Chapter 3: Fury of the King

The echoes of ancient silence filled the chamber, disrupted only by the hum of Nyx's sword and the low growls of Chaos and Lexy. Molten gold light flickered along the cracked walls, like fragments of forgotten memories. Each glow illuminated scenes of an era lost to time—shadowy carvings of dragons and warriors, symbols of prosperity turned to ruin.

Nyx stood rigid, his breath unsteady, as he took in the devastation around him. The towering ice-etched ruins were no longer the vibrant kingdom he remembered; they had become ghostly remnants, cold and unrecognizable. The air was heavy, thick with the scent of frost and ancient magic, carrying the weight of forgotten echoes.

Beside him, Lyra trembled, her crystalline green eyes wide with shock. Her silvery-blonde hair shimmered like starlight against the dark ruins. She clung to Nyx's arm, her grip tight, steadying herself as reality coalesced around her. Her voice was a fragile whisper, filled with disbelief and fear.

"Nyx... val'ren vas enar?" (Nyx... what happened here?)

Nyx didn't respond immediately. His molten-gold eyes scanned the crumbling chamber, lingering on the intricate carvings that once told stories of triumph and harmony. Chaos shifted behind him, its golden eyes fixated on the Riders—strangers in a sacred place. Lexy moved protectively to Lyra's side, her crystalline blue eyes reflecting the devastation with a quiet, unspoken sorrow.

Nyx felt the weight of the palace's destruction pressing on his shoulders, the crushing silence filling the void where his people once stood. His mind raced with questions, each one heavier than the last. Where had everyone gone? How had it come to this? His confusion slowly hardened into resolve. Tightening his grip on the black-and-gold sword, he murmured, his voice low but steady.

"Tal'ren vas orhen." (We must leave this place.)

Lyra glanced at him, her eyes reflecting both fear and a flicker of determination. She nodded, understanding the urgency without needing words. Nyx gently released her, turning toward Chaos. The great dragon unfurled its wings with a low, rumbling growl, the sound reverberating through the ruins. Nyx climbed onto its back with the practiced ease of a king who had ridden dragons all his life. He extended a hand, helping Lyra mount Lexy. She settled into place, her gaze distant, her heart heavy.

With a final glance at the shattered chamber—a silent farewell to a past that felt like a dream—Nyx gave a quiet signal. "Vel'thara ven'aen." (It's time.)

Chaos lifted its head high, its molten patterns flaring briefly before it released a plasma bolt toward the weakened dome. The explosion echoed through the ruins like a pulse of thunder, the force splintering the ice above. With a powerful beat of its wings, Chaos soared into the open sky, Lexy close behind.

The ice-crusted dome shattered with a deafening crack. Shards of crystal and stone cascaded downward, like remnants of a falling world. Chaos and Lexy shot through the opening, their forms cutting through the frosty air like shadows of ancient power. Nyx clutched the hilt of his sword, his eyes scanning the desolate landscape below.

What lay before Nyx was unrecognizable—a twisted, desolate shadow of the kingdom that had once stood proud and vibrant. The Aether Kingdom, once a jewel among realms, had been a land of shimmering Emberstone towers, their fiery glow a beacon of hope and unity. The vibrant streets had bustled with life, voices singing songs of triumph and prosperity, a harmonious dance between humans and dragons. Skies once alive with dragons of every hue, their wings painting the heavens in brilliant colors, now stretched wide and empty, a hollow expanse of silence.

Now, everything lay buried beneath a heavy shroud of ice and sorrow. The once-grand towers, symbols of innovation and magic, were reduced to jagged, broken spires, encrusted with frost. Streets where laughter had echoed were now choked with snowdrifts, the memories of their warmth extinguished by the cold passage of time. Fields that had been sanctuaries of joy, where children played and dragons soared, were nothing more than lifeless plains of white, their beauty suffocated beneath a thick, unyielding blanket of ice. The kingdom had become a graveyard of forgotten dreams and lost hope.

Tears welled in Nyx's molten-gold eyes, their radiant glow dimmed by the weight of grief. Yet, he blinked them away, the burden of duty pressing down on his chest like an unrelenting hand. He had been born a prince, raised a protector, and crowned a king—but now, he stood as a guardian of shadows and memories, facing a future as cold and uncertain as the ruins around him. The echoes of his ancestors' voices seemed to haunt the wind, whispering of triumphs past and sacrifices made, leaving him alone in the vast silence.

Lyra clung to Lexy, her body rigid with shock. Her face, usually filled with light and hope, was pale and stricken with grief. She gazed out at the devastation, her eyes wide with disbelief. Tears streamed down her cheeks, glimmering like fragile crystals against the bitter frost, catching the faint light as they fell. Each drop seemed a tribute to the kingdom they had lost—a kingdom that had been everything to them.

She glanced back at Nyx, her voice barely more than a breath, each word trembling with sorrow. "Val, Nyx... to'then vel'tara..." (Nyx... everything's gone...)

Her words hung in the air, heavy and final, carried away by the wind. They were not just a statement of loss; they were a plea, an unspoken question that neither of them could answer. Where had their people gone? What cruel fate had reduced their kingdom to this lifeless expanse?

Nyx didn't respond. His gaze remained fixed on the ruins, his eyes hardening against the flood of emotion threatening to consume him. His grip on Chaos's reins tightened, his knuckles white beneath the pressure. Each breath felt like an anchor, dragging him deeper into the abyss of grief and responsibility. The torrent of emotions roiled within him—a storm of anger, sorrow, and guilt, all battling for dominance.

He couldn't afford to break. Not now. Not when so much had already been lost. But the weight of it all pressed down on him, relentless and unforgiving, leaving him standing amidst the ruins of a world that had once been his pride and now lay in pieces around him.

Below, Hiccup and the Riders stood amidst the debris, their dragons poised with tense anticipation. The ground beneath them still trembled from the dome's collapse, the shockwaves reverberating through the frozen earth. Fragments of ice and stone tumbled down like brittle remnants of a forgotten world, shattering into a chaotic chorus that echoed through the ruins. The air was thick with frost and the acrid scent of ancient magic, hanging heavy as if the very landscape held its breath.

"Toothless, follow them!" Hiccup's voice cut through the turmoil, sharp with urgency. His eyes, wide with a mix of awe and determination, locked onto the molten glow of Chaos rising into the sky. Without hesitation, he leapt onto Toothless's back, the Night Fury's muscles coiling beneath him in readiness. They launched into the air, wings slicing through the cold wind with powerful, rhythmic beats.

The others followed suit. Astrid swung onto Stormfly, the Nadder's vibrant blue scales shimmering with a readiness that mirrored her rider's resolve. Hookfang's wings spread wide as Snotlout scrambled into the saddle, the Monstrous Nightmare's fiery presence a stark contrast to the icy ruins below. Fishlegs and Meatlug ascended more cautiously, the Gronckle's heavy frame laboring through the wind, while Ruffnut and Tuffnut clung to Barf and Belch, the Zippleback twisting and spiraling in a chaotic ascent.

As they climbed, the wind bit at their faces, sharp and unforgiving. The higher they flew, the colder the air became, filled with a tension that crackled like unseen lightning. The sky above was an endless expanse of gray, the sun obscured by thick, swirling clouds that seemed to mirror the uncertainty gnawing at their hearts. Each Rider's expression was etched with worry, their eyes flicking between the dark shape of Chaos and the fragile shimmer of Lexy in the distance.

Astrid's voice pierced the wind, carrying a note of worry that she couldn't quite suppress. "Are we sure about this, Hiccup? Those dragons—and those people—they're not like anything we've faced before." Her grip on Stormfly's reins tightened, her gaze scanning the sky for any sign of danger.

Hiccup's jaw set, his eyes never leaving Chaos's dark form ahead of them. "I know," he replied, his voice low but resolute. "But we need answers." There was an urgency in his tone, a determination born of both curiosity and responsibility. Whatever lay ahead, he knew they couldn't turn back now.

The dragons climbed higher, the wind howling around them like a chorus of unseen spirits. Every beat of their wings was a battle against the cold, the air growing thinner and sharper with each passing second. Chaos's molten glow was a beacon in the gray expanse, its brilliance stark against the desolate sky. Lexy's crystalline shimmer cast fragmented rainbows, a haunting contrast to the raw power radiating from Chaos.

The air between them was charged with tension, the weight of the unknown pressing down on them like an invisible force. Each Rider felt it—a palpable uncertainty, a question that hung unanswered in the wind. What were they chasing? Friends or foes? The ruins below were a reminder of how quickly everything could fall apart, the frozen remains a silent testament to a kingdom lost to time.

But curiosity drove them forward. Hiccup's mind raced with possibilities, each one more urgent than the last. These dragons, these people—they were part of a story that had yet to be told, a mystery that held the key to something greater. He couldn't shake the feeling that the answers lay just beyond the clouds, waiting to be uncovered.

And so, they pressed on, the cold wind biting at their faces, the air heavy with anticipation. The molten glow of Chaos and the ethereal light of Lexy guided them forward, pulling them deeper into the unknown.

Nyx's eyes narrowed as he caught sight of the approaching dragons, their silhouettes framed against the pale, unforgiving sky. Strangers—outsiders—intruders in the sacred ruins of his kingdom. Each beat of their dragons' wings was a reminder of what was lost, a wound reopened by unfamiliar faces. His grip on the black-and-gold blade tightened, the weapon's molten patterns pulsing with a dangerous energy that mirrored the fury building inside him.

"Vahl'nor," (Tomb raiders) he muttered, the word dripping with venom. His molten-gold eyes burned, filled with a mix of anger and grief. Chaos, sensing his master's tension, echoed the sentiment with a low, guttural growl. The patterns along the dragon's obsidian scales flared, glowing brighter with each passing moment. The sky above them started to darken, clouds swirling as if mirroring Nyx's fury, the air itself thickening with a foreboding weight.

Lyra, her crystalline eyes wide with concern, sensed the brewing storm within Nyx. She clung tightly to Lexy's saddle, her voice barely a whisper over the roaring wind. "Nyx, sa'len." (Nyx, wait.)

But he was beyond reason, his focus fixed solely on the approaching riders. "Lyra, sal'ren thal." (Lyra, hold on.) His voice was a cold command, leaving no room for argument.

Without warning, Nyx pulled Chaos into a sharp dive, the wind howling around them as they cut through the icy air like a falling star. Lexy followed, her crystalline wings catching the light, Lyra clinging tightly to her neck. The ground loomed closer, and with a thunderous crash, they landed, the impact sending shockwaves through the frozen terrain. Cracks spiderwebbed outward, the ice groaning under the force of their arrival.

Nyx dismounted in one fluid motion, his eyes blazing with molten fury. Each step he took was deliberate, the ground beneath him cracking with every movement. Chaos loomed behind him, a silent shadow of power, the patterns on its scales dancing like liquid fire.

The Riders landed cautiously, their dragons forming a protective circle around them. Hiccup slid off Toothless, his hands raised in a universal gesture of peace. His voice was steady, but his eyes darted between Nyx and the massive dragon that towered behind him.

"We're not here to fight!" Hiccup called out, his voice carrying across the frozen expanse. Toothless growled softly, his eyes locked on Chaos, every muscle in his sleek body tense and ready.

Nyx didn't understand the words, but the tone—pleading, almost desperate—meant little in the face of centuries of loss. His grip on the sword tightened, the molten light dancing along its edges like fire ready to consume.

"Tra'valan tu'raeth!" (You dare defile this place!) His voice, thick with raw emotion, echoed through the ruins like a thunderclap. Chaos roared in response, the ground beneath their feet quaking. Fissures split the ice, glowing with the energy that seeped up from the depths.

The Riders scrambled back, their dragons spreading their wings defensively. Hiccup guided Toothless away from the widening cracks, his voice sharp. "Stay back! Don't provoke it!"

Astrid's eyes narrowed as she kept Stormfly steady, her hand on her axe. "What's he saying, Hiccup?" she called over the chaos, her voice tight with tension.

"I don't know!" Hiccup shouted back, his eyes never leaving Nyx. "But he's not happy to see us."

Nyx advanced, each step deliberate, his molten-gold eyes locked onto Hiccup with an intensity that burned through the icy air. The energy in his black-and-gold sword crackled, arcs of molten light dancing along its blade—a visible manifestation of his rising anger. His voice, heavy with grief and fury, echoed through the ruins. "Val'ren vas trael… vel'tara tu'raeth!" (You bring ruin… to sacred ground!)

As his words thundered across the battlefield, the sky above them darkened, swirling with ominous clouds that churned like a gathering storm. Bolts of lightning, sharp and blinding, began striking the ground around them. Each impact sent shockwaves through the frozen earth, fissures spreading like a spider's web beneath their feet. The air vibrated with raw energy, the heavens themselves seeming to carry the weight of Nyx's fury.

Lyra's voice pierced the tension, desperate and pleading. "Nyx, sa'len! Vahl'nor vas enar!" (Nyx, wait! They're not tomb raiders!) She leapt off Lexy, running toward him. Her silvery-blonde hair whipped around her face, her eyes wide with fear—not for herself, but for what Nyx might do.

He shook his head, his voice a low growl. "Vahl'nor vas orhen thal."(They do not belong here). His grip on the sword tightened, the glow intensifying.

Lyra stood in front of him, her eyes searching his, willing him to see reason. "Nyx, sa'len,"(Nyx wait!) she repeated, softer this time. "Vahl'nor vas orhen." (They're not our enemies.)

He glanced at the Riders—Hiccup, Astrid, Fishlegs, all of them watching with wary eyes. There was fear in their expressions, yes, but also curiosity. They weren't the plunderers he had expected.

The molten energy around the sword dimmed slightly, its fierce glow retreating like a fading ember. Chaos's growl softened, the gold patterns along its obsidian scales dulling as if the fire within had been momentarily quenched. Above, the storm clouds began to settle, and the thunder's deafening roar dwindled to a distant rumble, the sky's fury ebbing in quiet response to the lessening tension below.

Lyra's voice was a whisper. "Vahl'nor vas orhen, Nyx." (They're not our enemies.)

Nyx's shoulders slumped, the weight of realization settling over him like a shroud. His gaze swept across the ruins—his kingdom, broken and silent. The strangers before him were not the cause of its destruction, but what happened here, where are his people, how much had passed? The questions loomed, heavy and unanswered.

The Riders stood in silence, their dragons tense but still. They didn't understand the words, but they felt the shift—the raw grief beneath the anger.

Hiccup took a cautious step forward, his voice quiet. "We don't want to hurt you."

Nyx didn't understand, but the tone was clear. For the first time, his molten-gold eyes softened, just a little.

Chaos stood beside him, a silent sentinel. Whatever came next, the path had just begun.