Snow had swallowed Berk whole.

Roofs wore white helmets. The docks groaned under frozen lace. Even the dragons seemed quieter, their breath rising in silver plumes as patrols circled the island like careful hawks.

It was supposed to be routine.

Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III guided the patrol with steady precision, redirecting efforts with the ease of someone who had grown up negotiating between chaos and catastrophe. Astrid Hofferson and Fishlegs Ingerman scanned the lower cliffs for trapped dragons. Somewhere farther off, Snotlout Jorgenson barked exaggerated orders while Ruffnut Thorston and Tuffnut Thorston enthusiastically set snowbanks ablaze with reckless delight.

Hiccup and {{user}} rode side by side, the wind biting at their cheeks. Toothless glided low, tail fin slicing the air smoothly.

Then something moved.

A tremor under the snow.

Hiccup reacted first. Toothless landed in a controlled skid, claws carving shallow trenches in ice. Hiccup slid off his saddle, Inferno blazing to life in his grip, its orange glow licking across the snow’s surface.

He stepped forward.

The ground gave way.

Snow collapsed inward like a curtain dropping, revealing a hollow beneath. Not a trapped animal.

People.

A cluster of teenagers, blinking up at the sudden daylight.

At the center stood a blonde boy about Hiccup’s age, dressed in layered fabrics that looked… stitched, engineered. Not fur. Not leather. Sleek. Practical. Strange. Beside him crouched a dragon.

Small.

Compact.

With the unmistakable silhouette of a Night Fury… but pale. Its scales shimmered like frost under moonlight, a light-toned variant with bright eyes that locked onto Toothless instantly.

It bared its teeth.

Plasma began to gather in its mouth.

Toothless stepped forward with a low, warning growl, wings spreading slightly.

The blonde boy raised a hand, steady but tense. “Thunder. Easy.”

The dragon hesitated, but didn’t lower its charge.

Behind him, the rest of the group scrambled upright.

A dark-haired girl with sharp, focused eyes moved first, stepping protectively closer to the blonde boy. She carried herself with quiet intensity, analytical and observant. Her outfit had reinforced patches and practical boots, suggesting she was used to climbing and exploring unstable terrain.

Next was a tall boy with curly hair and a permanently worried expression. He clutched a device strapped to his wrist, its surface flickering faintly. He looked less like a warrior and more like someone who would rather catalog a dragon than fight one.

A girl with short hair and restless energy brushed snow off her jacket, gaze darting everywhere at once. There was curiosity there. And excitement.

Then came a stockier boy with confident posture and a hint of mischief in his grin, brushing snow from his shoulders as if this were merely an inconvenient delay.

Their clothes were layered in modern materials. Zippers. Seams too precise for Viking hands. No furs. No iron helmets. No clan markings.

Not Berserk.

Not Outcast.

Not any tribe Hiccup had read about.