Symphony of Shadows

5. Nightmare

Astrid jolted awake, gasping and sweaty. She thought she had rid herself of the nightmares that had plagued her for many years after...after Hiccup's death.

It was the same situation every time: she reverted to her fifteen-year-old self, and a dragon raid was getting out of hand. She would be dousing the flames that were consuming the houses around her, and then she would see Hiccup being chased by a gigantic Monstrous Nightmare. She would try to run, but her feet were anchored to the floor. No matter how hard she pushed and thrashed, she was always unable to save him when it mattered most. Astrid knew what it felt like to be helpless in those nightmares, truly weak and vulnerable.

Perhaps that's why she pushed herself a little harder when she felt she could no longer continue. Or perhaps guilt drove her. She knew if she analyzed herself for too long, nothing good would come of it. So she calmed herself down and prepared for the day.

Strapping her favorite dagger to her thigh around her thick leggings, she thought back on how she came to earn it. After a particularly hard training session with Ingrid, she had been pushed off a cliff by her mentor. Granted it hadn't been the tallest cliff on Berk—but a cliff nonetheless. She remembered bracing for impact. Her wrist had bent at an awkward angle, making the climb up the cliff rather tricky. Against all odds, she had made it to the top before the sun set, and promptly collapsed from exhaustion in front of Ingrid, who had been waiting all along. She had never been so proud of herself before; she had never felt that invincible. Her training hadn't just strengthened her body—it had strengthened her mind. She relished in the fact that she could conquer impossible obstacles through her hard work and determination.

Finishing hiding the rest of her knives on her person, she strapped on her custom axe holster made from real leather that Gobber had gifted her for her eighteenth birthday. She hadn't been informed that her schedule had changed, so she assumed her meeting with Ingrid was still in action. She put on her lighter training boots (knowing that, with Ingrid, everything was a training maneuver) and braided her hair in a simple style that wouldn't impede her in the field. She also donned her worn kransen—long overdue for replacement—and tidied her bed before leaving.

Astrid's eyes widened at the ruined village before her: scorched earth where shrubbery once stood, sheep pens looted, debris everywhere. The atmosphere was heavy, and she felt deep gratitude that her house—her parents'—had been spared.

She was close with her family, but sometimes she couldn't help feeling her mother's sadness and regret whenever she visited. She knew it wasn't on purpose, but it hurt when her mom made it obvious that her current life wasn't what she had originally set out for herself.

"Mom, guess what? I got accepted into the Berk Guard!"

"Oh, Astrid, that's amazing, honey. Just make sure you keep quiet and aren't too much of a bother. You'll be better off."
Her mom said, a pained smile painting her face.

"What do you mean, 'keep quiet'?"
Astrid felt her face scrunch in confusion.

"Well, you know honey, you're pretty loud and opinionated and the Guard officers aren't as tolerant as your father and I, so you should be more reserved. And Astrid, when will you listen to me and be more ladylike? Chin up, chest up, and shoulders back."

Astrid felt her mother's hands mold her posture and wondered when her fighting mother had succumbed to expectations. Where was her fire? A bright flame extinguished by the burdens placed upon her.

Yes, Astrid had empathy for her mother, but she also respected herself and knew that misery loved company. Astrid loved to laugh loudly, loved to feel strong, and loved to protect others. So she lived her life however she wanted and dared anyone to try and stop her.

So, she walked to the Eastern Forest, Ingrid's favorite training spot. Astrid had plenty of memories training in those woods, and knew them like the back of her hand. Hels, she had practiced axe throwing on a good third of the spruce trees in that forest. She trodded along until she spotted a footprint in the woods, crouched down, evaluating its size and depth—and concluded it was indeed her mentor's. She looked around for other indicators of a path, and it took her several minutes to find the trodden grass that led towards the western part of the forest which, coincidentally, was where her infamous cliff lay. Astrid followed the path she knew as well as the grooves on her axe handle and arrived at the picturesque clearing at the cliff, where she spotted a familiar figure.

Ingrid smiled as she turned to look at Astrid. "I see you finally decided to join me."

"Come, child," Ingrid said, beckoning, and Astrid warmed at the familiarity of her words. They both knew Astrid was no longer a child; Ingrid meant it not in age, but in spirit. For only Ingrid truly understood Astrid's fighting nature and matched her word for word. The two were a dynamic pair, and Astrid couldn't help but feel as if Ingrid had been more of a mother figure than her own mother. She walked over to where her mentor stood, near the cliff's edge. The sun wasn't quite at mid-sky yet, and Astrid reveled in its warmth, soaking in the comforting heat.

"The Chief's Council created your position because Berk faces grave danger. We need our fiercest and brightest at the front lines;" Ingrid sighed, looking into the distance.

Astrid was confused. What dangers were they facing now that they hadn't before? Sure there was the dragon from the last raid, but that was just one more—nothing they couldn't handle.

"What do you mean?" Astrid prodded.

"We've received reports from neighboring tribes, including the Berserkers. There is pressing news that's shaking the Archipelago, Astrid."

Astrid grew uneasy. Whatever was happening must be grave if all the tribes shared the same belief—a rare occurrence.

"Do you remember that dragon from last night? The one that blasted one of our torches?"

"How could I forget?"

"Well, according to our reports, the dragon isn't alone."

Oh no...more of those dragons? Berk would need to heighten its defenses immediately— reinforce the pens, maybe even move them inside—

Ingrid paused, her mouth tightening as if unsure whether to go on. A gust of wind swept through the clearing, rustling the trees. Then, her expression hardened.

"It has a rider."

What in Odin's name?