"Dad!" Astrid's little feet pitter-pattered across the wooden floor as she ran, arms outstretched, and threw herself into her father's embrace. His laughter filled the room as he scooped her up effortlessly.
"How's my little dragon rider?" he asked, his voice warm and full of affection.
Astrid wrapped her tiny arms around him, her giggles echoing in the quiet room. He spun her around, and the two of them shared a moment of pure joy before he lowered her onto his lap.
"Tell me a story, Dad," she said, eyes wide with excitement. Her voice, full of enthusiasm, always carried the eagerness to hear her father's tales. They never failed to capture her imagination, especially when they were about dragon riders.
Her father smiled and shook his head. "Aren't you sick of hearing the same stories every night?" he teased, but the twinkle in his eyes told her he was only half-serious.
"No," she responded dramatically, letting out an exaggerated sigh. "Tell me another one!"
Her father laughed, a sound so bright it felt like sunlight. He leaned back slightly and began his familiar tale. "Alright, here we go," he said, and Astrid snuggled in closer, her head resting against his chest. "There was once a time when dragon riders ruled the world, using their dragons to help people, protect them, and bring peace. Dragons, you see, are drawn to people with kind hearts and sharp minds. But there was one boy—Hiccup—who was so small when he was born that no one thought he would survive."
Astrid's eyes grew wide, captivated as always by the story. Her father paused for effect, taking a sip of water before continuing. "But Hiccup proved them all wrong. He became the strongest person, not because of his size, but because of his heart. When he bonded with a Night Fury named Toothless, it was the start of something extraordinary. He became the most powerful dragon rider to ever live, and perhaps… he's still alive today."
Her father smiled softly, as though caught up in the magic of his own tale. "Dragons have great power," he continued, "and when a rider bonds with one, they gain great power too. They live forever, their spirits intertwined. Dragons mark their riders to show the bond, and that mark is a symbol of their strength."
He leaned forward slightly, his eyes locking with hers as he spoke in a quieter voice. "Hiccup and Toothless shared a bond like no other. They were like brothers, their connection so deep that it made them unstoppable. They saved their village from an evil dragon, even when the villagers didn't appreciate what Hiccup had done. He lost his leg fighting for them, but even then, they rejected him. So, he left… and found other friends, other riders who had bonded with dragons just like him."
Astrid could feel the weight of the words, the story wrapping her in its warmth and wonder. Her father's voice softened, almost like a secret being shared only between the two of them. "And you, Astrid, you're the next rider," he said, his smile so full of pride.
But just as he finished, the world around her went black.
--
I bolted upright in bed, heart pounding. Another memory. My breath came in quick, shallow bursts as the same question echoed through my mind like a drumbeat: Why do I keep seeing this? My father had never said anything about me being a dragon rider.
I rubbed my face, groaning. "Damn those kids," I muttered under my breath, frustration simmering beneath the surface. "If they had just told me what actually happened…" My voice trailed off. Maybe then I wouldn't be stuck here, overthinking everything, wondering if I was losing my mind.
Throwing the blankets off, I swung my legs over the edge of the bed and made my way to the bathroom. The tile was cold beneath my feet, a jolt to my senses. I turned the sink faucet to the coldest setting and splashed icy water over my face. It stung in a strangely satisfying way, sharp and refreshing, like the crisp mountain wind slapping against your cheeks when you step outside after a snowstorm. The chill grounded me. I looked up at the mirror. My reflection stared back at me with tired eyes. It was six in the morning. The sky outside the window was still dim, painted in shades of pale blue and silver.
With a sigh, I left the bathroom and collapsed back onto my bed, grabbing my phone in hopes of distracting myself. TikTok. Instagram. YouTube. The usual suspects. I scrolled through endless videos and posts, but they all blurred together. The same tired content over and over. Nothing grabbed me. Nothing felt real. It was all just noise.
I tossed my phone across the bed with a sigh and stared up at the ceiling. Useless. Lying here was doing nothing but feeding the thoughts I was trying to escape. My mind wouldn't stop racing, replaying the memory over and over again, like a scratched record. Finally, I sat up, dragging myself out of bed. "Might as well do something," I mumbled. I made my way to the kitchen and started making breakfast.
Why do people insist on getting themselves lost in the mountains? It baffles me—how careless some can be. No map, no sense of direction, no backup plan. And don't even get me started on the parents. Letting their kids wander off alone in dense wilderness like it's a backyard playground. It's infuriating. Sometimes I wonder if people realize how quickly nature can turn against them out here.
Another day slips by. More reports of people missing. Some we find—cold, shaken, but alive. Others… we don't. And it sits heavy in my chest. The weight of not knowing. The faces I memorize from printed photos, the names I hear over the radio, echo in my head long after the search is over. It's so damn depressing.
I close my eyes and let myself sink into the pillow, hoping sleep will come quickly tonight.
I stood high in the mountains, the air crisp and thin, the silence wrapped around me like a thick blanket. Above, the brightest moon I had ever seen hung in the sky, casting a silver glow over the rugged peaks. Everything shimmered under its light—the snow-dusted cliffs, the trees swaying gently in the night breeze, and the clearing where I stood, frozen in awe. Before me was a dragon, majestic and breathtaking. Its scales were the colour of midnight, so dark they seemed to drink in the moonlight, yet shimmered subtly with every slight movement. Its eyes, an intense, almost luminescent green, locked with mine. They didn't hold evil or malice, only a surprising gentleness that reached straight into my soul. It was beautiful. The dragon's head was crowned with fin-like flaps that looked like horns, but they moved softly, twitching and tilting with its emotions. Its wings, folded neatly against its back, were massive.
Beside it stood a man. Tall, lean, and cloaked in mystery, he wore armor that shimmered like overlapping scales, black as the dragon beside him. A mask covered his face, and his eyes peered out through narrow slits—eyes so vividly green they seemed almost unreal, the exact shade as the dragon's. He walked with a slight limp, and I noticed his left leg was missing, replaced by a strange prosthetic that didn't resemble anything I'd ever seen before.
"Who… who are you?" I asked, my voice trembling, barely more than a whisper.
He took a slow step forward, and I instinctively stepped back. But then he paused, as if sensing my fear, and lifted his hand to the helmet covering his head. Slowly, he began to remove it. The mask came away first, and just as his hair, dark and tousled, was revealed, everything faded. Blackness swallowed the vision, and the only thing I could hear was a voice, soft but certain:
"You are the next Dragon Rider."
I woke with a jolt, heart pounding. Another strange dream. My thoughts swirled in confusion as I stared at the ceiling, the lingering images still vivid in my mind. None of this made sense. I had never seen that man before in my life, and yet I dream about him.
It's been four months since we found Alessa. Four long, quiet months. Nothing out of the ordinary had happened during our search missions since then. That is, until yesterday. An 18-year-old boy went missing during a solo hike. He'd been gone for two days, no contact with friends or family. We assumed the worst. People don't usually survive that long in the cold without gear or help. But somehow, he walked out of the forest alive. And he was holding the same scale. Jet black. Smooth. Slightly iridescent. Just like Alessa's. That alone should have made headlines, but it got stranger. He wouldn't say much—barely anything at all. Just like Alessa. The only thing he did say echoed her exact words, almost word-for-word. It's like they were protecting someone… or something.
It doesn't add up. Someone—or something—is helping these lost people survive. Saving them from the cold, from wild animals, from death itself. But who? And more importantly, why? If this mysterious figure really is connected to a dragon, it would make sense that they're hiding. The mountains are the perfect place—remote, wild, hard to reach. If I were trying to keep a dragon hidden from the world, this is exactly where I'd be.
Maybe the silence from the survivors is intentional. Maybe they're trying to protect him… or maybe they're afraid. Either way, I need answers.