Chapter 14 — The Air Grows Heavy
The first thing that changed was the wind.
Not its direction — its behavior.
It stopped flowing naturally, no longer sweeping down from the cliffs or curling in from the sea. Instead, it pressed inward, as if the air itself were bracing for something. Smoke from the earlier fires didn't drift; it lingered, clinging low to the ground, smearing the village in gray.
Hiccup noticed it as he ran.
His boots struck stone too hard, too loud. Every sound felt swallowed a moment after it was made. The world had taken on a strange, muted quality, as if Berk itself were holding its breath.
Toothless paced at his side, wings half-unfurled, head low. The Night Fury's movements were tense, controlled — not panicked, but deeply alert. His pupils were narrow slits, eyes fixed not on the dragons attacking the village, but on the sky beyond them.
"Easy," Hiccup whispered, though his own heart was racing. "We'll figure this out."
He wasn't sure who he was trying to convince.
The Arena
Across the village, iron gates slammed shut.
The dragon training arena — normally loud with roars, flames, and the echo of nervous teenagers — had become a prison. The captive dragons inside thrashed and screamed as the raid unfolded overhead, their instincts howling at them to join the fight.
They slammed against stone and iron, wings battering the walls, tails cracking against the floor.
But they did not escape.
Chains held.
Gates held.
Men held them back with hooks and shields, terrified of what would happen if the captives broke loose in the middle of a raid.
From inside the arena came a chorus of furious, frightened roars — not of attack, but of frustration.
The sound carried through Berk like a warning bell.
(Stoic POV)
Stoick the Vast stood his ground in the square, axe planted in stone, watching the raid unfold with a commander's eye.
This was not his first raid.
But it was the first time the dragons felt… wrong.
They moved with purpose, yes — but more than that, they kept glancing upward, circling wide arcs in the sky as though avoiding something unseen. Some pulled out of dives at the last second. Others veered off abruptly, colliding with rooftops or cliffs as if distracted.
Stoick frowned.
"Hold the line!" he bellowed, voice cutting through the chaos. "Keep them away from the stores!"
Behind him, Gobber shouted orders of his own, rallying blacksmiths and warriors alike, his metal arm clanging as he ran.
Then the ground trembled.
Not from a dragon landing.
From pressure.
Stoick stiffened, instinct screaming.
He turned—
And saw the shadow.
The Shadow
It was not cast by wings.
It stretched too far, warped too strangely, its edges blurred and elongated as if reality itself struggled to define its shape. It slid across the square like spilled ink, crawling over stone and timber.
Stoick had faced monstrous dragons before.
This was different.
The dragon behind him — massive, scaled like armor, eyes burning with predatory focus — slowed. Its confidence faltered. Its claws scraped stone as it hesitated, head tilting as though listening.
The air vibrated.
A low hum rolled through the village, felt in the chest before it was heard in the ears.
Every dragon in the sky reacted.
Some screamed.
Some froze mid-flight.
Some fled outright, wings pumping in blind terror.
The monstrous dragon staggered.
Stoick's eyes widened.
(Hiccup POV)
Hiccup felt it like a weight settling on his shoulders.
Not crushing.
Just… present.
The sky above Berk seemed closer, heavier, as if something vast had leaned in to observe. Toothless snarled, stepping in front of Hiccup without being told, tail lashing once.
"That's not you," Hiccup whispered. "I know that's not you."
Toothless didn't look at him.
He was staring upward — at nothing, and everything.
Hiccup swallowed.
Whatever was there, Toothless sensed it as something greater than the raid itself.
(Aegis POV)
I remained unseen.
For now.
My body did not need to descend for my presence to be known. My mass alone bent the air, compressed the clouds, altered the flow of the sky around Berk.
Dragons felt me instantly.
Their instincts recognized what their minds could not.
I did not assert dominance through violence.
I applied weight.
The monstrous dragon threatening Stoick felt it most clearly — the way prey feels a mountain shifting beneath its feet. Its aggression fractured, movements slowing as fear seeped through the cracks in its confidence.
Not panic.
Recognition.
I focused on it — just enough.
Move.
Gobber didn't understand what had changed.
He only saw the opening.
"Stoick!" he roared, barreling forward and slamming into his friend with every ounce of strength he had.
They hit the ground hard, rolling behind a shattered wall just as the dragon lashed out where Stoick had stood.
Stone exploded.
Heat washed over them.
Gobber didn't stop moving.
He dragged Stoick by the arm, cursing, yelling, pulling him into cover as the square collapsed behind them.
"Next time," Gobber gasped, "listen when I yell!"
Stoick stared back at the destruction, chest heaving.
"…Something stopped it," he said slowly.
Gobber didn't answer.
He didn't know how.
I receded.
Not gone.
Never gone.
Just enough to release the pressure, to let the world breathe again.
The dragons sensed it immediately.
The raid did not end.
But it faltered.
Movements lost coordination. Attacks became erratic. The confidence that had driven the assault cracked, replaced with uncertainty.
Berk still burned.
But it did not fall.
Hiccup stood frozen, staring at the sky.
He hadn't seen anything.
Not clearly.
But he felt it.
A presence vast and watching.
Protective.
Terrifying.
"…Thank you," he whispered, not knowing why.
Toothless exhaled slowly, wings folding a fraction — not relaxed, but no longer braced for the worst.
Somewhere above Berk, something immense was still there.
Waiting.
And Hiccup knew — deep in his bones —
Whatever had just intervened was not done with this world.