The Lost King’s Legacy

The training grounds buzzed with activity as Lyra turned her attention to Fishlegs and Meatlug. Her gaze softened as she approached the eager pair, her steps purposeful but unhurried. Lexy followed her silently, the Crystal Fury's reflective scales scattering delicate rainbows across the ground.

"Fishlegs," Lyra called again, her voice clear yet warm. "Let's see what Meatlug can really do."

Fishlegs straightened immediately, clutching his journal tightly to his chest. "Absolutely! Meatlug and I are always ready! Aren't we, girl?" He beamed at his Gronckle, who responded with a cheerful rumble, her wide eyes glinting with curiosity.

Lyra stopped a few paces away, folding her arms thoughtfully. She studied Meatlug for a moment, her eyes tracing the sturdy dragon's form—the thick scales, the heavy tail, the steady, grounded posture. "Meatlug is one of the most dependable dragons I've seen," Lyra said, her tone thoughtful. "But you're overlooking her real strength."

Fishlegs tilted his head, intrigued but slightly confused. "Her real strength? You mean her durability? We rely on that all the time in tough situations."

"True," Lyra acknowledged, her voice steady. "But it's more than that. Meatlug's ability to produce Gronckle Iron isn't just a novelty—it's a game-changer. You've been using it to make tools and repairs, which is great, but what if you used it to change the tide of a battle?"

Fishlegs blinked, his expression shifting from confusion to dawning realization. "Change the tide of a battle…?" he echoed. His voice grew more excited. "Like creating defenses? Traps? Barriers?"

Lyra smiled, a spark of approval in her eyes. "Exactly. Gronckle Iron hardens quickly once it's cooled. With the right control, Meatlug could form walls to block attacks, slow down enemies, or protect your allies. It's all about precision and timing."

Fishlegs looked at Meatlug, his face lighting up with enthusiasm. "Did you hear that, Meatlug? We're not just tough—we're tactical!" Meatlug rumbled again, flapping her stubby wings in a gesture of excitement.

Lyra stepped aside, gesturing toward an open area of the training grounds. "Let's see what you've got. Start simple—a small wall. Focus on control, not size."

Fishlegs scrambled onto Meatlug's back, adjusting his helmet as he gave her a reassuring pat. "All right, girl, let's show them what we can do!"

Meatlug lumbered forward, her tail swaying slightly. She inhaled deeply, her chest expanding as molten rock began to gather in her mouth. With a guttural exhale, she unleashed a stream of molten lava, which hit the ground and cooled almost instantly, forming a low wall of solid Gronckle Iron.

The wall was uneven, jagged in places, and faint cracks spread across its surface. Fishlegs frowned slightly, adjusting his goggles to examine it more closely. "Hmm… not quite what I was going for."

Lyra stepped closer, her voice calm and encouraging. "It's a strong start, but you need to focus on controlling the flow. Gronckles are steady dragons—use that steadiness to guide her. Think of it as painting with the lava. Smooth strokes, consistent pressure."

Fishlegs nodded, determination sparking in his eyes. "You hear that, Meatlug? Smooth strokes. Like we're making art out of lava!" Meatlug let out a low rumble of acknowledgment, shifting her weight slightly as she prepared for another attempt.

This time, as Meatlug inhaled, Fishlegs adjusted his posture, leaning forward slightly and giving her clear, precise commands. When she exhaled the molten rock again, the stream flowed more evenly, spreading across the ground in a smooth arc. As it cooled, it formed a more uniform barrier—still not perfect, but a noticeable improvement over the first attempt.

Fishlegs cheered, throwing his arms in the air. "We did it, Meatlug! That's what I'm talking about!" Meatlug wagged her tail happily, nudging Fishlegs with her large, round head.

Lyra approached the barrier, running her fingers along its surface. The faintest hint of a smile touched her lips. "Much better. Keep practicing, and you'll be able to create walls strong enough to shield an entire team—or trap even the fastest opponents. You've got the right idea."

Fishlegs beamed, his cheeks flushed with pride. "Thank you, Lyra! Meatlug and I are going to master this, right, girl?" Meatlug let out a deep, rumbling purr, clearly pleased with herself.

From the sidelines, Ruffnut leaned toward Tuffnut, whispering loudly, "I'm just saying—if we had Gronckle Iron, we'd be unstoppable. Think of the sculptures we could make mid-battle!"

Tuffnut nodded sagely. "Battle art. The most noble of all art forms."

Lyra ignored the twins, her focus remaining on Fishlegs and Meatlug. "Remember," she said, her voice steady but firm, "it's not about size or flash. It's about control and precision. You've got the potential—now make it work for you."

Fishlegs saluted her, his face glowing with renewed confidence. "We won't let you down!" Meatlug chuffed in agreement, puffing a small burst of smoke from her nose.

Lyra turned her attention to Ruffnut and Tuffnut, who were, unsurprisingly, in the middle of one of their infamous spats. Barf and Belch, their two-headed Zippleback, were lazily circling overhead, the twin heads snapping playfully at each other. The dragon's erratic movements mirrored the chaotic energy of its riders.

"Ruffnut, Tuffnut," Lyra called, her tone calm but firm as she approached them. "Let's see what Barf and Belch can really do."

Tuffnut leaned dramatically against Barf's side, throwing an exaggerated glance at Lyra. "Oh, you mean you want to witness greatness? Because that's what we bring. Like fire and fury but, you know, with more flair."

Ruffnut snorted, crossing her arms as she shot him a look. "Yeah, 'greatness' that usually involves you crashing into me. Or setting something important on fire."

Lyra smirked faintly, unphased by their antics. "Barf and Belch are a Zippleback," she began, her voice steady, "one of the most unpredictable dragon species out there. Their dual heads and gas-and-spark combination make them chaotic, yes, but also incredibly effective—if you can learn to coordinate their actions."

Tuffnut squinted at her, tilting his head as though pondering some great mystery. "Coordinate. That's a big word. Fancy. Is that… Viking for 'don't explode'?"

"More like Viking for 'don't waste your potential,'" Lyra said dryly, her gaze steady. "In Aether, there was a commander who rode a Zippleback named Twinflame. They were masters of controlled chaos, using perfectly timed gas clouds and sparks to confuse and scatter their enemies. With enough practice, you two could do the same."

Ruffnut's eyes lit up, her mischievous grin spreading wide. "Controlled chaos? That's our middle name!"

"Uh, mine's more like 'uncontrolled chaos,'" Tuffnut said, shrugging. "But close enough."

Lyra smiled faintly and gestured toward an open area of the training grounds. "Show me what you've got. Start by focusing on timing. The gas and the spark need to align perfectly to ignite exactly where you want them. It's all about control."

Ruffnut and Tuffnut scrambled onto Barf and Belch with an energy that could only be described as reckless enthusiasm. "Let's do this!" Tuffnut yelled, throwing a fist in the air.

"Yeah, let's make things explode!" Ruffnut added, equally thrilled.

Their first attempt was, as expected, a complete disaster. Barf released a gas cloud, but Belch sparked too early, igniting the area dangerously close to the twins themselves. The resulting explosion sent both riders tumbling from the saddle and sprawling into the dirt, coughing and laughing as smoke curled around them.

Lyra folded her arms, her expression neutral but her eyebrow slightly raised. "You've got the chaos part down," she said, her voice dry. "Now let's try for precision."

Ruffnut groaned as she dusted off her tunic, but the glint in her eye showed she wasn't deterred. "Precision. Right. We'll get it this time."

"Yeah, precision is just another word for… less explosion, right?" Tuffnut muttered as he climbed back onto Belch's neck.

"Less uncontrolled explosion," Lyra corrected. "Focus on Barf and Belch working as a team. Their instincts are sharper than you think—trust them to guide you."

The second attempt was better. Barf released a gas cloud, and this time, Belch hesitated just long enough before sparking. The resulting explosion, while still a bit wild, was more controlled, scattering debris in a deliberate arc. It wasn't perfect, but it was progress.

"Not bad," Lyra said as Barf and Belch landed, the twins looking uncharacteristically proud of themselves. "With more practice, you'll turn that chaos into a weapon no one will see coming."

Ruffnut gave a mock salute, grinning. "Chaos is our specialty. We've got this."

Tuffnut nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah, and if we don't, at least we'll look awesome trying!"

Lyra chuckled softly, stepping back as the Zippleback lifted into the air again for another round. "Keep at it," she said, her voice steady but encouraging. "Controlled chaos isn't easy, but once you master it, Barf and Belch will be unstoppable."

By the time Lyra approached Hiccup, the sun had begun its slow descent, casting warm, golden light over the training grounds. The shadows stretched long and soft, mingling with the faint rustle of the breeze. Toothless stood alert beside his rider, his sleek black scales shimmering faintly in the fading sunlight. His golden-green eyes sparkled with curiosity, reflecting both the light and the expectant energy in the air.

Hiccup glanced at Lyra, his brow raised, his tone carrying his usual easy humor. "So, what's the verdict? Any suggestions for us? Toothless and I could always use a little fine-tuning."

Lyra hesitated, her gaze lingering on Toothless with a thoughtful intensity. There was something different in her demeanor—less instructional, more contemplative. "Elemental Furies are…" she began, pausing as if searching for the right words. "They're unique. They don't follow the same patterns as other dragons. Each Fury is different, and their abilities are shaped by instincts, not just training. After all, Furies can directly influence the elements themselves. Predicting their behaviors or honing their abilities isn't as simple as refining tactics or coordination. It's… more organic. Toothless knows what he's doing, even if you don't always see it."

Hiccup tilted his head, intrigued by her words. "So you're saying there's no way to improve? No tricks or techniques that would make us better?"

Lyra gave a soft smile, shaking her head gently. "Not really, at least not that I could teach. I'm not exactly an expert when it comes to Furies, Hiccup. Even in Aether, Elemental Furies were considered enigmatic—part legend, part mystery. Their abilities are so deeply tied to their essence that training them isn't about control; it's about trust. And no one understood that better than Nyx."

"Nyx?" Hiccup asked, his curiosity piqued. Toothless gave a chirp, nudging Hiccup's side as if demanding they both pay closer attention.

Lyra's smile grew wistful as her gaze drifted slightly, her tone tinged with admiration. "Yes. Nyx wasn't just the king or a warrior; he was also the greatest scholar of his time, particularly when it came to Furies and their connection to the elements. His ancestor, King Klien, was the one who founded the Aetherian Academy centuries ago, a place where riders and scholars trained side by side to unlock the mysteries of dragons. Nyx continued that legacy in a way no one else could. Once a month, he would lecture the academy's top-tier students. Not just about fighting or strategy, but about the philosophy of bonds—how dragons think, how they feel, and how their elemental nature influences everything they do."

Hiccup leaned in slightly, his curiosity mirrored in the tilt of his head. "And you got to attend these lectures?"

Lyra let out a soft, rueful laugh. "Barely. He only started teaching the advanced courses during my final year at the academy. And even then, I wasn't lucky enough to be picked to ask questions during his sessions. Can you imagine? Sitting there, hanging on every word, hoping—praying—you'd be the one he pointed to when he opened the floor to questions."

Toothless cocked his head, chirping again as if amused. Lyra chuckled softly and continued. "After I graduated, I needed advice for Lexy—my Crystal Fury. She was powerful, but her connection to her element was unlike anything I'd ever encountered. I knew I couldn't figure it out on my own, so I had to pull every connection I had just to get a meeting with Nyx. It took a year."

"A year?" Hiccup asked, his brows lifting in surprise. "Just to meet with him?"

"And it was worth every moment of waiting," Lyra said, her voice firm but warm. "He didn't just give me advice. He changed the way I saw Lexy, the way I worked with her. He understood her in a way I couldn't, even after years of training. His guidance wasn't something you could find in a scroll or a classroom—it was instinctual, almost intuitive."

Toothless puffed out his chest slightly, his golden-green eyes glinting with smug satisfaction. Hiccup laughed, rubbing his dragon's chin affectionately. "Sounds about right. I guess Toothless and I will just have to keep figuring things out as we go. Trial and error, huh?"

Lyra's expression softened, her voice quiet but sure. "With Toothless, trust your instincts, Hiccup. Furies are special. They guide as much as they're guided. Sometimes, all you have to do is listen."

As the evening wore on, the training grounds buzzed with activity. Dragons and riders worked tirelessly to implement Lyra's suggestions, their movements growing sharper, their bonds stronger. Lyra moved among them, offering quiet guidance and encouragement, her presence both commanding and reassuring.

By the time the sun dipped completely toward the horizon, the Riders were tired but exhilarated, their laughter mingling with the satisfied growls of their dragons. Lyra stood at the edge of the grounds, her hand resting on Lexy's neck as she watched them.

Astrid approached, Stormfly at her side. "You've done more for us in one afternoon than some of us have done in months," she said, her tone sincere. "Thanks for sharing what you know."

Lyra's expression softened. "Aether may be gone," she said quietly, "but its lessons live on. And it's an honor to pass them on."

Astrid smiled, her gaze flicking to the others. "Well, you've certainly given us plenty to work on."

As the sun disappeared behind the cliffs, the Riders continued to train, their determination blending into the evening air. Berk's spirit remained untamed, but under Lyra's guidance, it felt sharper, stronger—a testament to the enduring bond between dragons and their riders.