Days pass in a blur, each one blending into the next, indistinguishable from the last. My cell becomes my world, my only constant. I never leave. Sure, there are meetings, there are talks—Darkstalker insists I attend, as if pretending I'm a part of his kingdom is enough. But those are just fleeting moments, interruptions in the monotony. Mostly, I sleep, lost in the haze of endless hours, the same four walls pressing in on me.

The only real visitors are the SeaWings—Fanthom and Orca. They're kind enough, in their own way, bringing me food and offering small talk to break the silence. They've been assigned to me, to care for me, as if I need looking after. But they don't really understand. They can't. No one does.

Darkstalker, meanwhile, rules the kingdom mostly on his own. He's never far, always lurking just outside my cell or making his presence known through his cold commands. But despite his grand declarations, despite the crown and the title, I know he's alone in his own way, too. He can't fill the void with all his power. Not when he doesn't understand the kind of queen I am—or the one I was meant to be.

The days stretch on like this, one after another, each one heavier than the last, the weight of this place crushing me. A kingdom built on shadows, on lies, and a future that isn't mine.

I jerk awake when I hear talons scraping against the cold marble floor. My heart skips a beat, and before I can even fully register what's happening, Orca bursts into my cell. Her wing is dripping with blood, dark streaks trailing down her scales as she rushes toward me.

"Azu—Azure, you must get up!" she barks, her voice sharp and urgent. The panic in her eyes is enough to send a jolt through me, though I don't understand what's happening. I want to ask, to demand what's wrong, but the words are trapped in my throat, suffocated by the heavy metal band still clamped around my snout.

She doesn't give me a chance to respond. Instead, she swiftly moves to undo the chains around my wings, her claws moving quickly, but with a certain care. The chains clink and rattle as they fall to the ground, but there's no time for hesitation.

With a rough push, Orca shoves me toward the back of the cell, a corner I hadn't noticed before. It's dark, hidden away behind the shadows of the room. My thoughts spin, confused, but there's no time for questions. Her bloodied wing catches my attention again, and I follow her, my body stiff as I stumble toward whatever comes next.

It's something I've never seen, something that doesn't make sense yet—and I know, deep down, that I'm about to be pulled into something darker than I could've imagined.

We stop near the wall, both of us instinctively cloaking ourselves in the shadows, trying to avoid drawing any attention. The cold stone of the palace presses in on all sides, and the silence feels heavy, suffocating. I glance at Orca, trying to catch her eye, my mind racing.

"What's happening?" I try to signal, my movements quick and quiet, desperate for some answer. But Orca doesn't look at me. She's focused on something, her expression tight with worry, her wings stiff at her sides.

Then, without a word, she nudges me toward a staircase that I hadn't noticed before—hidden behind the shadows, leading down into a dark ravine. The stone steps are worn, slick with years of neglect, but there's no time to hesitate.

"Run, Azure, just run!" Orca urges, her voice low but full of urgency. Her bloodied wing twitches as she backs away. "I'll come for you, or Fathom will. Just run!"

Before I can even react, she slips back into the cell, vanishing from sight like a ghost. I stand there, motionless for a heartbeat, my mind struggling to make sense of what just happened.

I glance back at the towering, dark stone of the palace behind me. It feels like a cage, like it's watching me, judging me. I can't stay here. I shouldn't stay here. But everything is so uncertain now, so wrong.

The cold settles deeper into my bones. I try to stretch my wings, but they're sore, stiff from the chains and the weight of my imprisonment. They ache, protesting every movement. But there's no time to rest, no time for anything except running.

So I do. My feet hit the stone floor, the sound of my heartbeat drowning out everything else as I make my way down the stairs. My wings drag behind me, but I push myself harder, faster, the need to escape driving me forward.

There's no looking back now. Only the cold, empty path ahead, and the hope that Orca—or Fathom—will find me, that this wasn't all for nothing.

-

I've been running for hours now, the exhaustion slowly seeping into every bone of my body. My breath comes in shallow gasps, and my wings ache with every movement, the strain from being trapped for so long now taking its toll. I flick one wing, trying to ease the soreness, but it only makes the tension worse. The sharp sting in my muscles feels like it's crawling into my very bones. My claws dig into the soft moss beneath me, grounding myself, but it doesn't help the growing emptiness in my chest.

I pause, bending down to sniff the air. Hunger gnaws at my stomach, but it's almost too much to think about. My body is too tired to care for anything except rest, and still, my mind buzzes with questions, with fear, and with a nagging sense of guilt. What am I doing? What will become of me now?

The metal band around my snout catches the light, its cold edges biting into my skin like a cruel reminder of my captivity. It hasn't budged. No matter how many times I try to pry it open, no matter how much my frustration grows, it stays there, keeping me silent. Keeping me from speaking, from crying out.

I shift, folding my wings awkwardly beneath me and sitting on the moss, my claws pressing against the cool metal of the lock. I try again, tugging, twisting, but nothing happens. The lock is stubborn, and so am I. But my strength is fading, the will to fight slipping away with each passing moment.

A low, bitter snarl escapes my throat. I can't break free. I can't even remove the thing that's holding me back from being myself, from being who I was meant to be. I've never felt more useless.

Tears well up in my eyes, stinging as they fall, mixing with the grime on my cheeks. I sink down to my belly, unable to fight the overwhelming weight of everything I've lost. The sound of my sobs feels like the only thing left in the world.

Then suddenly, a sharp whistle cuts through the still air—a banshee's cry, shrieking, filling the space around me. My heart leaps into my throat, hope flooding my chest as I think, Toothless? My mind races. Did they really find me? Are they here?

I look up, squinting through the misty haze of exhaustion, and there it is—the flash of black against the sky. But it's not Toothless.

The dragon lands before me with a heavy thud, the ground trembling beneath its weight. It's a Fury, much larger than any I've seen before, its scales marked with deep, jagged scars. Orange eyes gleam at me from beneath a broad sail on its back, and I catch sight of gills pulsing with orange light along its neck, the scars weaving a story of battles fought.

The Fury snarls at me, its voice harsh and foreign. "What are you doing in my territory, trespasser?" The words are rough, broken, but I can understand them well enough. My throat tightens as I whine, desperate to respond, but the metal band around my snout keeps my jaw tightly sealed.

The Fury cocks its head, studying me, then stretches out a claw, sharp and precise. With a single twist, the metal binding comes loose, falling away with a harsh clatter. I wince, the sharp pain in my jaw radiating through my skull, but I don't care. I gasp for breath, feeling the freedom to speak return.

"Thank you," I manage to breathe out, my voice hoarse and weak.

The Fury grunts in response, unfazed. It narrows its orange eyes at me, its posture stiffening. "I ask you again, what are you doing here, and why do you have a mouth cuff on you?" It snarls again, its claws digging into the ground. "Were you captured by twolegs?"

It takes a moment for the word twolegs to click in my mind, but then it hits me—Vikings. I shake my head vehemently, a flicker of panic flashing in my eyes. "No, no," I try to say, my voice trembling as I remember my captor. "But by another dragon... the king of the NightWings, Darkstalker."

At the mention of Darkstalker's name, the Fury's entire body stiffens. Its eyes narrow, and a low, rumbling growl rises from deep within its chest. "Darkstalker?" The Fury's voice softens with a mixture of pity and anger. "Oh, poor soul, how did you get twisted with his wicked games?"

I swallow, the pain in my jaw almost forgotten as the weight of the Fury's words settles over me. I look into his orange eyes, and for the first time since I fled, I feel a flicker of hope that maybe, just maybe, I'm not completely alone.

I take a deep breath, the weight of everything I've been through pressing down on me as I gather my thoughts. Slowly, I begin to tell Sauron what happened—the story of who I am, how I ended up in Darkstalker's clutches, and the twisted kingdom that became my prison. My words spill out in fragments, each one heavy with the pain of everything I've endured. As I speak, I can't help but feel the sting of my captivity, but at least someone is listening.

Sauron bows his head in quiet understanding, his gaze shifting to something more thoughtful. "So, you're the Queen Azure I've heard so much about." His voice softens a little as he flicks his tail, the sound of it swishing through the air. "My friend Nightwind, the Nightfury, told me about you at the yearly gathering in the dark."

Nightwind? The name stirs something in me, though it's unclear. I didn't expect to be spoken of like that, especially not at a gathering of dragons, but it brings a small sense of comfort. At least the dragons know who I am—at least there's some recognition of me beyond Darkstalker's twisted version of my life.

Sauron continues, a flicker of resolve in his tone. "Don't worry, I can get you back to Berk if you want."

I let out a quiet sigh of relief, the thought of home lifting a small weight off my shoulders. He's offering me a way out, a way back to the place I belong, the place where my heart feels at peace. But before I can express my gratitude, Sauron tilts his head, sniffing the air around me.

"I'm Sauron, by the way."

I nod in acknowledgment, taking in his name, and with a final glance at the ravine, I brace myself for the next step. He turns his eyes back to me, studying me carefully.

"Now, can you fly?" he asks.

I nod, though I can't quite hide the wince that crosses my face as I stretch my wings. They're sore, stiff from both the long captivity and the flight I barely managed. But the thought of freedom, of flying home, makes me push past the pain. "I can try," I say, though my voice wavers with uncertainty.

Sauron's sharp eyes narrow, his wings flapping to lift himself into the air. He gives me an encouraging look before taking off, his powerful wings cutting through the air effortlessly. I watch him for a moment, then take a shaky breath, preparing myself.

I push off the ground, wings straining as I follow him into the sky. Though the hunger gnaws at me and my muscles protest, I push forward, the wind rushing beneath my wings. I'm flying—I'm really flying. And for the first time in days, it feels like I'm leaving the shadows behind, heading toward the horizon.

I don't look back at the dark stone palace, at Darkstalker's twisted reign. I focus on the sky ahead, on the long journey home.

But even as the world grows smaller beneath me, a nagging feeling crawls into the back of my mind. I know this isn't over. Darkstalker won't let go so easily. The chapter with him might be over for now, but deep down, I know the story's far from finished.