People being in the right or wrong place at the right or wrong time – sheer coincidence, a random occurrence – can change the course of tribes, kingdoms, empires, the world...and more.

Spitelout gladly took a seat in the great hall of the Meatheads, or rather, of Mogadon's. It was so easy to forget that the one on Berk being open for the whole tribe was the exception, not the rule.

Mogadon just glared at him suspiciously until he spoke.

"Dagur committed patricide, then attacked Berk with full force. He was mad enough to keep marching through the storm, thought it would surprise us but got half of his warriors turned into icicles. We won, he is retreating, and what's left of his forces will pass near your island soon."

It was close enough to the truth, Spitelout supposed, and the Meathead chief needed a while to digest this information.

"I assume you are calling on our alliance. But tell me, why should I get involved with a little raid?"

Spitelout shook his head. "Not a raid. The army he brought with him? It was a force to destroy us, not raid us. More people than there are on Berk. Besides, now we can make sure that Berserk loses all its edge if you can get them dealt with."

Mogadon frowned, looking into the hearth. "Maybe, but I need time to gather warriors. How much have you overtaken them by?"

Spitelout shrugged. "Ah, five days or so, if there will be no storm to slow them down."

The chief looked down at him. "Five days? It would take them a week to return to the Berserk Islands. What are you talking about?"

Spitelout shrugged again. "One man is faster than an army." Mogadon's frown didn't subside. Spitelout groaned. "Listen, I have my ways, and they aren't your business… yet. I give you a chance to deal with them for good. If you do that, there will be no more tributes, no more 'peace-treaties', they will be no more powerful a tribe than yours or mine. Just think about that, will you?"

Mogadon was startled by Spitelout standing up. "What are you doing, you madman? You can't go back out there without rest and supplies. You will die."

Still, Spitelout went to the door of the great hall, but at least turned to regard him. "Don't worry about that. As I said, I have my ways. Soaringly swift at that."

Mogadon didn't know what to think about all this, but he supposed that if Berk ganged up with Berserk, he could always send scouts to check for a second force approaching, and if there was none? Well, he had to mobilise his warriors either way…

This region was…different. Alien.

Everything was different from Berk, of course; no two places were identical. But it wasn't just about the lay of the land or some marginally different trees and underbrush. This place was truly alien.

Interspersed among the trees, and more dominant the closer they got to the mountain, were massive mushrooms, some taller than any tree she had ever seen, and several times at that. Alongside the increasingly common mushrooms, the undergrowth became choked out by swathes of mycelia, and with the mycelia, the mushrooms themselves took to growing in perfectly symmetrical configurations, arrayed in clusters in the shape of perfect triangles, clusters that grew closer and closer to each other, eventually becoming one never-ending swathe, nearly hypnotic in its endless symmetry.

She landed. Fishlegs and his dam leapt from her back, and she swallowed one of the tumours that stuck out of the mushroom, leaving its stump intact, then she turned back to the humans.

Her friend looked at her curiously. "You've seen these before? But you said you spent your whole life on the archipelago. Oh! Is there some undiscovered island with them? But how could a whole island stay hidden with this amount of traffic?"

"What?" "No, I haven't seen these mushrooms before, not even heard about them."

Hilda frowned. "Then how do you know they are edible?"

Meatlug couldn't tilt her head much with the stocky build she had, but she thought her expression relayed her curiosity plenty well.

"Humans don't just know what is edible?" Hilda frowned harder while her son muttered under his breath.

"You don't just know things, you learn them. A child will try to eat everything at first, until it learns otherwise."

She let her gaze fall down, maybe a bit too hastily. "That must be quite stressful, to look after children constantly."

The Viking woman giggled, startling the dragoness. "That is just what mothers do." Her face soured. "Or what humans do, anyway."

Fishlegs waved at his dam. "Mum, cut it. You can't expect dragons to behave exactly like us. Besides, wouldn't kids knowing what to eat be handy?"

Hilda made a non-committal grunt, averting her gaze slightly. Fishlegs, in turn, was nearly leaping in excitement. "How do you just know things? And do you know them from hatching or later?"

Her fledglings flew to the mushroom and started eating the tumours. "I… don't know." It wasn't relevant; it just worked, so she never thought about it. But her friend's excitement was infectious.

"Okay, did you – did you ever hear of a dragon that didn't just know it?"

She wracked her brain for an answer. "Yes, there was my clutch-mate."

Fishlegs nodded several times, grinning, while Hilda rummaged through their supplies. "Is there something special about him?"

"Was. He is dead. Didn't know not to eat a bad combination of stones."

Fishlegs saddened. "I'm sorry."

She shook her head, or rather, her entire front torso. "You don't need to. We were just clutch-mates." She rummaged some more through her memories, searching for something out of the ordinary. "He… was older than me. His egg had hatched early. Half a day before the time. Some Monstrous Nightmare knocked it into the water accidentally and it triggered."

The human hummed, nodded, then smiled at her, still somewhat sadly. "So you get this knowledge while in the egg, good to know. Though when are you fully formed—never mind."

She saddened in turn. "Did something I said offend you? If so—"

Fishlegs shook his head. "No, not at all. It's just… you spoke of your sibling like he was a random passer-by. I am more used to siblings being attached to each other."

Meatlug flapped her wings once; the closest approximation of a shrug she could manage. "If you say so." Her fledglings huddled around her, now satiated. "There wasn't really much of…anything in the nest. It was impossible to even think coherently, only to follow instincts."

Fishlegs sighed a bit ruggedly. "I-if you sa-say so..." Then he brightened, seeing his mother bring out food, then soured, seeing it was just the usual dried fish. Then he turned towards the nearest mushroom and extended a hand—

"Those are not for you."

He swiftly turned back to her, as if the mushroom was about to bite off his hand. "You mean, they're poisonous to humans?"

"I don't know. I just know that you aren't supposed to eat them."

The teen slumped, then resigned himself to the untasty dish. Soon they were all finished and her wing muscles ceased to burn so badly, and they took off again, determined to make it to their destination today.

As they neared the impossibly high mountain bit by bit, dragons started appearing, flying high or low, lounging around the mushrooms or lying on top of them. The closer they were, the harder it got to avoid getting near dragons, and Meatlug briefly wondered whether there was even a point in flying farther to fulfil their mission. There were a lot of dragons around, after all.

These thoughts were interrupted by a shriek from above and behind her, and she rapidly turned while simultaneously banking to the side. Instincts proved invaluable when a gout of flame passed the space she was in a moment before.

Her eyes widened at the danger briefly, before swiftly narrowing, her mouth filling with a bout of lava and gas to propel it, and her wings carrying her upwards and sideways in an evasive manoeuvre.

Then she sighted the attacker; a young adult Monstrous Nightmare, barely more than a fledgling, and her combat stance quickly turned into a stern maternal pose.

"What was that for, child?" It took her about two seconds, and an oblivious look turning into a snarl on the young dragon's face, to realise her linguistic mistake, and just a tad too late.

Trespassers! Humans! With brown lump! Seize them!*

Wait! We just want to speak with your alpha!*

The Nightmare seemed to be processing this information when all hell broke loose. Several more Nightmares simultaneously took to steep dives from a deceptively formless group, right at them.

Two snapping sounds told Meatlug that her passengers had let loose their crossbows, one projectile missing widely and the second hitting one of the Monstrous Nightmares in the paw, which managed only to make him cry out in pain and come down on them with anger. For her part, she did her best to evade incoming gouts of flame; Gronckles were agile, what with their ability to hover in place and rapidly move sideways, but three shots that passed her didn't make the fourth that hit any less stinging, or damaging to the saddle straps, which promptly gave way, just after they were repaired from the encounter with the Night Furies.

She did her best to catch Fishlegs on her back, but his dam fell down screaming. Fortunately, she was caught by one of the Nightmares; unfortunately, she was caught too, and Fishlegs was yanked away from her by yet another one.

The young adult dragon appeared again, somehow seeming to be in command of much older and more experienced ones, and even more strangely, competently so. *Bring the Lump to the pits. Give these Invaders to the Governor, just make sure she knows it is from me, then you can beat her for resisting the Enforcers, then cast her out for daring to ask for an audience with the Heir and carrying Invaders into our nest.*

Meatlug breathed rapidly after hearing that. What did this 'giving' entail? And who was this Heir that they felt so offended by even asking to meet?

She fidgeted, and the claws around her promptly tightened, enough to start cutting into her scales. She stilled and looked around; she was held with her head downwards, at an angle making it impossible to shoot at any of those 'enforcers'. Fishlegs and Hilda were held similarly, though they had more trouble from the claws holding them, fragile as their skin was, even with animal skins over it.

"M-Meatlug, wha-what is hap-happening?!" cried Fishlegs.

"It's a misunder-rrrrrrr!"

The moment she spoke, claws pierced her scales and hide for a heartbeat. *Don't use the invaders' tongue, defiant one!*

Okay, okay, yes. I – this is all just a misunderstanding. We have no ill intent. We just wanted to offer cooperation.*

The enforcer holding her snarled. *Cooperate? The Heir watches over us!*

Who is the Heir?* The dragon didn't respond, but one from below her, the same young adult everything started with, snaked his neck up towards her, snarling as well. *You know it. Don't waste our time, and you may fly instead of walking away after we are done.*

Meatlug's returned glance was sheepish, scared, and most of all, incredulous. *No, I don't know. Re-really! I have no idea whatsoever!*

The dragon huffed and reared up, forcing the one holding her to fold his right wing and fumble through the air a little, just to glare at her from even closer. *Your lineage would have to be completely isolated and not utilising this knowledge for a dozen generations for you to not know it, and that is simply impossible. Stop. Talking. Nonsense.*

Then it occurred to Meatlug. *Wait, that is the case! The dragons from where I come from were isolated in one region for three hundred years, and we didn't use any knowledge but survival and combat! We couldn't use anything else, not with the constant…scrutiny.*

The Monstrous Nightmare holding her scoffed. *All nonsense.*

His superior, though, tilted his head in thought. *The Invaders did it? Are you inferior to them? In this case, your punishment will be forgone and you will join our Skydescent; no Fireborn should ever be inferior to those creatures.*

Not the nest?* she asked as she digested the situation. She was safe then, but their attitude towards humans was troubling, to say the least. She needed to somehow get them all out before whatever was coming to them commenced.

How can you not – rrrr, indeed. You don't know.* He glared at the dragon holding her, and she was released. As she regained her position, he prepared an answer.

The nest is just… a nest. But this is one of the places where our creators descended from the stars they were born in. One of the places we came to be, their humble subjects. All Skydescents are beyond merely sacred. They are truly hallowed.*

Meatlug looked more closely at the titanic structure, now finally close enough to discern details. Row after row of ledges and entrances lined its surface, as eerily symmetrical as the inner mushroom field, although organised in a different, hexagonal configuration.

The closer mushrooms are always in perfect triangles, and from what I can see from here, the Skydescent is always in hexagons. This is… unusual.*

The young dragon preened. *It is exceptional. No, more than that, it is right, orderly, as intended by our creators. Before the Invasion, all Fireborns lived in such places, but a short while of flight or even a walk from their all-fathers. Such a glorious existence…*

He sighed. *But to restore the world to the perfection it was in would require more than all Fireborns could ever muster.*

They flew in silence for a while, which allowed her thoughts to return to her humans' fate. A quick glance reassured her of their continued life and no more than discomfort. They were smart enough not to struggle high in the air. Good.

Now, how to get them all out of this? All of the enforcers were faster than her, and while she was reasonably sure she could hit and bite hard enough to either kill or knock out a Monstrous Nightmare, dealing with more than one was a deeply horrible idea. If not now, then later, but that was assuming the humans had any later.

They were still alive though, so hopefully, they would stay that way. She was about to ask, but doubts invaded her mind; wouldn't it raise suspicion? No, she couldn't risk that. But what if they were going to kill them? But what if her asking led to them killing them?! But what could she even do if they were going to kill them!?

Is something the matter?* The question threw her off. *N-no, well, yes. What is going to happen to them?* She looked at the humans.

Well, the Governor said to give her all the humans that we happen to find. I know no more, and don't need to.* There was weight behind this seemingly casual statement, and she refrained from asking further. What else?

Where am I supposed to go?* The young Monstrous Nightmare looked a bit irritated, but his head suddenly snapping towards another enforcer was startling nonetheless. *You. Answer her questions.* Then he distanced himself from them.

The dragon that previously held her captive spoke before she composed herself. *Usually, you would go to the Lump section, but first, we will bring you in to the Governor alongside the humans, in case she has some questions for you. Don't, and I mean don't, speak unless spoken to, understood?*

Meatlug nodded, cowed, before realising the gesture would likely be meaningless. Nonetheless, the dragon seemed to accept it, or ignore it; it was hard to say.

Regardless, the mountain loomed ever closer. Meatlug got information about where this 'Lump Section' was from the enforcer before she lost her breath, struggling to keep up with the much faster dragons. At last they arrived at the ledge, at such a height that her wings barely worked any more, and her humans were strangely dizzy. They weren't even halfway up the mountain, not even close.

The tunnel was conical, spreading outwards towards the entrance and inwards to its end. The walls were incredibly smooth, and Meatlug couldn't recognise the type of rock it was made of. She didn't have time to inspect it, as she was marched forward, and to her anxiousness, her humans were carried in the jaws of two enforcers flanking their surprisingly young and competent leader. Was it possible that he was like that because of things he just knew? But then why didn't the others? Maybe families kept such knowledge to themselves, though the repercussions of such a practice would have really interesting consequences…

She shook her head; now wasn't the time for cooking up theories. Now was the time for getting them all out of this mess.

Only three of the Nightmares came through the opening with her – the ones carrying the humans and the leader – but that wasn't what she was focused on. It was what was before her.

The chamber was enormous. It had to be at least a mile high and no less than two miles in diameter. It was somewhat bulbous instead of the conical shape she was used to from the nest, and there was a smooth, elevated circular ridge in the centre, wide enough to cover two-thirds of the chamber floor and as high as two Monstrous Nightmares were long. Beyond that, there were entrances just like the one they had entered through, lining the outer walls, and evenly spaced holes in the ridge – she guessed there were exactly eight of them, from the part she could see.

But that was just the layout. What really drew her attention were the drawings on the walls. Divided into eight sections, countless yet visibly distinct and clear depictions of events that were beyond her comprehension. Perhaps she could have figured them out, if not for the leader of the enforcers speaking. As it was, she only realised which section depicted the beginning.

"Truly magnificent. And we can honour him only by doing what we were made for in the hierarchy. Only then can we hope to witness him. Let's find the Governor."

They strode in silence, their steps echoing like shouts due to the lack of any other sound, and even this felt like a transgression in such a hallowed atmosphere.

Apparently, it didn't for the residents of this place, as evidenced by the not-so-hushed conversation emanating from their target.

And then I was like: are you sure it is good? Because I knew I was terrible at it! Then he just bobbed his head up and down and ate more, despite the sour face!* There was a laugh and a much less audible chuff. *And then what do you think happened when anyone tried to tell me the truth?*

There was a pause, and their whole group stopped before the entrance. *Your mate defended your honour* said a second, male voice, levelly but not emotionlessly.

Yes, yes! Rrrr, those were really good times, but of course nowhere near as glorious as the current one!*

Of course not; you don't need to constantly say this, you know.* A hint of annoyance, but also playfulness.

How could I not? This body, this place, my master – it's all perfection!* Excitement and teasing.

If you say so. However, I think we have some eavesdroppers.*

All of the enforcers froze, then immediately bowed deeply. Meatlug followed suit when the first step was heard from the ridge's hole, the submissive gesture deeply ingrained in her psyche, like any other dragon.

The steps closed in on them, then stopped. She couldn't see whoever was approaching with her eyes pinned to the floor.

My, my. Enforcers, a Lump with bindings, and two Invaders? Now that is an interesting mix.*

A chuff. *Everything seems to be interesting to you, Governor.*

A short laugh. *And you are always so formal, Champion. Okay, you can rise.*

Meatlug rose from her bow, as did the enforcers, to see an unlikely pair.

A Night Fury cocked her head curiously. Her eyes were a deep green, more like Hiccup's than Toothless's. Her scales were unusually dense for a Night Fury, overlapping almost three times as much per given area as Toothless's, and a dull black, with a strange texture Meatlug had never seen before. Most striking, though, was her expansive pattern: swirling, thin, silver lines covering her from the tip of her nose to her currently folded tailfins, with many lines arrayed into an eye-like shape on the centre of her chest, forehead, and back, right between her wings.

It had to be terrible for camouflage.

The second dragon, a male, adopted a much more hostile stance, slightly hunched over and piercing them with his gaze. Meatlug didn't know his species, but his form seemed familiar somehow. An owl-like head, yellow eyes, four wings with claws on the wrists – one pair directly over the other, the lower pair serving as substitutes for forelegs on the otherwise bipedal dragon.

So, patrol leader?* Those three words sent the leader into a bow and a report.

They were found approaching the Skydescent and intercepted on the nourishment fields. The Lump claimed they wanted to discuss cooperation with the Invaders' nest and us, and despite her release, cares about the Invaders nevertheless.* Crap. He'd seen right through her.

I see, I see. Rrrrr, weird, this one—* The Governor walked up to Hilda and looked at her closely, then gasped excitedly, dismissing the Nightmare holding the woman, allowing Hilda to stand.

Then she spoke in flawless Norse.

"Hilda? Is it you? It has been so long since I last saw you!"

…Huh?

Hilda seemed to have a similar reaction, staring dumbfounded at the dragoness, whose face fell at the lack of recognition.

"Right, you wouldn't recognise me. It has been sixteen years, after all, and a human lifespan is but a droplet in the ocean of a dragon's. To live so little… it is so sad… But you've used this time well, I see! Quite buffed up, not so thin as last time. Berk must have improved its defences against raids, and grown, for you to have enough food for that!"

Hilda suddenly lunged with her knife.

It struck the dragoness repeatedly – throat, chest, even eyes.

It also failed to pierce her scales, and the crazed woman ended up pinned beneath the dragoness's paw, screaming fruitlessly.

"Just DIE, you demon! I won't have a murderer talking so lightly of my family's death!"

Meatlug froze at the sudden violence. Fishlegs screamed. The Night Fury sighed, a wing lifting to stop the Champion from intervening.

"You must have misunderstood, though it's no wonder. What happened to me is beyond unusual. Hilda, it is me, Valka."