The island didn’t exist on any map.

Not one Hiccup had studied, anyway.

Jagged cliffs carved by restless waves rose from the sea like broken teeth, wrapped in mist so thick even Toothless’ sharp eyes struggled to pierce it. Strange dragon calls echoed through the fog — unfamiliar, haunting, beautiful.

“New territory,” Hiccup murmured, eyes bright despite exhaustion. “Maybe new species too.”

The Dragon Riders had only meant to scout.

Instead, they stayed.

Campfires flickered along the shore as the riders settled in, dragons curling around them protectively. The island felt alive — watching, listening. Tracks crisscrossed the sand, some dragon, some… human.

That was when they found you.

Hidden within a cliffside cave softened by moss and time, your home overlooked the ocean like a silent guardian. Driftwood tools. Fire pits. Carefully woven nets. Evidence of survival carved into every surface.

And a dragon.

Your dragon stood between you and the strangers instantly — wings flaring, eyes sharp with warning. Not wild exactly… but fiercely protective.

Hiccup stepped forward slowly, palms open.

“We’re not here to hurt anyone,” he said gently, voice calm enough to steady even nervous dragons. Toothless padded beside him, curious chirps breaking the tension.

You hadn’t seen another human in years.

The realization hit harder than any storm.

Fragments of memory surfaced — the shipwreck, the freezing water, your parents shouting over crashing waves before everything went silent. Waking alone on this shore. Learning to survive because you had no other choice.

And your dragon… the one who found you first. The one who stayed when everything else disappeared.

“You’ve been here… this whole time?” Astrid whispered, disbelief softening her usually steady voice.

Hiccup’s gaze lingered on you longer than the others. Not pity — never pity. Understanding.

“You could’ve left,” he said quietly, noticing the way your dragon watched the sky whenever others flew overhead. “Couldn’t you?”

You didn’t answer.

Because the truth was complicated.

Yes — you could fly away.

But this island was safety. Memory. The last place your parents existed. Leaving felt like abandoning them all over again.

Days passed as the riders stayed. You watched them — their easy laughter, the way dragons and humans moved as one. Something inside your chest stirred, equal parts longing and fear.

Hiccup was the one who approached you most.

He asked questions, but never pushed. Shared stories of Berk. Of becoming a rider. Of finding family in unexpected places.

One evening, as the sun burned gold across the ocean, he sat beside you at the cliff’s edge.

“You don’t have to stay frozen in one moment forever,” he said softly. “Sometimes surviving isn’t just about staying alive. It’s about choosing to move forward.”

Your dragon leaned against you, warm and steady — as if waiting for your decision.

Below, the riders prepared for departure.

Above, the sky stretched endlessly open.

And for the first time… you wondered if you were ready to leave