Astrid paced back and forth in the courtyard of the Maruvian ruins, her boots scuffing against the cracked stone as frustration burned in her chest. Nearby, Fishlegs sat cross-legged on the ground, his nose in the map, humming softly. The tune was shaky and uneven, a relic of a lullaby his mother used to sing when he was anxious.

Astrid paused mid-step, turning her head toward the convoy of trucks parked along the edge of the ruins. Most were covered in white tarps that fluttered faintly in the breeze. She noticed them when they arrived, and her unease had only grown. Every so often, she thought she heard strange noises from the trucks—low, muffled sounds, impossible to place. She had asked Grimmel what was under those tarps, but he'd dodged the question with a cold smile and vague assurances. Neither he nor his men had given her anything to work with.

Her eyes narrowed. Something wasn't right. She knew it.

But her train of thought was abruptly broken by Fishlegs' constant humming. The sound burrowed into her nerves until she couldn't take it anymore. She whirled on him.

"Fishlegs!" she snapped.

He jumped, looking up from the map with wide eyes. "Sorry! I—I hum when I get nervous!" he said defensively, holding his hands to shield himself from her glare.

"Then stop humming and focus!" Astrid barked. "We need to find Hiccup."

Fishlegs blinked, clutching the map tighter. "But Grimmel said he's already got his people looking for him," he mumbled, clearly uncomfortable.

Astrid scoffed, running a hand through her hair as she shook her head. "Yeah, well, I don't exactly trust Grimmel," she shot back. "There's something off about him."

Fishlegs hesitated, chewing on his lower lip. "Oh, come on, Astrid. Don't you think you're being a little... I don't know... paranoid?" he offered weakly, though his voice lacked conviction.

Astrid gave him a sharp look, raising an eyebrow. "Paranoid?" she echoed, her tone dripping with disbelief. She gestured toward the trucks at the edge of the ruins. "Don't you think it's weird that he's being so secretive about what's under those tarps? And have you noticed he doesn't seem the least bit concerned that Hiccup is missing?"

Fishlegs' eyes darted toward the trucks, then back to the map in his hands, hoping it could provide an answer to ease his growing doubts. "Well... maybe... uh..." He trailed off, unable to finish, his gaze flickering with unease.

Astrid sighed, her expression hardening as her suspicions solidified. She turned back toward the trucks, squinting as though she could peel back the tarps with her stare alone. Whatever Grimmel was hiding, she was done waiting around for answers.

"Come on," she said abruptly, her voice firm.

Fishlegs blinked. "What? Where are you going?" he asked, alarm creeping into his tone.

"To find out what's under those tarps," Astrid replied. Without waiting for a response, she strode toward the convoy with purpose, her steps quick and quiet.

"Wait, wait, wait!" Fishlegs stammered, scrambling to his feet. "You—you can't just go snooping around their stuff! What if they catch us? What if they shoot us?" His voice rose in panic, but he still jogged after her, clutching the map like a security blanket.

"They're not going to shoot us," Astrid said over her shoulder, her tone clipped.

"How do you know that?" Fishlegs hissed, glancing nervously over his shoulder as if expecting Grimmel's men to appear out of thin air. "Astrid, this is a bad idea! A terrible idea!"

"Then stay here if you're too scared," she said, not slowing her pace. "But I'm not sitting around while Grimmel keeps lying to us."

Fishlegs groaned, his reluctance clear as he trailed after her. "I hate it when you do this," he muttered.

Astrid ignored him, her focus locked on the trucks ahead. Whatever Grimmel was hiding, she was about to find out.

Astrid and Fishlegs crouched behind the corner of a crumbling stone pillar, peering at the convoy of trucks parked nearby. Two of Grimmel's men stood next to one of the trucks, their backs turned, deep in conversation. The murmur of their voices was too faint to make out. Astrid squinted, her sharp eyes narrowing as she tried to read their body language.

"What do you think they're saying?" Fishlegs whispered, his voice tinged with nervous curiosity.

Astrid whipped her head toward him, her expression stern. "Will you keep it down?" she hissed.

Before Fishlegs could respond, a sound cut through the stillness—a muffled thump, followed by the unmistakable snarl of something alive. Astrid and Fishlegs froze, their eyes snapping to the truck. The vehicle's tarp-covered rear rattled, jerking back and forth as though something inside was trying to escape.

Fishlegs' mouth fell open in a silent gasp, but Astrid was faster. She clamped her hand over his mouth and held her breath, glancing back at the guards. To her relief, they hadn't noticed the noise—or the two teens lurking in the shadows.

"What was that?" Fishlegs mumbled against her palm, his words muffled but no less frantic.

One of the guards turned to the truck, irritation plain on his face. He strode to the back and slammed his fist against a metal crate inside. "Hey, keep it down in there, you dumb beast!" he barked.

Astrid's eyes narrowed at the phrase. Dumb beast? She exchanged a look with Fishlegs, whose face mirrored her growing unease. Whatever was in that truck wasn't just cargo—it was alive. And it was dangerous.

The guards wandered off, heading toward the front of the convoy. Astrid watched them until she was sure they were out of earshot. She tapped Fishlegs on the shoulder. "Come on," she whispered, her voice firm.

Fishlegs' eyes widened. "Wait, what? Astrid, I don't think—"

"Shh!" she cut him off, motioning for him to follow.

They darted out from behind the pillar and hurried toward the back of the truck, sticking low to the ground. Astrid stole a glance around the side of the tailgate, ensuring the guards were still preoccupied. Satisfied, she ducked behind the truck and turned her attention to the tarp. The muffled snarls and restless shifting from inside made her hesitate momentarily. Her pulse quickened, but she ignored it. Whatever Grimmel was hiding, she had to know.

Slowly, she reached out, her fingers brushing the edge of the white tarp. She glanced over her shoulder at Fishlegs, who was already shaking his head. "Astrid, I don't think this is a good—"

"Quiet," she whispered sharply. Then, with a deep breath, she gripped the tarp and lifted it just enough to peek inside.

The instant her eyes adjusted to the dim light beneath the tarp, something lunged at the bars of its cage with a ferocious snarl. Astrid yelped and stumbled back, colliding with Fishlegs, who let out a muffled scream as they both fell onto the dirt.

The snarling continued, low and menacing, as the creature within rattled the cage bars. Slowly, the two teens raised their heads, staring in awe and horror at what was inside. The beast's eyes glowed faintly in the shadows, its jagged teeth bared, its scaled body coiled and tense like a spring ready to snap.

"Wh-what is that thing?" Fishlegs stammered, his voice trembling as he clutched at Astrid's arm.

Astrid didn't answer immediately. Her heart was pounding, but her focus remained locked on the creature. Whatever it was, she didn't recognize it—not from any book or story, and certainly not from her years of experience with dragons.

"I don't know," she finally said, her voice low and tense. Her hand instinctively moved to the axe at her hip. "But I don't like it."

Hiccup stood motionless, staring at the saddle laid out before him. His mind swirled with confusion and disbelief as if the very foundation of his world had crumbled beneath him. Everything he thought he knew about his ancestors, his people, and their history with dragons—had already been unraveling. But now, standing here, he felt as though the final threads had come undone.

Undoubtedly crafted by his ancestor Moldoff, the saddle wasn't a trophy of conquest. It wasn't a relic of a hunter. It was something else entirely—a tool meant for riding the creature Hiccup had been told was a monster. Moldoff, the supposed dragon-slayer, hadn't hunted the Night Fury. He'd ridden it.

And now Toothless was asking Hiccup to do the same.

The Night Fury stepped closer, his movements slow and deliberate. He let out a soft mumble, a quiet, urging sound that sent a pang through Hiccup's chest. Glancing down, Hiccup met those familiar, wide yellow eyes. They weren't just asking—they were pleading. Toothless shifted on his feet, his gaze filled with trust and a quiet challenge, as though he were saying, You know what you must do.

From his other side, Elena stepped closer. She was smiling, her eyes warm with encouragement.

"I think he wants you to," she said softly, nodding toward the saddle.

Hiccup hesitated, his throat tightening. His heart told him one thing, but his mind screamed another. "I don't... I don't know about this," he said, his voice faltering as he rubbed the back of his neck. "Flying didn't go great for me last time."

Elena laughed gently, shaking her head. "Oh, don't worry—you'll be fine," she reassured him. "Besides, this time, you've got a saddle."

Hiccup raised an eyebrow at her. "I usually ride bareback."

From behind, Luna let out a loud, indignant huff. "Uh-huh, and there's no way I'm ever letting someone put that thing on my back," the dragon muttered, tossing her head as if to emphasize her point.

Elena smirked, shooting Luna a teasing glance. Then she turned back to Hiccup, her expression softening. "Don't you want to know what your ancestor saw?" she asked, her voice quieter this time, almost reverent.

Hiccup's gaze dropped back to the saddle. It seemed to stare back at him, a physical embodiment of the truth he'd searched for so long. This was it. The answers he'd sought, the legacy of Moldoff—all pointed to this moment.

He'd come to Maru looking for the truth, but none of it had been what he expected. His ancestors hadn't come here to fight dragons. He'd come here to understand them. To bond with them. And maybe, just maybe, that bond was something Hiccup was meant to carry forward.

He exhaled slowly, the weight of the moment pressing on his shoulders. Was he ready for this? Did he have a choice?

Hiccup's hand hovered above the saddle momentarily before clinging it into a fist and stepping back. "It's not that simple," he said quietly, more to himself than to Elena.

"Sure it is," Elena said with a shrug, stepping around to face him fully. "You want answers. And Toothless is giving you the same chance Moldoff had. You can either stand there doubting yourself or take it."

Hiccup glanced at Toothless again. The Night Fury tilted his head, his golden eyes steady and unwavering. Hiccup swallowed hard.

He had come here for answers. And if this was what it took to find them, it might be worth it.

Hiccup and Elena finished strapping the saddle onto Toothless's back. The Night Fury shifted his weight, glancing from side to side, inspecting himself in the saddle of his long-passed rider, Moldoff. His wings twitched slightly, as though testing how it all felt. Hiccup stepped back, resting his hands on his hips.

"Huh," he said with a faint smile. "Fits pretty good."

Toothless turned his head, giving him a low, curious mumble. Elena and her friends exchanged nods of approval.

"Mmm-hmm, you are rocking that saddle, dragon," Luna said with a grin.

"You said it," Neko added, flicking his tail.

Hiccup exhaled heavily, his nerves creeping in despite their encouragement. "Now for the fun part," he muttered under his breath.

Elena stepped up beside him, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder. When he turned to her, her warm smile steadied him. "You've got this, Hiccup. I believe in you," she said, her voice gentle but firm.

Hiccup nodded, taking a deep breath. His eyes lifted to Toothless, who stood tall, his golden-green gaze locked on Hiccup. The dragon's look was unwavering, full of trust and anticipation, as if he were saying, This is what you were meant to do.

"Okay," Hiccup murmured to himself. "Let's do this."

Slowly, he approached Toothless, who glanced back at him with a quiet growl—not a warning, but a nudge of encouragement. Hiccup hesitated for a moment, his hand brushing the smooth leather of the saddle. He closed his eyes, steadying his breath. Then, with a decisive move, he climbed onto Toothless's back.

"Alright," he said as he settled into the saddle. His fingers found the reins, his grip tight but steady. "Let's take it slow, okay, bud?"

Toothless let out a playful rumble that sounded suspiciously like laughter.

"Uh... I'll take that as a yes," Hiccup said nervously.

But before he could say another word, Toothless's massive bat-like wings unfolded in a dramatic sweep, sending a gust of wind through the cavern. Both Hiccup and Elena flinched at the sudden movement.

"Uh, Toothless?" Hiccup said cautiously.

"Uh-oh," Elena muttered, quickly stepping back.

Toothless crouched low, muscles coiling like a spring. Elena and her friends scrambled out of the way just as the Night Fury launched himself forward in a powerful charge, his claws digging into the rocky ground. Hiccup barely had time to grab hold of the saddle as Toothless leapt through the cave entrance, wings slicing through the air.

"Whoa, whoa, WHOA—Toothless!" Hiccup shouted, his voice echoing as the dragon soared into the open sky.

"Hiccup!" Elena shouted after him, her voice filled with both alarm and determination. She spun on her heel, turning to her brother Skylar, who was already lowering a wing for her.

"Hop on, sis," Skylar said with a wink.

Without hesitation, Elena climbed onto his back. Skylar turned to the others with a sharp flick of his tail.

"Wings up, amigos!" he proclaimed.

Migs, Neko, and Luna immediately spread their wings, the sunlight glinting off their vibrant feathers. With a unified beat, the four Jaquins lifted into the air, chasing after Hiccup and Toothless as they disappeared over the horizon.