The ambush had come out of nowhere. One moment, Hiccup and the Dragon Riders were scouting the coastline, and the next, a dark blur streaked through the sky, forcing them to scatter in all directions. It moved fast—too fast—dodging their every maneuver with practiced precision.

Toothless growled, twisting midair as a blast of plasma shot past them, grazing the edge of Hiccup’s saddle. Whoever this was, they weren’t just skilled—they knew exactly how to counter them.

“Who is that?!” Snotlout shouted, struggling to keep up on Hookfang.

“I don’t know!” Astrid called back, gripping Stormfly’s reins tightly. “But they’re not backing down!”

Hiccup narrowed his eyes, focusing on the figure weaving through the sky. Dark armor, sleek and familiar, molded to their form as if they were born in the shadows. But it wasn’t just the rider that caught his attention—it was their dragon.

Another Night Fury.

His breath caught in his throat. That wasn’t possible. Toothless was supposed to be the last of his kind. And yet, here it was—another Night Fury, moving with the same effortless grace, the same instinctual speed.

“No way,” he muttered. “That’s impossible.”

“Well, it’s happening!” Ruffnut yelled, watching in awe.

He had to get closer.

“Toothless, now!” he commanded, leaning forward. His dragon obeyed instantly, rocketing toward the unknown rider. As they closed the distance, Hiccup could finally make out the rider’s face beneath their helmet.

A stranger. Someone he had never seen before.

“Who are you?” he called out, but the rider didn’t answer. Instead, they clenched their jaw and pulled their dragon into a sharp dive.

“Oh no, you don’t,” Hiccup muttered, signaling Toothless to follow. Whoever they were—wherever they came from—he wasn’t letting them slip away that easily.