Hey guys this is orgin and first chapter of Shahab and Firdorah's story i hope you guys enjoy
Chapter One
The Night the Sea Burned
Five years before the Red Death.
Five years before dragons and Vikings learned to stand side by side.
Seaside Island burned first.
The sea itself seemed to recoil as black ships cut through the fog—silent, deliberate. No banners. No warning horns.
Only masks.
The Court of Dragiller had come.
Steel glinted beneath skull-shaped helmets. Behind them, chained and snarling, the Deathgrippers strained against iron hooks, their venom dripping into the tide.
The first scream tore through the night before the fire did.
Then everything burned.
Nine-year-old Shahab didn’t understand what was happening at first.
He only knew his mother’s hands were pushing him toward the back door.
He only knew his father’s axe was already stained red.
“Run.”
That was the last word he heard from them.
The door shattered.
Men in dragon-skull masks flooded the house like smoke. A blade flashed. A body fell.
Shahab didn’t look back.
He ran.
The northern forest was supposed to be safe.
It wasn’t.
The trees were lit by unnatural fire. The air reeked of venom and ash. And through the smoke, Shahab saw something worse than burning homes—
Night Furies.
Dozens.
Falling.
Deathgrippers swarmed them mid-air, tearing through black wings like paper. Hunters with crossbows aimed for the eyes. For the throat.
It wasn’t a raid.
It was extermination.
The boy’s legs gave out behind a fallen tree. His chest heaved, but no sound came out. Shock had stolen his breath.
Then he heard laughter.
Voices.
Hunters.
Shahab crawled toward the sound.
They were gathered around an iron cage.
Inside it—small. Trembling. Hissing weakly.
A Night Fury hatchling.
Male.
His scales were matte black, scratched and bloodied. His amber eyes burned with terror—and fury far too old for something so young.
One of the hunters spat.
“Shame to kill it. The High Judge might want this one.”
They laughed.
Shahab’s vision went white.
He didn’t remember picking up the fallen log.
He didn’t remember screaming.
But he remembered the sound when it struck the metal shield.
The hunters turned.
“Hey—!”
He slammed the log against a tree, over and over, splintering bark, making it sound like something massive was charging through the forest.
Deathgrippers shrieked in the distance.
Panic spread.
“More dragons—move!”
They scattered.
They left the cage.
Shahab stumbled toward it.
His hands were shaking so badly he couldn’t hold the key steady. Twice it slipped from his fingers. Blood from his scraped palms smeared the lock.
It finally clicked open.
The hatchling didn’t move.
They stared at each other.
Two survivors in a dead forest.
Shahab dropped to his knees.
His face was streaked with soot and tears. His lip trembled. His whole body shook—not from fear anymore.
From emptiness.
“Please…” he whispered.
His voice cracked.
“Kill me.”
The words barely came out.
“They’re gone… they’re all gone…”
His shoulders collapsed forward as if something inside him had snapped.
“I don’t want to be alone.”
The hatchling tilted his head.
Amber eyes studied the boy. Not like prey. Not like enemy.
Like something trying to understand pain.
A long moment passed.
The forest groaned in the distance as trees collapsed into flame.
The little Night Fury stepped out of the cage.
Close enough for Shahab to feel his breath.
For one second—just one—the dragon lowered his head toward the boy’s throat.
Shahab closed his eyes.
Waited.
Nothing happened.
When he opened them—
The hatchling was already backing away.
Not rejecting him.
Not accepting him.
Just… surviving.
Then he turned—
And vanished into the burning dark.
Silence swallowed the forest.
Shahab’s chest expanded.
And then—
He screamed.
Not a child’s scream.
Not fear.
It was something torn raw from the inside.
Grief. Rage. Abandonment. A broken prayer.
He screamed until his throat felt like it was being ripped apart.
He screamed until blood tasted metallic on his tongue.
He screamed until no sound came out anymore.
The damage was done.
His voice would never be the same.
He walked for hours.
Wounded. Burned. Half-conscious.
The sea carried him toward Berk.
He collapsed at its shore at dawn.
Fishermen found him first.
Stoick the Vast arrived second.
The boy didn’t speak when they asked his name.
He couldn’t.
But when Stoick knelt and said gently,
“You’re safe now, son,”
Shahab’s broken voice tried to answer—
And only a rasp came out.
Far away—
In the shadows of another forest—
A young Night Fury watched the horizon burn red over the sea.
He did not understand humans.
He did not understand mercy.
But he remembered the boy who had knelt instead of attacked.And for five years-They survived apart.
Until fate dragged them back together.
End of Chapter One