Ten years later...

In a dark, silent cave, something stirs. The stillness that has lingered for centuries begins to shift. A faint tremor ripples through the stone, dust cascading from the ceiling like stars falling from the heavens.

And then, it happens.

Golden light spills out into the shadows, piercing the gloom like the first dawn. Eyes, radiant and unyielding, blink open, illuminating the cavern with a brilliance that seems both ancient and eternal.

I smile. The time has come.

I wake to the call—a resonance deep within my soul, beckoning me back to the living world. The dragons are calling. The lands of fire and sky, of magic and might. Dragons and humans. To Berk.

I rise, my movements slow but purposeful, shaking off the slumber of ages. Stones that have gathered upon me, remnants of years spent entombed in stillness, tumble from my shoulders and fall at my feet. The weight of centuries slides away, and I stand tall, feeling the hum of power coursing through me once more.

The world has changed, yet the call remains the same. Dragons and humans need me, as they always have.

I step forward, the golden light from my eyes casting long shadows against the cavern walls, and I know that the time for waiting is over.

The Queen has awakened.

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I lift into the air, my feathered wings stretching wide as they catch the cool currents of wind. The flight feels as natural as breathing, each powerful stroke pulling me closer to the call that echoes in my soul. Below me, the world unfolds—rolling seas giving way to jagged cliffs, the sharp peaks of Berk approaching on the horizon.

I glide lower, following the pull that grows stronger with every beat of my wings. It leads me over the dense forest, where the trees sway as though bowing in reverence to something unseen. Then I see it—a clearing near a quiet cove, bathed in dappled sunlight. The call draws me there, and I descend gracefully, my wings folding against my back as my feet touch the soft earth.

In the center of the clearing, I spot it: a dragon. Its sleek black scales gleam faintly in the shifting light, but its powerful form is tangled in brown vines—ropes meant to restrain, not heal. The sight stirs something deep within me. A sting of sympathy. No creature of the skies should be bound this way.

I step forward, my golden eyes fixed on the dragon, who thrashes weakly, exhausted by its futile struggles. I can see its pain, its desperation, but also its fire—the unyielding spirit of the skies that refuses to dim.

And then I hear them. Footsteps.

Quick and light, but unmistakable. My instincts sharpen in an instant, and I duck behind a nearby stone, crouching low as I peer through the undergrowth. A small human male emerges into the clearing, his pace cautious, his eyes scanning the area.

I hold my breath, watching as he approaches the dragon. His hands are steady, but there's a tension in his movements, a mixture of fear and determination. He doesn't seem cruel—there's no malice in his expression—but his presence here is enough to make me pause.

For now, I wait, hidden, watching. Whatever happens next will decide what I must do.

The boy hesitates, his hand trembling as he raises the blade. He's trying so hard to muster the courage, his chest rising and falling in shallow breaths. I can see it clearly—this isn't just about the dragon. It's about him. About proving something to a father who expects strength, brutality. A Viking tradition passed down from blood to blood.

I tilt my head, a soft smile curling at the edges of my lips. This will be interesting.

The dragon—now unmistakably a Night Fury—stills beneath the boy's blade, its wide, luminous eyes locking with his. And then, just as I expected, the boy freezes. His breath catches. The resolve in his expression melts into something raw, vulnerable.

The dagger trembles in his hand before it drops with a soft thud into the grass. He stumbles backward, his legs giving out beneath him, falling into the dirt.

"What have I done?" he whispers, his voice shaking. His eyes flicker between his hands and the dragon, realization dawning on him like a storm breaking over calm waters.

I step out from my hiding place, slow and deliberate, my wings unfurling behind me. The sun catches on the soft, iridescent feathers, and I let them gather the light, casting a long shadow that stretches toward them both—the boy and the Night Fury.

The dragon notices me first. Its piercing eyes widen, and it lets out a soft, cautious whine, sensing the power radiating from me. Its fear melts into recognition, as if it knows it is no longer alone in this world.

The boy's head jerks around, his eyes snapping to me. He freezes again, his jaw slackening as he takes in the sight. By the time he fully turns to face me, my wings have absorbed the last of the sun's glow, folding in on themselves and vanishing into my back.

I stand taller than him, my presence filling the clearing. My golden eyes catch his, and for a moment, he looks stunned, as if staring into the heart of the stars themselves. The universe reflects in my gaze—starlit and unyielding.

I smile gently, tilting my head. "Hey," I say, my voice warm but laced with the undeniable authority of someone far beyond mortal comprehension. "My name is Nyx."

Using my full name would be too much for him. He doesn't need to know everything—yet.

The boy blinks, his expression a mix of awe and confusion. He glances at the dragon, then back at me, as if trying to piece together how his world has so suddenly changed.

"Who... who are you?" he stammers, his voice barely above a whisper.

I step closer, my gaze flickering to the Night Fury, whose breathing has calmed. It watches me now with something close to trust. Turning back to the boy, I kneel slightly, so we're nearly at eye level, though I still tower over him.

"I'm someone who answers when the call comes," I say softly. "And it looks like you've just made your first choice, one that will change everything."