Frosted Scales - When Worlds Collide: A HTTYD X Frozen Tale

Epilogue

One Month Earlier

Ragnot, the Black Dragon, slithered out of the pit he had been squatting in, his dark scales blending seamlessly with the shadows that surrounded him. The ground beneath him was a treacherous landscape of broken rock and smoldering ash, remnants of the battle that had raged here not long ago. The air was thick with the acrid scent of burning earth, and every breath he took was laced with the bitter tang of smoke.

He moved cautiously, his eyes darting from side to side as he navigated the desolate terrain. He could not afford to be seen, not when he was this close. The others believed he was dead, buried beneath the rubble alongside the Red Death. But Ragnot was a survivor, and he had managed to slip away in the chaos, finding refuge in an alcove that had miraculously survived the behemoth’s wrath.

Despite the days that had passed since the battle, ash still fell from the sky like a relentless snowfall, coating everything in a fine layer of grey. Ragnot’s claws dug into the ashen soil as he moved, his movements swift and deliberate. He knew what he was searching for, and he could feel it—just beneath the surface.

Dodging between jagged boulders, Ragnot’s eyes narrowed as he caught sight of another pit, deeper and darker than the others. His heart quickened as he leaped into it, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps. The ground here felt different, softer, as if something had disturbed the earth.

With a low growl of anticipation, Ragnot began to dig, his claws slicing through the ash-laden soil with ease. He worked feverishly, his mind racing with the possibilities of what he might find. He paused every few moments to check over his shoulder, ensuring that no dragons were creeping up on him. But the area was eerily silent, the only sound the rhythmic scraping of his claws against the dirt.

Finally, his fingers brushed against something hard and smooth, like glass. Ragnot’s eyes widened in triumph as he pried the object free from the earth. The sight of it made his breath catch in his throat—a Dragon Stone. Its surface gleamed with a dull red glow, the light flickering like a heartbeat beneath the translucent surface.

A slow smile spread across Ragnot’s face, and he began to laugh, the sound low and guttural at first, but growing louder and more unhinged with each passing second. His whole body shook with the force of his mirth, the echoes of his laughter bouncing off the surrounding rocks.

And then, as if answering his call, another glint caught his eye. Ragnot’s laughter ceased abruptly as he reached down and pulled free a second orb, identical to the first. The sight of the two Dragon Stones in his hands sent a surge of power coursing through him, a feeling of invincibility that made his blood sing.

“It’s only a matter of time, Stoick,” Ragnot hissed, his voice dripping with malice. “Only a matter of time before Ragnot, the Black Dragon—no, Ragnot the Black Death—comes for you and that boy of yours.”

He held the Dragon Stones aloft, their red light intensifying as he fed them his magic. The air around him crackled with energy, and the ground beneath him trembled as if in response. Nearby, dragons that had been drawn by his laughter skidded to a halt, their eyes widening in fear as they felt the power emanating from the stones.

One by one, the dragons bowed their heads, submitting to the overwhelming force of Ragnot’s will. The sight filled him with a savage joy, and he bared his fangs in a predatory grin.

“This world will be mine,” he declared, his voice booming across the desolate landscape. “And there is nothing anyone can do to stop me.”

******
Far away, in a place where light barely touched, a figure cloaked in shadows watched the scene unfold through a magical mirror made of swirling smoke. The space around the mirror was an endless expanse of darkness, broken only by the occasional pillar of smoke that rose from the ground like the breath of a sleeping beast.

The figure’s features were hidden in the gloom, but the glint of two blue orbs in their hands betrayed a sinister intent. The light from the orbs cast an eerie glow on the figure’s hands, revealing long, slender fingers that curled possessively around the artifacts.

“Looks like an opportunity has arisen,” the figure murmured, their voice low and smooth, with an edge of malice that sent shivers down the spines of the unseen creatures lurking in the darkness.

The figure’s gaze remained fixed on the mirror, where Ragnot stood triumphant, the Dragon Stones glowing in his grasp. A slow, wicked smile spread across the figure’s face, their eyes narrowing with satisfaction.

“Ragnot, the Black Death,” they mused, the words rolling off their tongue like a poisonous lullaby. “You are but a pawn in a much larger game. And soon, you will learn that power is not something to be grasped lightly.”

The figure’s laughter echoed through the darkness, a chilling sound that reverberated off the unseen walls of the chamber. The blue orbs in their hands pulsed with a cold, malevolent light, as if they too were eager to play their part in the unfolding drama.

“Let the games begin,” the figure whispered, their voice fading into the shadows as the mirror’s image dissolved into nothingness.

In the distance, the sound of Ragnot’s laughter could still be heard, a haunting reminder of the storm that was about to break over Berk and its people. The world was on the brink of a new era, one that would be defined by the clash of titans and the struggle for ultimate power.

But for now, the shadows held their secrets close, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.