The vines and flowers commandeered the domed ceiling as well, though Hiccup thought he could detect the mesh of black tree limbs and the hint of violet light through one of the thinner sections.
Gazing upward, Hiccup thought there must be thousands of the flowers, maybe even hundreds of thousands – every bud the same deep bloodred hue. In addition to the climbing roses, long-stemmed roses grew along the base of the trellised wall, their blooms blending in with all the others.
Their overpowering fragrance, like the smell from a shattered bottle of perfume, filled his nostrils with every breath, making him light-headed. A carpet of ruby petals covered the circular marble floor, while several open archways lined the curved wall, all of them leading out into what appeared to be rose-lined tunnels.
Though Hiccup saw no sign of the fountain, he knew he was in the garden where Hadrian had told him to find a way to.
At last he'd made it.
He took a step toward the center of the room, his sight set on one of the open archways. But then he stopped, distracted by a staticky voice that came from behind.
"Now there's a surprise," the voice said.
Hiccup's momentary elation withered in an instant, replaced by a crawling fear that caused his heart to leap into his throat.
"I didn't expect to see you here. Gone and locked my old friend, did you?" the acidic voice asked. "And here I've been waiting so long to find him. Ever since he broke my . . . well, everything."
Hiccup turned slowly.
He sat on the ground next to the doorway through which he'd entered, looking just like he had the night he'd discovered him sitting on the ledge of his skylight. The only difference now, though, was that he was no longer in pieces.
Grinning at Hiccup, showing a mouth full of spiked teeth the color of blue quartz, the demon shifted to stand, his gangly frame rising to tower over him.
Hiccup watched in horror as he laid one indigo-clawed hand across his bare chest, right over a sprawling patch of porcelain skin that, unlike the rest of his body, appeared void of intricate carvings. Instead, it displayed a crackled jigsaw pattern of broken bits reconstructed.
"But as you can see," Scrimshaw hissed through his saw-toothed smile, "it's true what they say, time heals all wounds."
Hiccup gulped.
"So tell me what I am to do now," he said, tilting his head at Hiccup with a quick twitchlike movement. The demon blinked, his enormous black eyes closing tightly, then reopening even wither than before.
Hiccup staggered back from him. His mouth fell open, and though he tried to speak, no words came. His throat was too tight, constricted with sudden terror.
Scrimshaw took a step toward him and then another, his black boots crushing velvet petals.
"Maybe," he said, "since our masked companion won't be joining me after all . . . you would like to play instead."
"St-stay away," Hiccup stammered. He risked a glance to his left, searching for the nearest archway, his closest escape. When he looked back, though, he jumped to find him standing right in front of him.
Before he could utter so much as a yelp of surprise, a single indigo claw shot out like the knife of a switchblade, the tip catching him beneath his chin.
"The name of the game was going to be vengeance," Scrimshaw said, lifting Hiccup's face to his. From this close, hiccup could detect the mesh of thin, interconnected hairline fractures that covered his features, like the crackled glaze of a teacup. "And maybe it still could be," he went on in a contemplative whisper. "After all, you were there. As a matter of fact, as I recall, you were the entire reason it happened to begin with, weren't you?"
Hiccup jerked his head away from him. "I – don't know what you're talking about."
Scrimshaw retracted the claw, frowning at Hiccup. "Oh, come now. It's no fun if you don't know why I'm gutting you when I'm gutting you think!" he said, and used the same claw to tap Hiccup's temple.
Hiccup smacked his hand away and took another retreating step.
Annoyance filtered over the demon's face, but then his expression changed, morphing into a look of coy amusement.
"No need to be so short-tempered," he said, flexing spidery fingers. "I could offer you a hint if you like."
Hiccup didn't answer. Instead he focused on the closest archway, one to his right. But just as he mustered the courage to make a break for it, Scrimshaw sidestepped to block his path.
"The essence," he said, grinning again. "Everything about you draws her in. Us in. All for one thing."
Hiccup spun and dashed for the archway directly behind him.
It was no good, though. A black fog swept ahead of him, and Scrimshaw reemerged from the murk, his angular form filling the door frame, the sudden rush of movement sending down a flurry of petals between them.
Opening his arms wide, Scrimshaw pressed his hands to either side of the frame, his palms smashing the heads of several flowers. He crooked one leg and crossed it over the other, smiling down at hiccup expectantly, clearly enjoying the one-sided game he'd enlisted him in.
"It feeds us like a feast for the royals. The very reason why we must suffer." He pronounced. He then pressed the tips of his claw to his lips in a gesture that seemed to say oops. "Padron me," he deceivingly said. "Perhaps I've said too much."
Suddenly it dawned on Hiccup that, just like the previous time they'd spoken in his bedroom, he was referring to his energy that Jolene craves for. Hiccup recalls the way Deadeye and Widow talked about how Jolene feeds off of them because she needs the energy. How they practically break apart because she steals so much.
But for all he knew, the story Scrimshaw was telling him could be fabricated. Was this just one more trick meant to confuse him? Hiccup didn't know. But something he did know, he reminded himself, was that even if the demons could touch him, they held no power to harm him.
Steeling himself, Hiccup ducked under one of the demon's outstretched arms. As he made his way down the curving tunnel, Hiccup forced himself to walk, refusing to let his sear show by running.
He heard Scrimshaw laugh. The sound, like the raspy chuckle of a deadly serial killer, sent spikes of cold dread through Hiccup's midsection. He knew it meant Scrimshaw wasn't going to let him pass him by this easily.
"You know," Hiccup heard him call after him, though Hiccup didn't dare stop to look back, "I hear they also say you can't be in more than one place at a time. But as one who speaks from experience, I find that particular saying to be less true."
As soon as he reached a fork in the tunnels, Hiccup again felt a rush of air skim by, this time tousling his hair. Hiccup brushed the loosened strands from his face as the darkness accumulated in the tunnel archway to his immediate left. Scrimshaw re-formed once more, tapping his chin in thought with one tapered claw.
"I myself ended up in at least seventy-eight that night," he said. "But I'm not quite so broken up over you anymore. In fact, I've just now come to the conclusion that we would all do so much better without you. Tell me, how many pieces would you like to be? While I can't promise I'll be exact, I'll try to keep your request in mind."
"You can't hurt me." Hiccup said, meeting his black gaze.
"Hurt you?" He recoiled in mock horror and folded his hands together, his claws clicking loudly as they interlaced. "No, no," he whispered. "You've got it all wrong, dear child. I don't want to hurt you. I want to kill you. And that I can do."
Again, fighting against the nearly overpowering instinct to run, Hiccup instead gave him his back, if only to prove that he knew he was bluffing, and veered into the tunnel on his right. Black wisps shot past him a third time. He solidified again, closer than before, his grin growing wide enough to deepen the zigzag crack that ran up one side of his skull.
No longer able to ignore the urge to retreat, Hiccup backpedaled toward the tunnel passageway he'd occupied the moment before. At the same time, he couldn't bring himself to turn around and start running, either hypnotized by the dark resolve burning within his eyes.
"I'm not afraid to fight you." Hiccup snapped.
Scrimshaw gave him an appraising once-over, raising a clawed hand to hover above Hiccup's head as though making a note of his height. "While the attempt to do so would certainly be an appropriate if uninformed response given your circumstances" – he lowered his hand, lifting a single claw – "you seem to be missing one vital element in the whole situation. It's something you need to understand, I think, before he can get started and that is that I" – he pointed at himself – "as you might have guessed, am not like the others. I'm what you'd call special. A one-of-a-kind specimen, a Ming vase amid pale imposters." He laughed at that, throwing his head back before refocusing on Hiccup. "The very last of my ilk, in fact," he went on. "Unique in that I bear no connection whatsoever to the outsider who has found himself trapped here, that bow who I know you came all this way to reclaim. The one whose adoration shields you from all the others. Blah, blah, blah."
Hiccup's eyes widened as he spoke, his mind returning to the vision in the hospital room and the moment where Scrimshaw had appeared at Haymitch's bedside, whispering to him in hissing tones. Instantly hiccup felt this blood congeal in his veins as the truth invaded his consciousness. His legs stiffened beneath him while his lungs ceased to take in air.
Scrimshaw wasn't one of his demons. He couldn't be and he never had been.
He was Haymitch's.
Eyeing him closely, taking one step toward Hiccup for every two he took back to get away, he seemed to have monitoring Hiccup's expression, waiting for the moment of realization to wash over him. And Hiccup knew right away that his face must have betrayed his sudden understanding, that his mounting terror must have become apparent, because all at once, he stopped his advance.
His smile deepened into the voracious grin of a piranha.
Hiccup swallowed the lump in his throat. His blood pumping in his ears. "No matter what, she'll still kill you for taking away her precious life-support. I know she forbid you from hurting me."
"Perhaps," Scrimshaw agreed. "But it'll be worth it, even in pieces when you're gone." He brought a hand to hold his chin. "Then again, I have always wondered what is it that makes her so, protective of such a little runt."
Hiccup's fear collides with rage at the term, runt. The word alone always managing to seep under his skin like a tick.
"I'd like to see what." Scrimshaw spoke.
Suddenly he rushed Hiccup in a cloud of blackness. Before Hiccup could even register to run, he felt a clawed hand grasp around his neck. Then the next, he felt his body pressed to the brickwork of the tunnel. He struggled and gasped as Scrimshaw's hand coiled around his neck. Not totally killing off his air, but just enough to make Hiccup panic. Hiccup gasped and coughed as he tried to refill his lungs.
Scrimshaw gently grabs Hiccup's jaw with one hand. Hiccup's hands both on Scrimshaw's wrist to try and pry it loose so he can breathe. Scrimshaw brings their faces close together, using his thumb, he opens Hiccup's mouth. They're lips nearly touching – Hiccup swears Scrimshaw could hear his fluttering pulse – and without breaking eye contact, Scrimshaw takes a long deep breath.
Hiccup suddenly feels the air leaving his lungs, and it's like he struggling to add more as Scrimshaw is literally sucking the air right out of his lungs. Hiccup breathes in through his nose but can feel the air escape his lips. As Scrimshaw draws the life out of him, Hiccup had to blink a couple times before he could make if official he wasn't imagining it.
There was a faint gold tint to the air that Scrimshaw was drawing. Small glint sparkled and wink like little stars entrapped within the golden fog.
Hiccup's lungs are on fire, but he doesn't gives him a rush.
He even watches in awe and horror as he sees the small spiderweb fissures across Scrimshaws chest start to fade into his skin until it's completely and utterly smooth and polished.
Finally when Scrimshaw pulls away. He drops Hiccup, and Hiccup in turn clutches his throat and heavily coughs. A wave of nausea washes over him, but all that penetrates his lips is bile. He inhales heavily and quickly while trying to ease his coughing.
He looks to Scrimshaw as he exhales in happiness. He looks to Hiccup with a predatory lust. "You, are," He takes a breath. "Simply, intoxicating."
Hiccup's still breathing deeply, his back and palms pressed flat to the wall, the terror obvious on his face.
He was hooked.
Bringing his hands to his face, Scrimshaw crisscrossed his claws in front of his open eyes as though to cover them. He watched Hiccup, unblinking through the cagelike barrier.
"One," he said. "Two."
Hiccup bolted, taking the path directly behind him, the walls of roses whizzing past.
"Threeeee."
Met with a dead end, Hiccup skittered to a halt. "No!" he shrieked.
"Fouuuur," he heard Scrimshaw drawl. "Some more numbers. Aaand – nine-ten!" he shouted cackling.
Hiccup whipped around, only to find the passageway now empty, two foot-shaped depression imprinted in the snowlike ash in the place where the demon had stood a moment before.
Panic rose within Hiccup as he hurried back down the long vine-covered corridor, over the footprints, choosing his next direction at random, no longer certain from which way he'd come. The roses seemed to watch him like thousands of spectators as he passed, their delicate heads bobbing in Hiccup's wake. There was no sign of Scrimshaw around the next corner, or even the next. As Hiccup took one passageway after another, he couldn't help but feel that he was winding his way deeper and deeper into the garden's maze and into Scrimshaw's snare.
The soles of his boot and prostatic leg slapped the marble floor, the sound muffled only slightly by the thin coating of petals and ash that carpeted each passageway. Hiccup whirled to stare at his tracks, wondering is he should try to cover them or just keep running. He knew the demon were far too fast for him to outrun. If Scrimshaw had wanted his dead right away, he'd have killed him already. He was looking for a chase, for the hunt before the kill. And was long as Hiccup panicked, he would be giving him just that. He had to get a grip. He had to think his way around him – invent his own rules.
Know when you are dreaming, he thought.
Hiccup reached a hand up and grasped the hamsa, relieved to find it still there. He rubbed the jewel with his thumb and whispered. "Show me the way to the fountain."
In response, the charm suddenly flicked out in a perfectly straight line, aimed itself forward at twelve, like a needle of a compass, it pointed him forward.
Hiccup began to run again. As he did, he pictured in his mind that in the next tunnel and the next one after that, there would be no ash to record his steps.
Turning the corner, Hiccup suddenly himself in another circular room identical to the first. But now, the rose-covered corridors leading out of this clearing appeared to have been swept clean of ash. Hiccup checked his necklace again, it vibrated slightly before tugging him left.
Hiccup made the turn. He hastened toward the end of the covered hall, through the opening, and into the largest clearing yet. And here, in the center of the room, stood the very thing he caught – the fountain.
High above the brass statue's head and arcing veil, a blanket of roses twined with the decorative domed ceiling, their vines braided with the scrolling wrought-iron bars. A breeze entered the gaps between flowers and metal, sending a cascade of petals raining down. Everything was just as it had been in Grandmamma's dream. Everything except for one detail.
"Hadrian?" he shouted.
There was no response. He wasn't there. There was no one here. Nothing.
Hiccup bit his lip, cursing in his mind, knowing that by yelling he'd given himself away.
Checking his necklace, it had since dropped back to rest at the base of his neck.
"Take me to Hadrian!" Hiccup grasped the charm. This time, it snapped off of Hiccup's neck and floated out in front of him. The charm pointed straight at north, and the two ends of the necklace spun uncontrollably. When they stopped, the each pointed in a separate direction. What did that mean? Was it telling him that any way would take him to Hadrian, or that no way would?
Hiccup groaned in annoyance as the necklace reattached and snapped itself back around his neck.
"I knew you'd come here." Said a nearby voice, one Hiccup knew well. "You said you would."
With eager steps he moved closer to the silent fountain. Rounding the ornate grillwork gate, he discovered Hadrian sitting against its base, occupying the exact same space he had the morning he'd followed him to the abandoned neighborhood, his head hung glow, held between his clawed hands.
"Hadri-"
"You shouldn't have come here." He cut hiccup off, and looked up, his face twisted with anger. "Even if you said you would, you shouldn't have." He got up and began moving toward him. "Why," he growled, "when we will only show you we are not worth it? Why, when we have no other choice but to prove to you we're not worth it?"
Hiccup swallowed and began to back away from him.
"Hadrian," Hiccup's voice shook. "it's me, Hiccup."
He didn't know what he was saying, what any of it meant, or where it was coming from, but the rage contorting his broken face made it clear that, like Scrimshaw, he was dealing with something that wanted to rip him to shreds. And even if Hadrian couldn't do it himself, Hiccup knew by the look in his eye that he would settle for watching.
"Hadrian, I came back for you!"
"Why would you do it?! You know the consequences!"
Hiccup sprinted toward one of the doorways, trying to think of some way to control this, some way to change what was happening to him, knowing Hadrian would be on him in a second's time.
Ahead of him, Scrimshaw turned the corner, filling the frame of the archway he'd almost taken. Hiccup stuttered to a halt, he looked behind him and saw that Hadrian had already started toward him at a fast walk, his black claws bared, his furious gaze trained on Hiccup.
Hiccup looked to Scrimshaw, whole smile broadened at the turn of events.
Hiccup tossed his head from side to side, glancing between the two of them, out of options for escape.
Then Scrimshaw launched himself at Hiccup, claws raised, jaw unhinging as he unleashed a shrill screech.
Hiccup broke away in a dash, already knowing it could only end in death. Any moment now, someone's hands would catch him by the throat. Hadrian would seize him and Scrimshaw would rake through him with his claws, spattering the roses with his blood. Or, Scrimshaw would suck away all of Hiccup's life and then gut him like he promised.
That ghost was right. He would die here.
As he reached one of the archways that would lead him back into the maze, he heard a fierce yell, followed by a crashing sound. Loud and unexpected, it made Hiccup stop even though his body urged him to keep running. The noise, like a porcelain bowl smashing, sounded just like the splintering of a demon.
Hiccup whipped around to find Hadrian standing erect in the center of the domed room while Scrimshaw, half-shattered, missing on arm and half of his torso, knelt several yards off, surrounded by the scattered pieces of his broken body.
Hiccup gaped at Scrimshaw as he peered around at the fragment-strewn floor, his eyes flitting from his severed arm, the one portraying the etching of the long-haired and diamond-tailed mermaid, to the smashed shard, and finally, to the unlikely figure who had wrought the destruction.
As he stared up at Hadrian, the look of shock on Scrimshaw's face began to fade, transforming into demonic rage. He opened his mouth, let loose a howl, and dispersed into swirls of black ink. Re-forming on his feet, Scrimshaw ran full tilt toward Hadrian, who stood ready.
Scrimshaw closed the distance between them. He pulled back his remaining arm and prepared to swing at Hadrian, whop at the last moment dissipated into wisps of violet ink. Then Scrimshaw loosened once more into black swirls, slithering through the air to entwine with the purple vapor. The two of them merged into one cloud, a virulent mixture of opposing currents, each struggling to overpower the other.
Together they flew across the room, past Hiccup, who pressed himself to the floor as they collided with a patch of wall just behind him. A torrent of rose petals burst forth. Their faces, sharp and snapping, swam up through the murk of the smoke as they shot along the concave ceiling, cutting a sawlike path and sending down a spray of more bloodred petals.
Hiccup pushed himself to his feet. He ran out into the center of the room, to the fountain. Grasping the railing, he peered up into the domed ceiling, his eyes seeking out Hadrian. Was he . . . could he possibly be . . . protecting him?
Reappearing in solid form, Scrimshaw kneed Hadrian in the abdomen and punched him back, crashing into the wall of vines. Scrimshaw dived in, but Hadrian grabbed his wrists and head-butted him back. Hadrian then windmill kicked Scrimshaw, and Scrimshaw responded by sucker punching him and shucking Hadrian to the other wall.
A large crater embedded into the wall, and Hadrian fell as Scrimshaw dived.
One of them, Hiccup wasn't sure which at first, transformed into a bird. Flapping giant wings, the enormous creature suddenly switched its path of attack, aiming itself straight for Hiccup, talons bared.
Hiccup screamed and, falling to his knees, lifted his arms to cover his head just in time to shield his face from the claws that slashed the flesh of his wrists and hands. They raked at him mercilessly, and the sound of his own cries joined with the creature's piercing screeches. Reaching back, Hiccup brought forward his shield, and is rewarded when he hears it smack against the bird's body.
The bird flips back in the air for a second before regaining itself and screeches. Hiccup huddles behind the shield as he sees the bird prep for anther dive. Until a second bird swooped in to divert the first. In a flurry of tearing feathers and stabbing beaks, the two birds freewheeled far up and away from Hiccup. They fluttered madly against each other, almost seeming to become one best for a brief moment, until with talons locked, they began to plummet toward the ground. They tore apart at the last second, the larger of the two birds ripping free one wing of the smaller.
The smaller bird – a crow – squawked as it burst into murky violet wisp, re-forming with a hollow cry into the figure of Hadrian, his arm now missing from the shoulder socket down. The second bird, a raven, hurtled itself fast as an arrow toward Hadrian, who had lost sight of the other demon.
"Behind you!" Hiccup cried as he saw Scrimshaw solidify at his back.
Hadrian swung around, just in time for Scrimshaw to plow into him.
Hiccup heard the sickening crunch, the sound of a delicate glass object wrapped in cloth being smashed to bits. A second crash followed as Hadrian tipped onto the floor, half of his side caving in on impact, the back of his head collapsing inward like the shell of an egg.
"Hadrian!" Hiccup cried and ran toward him.
His saw his eyes flicker out and become empty pits, as hollow as the hole in his cheek.
Hiccup barreled forward, readying his shield into a crossbow at Scrimshaw. The demon looked up from the body of his slain opponent. He dodged the arrow, but a second later, Hiccup grabbed the shield's outer rim and flung it at the demon. It crashed into Scrimshaw's face, crumbling his nose. Scrimshaw was flung back and the shield spun back around like a boomerang and landed in Hiccup's hands.
As Hiccup stepped in front of Hadrian, Scrimshaw's eyes narrowed on him, no longer full of morbid playfulness or cryptic mirth but genuine malice and hate.
"You," he seethed. "This is all because of you. I am tired of you. It ends . . . now!"
He rushed him and Hiccup fell back, sprawling against the floor as his shadow grew long over him. Scrimshaw raised his arm, claws gleaming.
All hiccup could do was cover his face with his shield and wait for the deathblow to rain down.
The blow never came.
For what felt like an eternity, Hiccup stayed crouched where he was, curled into himself behind his shield.
Was he waiting for him to look up? Was it that he wanted Hiccup to see it coming?
Hiccup refused. He would not lift his gaze. He couldn't give Scrimshaw the satisfaction of seeing the terror on his face.
His thoughts, those that would surely be his last, wen tot Hadrian and his efforts to try and save him. Whatever he'd been, whatever tortures and horrors he had brought with him before, here in this moment, he had tried to protect Hiccup. He had tried and he failed.
Hiccup shifted his eyes in the direction where Hadrian had lain, scattered and broken. But Hiccup did not see him there.
Except for a few splintered bits, he was gone.
Hiccup risked a glace up and saw Scrimshaw's single hand now groping at his throat, attempting to pry away the black-clawed fingers that gripped him there, squeezing.
Trembling, Hiccup watched as the hairline crack along Scrimshaw's skull began to widen. Others soon appeared as the pressure increased. The web-thin fissures spread quickly across his startled face like black veins.
Hadrian continued to tighten his hold on Scrimshaw's neck, until, at last, the blue demon succumbed, sinking to his knees.
For a moment, it seemed as though Scrimshaw might try to speak, to say something to Hiccup, his but words were cut off, crushed into silence along with his neck, which caved at last under Hadrian's unrelenting grip.
Hiccup shrieked, cringing as Scrimshaw's head toppled from his shoulders. It fell to the floor, where it shattered amid the layer of dust and petals. His body followed soon after, slumping slowly to one side, then toppling to the floor.
Hiccup stared at the empty torso, transfixed by its hollow interior. His eyes skimmed the surface of the remains, focusing on the few beautifully carved images that, despite the extent of the destruction, had managed to remain intact. A swirling whirlpool, a rolling cascade of waves and foam, the curling tentacles of a giant octopus. There was the sailing ship too, only half of which now exited, the other half seeming to have dropped off into the jagged and open cavity of his side.
Looking closer still, Hiccup noticed what seemed to be a miniature portrait among the carvings. Engraved just above the heart, the image showed the quarter profile of a young woman, her head turned as though she was peering back at something over one shoulder. Her eyelids, heavy and drooping, veiled her downcast eyes, which seemed as though they wanted to close. The girls' dark hair, etched with care in minute curving lines, was bundled around her head in an old-fashioned style. Hiccup thought he recognized the image, but before he could place his finger on it, his attention was drawn to Hadrian's wavering shadow.
Hiccup tilted his head up to find the demon still hovering over him.
He swayed, seeming disoriented, even lost as he peered down and around himself. It made Hiccup wonder if he even knew what had just happened, what he had just done, or exactly how much damage he had sustained.
Hiccup watched as he lifted his hand to his collar. Grabbing hold of the top strap of his jacket, he wrenched it loose, baring his chest. He touched the fragmented area just above his heart, the place he had repaired the morning Hiccup had found him sitting by the fountain. He cringed as several shards tumbled forth, falling to clink against the marble floor.
"I . . . told you," he wheezed, his words almost entirely voiceless. It was as if, like a shattered violin, he had lost the ability to resonate sound. "Didn't I tell you?"
Holding his hand over then open crater in his chest, he tottered away from Hiccup, away from the mess that was Scrimshaw. As he moved, his whole frame creaked, groaning like a rickety structure preparing to collapse in on itself.
"Hadrian, you're hurt."
Hiccup placed his palms on the ash-powdered floor, about to push himself to his feet, when a quiet pop mad him stop. It was the sound of one of Hadrian's knees fracturing. He began to list to one side, then slip straight down toward the floor. Hadrian landed on his knees with a crack. The weight of his torso caused his upper body to tip forward, like the trunk of a tree whose base had been sliced cleanly through.
Fumbling forward, Hiccup caught him as he toppled into his open arms. Hadrian's hand fell away from his chest, allowing a slip of fabric to pour halfway out of him as he slumped against Hiccup. Keeping a firm hold on Hadrian, his broken form as light and lifeless as a marionette's, hiccup guided him gently to the floor; fighting back the tears. Then his eyes went to the thin length of smooth cloth that had tumbled from his chest and partially into Hiccup's lap.
Hiccup nearly lost it at the sight of the violet ribbon. His mother's ribbon. His ribbon.
"No. No, no, no." Hiccup whispered.
Hiccup didn't dare touch it as he peered down at Hadrian, who stared upward and past Hiccup at something above him.
Hiccup glanced briefly at the statue of the woman who stood atop the fountain.
"You can't let her win." The demon rasped.
Hiccup returned his gaze to Hadrian. "Hadrian," he said, hoping to bring his attention back to him.
"Present," he said, his eyes shifting to meet Hiccup's, "if not accounted for."
Hiccup clamped his mouth closed, but he had to speak. To admit. "I can't do this without you."
Hadrian squeezed his eye shut as though the sentence pained him. When he opened them again, his lips began to move, attempting to form words. "Sure you can, you're Hiccup." He whispered, making a feeble gesture with his hand before turning his head from Hiccup, refusing, it seemed, to meet his gaze.
Hiccup seized the ribbon and tossed it aside.
"No, I-I made you a promise. I said I'd come back for you." Hiccup choked.
"You said you needed the ribbon. Asked me to keep it safe. Or don't you remember?"
Hiccup shook his head. "I said I'd come back for both of you."
"One out of two isn't bad." Hadrian coldly joked.
"You're more important than a ribbon!" Hiccup burst out, before really considering if it was a good idea.
"Why?" He demanded, his head turning toward him, his frame crackling.
"Because!" Hiccup snapped, flinching as a new fracture erupted across his face. "After everything you've done, and everything you did to, help me, you deserve it." Hiccup sniffed.
"You don't understand us. We don't even understand ourselves."
"Please," Hiccup softly cried. "Please help me. Help me find her and – and I can try to put you back together."
Hadrian laughed, the sound low and continuous, deep and corrosive. And as he laughed, he began to crack apart, his body crumbling while the fault line in his face threatened to split wider. Then, as suddenly as it had come, his laughter ceased and his smile fell away. He seemed to relax as he rolled his head carefully in Hiccup's direction, as though he knew that his next movement could prove to be his last.
"Is that why you came back?" he asked. "To fix me?"
The way he was looking at Hiccup now, his half-splintered face shorn clean of its malevolence – it reminded him of another face. A calm and quiet face.
"Hiccup?" Hiccup whispered.
Cupping Hadrian's head, Hiccup leant down and took a deep breath, then placed his lips on the breaking demon. Blowing the air into Hadrian's lungs, Hiccup could see Hadrian's remaining chest rise and fall. Hiccup breaks apart for another breathe, then kisses him again with a deeper breath.
It's so bizarre, definitely, but Hiccup didn't care. Right now he was willing to do anything it took to keep Hadrian with him. Remembering how Scrimshaw had sucked the air and, essence out of him, Hiccup hoped the same would go for Hadrian.
Hiccup didn't dare to pump the spot over Hadrian's heart, fearing it'll only crack him more. Hope flickers within Hiccup as he hears a cracking and grinding sound.
Breaking their contact and looking up, Hiccup watches as little fragments crawl their way toward Hadrian and manage to piece together in little pieces, but it was better than nothing.
Hadrian's eyes, which had begun to fade out, the black murk within thinning into a filmy and translucent glaze, suddenly grew solid again.
Hiccup scooted himself still closer to him, cupping his cold, hard face in his hands.
"See, I can help you," Hiccup's voice shaking. "And you're connected to me, I can make you whole."
"Not exactly appropriate." Hadrian jokes.
"Who cares, I can help. I can make you free."
Hadrian lifted his hand toward Hiccup, and even when Hiccup felt his claws graze his cheek, Hiccup did not pull back. He pressed his cheek into the cold hand. Closing his eyes, a small bud of calmness and, comfort, budding at Hiccup's core.
"She's home." He croaks.
Hiccup replies with an indiscriminant shake of his head. "Let me help." He begs.
"Hiccup," he said.
Hiccup opened his eyes, tears streaming down his cheeks. Soaking into Hadrian's palm.
"I'm already free."
With that, Hadrian allowed his arm to fall. As it met with the floor, it send a vibration ricocheting through his body. The fissure in his face could bear no more. It split wide, and his head cracked in two.
Instantly his eyes became empty sockets.
A tightness gripped in Hiccup's chest. Hiccup clutched his fists. Around him, the roses clinging to the dome began to quiver. All at once, they gave a unanimous shudder, and with a sound like the rush of brittle leaves, they began to shrivel and die. The decay spread before him in a wave, as though wrought by an invisible fire.
Ash rained down around him.
Hiccup looked up at the figure that stood atop the fountain.
With a howl of rage, he made it burst apart.
Amid the wreckage and floating dust, Hiccup pulled the ribbon free from his chest.
Crumpling into himself, he released a choking sob, knowing that he too, belonged to the ruin.