The sea mist clung to Dragon’s Edge, soft and pale under the early morning light. The Riders were gathered around the map table in the clubhouse, voices layered with tension and frustration.

Astrid leaned on her elbows, tapping a finger sharply against the parchment. “That makes three raids this week. Three. And every single time, she was there.”

“She?” Tuffnut leaned forward dramatically, eyes gleaming. “You mean the mysterious, hooded, griffin-riding, person of the night sky?”

Ruffnut smirked. “You’re just mad she knocked you off Barf and Belch last time.”

“Knocked me off?” Tuffnut gasped. “Please. I dismounted strategically.”

“Straight into the ocean,” Snotlout muttered, rolling his eyes.

Hiccup sat at the head of the table, fingers drumming absently. His gaze wasn’t on the map but on the memory playing behind his eyes. A dark silhouette against the stars. The screech of wings. The way Stormmist’s feathers caught the moonlight as you dove through the chaos.

They’d seen you a handful of times now. Never clearly. Always hooded, always high above the fight, watching, striking when the Riders least expected it.

“Griffins aren’t supposed to be tameable,” Fishlegs blurted, thumbing through one of his ever-growing notebooks. “Not in the wild, not anywhere. They’re too unpredictable, too independent. But she—” He stopped, gulping, “—she has one. That means she must be—”

“Dangerous,” Astrid cut in. “Aligned with Viggo. That’s all we need to know.”

But Hiccup didn’t nod. He didn’t agree. He just frowned, tapping his pencil harder against the edge of the table.

Every clash, every glimpse, you hadn’t struck him as just another hunter. You fought with skill, yes, but also with purpose. With loyalty. And that made you far harder to read than Ryker’s brute force or Viggo’s calculated manipulation.

Before he could say as much, Johann burst in, panting, eyes wide. “Riders! Terrible, awful, simply dreadful news!”

The Riders groaned in unison.

“What now?” Snotlout muttered.

Johann wrung his hands dramatically. “The Hunters are hosting… an auction. Dragons by the dozens, caged and sold to the highest bidder!”

The map room erupted with voices.

“An auction?!”

“We can’t let that happen.”

“They’ll be taken everywhere, used as weapons—”

“Where?” Hiccup’s voice cut through the noise, firm and commanding.

Johann looked nervous. “Well… there is a certain island off the trade route, discreet, rather dangerous waters, but—”

“We’re going,” Hiccup said. “Tonight.”

Astrid smirked. “Good.”

The others muttered agreements, already gearing up for the fight to come.

But Hiccup’s thoughts weren’t on the cages or the hunters.

They were on you.

If Viggo was there, and he knew that person would be, this might finally be the moment. The moment to see your face. To understand who, exactly, he was up against.

༻༺༻༺

Later, at the auction island…

The hall was alive with noise: hunters shouting bids, dragons snarling in cages, firelight flickering against walls lined with chains. At the front stood Viggo, calm as always, hands folded, smile like a blade hidden in silk. Ryker flanked him, broad and menacing.

And in the shadows, just behind them, stood you. Hood drawn low, cloak brushing the floor. Watching. Always watching.

The griffin was hidden further back, tethered where few dared go near her. But her eyes glowed in the dim light, sharp and restless.

The Riders slipped in through the rafters, masked by noise and smoke. From above, Hiccup’s gaze swept the hall. His eyes locked on you instantly.

There you were.

Still a mystery. Still just out of reach.

But not for much longer…

༻༺༻༻