"Where do you come from?" the dragon asked, fearful. Scared of just what the answer might be. Your mind. Your dreams. Your nightmares. For a long moment, the viking said nothing, and the dragon began to worry that this was another question the human would not answer. But then the viking responded, and the reply was nothing he had expected. Not even close.

"Do you believe in time travel?"

...

The wind whistled through the night fury's wings as he flew with unnerving speed back to the dragons' nest. The coldness of it did not even register with the dragon; his entire attention was consumed with Hiccup's voice, echoing around in his mind. Those strange, unexpected, bewildering words that had sent the night fury spiraling even deeper into a descent into madness - or, perhaps, an ascent into the extraordinary.

Do you believe in time travel?

The nest came into view, and the night fury began to fly faster still. Hiccup's single, pointed question had the dragon desperate for answers. Though he was not completely sure how to go about getting them, the night fury knew exactly where to start. So, he folded his wings and dived silently into the nest, landing lightly next to the pale blue Gronckle he knew would still be awake. With a quiet wheezy laugh, the Gronckle raised his head and opened his eyes, turning to consider the dragon before him.

"Ah, it's the night fury, back again," he laughed slowly but pleasantly. "I haven't seen you in a while. Was starting to think I'd have to wait for the next life." The Gronckle laughed again, but this time, it degenerated into an undignified series of gasping coughs. The night fury waited them out patiently.

"Are you alright?" he asked when the Gronckle had finished.

"Oh, you know I'm fine," the other dragon smiled weakly. The night fury smiled back. He had always admired the Gronckle's positivity and sense of humor; even in the darkest of times, the dragon always had a smile or a low, rumbling laugh at the ready. But although his laughter and optimism were well-known, this Gronckle had always been known among the dragons for something else. "You seek some wisdom, friend?" the aging Gronckle asked kindly.

"I do," the night fury smiled back, somewhat sadly. Really, it was all the other dragons came to him for. When someone visited the Gronckle, it was for a bit of advice or knowledge, and nothing else. The night fury used to visit him some time ago, just to try to provide the friendship the Gronckle no doubt had always wanted. But he hadn't come in a long time, and the guilt began to stir uneasily in the pit of the night fury's stomach.

"Alright, well, you go ahead and ask away," the Gronckle encouraged. "Oh, but one thing first. Don't feel bad about not coming around. There are plenty of other dragons that come around and entertain me." He laughed again, genuinely happy, and the night fury felt the guilt begin to melt away. And as it did, the hunger for answers came back with more force than before. "I can see you have questions just burning inside of you," the Gronckle observed shrewdly. "So why don't you ask them?" The night fury nodded, his insides churning with anticipation. He looked quickly around to make sure no one was listening in. He leaned forward, closer to the Gronckle, and asked, very quietly:

"Do you know anything about time travel?" The Gronckle said nothing, but stared at him, long and hard. His old, wide eyes that had seen so much were studying the night fury with unsettling intensity, and the Gronckle still said nothing. Merely watched, clearly deliberating quite fiercely upon something. The night fury squirmed slightly, and wished that he had eased into the subject with just a bit more tact. But what was done was done. So he waited with bated breath for the Gronckle's response.

"Okay," the Gronckle said finally, under his breath, and he nodded once, with certainty. Just as the night fury had done not moments before, the Gronckle looked conspiratorially in all directions, as if checking for eavesdroppers. Then he turned back to the dragon before him, and nodded meaningfully to the nest's entrance. "Let's go for a flight." Then he spread his aging wings and left. Curiosity bubbling within him and threatening to overflow, the night fury followed.

For a few minutes, the two of them flew in complete silence, each of them occupied with their own thoughts. Finally, the Gronckle landed heavily on a small sea stack just big enough for the two of them. The night fury touched down beside him, and the older dragon began to speak immediately.

"Now, I don't know why you're interested in this subject all of a sudden. But I don't need to know. This conversation is about what you need to know. You see, you're very lucky, my friend. I happen to be the only dragon who can tell you what you really want to know." The Gronckle paused for breath, and the night fury felt his heart race faster in excitement. "I can tell you because it just so happens that this was the very subject that intrigued me as a youth." The night fury could not help but vocalize his amazement at this.

"It was?!" he exclaimed, awed. "Well, then, you must be an expert!" The black dragon hummed happily, thrilled at the idea of discovering everything he wanted to know, enthralled at the chance of unraveling the meaning behind the mysterious liquid spheres. But the Gronckle was shaking his head.

"No," he said firmly, and the night fury felt his mood begin to sink like rocks into the sea. "But," he added pointedly, "I can direct you to the expert." Hope began to fill the dragon again, and he started to pace, unable to keep still. He waited for the knowing laugh to come from his Gronckle friend... but it never did. Bewildered, the night fury looked, only to find the Gronckle straight-faced and serious, more solemn than ever before. His uncharacteristic grimness made the night fury settle down quickly, becoming as still and somber as the Gronckle before him.

"What is it?" the night fury asked.

"This is not something to be undertaken lightly," the Gronckle cautioned. "I must warn you now - going to see this expert is dangerous."

"Dangerous? How?"

"Well..." the Gronckle hesitated. "You will understand when I give you the expert's identity." The night fury nodded, and sat quietly, expectantly. But the Gronckle seemed oddly reluctant.

"Is something wrong?" the night fury asked. "I've never seen you so unwilling to give information. You usually spew facts at anyone with half a mind to listen." The Gronckle smiled, but it did not quite reach his eyes. There was a kind of nervousness that hung about him.

"It's just that..." the Gronckle trailed off, considering the night fury carefully. He seemed to debate something internally once more, before he shook his head. "No," he mumbled to himself. And then he spoke up. "Part of me is afraid that you'll think differently of me, after I tell you." The night fury said nothing, at a loss for words, but his face reflected quite accurately his utter confusion. "None of this makes any sense to you now, I know. But it will when I've told you. And I will tell you," he resolved. "Because - if I may be honest - you seem... different. Different than the other dragons. Something about you leads me to believe that you, more than anyone, would be open to change." As he said this, he studied the night fury carefully.

"I'm glad," the younger dragon said fervently. "I am different, in many ways, and I promise I will always think of you highly, no matter what." This seemed to harden the Gronckle's resolve, and he cleared his throat, preparing to speak. This was it, the night fury knew. This was important. The key to the answers he had been seeking so desperately since the night that fateful bola whisked harmlessly past him. He moved in close, not wanting to miss a word.

"Everything I know about time travel," the Gronckle began, "I learned from her. This expert. And the reason I was loath to tell you about this expert is because... well, because she's a human." At this, the night fury had to stop himself from physically taking several steps backwards in surprise. A human? A dragon, learning from a human?

"I know what you must be thinking," the Gronckle started in again hurriedly, "but it's not how you imagine. You see, this human is very, very wise. But what makes her different from the other humans is that she does not speak the viking language. She draws instead - makes symbols in the dirt. And sometimes, when she is in her home alone, she does these drawings. And, incredibly, these drawings make sense! The human was never aware of my presence, let me assure you. But I would sneak to her house, and watch from the roof as she drew the most marvelous things. Such knowledge I would never have expected to come from humans. I guess they are not all quite what we believe." He said the last sentence in a low, quiet voice, as if fearful some other dragon would hear them. But they were miles from anyone, the sky was clear and empty, and the two dragons were free to say whatever they would. The night fury did so.

"Yes," he mused, nodding contemplatively. "I agree with you. I don't think they are quite what we imagine them to be." He thought again of little Hiccup, leading him out of danger and visiting him in kindness. He thought of the smile in the viking's voice.

"Maybe not, but we must not be complacent. So they have knowledge and wisdom - they still have killed thousands of us, and continue to do so. Therefore, if you go to see this expert, you must be careful. Thankfully, her hut is very high in the sky, and is often obscured from the rest of the village by clouds. You can fly safely without being seen. Land on her rooftop without alerting her to your presence, and just watch her. She will draw, and you will learn. It is as simple as that."

"Thank you," the night fury told the other dragon, an enormous grin sliding onto his face. He couldn't wait to see this expert. He would do it immediately, under cover of night. Go and watch and learn. Begin to understand his visions of Hiccup. Learn of the liquid spheres. Discover, bit by bit, what Hiccup meant when he had hinted so teasingly at time travel.

Do you believe in time travel?

"One more thing," the Gronckle called, bringing the night fury out of his thoughts. He looked back, still crouched and ready for takeoff. "I warned you very clearly of the dangers," the Gronckle told him, voice low and gravelly. Perhaps it was the grave note in his voice, or the cold pale light of the moon, or maybe just the stiff, solid stance in which he held himself - but whatever it was, the Gronckle was looking older than he ever had. Weighed down with time. Exhausted by the long journey his life had so far been. "If you are downed," he intoned grimly, "my hands are clean in this."

And with those ominous words trailing in the air behind him, the night fury took to the skies.

...

Camouflaged so perfectly in the darkness of the night, the dragon flew through the viking village without worry or fear. No one would be seeing him; he was sure of that. So he traveled low to the ground, confident, and eyed with interest the viking shelters that he passed. Most were dark inside, the vikings having gone to sleep. But a few of them had fires blazing inside, the light of it shining through the windows, and the dragon could catch the briefest of glimpses at the inside of human houses. And oddly enough, he found himself interested. A dragon, interested in humans. The Gronckle's words about him returned to the night fury, and he laughed in a soft huff of hot breath that rose up into the chilling night air. Different, indeed.

The human house on his right had a lighted fire, and the dragon looked in eagerly as he passed. But again he saw only the interior of the house. He had yet to see a single viking. The dragon supposed that that was a good thing, but he couldn't help but feel the tiniest twinge of disappointment. He was about to give it up as hopeless, and fly above the clouds to the expert's hut, when his ears suddenly perked at a sudden noise. And not just any noise, he noted. A viking voice!

"-tryin' so hard to prove himself," the voice said, accent thick, voice tinted with a touch of... was that pity? Bewildered, the dragon shook his head, but continued to listen with half-hearted interest as he headed to the expert's hut. His fine-tuned ears picked up the sound of footsteps - two pairs. The vikings in conversation must be walking together, he determined.

"Ack," another voice - the second viking - responded, waving off the other's comment. This voice was deeper, and decidedly less pleasant. "He shouldn't be trying at all. He just needs to accept that he's different. I have."

"Have you?" the first voice asked, and for the next few moments, there was only silence. Their footsteps stopped. The silence stretched on, and the dragon, nearly out of earshot now, began to wonder if their conversation had ended. But then the second voice spoke again, low and angry.

"I know better than anyone how different Hiccup is." The viking emphasized the word 'different', but really, the word was of no importance. The word that was important was the very last one. Hiccup.

Hiccup?! the night fury wondered, amazed. Frantically, he changed direction, streaking for the place the voices had come from. Hiccup? Had that man said 'Hiccup'? Was it possible that Hiccup... actually existed? The night fury wasn't sure what that would mean. But he knew one thing - he had to find out. Wings beating furiously, the dragon raced to find the two vikings, and after what felt like an eternity, he reached the spot. Obscuring himself in the nearby shadows, the dragon peeked carefully around the corner.

He was greeted by darkness, and nothing more. Disappointment filled the dragon, and he looked sadly at the remaining footprints on the earth. The only trace of the people that may possibly have information on Hiccup. Unwilling to give up so easily, the night fury moved cautiously forward and sniffed the prints, trying to memorize their smells. He lifted his head and breathed in the night air, hoping to track them, but just then, the wind blew suddenly and fiercely. Smells from everywhere scattered together, making tracking impossible for the night fury. With a frustrated sigh, the dragon let it go, and lifted off into the sky once more. It was just another question to add to his ever-growing list.

Above the clouds and safely out of sight, the dragon flew in search of the viking woman's hut. One sonic blast, and he located it easily. With effortless stealth, he perched upon the surprisingly-sturdy roof, and looked down. And there she was.

In silence, the old viking woman stood. The night air whipped around her, playing with her gray hair and the wisps of fraying fabric on her clothes. One withered hand was wrapped firmly around an intricately-carved staff. The wind whipped; the clouds swirled. The hut shifted precariously in the draft. Everything moved around her, but the old woman was still. Still, silent, and calm. As if she were listening to something only she could hear. There was a strange sort of unreality about the woman, as if she were living half in this world and half in another, and it gave the night fury chills. This, clearly, was someone else who was different.

And then, as the dragon watched, the woman moved her staff in front of her. The night fury watched expectantly, and the viking began to draw, scratching symbols into the dirt that layered the floor of her hut. Lines first, then curves. And slowly, they began to form a picture. A generic drawing of a human, the dragon realized. The woman drew a sun at an angle above his head.

Taking a few shuffling steps, the woman moved to the other side of the platform and drew an identical human. She drew another sun, but this one she put at a different angle. Comparing the two, the dragon understood that the drawing on the right was the same human at a different time, hence the change in the sun's position. The drawing on the left was the human in the present, and the drawing on the right was the same human sometime in the future.

Slowly, the woman shuffled back to the first viking and regarded it carefully. The dragon watched, but these pictures held no significance to him. At least, not until she raised her stick yet again. She moved it in a circular motion, and the dragon watched in blatant disbelief as she drew the very same liquid sphere he had seen just hours ago. With careful expertise, she traced the sphere out further and further, extending it to form a tube-like path. Again, just as the night fury had seen. In unhurried accuracy, she extended the path all the way to the viking in the future. Then she stopped, stepped back, and examined her work. The dragon did the same.

And, incredibly, he understood. The spheres of light that only he could see - they were predictions of the future. Accurate ones. So when the dragon watched the spheres move along a path, he was really seeing the future. And that, he supposed, was kind of like time travel.

Looking out into the stars, the dragon filled his mind with thoughts of the future. Questions, epiphanies, theories, musings. He could see the future. Sometimes. What, then, did that make Hiccup? Hiccup, who, in response to the question of whence he came, had replied with the haunting question, "Do you believe in time travel?". Was Hiccup from the future, then? And if he was, did that mean that he existed now? A different Hiccup, a past Hiccup? Right here, in this viking village? Was he, perhaps, the one he had chanced to hear the two unseen vikings discuss? The questions plagued him, crashing against him relentlessly, one after the other.

A little shuffling noise made the dragon look down. The old viking woman was erasing her drawings. But that was okay, the dragon realized. He had learned enough for one night. Impossibly, time travel had become a sudden reality for the night fury. He could sometimes see the future, predict the paths that others would follow. And he could see Hiccup, someone possibly from the future. Possibly. Then again, he still could be going insane. How could he possibly see the future? And why would he be seeing a viking from the future? And what was all this nonsense about the end of the world?

5 days, 11 hours, 7 minutes, 48 seconds. That was all the time that was left before the world ended.

The night fury was completely aware how insane that sounded.

Troubled and uncertain, he began to fly home, back to the safety of the dragons' nest. The night fury felt as if he was teetering on the edge of something. On the edge of his own sanity, probably. But some small part of him that just wouldn't give in was wondering very seriously whether he was stumbling on the edge of something momentous...