The Lost King’s Legacy

The children huddled closer to Lyra, their small hands clutching at her cloak like lifelines. Their eyes, wide and tearful, darted between the battlefield and the woman kneeling in front of them, her body trembling under the weight of the crystalline barrier she had conjured. The shield shimmered faintly, cracks spidering across its surface with every impact.

Lyra's breath came in shallow gasps, her chest heaving as the effort of holding the barrier began to drain her completely. Her hands glowed faintly with runic energy, their tremors betraying the strain she was under. Sweat streaked her pale face, mingling with smudges of dirt and blood.

"It's okay," she whispered, though her voice barely rose above the roar of battle. Her green eyes, though weary, locked onto the frightened children. "I won't let anything happen to you."

One child, a girl no older than seven, clutched a tattered stuffed dragon to her chest. Her voice trembled as she whispered, "Promise?"

Lyra forced a small, reassuring smile, though her arms trembled under the mounting strain. "I promise," she said, her voice steady despite the pain. But even as she spoke, a sharp jolt shot through her palms, and she winced, her composure slipping for a fraction of a second.

The ring on her finger pulsed again, the glow intensifying with each beat. It felt as though it were resonating with the very air around her, responding to an energy she couldn't quite place. The urgency of its rhythm matched the chaos unfolding beyond her shield.

Then, a sound unlike anything they had ever heard ripped through the battlefield. A roar, low and resonant, vibrated through the ground, the air, and even the crystalline barrier itself. It wasn't just a sound—it was a force, primal and commanding, that seemed to freeze the world in its tracks.

Lyra's head snapped up, her eyes widening in shock. The children whimpered, pressing closer to her as the roar echoed again, carrying a weight that seemed to press down on every soul in the village. Every dragon—Drago's controlled beasts and the free ones alike—stilled in an instant. Their eyes, wide with recognition, turned toward the source of the sound.

"What's happening?" one of the children asked, their voice trembling as they buried their face against Lyra's side.

Lyra didn't answer. She couldn't. Her gaze was fixed on the horizon, where a shimmering figure appeared, growing larger and more defined with each passing second. The light of the stormy sky refracted off the figure's scales, casting prismatic rays that painted the battlefield in fleeting rainbows.

Chaos had arrived.

The massive Fury descended from the heavens, his wings slicing through the air with lethal precision. His pitch-black scales, traced with glowing gold lines, radiated an otherworldly aura, each movement exuding raw, untamed power. His piercing golden eyes burned with intensity, scanning the battlefield with a commanding presence that sent shivers through every witness.

The roar came again, sharper this time, and it shook the very air. Soldiers stumbled, their weapons falling from their hands as they backed away in terror. The dragons under Drago's control faltered, their growls turning to low whimpers before they bowed one by one. Even the mighty Bewilderbeast, its icy breath faltering mid-attack, lowered its massive head to the ground, trembling in submission.

"Get up and fight!" Drago's furious shout shattered the momentary silence. His face twisted with rage as he glared at the cowering Bewilderbeast. "Do as I command!"

But the massive dragon did not obey. It remained motionless, its gaze fixed on Chaos as if acknowledging a force far beyond its master.

Chaos landed with a thunderous crash, the ground beneath him cracking from the impact. His wings folded against his body, their sheer size dwarfing everything around him. A low, resonant growl rumbled from his chest, silencing even Drago's protests.

Nyx leapt gracefully from Chaos's back, his movements fluid and deliberate. He strode forward, each step radiating authority, his golden eyes blazing as they swept across the battlefield. His presence alone seemed to part the chaos, every soldier and dragon alike shrinking back in his wake.

When his gaze landed on Lyra, still kneeling behind the shimmering barrier, his expression changed. The fury in his eyes softened for a fleeting moment, replaced by something raw—concern, guilt, and anger intertwined. His steps quickened, and in a flash, he was beside her.

"Lyra!" Nyx's voice was sharp, cutting through the din of the battlefield as he crouched beside her.

Lexy, who had hovered protectively nearby, swooped down with a low hum. Her crystalline scales shimmered faintly, casting soft light over Lyra and the children. Without waiting for instruction, the Crystal Fury lowered her head and emitted a soothing pulse of energy. The shimmering barrier began to stabilize, its cracks fading as Lexy's glow enveloped it.

"I'm fine," Lyra whispered, though her voice was weak and her hands shook visibly.

Nyx's sharp glare silenced her instantly. "You're not," he said, his tone tight with anger barely masked by concern. His golden eyes darted to the blood on her hands, his jaw clenching. "And you shouldn't have been left to handle this alone. I shouldn't have trusted these people to protect you."

Lyra shook her head, her green eyes meeting his with defiant calm despite her exhaustion. "I'm doing what needs to be done," she said softly. Her voice, though faint, carried a quiet strength. "Just like you taught us."

Nyx exhaled sharply, his expression flickering between frustration and admiration. For a brief moment, his hand hovered near hers, as if he wanted to steady her but held himself back. Instead, he stood, his gaze hardening as he turned toward the battlefield.

"Rest," he said over his shoulder, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Lexy, stay with her."

Lexy hummed softly in response, lowering herself beside Lyra and extending a protective wing over her and the children.

Lyra watched as Nyx strode away, his golden eyes blazing as he surveyed the chaos around him. Though her body ached and exhaustion weighed heavily on her, she allowed herself a faint smile. He had come—just as she had known he would.

From the corner of his eye, Hiccup spotted Nyx and guided Toothless down toward him, landing with a soft, deliberate thud amidst the chaos. He dismounted quickly, his hands raised in a gesture of truce. The storm above crackled with electricity, the darkened sky mirroring the turmoil below.

"Nyx!" Hiccup called out, his voice carrying both urgency and calm, his tone carefully measured despite the tense situation.

Nyx, still riding the torrent of his emotions, turned sharply toward him. In a blur of motion, he was in front of Hiccup, his grip iron-tight as he seized the younger man's collar and lifted him slightly off the ground. The sheer force of the movement made Hiccup gasp softly, though he didn't resist.

Toothless growled low in his throat, crouching protectively, his tail lashing against the ground. But Chaos, towering behind Nyx, fixed Toothless with a sharp, commanding glare. The Night Fury stilled instantly, his pupils narrowing into slits, though his body remained tense.

"You brought this to her doorstep," Nyx growled, his voice low, each word laced with fury and accusation. "You and your village dragged her into this madness. She should've been far away from this place, safe." His golden eyes burned like molten fire, the intensity in his gaze unwavering.

Hiccup, though shaken, met Nyx's eyes unflinchingly. "You're right," he said firmly, his voice steady despite the pressure on his throat. "But Lyra made the choice to stay and fight. Just like the rest of us. We're not running away, Nyx. We're protecting Berk—together."

Nyx's grip loosened slightly, but the fury in his eyes didn't fade. He seemed to hesitate, his sharp breathing the only sound in the stillness between them.

"And Drago Bludvist," Hiccup continued, his voice growing stronger, "he's the real threat here. Not me. Not us. Him. If we don't stop him now, everything we care about will be destroyed."

For a moment, Nyx stood motionless, his hand still gripping Hiccup's collar. Then, slowly, he released him, his arms falling to his sides. "You'd better be right," he said, his tone cold but no longer accusing.

Nyx turned sharply, his golden gaze locking onto Drago, who stood defiantly on the deck of his ship. The hulking warlord was barking orders to his soldiers, his booming voice echoing across the battlefield. Chaos moved to Nyx's side, his imposing frame radiating raw energy that sent visible shivers through the ranks of Drago's forces.

"Drago!" Nyx called, his voice cutting through the din like the crack of a whip. He strode forward, each step purposeful, his presence commanding attention. "This is your end."

Drago froze mid-command, his dark eyes narrowing as he turned to face the source of the challenge. His gaze swept over Nyx, taking in his regal armor, the golden glow of his eyes, and the towering form of Chaos at his back. Despite the formidable sight before him, Drago sneered.

"And who might you be?" Drago's voice dripped with disdain, though there was a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. "Some self-important fool with a fancy dragon?"

Nyx's lip curled faintly, but he kept his voice steady. "I am Nyx Aetherion, King of Aether. And you, Drago, have made a grave mistake."

Drago's laugh was harsh and guttural. "A king, you say? I've dealt with kings and cheifs before—they all fall. Their crowns, their armies, their dragons. Nothing stands against me and my Alpha."

He gestured to the massive Bewilderbeast, which stood behind him like a glacial fortress, its icy breath swirling in the storm-churned air.

Nyx's expression didn't falter. "You call it your Alpha, but look closely, Drago. That dragon doesn't serve you. It fears you. There's a difference."

Drago's eyes darkened, and he stepped forward, his hand resting on the hilt of his blade. "You think you can lecture me, boy? Power doesn't need trust—it needs control. And I have control over everything here, including you."

Chaos let out a low, rumbling growl, the sound vibrating through the air like distant thunder. Nyx didn't flinch, his gaze fixed on Drago. "You have no idea what you're dealing with."

Before Drago could retort, Chaos's golden eyes flickered with a sharp intensity, his piercing gaze landing on the Bewilderbeast with a quiet authority that rippled through the air. The massive alpha dragon, which had previously stood frozen in submission, began to stir. Its colossal head turned slowly toward Drago, as though awakening from a long, oppressive trance.

The ice-blue eyes of the Bewilderbeast narrowed, locking onto Drago with a chilling clarity. A deep, guttural growl rumbled from its chest, reverberating through the battlefield like a distant avalanche. The sound was primal, a mix of anger, confusion, and something deeper—a glimmer of fear as its gaze flickered briefly toward Chaos before returning to its former master.

The environment seemed to respond to the shift in the dragon's emotions, mirroring the brewing storm in the alpha's heart. The air grew colder, the wind biting against exposed skin as it whipped through the battlefield. Snow began to fall in uneven bursts, icy crystals swirling like restless spirits. The sea beyond the cliffs churned violently, the waves crashing against the jagged rocks with an increasing fury, as though the very world itself recognized the tension.

Chaos remained still, his massive form exuding a commanding presence that seemed to weigh heavily on the Bewilderbeast. His pitch-black scales shimmered faintly, the gold lines tracing their surface glowing like molten veins, casting ethereal patterns of light that danced across the battlefield. The power radiating from Chaos wasn't overt or violent—it was quiet, calculated, and undeniable.

The Bewilderbeast's growl deepened, but its body language betrayed hesitation. It shifted its weight uneasily, the immense tusks scraping against the ice as it lowered its head slightly. The action wasn't entirely submissive, but it was clear—the alpha dragon, even in its towering might, was deeply unsettled by Chaos's presence.

Drago, oblivious to the silent exchange between the two dragons, clenched his fists and barked angrily. "What are you doing?" he roared, his voice carrying across the frozen battlefield. His frustration boiled over as he slammed a hand on the railing of his ship. "Fight, you overgrown lizard!"

The Bewilderbeast didn't obey. Its eyes flickered between Drago and Chaos, its movements slow but deliberate, as though weighing its options. A low, almost mournful hum escaped from its throat, a sound that carried a strange sadness.

Chaos tilted his head slightly, his sharp golden gaze never leaving the Bewilderbeast. He didn't roar or move; he didn't need to. His presence alone was a statement, a reminder of who he was—what he was.

The Bewilderbeast shifted again, its massive claws crunching through the ice as it took a step backward, its imposing form shrinking slightly in the face of Chaos's silent dominance. Its icy breath, once a symbol of its control over the battlefield, dissipated into the frigid air as it exhaled heavily, like a creature reluctantly acknowledging its place in the hierarchy.

The wind howled louder, the snow thickening around the battlefield. The temperature plummeted, frost forming intricate patterns on weapons, shields, and even the ships. The air was heavy with tension, the kind that weighed down on every living being, human and dragon alike.

Drago's frustration turned to fury as he watched the Bewilderbeast hesitate, its imposing stature undermined by the oppressive aura of Chaos. "You dare disobey me?!" he shouted, his voice cracking with desperation.

But the Bewilderbeast barely glanced at him now. Its focus remained divided, caught between the memory of Drago's dominance and the unmistakable reality of Chaos's overwhelming presence.

The storm intensified, as if Chaos's power resonated with the elements themselves. Lightning streaked across the darkened sky, illuminating the battlefield in blinding flashes. The thunder that followed was a low, ominous rumble, echoing like the growl of a predator preparing to strike.

And still, Chaos didn't move.

His silent, unmoving presence spoke louder than any roar. It wasn't merely intimidation—it was control, mastery, and an unshakable confidence that sent shivers through the hearts of all who beheld him. The Bewilderbeast, for all its size and power, was no exception.

Drago's screams faded into the background as the alpha dragon finally made its choice. With one last reluctant glance toward its master, the Bewilderbeast lowered its head further, its icy eyes filled with a mixture of regret and deference. The growl in its throat quieted into a low, submissive hum as its body language shifted completely.

The battlefield grew eerily quiet, save for the howling wind and the distant roar of the sea. The moment was clear to all—Chaos reigned supreme, and no dragon, not even an alpha, could stand against his might.

"What are you doing?" Drago barked, his voice rising in alarm. He stepped back, waving his arms as if to command the massive creature. "I control you! Fight!"

But the Bewilderbeast didn't obey. Its gaze darkened, a low snarl escaping its throat as it took a step forward. The ice beneath its feet cracked and splintered with each movement.

Drago stumbled, his face contorting in a mix of confusion and panic. "No! I am your master! Obey me!"

The colossal creature let out a deafening roar, its breath visible as a swirling mist in the frigid air. With a sudden, violent motion, it lashed out with its massive tusks, striking Drago with enough force to send him flying across the deck. He crashed into the railing with a sickening thud, his soldiers scattering in terror.

The Bewilderbeast loomed over him, its icy breath steaming as it growled low and menacing. Drago scrambled to his feet, his confidence shattered. He stumbled backward, his eyes wide with disbelief as the dragon he had once controlled turned its wrath upon him.

"No," Drago whispered, his voice trembling. "This isn't possible."

With a final, devastating strike, the Bewilderbeast drove its tusks forward, sending Drago hurtling into the icy sea. His scream was swallowed by the churning waters, and the battlefield fell into an uneasy quiet.

As the silence stretched, the village began to stir, though the weight of what had just transpired lingered heavily in the air. Riders dismounted from their dragons, their movements slow and weary, while villagers tentatively stepped out from their shelters, their faces pale but relieved. Smoke curled from the remnants of burning structures, rising into the darkened sky like fleeting ghosts.