As the sun begins to sink below the horizon, my friends and I sit on our dragons, waiting. The village is eerily quiet, not a Viking or dragon in sight, save for us. We wear enchanted armour, courtesy of my magic, and our weapons hang by our sides.

I look to each of them as they sit atop their dragons. Astrid, Ruffnut, Tuffnut, Snotlout, Fishlegs, Eret, Hiccup; they've all worked so hard, but I can't help but think about our slim chances of winning. We will be horribly outnumbered.

"No matter what happens," I say, getting the attention of my comrades, "I'm glad to have called you my friends."

"Same with us, Thora." Astrid smiles.

Dark Moon and Emerald don't wrestle or play like they usually do. They know that we're about to fight and they stand tall next to their parents, their eyes shining. I feel like a mother who's seen her children grow up, and in many ways the little dragons have.

Hiccup reaches over and squeezes my hand. I turn my head towards him and he gives me a sad smile, not saying a word before he releases my hand and looks back to the horizon.

A dark cloud of what looks like smoke has started to weave through the air far over the ocean. The only thing distinguishing the cloud of demon dragons to a simple build-up of smoke are the pinpricks of pure blood red eyes dotting the grey, teeming mass.

Anyone who doesn't know what's about to happen would think that there is simply a large fire somewhere, but we know.

"Ready?" I ask.

Everyone nods. Our dragons roar as they take off into the sky.

The wind rushes past us as we move towards our enemy. As we get closer, I can see the lone Viking leader riding the demon version of a Whispering Death. He still has the flaming red hair that I remember from my dream, the sight of him making my blood curdle.

He holds his hand up, stopping the advance of his dragons. We do the same, hovering in midair. I fly to the front with Hiccup and the other three Furies flanking me.

Alrek looks exactly like he did in my dream, save for a few more wrinkles that come with age. He still looks just as mean as I imagined, my distaste growing with every passing second.

"Alrek, son of Asmund," my voice echoes across the space. "You can still surrender. We don't have to fight like this."

"Oh, but we do, Thora," he says. "You should not be alive."

"But I am. Your plan to kill off my family may have succeeded, but I cannot be destroyed so easily."

He laughs. "You claim to desire peace, yet you come to me with four Night Furies and dressed for battle. You are a hypocrite," he hisses. "Because of you, my plan has been put on hold. It's good that you don't stand a chance."

Fear hits me like an icy wind, but I keep it hidden. "So you've made your decision. Very well."

Alrek raises his sword into the air and the demons behind him roar and rush towards us. Our dragons let out a battle cry and we charge, meeting the smoky mass halfway.

My sword flashes as it disintegrates every demon it touches, shrieks ringing in my ears with each blow. Nightstar growls, clawing and biting any demon my sword can't reach as her plasma blasts blow them into nothing but smoke.

My friends fight bravely, killing demons left and right. Dark Moon and Emerald zip through masses of the grey creatures, making a rain of dust float to the ground with every blast of plasma heat. The air fills with a smoky haze as more and more of the demons disappear.

A glimmer of hope ignites in my chest.