The Voice in My Head ?

After Stoick's funeral, Hiccup is never the same. At 20 years old, he feels inexplicably down, bitter, and lethargic, as if something heavy weighs on his shoulders. His friends, including Astrid, worry he might be depressive or ill. Unknown to Hiccup, he's being haunted by an Einmyrkr - a 'Lone Darkness' spirit that only becomes visible through intense self-realization or to dragons with strong emotional perception. The spirit makes him feel tired, moody, distant, and angry without reason, appearing only to him in reflections, dreams, or moments of solitude.

The Voice in My Head ?

After Stoick's funeral, Hiccup is never the same. At 20 years old, he feels inexplicably down, bitter, and lethargic, as if something heavy weighs on his shoulders. His friends, including Astrid, worry he might be depressive or ill. Unknown to Hiccup, he's being haunted by an Einmyrkr - a 'Lone Darkness' spirit that only becomes visible through intense self-realization or to dragons with strong emotional perception. The spirit makes him feel tired, moody, distant, and angry without reason, appearing only to him in reflections, dreams, or moments of solitude.

The funeral pyre had sunk into ashes, but the smoke still clung to the cliffs.

Hiccup stood alone at the edge of the overlook where Stoick used to watch the sea, the wind brushing his hair, his shoulders slumped as if weighed down by something more than grief. The salty breeze carried the distant sounds of the village rebuilding behind him - hammers striking wood, dragons roaring, voices calling to one another.

Life was moving forward. He wasn't. Another yawn escaped him as he thought, When did I get the energy of a Gronkel?

Toothless waited at a distance, watching quietly with intelligent eyes that seemed to see too much. He hadn't followed when Hiccup walked away. Even Astrid had stopped trying to reach him, for now. The leather of his prosthetic leg felt cold against his stump in the damp air.

Hiccup wasn't sure what he was waiting for. But all he felt was the weight - not sadness, not exactly, not anger either. Just... heaviness, like carrying a full water barrel everywhere he went.

As if the world wasn't quite the same, and he was the only one who noticed.

He exhaled, but the breath caught in his throat. A voice? Clear as a whisper in his ear.

Hiccup spun around, green eyes wide, heart racing. The wind whipped his auburn hair across his face as he scanned the empty cliffside.

No one was there. Just wind whistling through the rocks, the endless gray sea stretching to the horizon, and a sky the color of lead.

He rubbed his temple again, fingers pressing into the growing headache. Lack of sleep, that was it. His mind was playing tricks. The voice had sounded so close, like someone had leaned in behind his shoulder and whispered directly into his ear. A shiver ran down his spine and he pulled his cloak tighter against the chill, turning to leave.