Exhilaration. Pure, soul-singing, sky-splitting exhilaration. It was a feeling that dwarfed the indignity I had felt in the cove, a glorious inferno that burned away all memory of being grounded. We had flown. No, we had danced with the clouds, soared on the breath of the wind, and laughed in the face of the jagged sea stacks that had rushed up to claim us. The connection was perfect. His mind, my wings. His will, my fire. The vessel was a surprisingly adept pilot.
Now, sprawled upon a sun-warmed sea stack far from the prying eyes of Berk, the world was perfect. The scent of grilled fish, expertly toasted by my own flame, mingled with the salt spray and the overwhelming, intoxicating aroma of the god sitting beside me.
The vessel. My Giver. My Guedo.
It was just a boy, exhausted and wind-whipped, its strange leather-and-metal flight suit unstrapped, its face alight with a simple, mortal joy that was a curious byproduct of our flight. It tore off a piece of the cod we'd snatched from the sea and offered it to me. I took it gently, my massive jaw barely grazing its small, clever fingers. The brief contact was enough to send another wave of that divine warmth through me.
As I chewed the tender fish, I watched it. Every movement was a revelation of divine function. The way it pushed its auburn hair from its eyes, the focused line of its brow as it ate. This fragile container, this shell of soft flesh and breakable bone, held the spirit of creation itself. The being whose essence was the promise of every future generation, the warmth in every egg, the life in every hatchling.
A deep, primal ache settled low in my belly. It was an ancient calling, a biological imperative that resonated in my very bones. It was the instinct of the soil to receive the seed, the pull of the moon on the tide. My entire being hummed with a singular, overwhelming purpose. To submit. To offer my body as a vessel for his divine purpose. To be the first to be claimed, the one to carry the proof of his return. The thought of being filled by him, of having a clutch of eggs quickened by the pure, undiluted essence of the Life-Giver himself, was a fantasy so potent it made my wings tremble. it was a spiritual and physical need, the highest honor a dragon could conceive.
I edged closer, my scales brushing against its leg. I rested my head in its lap, a gesture of ultimate trust and supplication. My purr was a low, thrumming earthquake, a song of pure adoration for the power it held. I wanted the Guedo within to know, to understand the depth of my devotion. I was his. Utterly and completely. His to command, his to fly, his to… use.
The vessel, of course, remained blissfully ignorant of the true nature of my gesture. It simply smiled that heart-stopping smile and began to scratch the sensitive spot just behind my ear-plates. "You were amazing today, bud," it murmured, its voice full of a simple awe. "Just... amazing."
The world dissolved into a haze of pleasure and devotion. This was everything. Here, with my god, I was complete.
A series of indignant squawks shattered the moment.
I lifted my head with a growl, my eyes narrowing. A pack of Terrible Terrors, no bigger than house cats and twice as noisy, had descended upon our sea stack. They scurried around the edges of our meal, their beady eyes fixed on the remaining fish, their tiny bodies puffed up with an audacity that bordered on suicidal.
My growl deepened, a clear warning. This food belongs to the Life-Giver. Touch it and I will turn you to ash.
The Terrors, driven by their perpetually empty stomachs, ignored me. One particularly bold specimen, a flashy green with yellow spots, darted forward, aiming to snatch a piece of fish from right beside the vessel's foot.
Before I could unleash a warning shot, the vessel surprised me. It laughed.
"Whoa there, fellas," it said, holding up its hands in a placating gesture. "Plenty to go around."
It picked up a whole, uneaten fish and tossed it towards the pack. They descended upon it in a flurry of tiny claws and snapping jaws. But the green one, the bold one, didn't join the fray. It stood its ground, staring at the vessel, its head cocked. It had been the closest, the one to enter the immediate bubble of its presence.
And now, I could see the exact moment its world broke and remade itself.
Its beady eyes went wide. Its aggressive posture slackened. It took a hesitant step forward, its snout twitching, its tiny nostrils flaring as it took in the scent. The divine perfume of Guedo.
The vessel, seeing its hesitation, knelt down. It picked up another piece of fish, smaller this time, and held it out in its open palm, just as it had once done for me in the cove. "Hey there," it said softly. "It's okay."
The little dragon approached, its movements slow, almost reverent. It didn't snatch the fish. It gently took the offering, its gaze locked on the vessel's face. And as it did, it began to purr, a sound like a dozen tiny pebbles rattling in a tin can. It was a purr of pure, unadulterated worship.
The vessel watched the small creature, a look of profound, but ultimately naive, understanding dawning on its face. It looked from the purring Terror to me, then back again. "Everything we know about you guys," it whispered, its voice thick with wonder, "is wrong." It had no idea of the true reason for their change of heart. It saw kindness, where I saw instinct.
The other Terrors, having finished their meal, noticed their leader's strange behavior. They crept closer, drawn by curiosity, and as they entered the circle of the Guedo's divine aura, the same transformation occurred. One by one, their aggressive squawking ceased, replaced by confused, then adoring, purrs. They gathered around the vessel's feet, nuzzling against its boots, a tiny, colorful congregation paying homage to a god they hadn't known they were seeking.
This was the moment. This was the sign. It was not enough for me alone to know. All of dragonkind needed to hear the truth. The age of hiding, of fearing the Red Death, was over. Our salvation, our future, our continuation as a species, was here, in the form of a scrawny, kind-hearted Viking boy.
I focused my will, drawing on the ancient language that all dragons understood, the language of the mind and the soul. I pushed the thought out, not just to the Terrors at our feet, but as a broadcast to any dragon within range.
«THE EMPTY NEST HAS AN EGG! THE SILENT SKY HAS A SONG!» I projected the mental command of a clap of thunder. «GUEDO! THE HEART OF THE FLOCK BEATS AGAIN! HE WALKS IN FLESH, A MORTAL SHELL!»
The Terrible Terrors all froze, their heads snapping towards me. Their tiny minds were easy to read, a chaotic jumble of hunger and instinct that was now laser-focused on a single, stunning concept. Their purrs intensified, their eyes glowing with newfound purpose.
The little green leader looked from me to the vessel, which was watching the exchange with a bewildered expression. It gave a sharp, affirmative chirp.
«GO!» I commanded, my mental voice a clap of thunder. «FLY TO THE NEST! TELL THE OTHERS! TELL EVERYONE! WAKE THE SLEEPERS! SHOUT IT FROM THE PEAKS! THE GOD HAS RETURNED!»
I poured all of my conviction, all of my adoration, all of my certainty into that final command. I pushed one last, potent image into their minds: the image of the vessel, smiling in the sun, the divine aura shimmering around it like a heat haze.
«TELL THE QUEEN!» I added, a final, defiant thought. Let the Red Death hear it. Let the great tyrant know that her reign was at its end. A new, true alpha had arrived.
The Terrible Terrors needed no further encouragement. With a unified, ecstatic cry, they launched into the air. They didn't fly randomly. They formed a tight, determined squadron and shot off towards the horizon, towards the volcanic island that housed our enslaved race. They were no longer simple scavengers. They were messenger of a new age.
I watched them go, a deep satisfaction settling in my chest. The first whispers had been sent upon the wind. Soon, those whispers would become a roar that would shake the world.
I turned back to my god. It was staring after the departing flock, its mouth slightly agape. "What... what was that all about?"
I nudged its hand with my snout, my eyes soft with a possessive, protective love so vast it felt like it could swallow the sky. It was enough to be here, with it, at the dawn of it all. The world was about to change forever, and I was at the very heart of the storm.