Shadow of the Fury

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.

He once begged the darkness to take his life.

Instead… it gave him a brother.”

A lonely boy with trembling hands.

A silent Night Fury with burning golden eyes.

No crowns.

No destiny.

Just two broken souls who found each other in a cruel world.

And somehow…

that was enough. 🐉🌹

🐉⚡ SHAHAB & FIRDORAH ⚡🐉

Not every legend is born from hope.

Some are born from grief.

Five years before the events of HTTYD, a hidden organization known as the Court of Dragillers destroyed a small island near Berk — slaughtering both its people and a hidden Night Fury tribe living within its forests.

An eleven-year-old boy named Shahab survived.

Broken, burned, and alone, he escaped into the northern woods… where he found a captured Night Fury hatchling trapped inside a cage.

Instead of running, he set it free.

Then, kneeling in the snow with tears in his eyes, he begged the dragon to kill him.

But the hatchling only stared at him…

and disappeared into the darkness.

Years later, fate reunited them.

That hatchling became Firdorah — a terrifying black-and-gold Night Fury with glowing amber eyes and scars carved by war. Together, Shahab and Firdorah forged a bond deeper than friendship: a spiritual connection built through pain, survival, trust, and silence.

Now they live between shadow and legend — hunted by the same organization that destroyed their families, while fighting to protect dragons, uncover the truth behind the Dragillers, and find the peace the world denied them.

🖤 Black symbolizes the ashes of their past.

⚡ Gold symbolizes the fire that still burns within them.

Some bonds aren’t built with words.

Just silence.

Storms.

Survival.

The world sees a monster with glowing eyes and a boy wrapped in shadows.

But they don’t see the truth.

One saved the other from a cage.

The other saved him from becoming lost.

And somewhere between thunder and fire…

they became brothers.

🐉⚡

Chapter 4.5= return to Seaside Island

Some places never stop hurting.

Years after the destruction of Seaside Island, Shahab and Firdorah return to the ruins they once called home. Two survivors of the same nightmare — a boy who lost his family, and a Night Fury who lost his entire clan to the Dragillers.

Inside the ashes of his childhood home, Shahab finds the only thing the fire never truly destroyed:

a small purple dragon toy from when he was a child.

Firdorah gently places it back in his hands without a sound.

No words.

No roaring.

Just two broken souls remembering what was taken from them.

(Thank you all for your support 💛🖤)

In a world that feared dragons, they only trusted each other. 🖤🐉

Shahab and Firdorah weren’t born heroes.

They were two broken souls who survived long enough to become legends.

Even after every battle, every scar, every storm…

Firdorah still lowers his head only for him.

And Shahab still reaches back without fear.

Snow falls. The world quiets.

On bed, Shahab finally sleeps — the kind of sleep you only get after surviving too much.

Down below, Firdorah doesn’t.

He keeps watch in the dark, wings tucked close, eyes half-open even in rest. Not out of habit… but out of promise.

To everyone else, he’s a shadow. A warning. Something to fear.

But here—he’s just a guardian who refuses to let the night take anything else from him.Because once… it already did.And he won’t let it happen again.

Hey guys! Here is rewrite chapter 4 of Shahab and Firdorah's story, thank you all for likes and your support im glad you guys enjoyed my story so pls enjoy

Chapter 4 — Ashes That No One Saw

The night the bond awakened, everything changed.

The snow never stopped falling.

It buried the footprints.

It silenced the world.

And somewhere beneath that quiet white sky… Shahab made a choice.

He would not go back.

Not to Berk.

Not to people.

Not to a life that could be taken from him again.

---

They disappeared into the northern mountains.

Where the wind howled like something alive.

Where the cold cut deeper than any blade.

Where no one would follow.

Only him… and Firdorah.

---

At first, it was survival.

A small cave carved beneath the shadow of a long-dead volcano.

Barely enough space. Barely enough warmth.

But they made it theirs.

Stone by stone.

Fire by fire.

Firdorah melted ice with controlled bursts of plasma, carving deeper into the rock.

Shahab shaped the space with his hands, his tools… and his will.

It became more than a shelter.

It became a place the world didn’t know existed.

---

Sometimes, at night… Shahab would return.

Silent. Invisible.

Berk slept, unaware of the shadow moving through it.

He never stayed long.

A book here.

A scroll there.

Anything about combat. Dragons. Survival.

He took knowledge like a thief… because that’s what he had become.

And no one noticed.

Because as far as Berk knew—

Shahab was dead.

---

The fire made sure of that.

The old bakery… the last thing tying him to who he used to be…

burned to the ground in a single night.

No bodies found.

No answers given.

Just ash.

And people moved on.

---

But he didn’t.

---

Days turned into weeks.

Weeks into months.

Training became everything.

Shahab learned to fight without hesitation.

Without mercy.

He studied every movement, every weakness, every instinct.

And Firdorah—

Firdorah watched.

Learned.

Adapted.

---

They trained together.

Not like rider and dragon.

But like two predators… learning how to survive in a world that would rather see them gone.

Firdorah would attack without warning.

Shahab learned to react without fear.

Shahab would push beyond his limits.

Firdorah would be there… every time he fell.

---

There were no words between them.

They didn’t need any.

The bond spoke louder.

Sometimes, when the nights were too quiet…

and the fire burned low…

Shahab would sit alone at the edge of the cave.

Holding something small in his hands.

A black dragon doll.

Worn. Old. Fragile.

The last thing his father ever made for him.

---

Behind him, Firdorah would lower his massive head.

Not touching.

Not interrupting.

Just… there.

Watching.

Protecting.

Understanding—at least in the only way he could.

---

Shahab never cried.

Not anymore.

But sometimes…

He looked like he wanted to.

---

And in that hidden cave beneath a silent volcano…

Two broken beings were becoming something else.

Something stronger.

Something dangerous.

Something the world wasn’t ready for.

---

Because the boy Berk buried…

Wasn’t the one who would return.

And when he did—

He wouldn’t come back as someone looking for a place to belong.

Hi guys sorry for my absence I was working on future chapters and lore i will post chapter 4 soon🔥

Chapter2 scene**“In the cold, between fear and death—

two broken souls hesitated…

and that hesitation

“They burned our home.

They hunted his kind.

They thought we’d break.”

But grief forged something colder than fear.

A boy who lost his voice.

A dragon who lost his sky.

We did not save each other.

We chose each other.

And in a world that feared our bond—

we became the fire beneath the cracks.

— Shahab & Firdorah 🖤🔥

The night their souls intertwined.

He guarded his sleep… and the bond marked the night fury in gold.”

Hey everyone this chapter 3 one of most important chapters in the story and yet again thank you for all of your likes on previous post i really appreciated it, btw i forgot to mention that chapter 1 happened 5 years before httyd1 and chapter 2-3 happened behind scenes of httyd 1 i hope you guys enjoy

Chapter III — The Night of Snow

The storm hit before Shahab could reach Berk. One moment the path was clear beneath a pale winter sky, and the next it vanished under a wall of white. Snow swallowed the cliffs, erased the ground, erased direction. The wind didn’t just blow—it pushed, clawed, insisted. Shahab tried to keep walking at first. He knew this route. He had walked it enough times to trace it blind. But the storm was stronger than memory. Each step sank too deep. Each breath burned his lungs. His fingers went numb inside his gloves. Behind him, Firdorah moved close, silent as a shadow carved from night, his massive shape barely visible through the snow.

“We’re not making it back,” Shahab finally muttered, his voice shaking more than he wanted to admit.

Firdorah didn’t argue. He stepped beside him, angling his body against the wind, amber eyes scanning for any kind of shelter. There was none—only a jagged outcrop of rock barely tall enough to break the worst of the gale. They crouched behind it. Shahab sank down into the snow, telling himself it would pass, that he just needed a minute. But the cold seeped in fast. Through boots. Through fabric. Into bone. His hands trembled uncontrollably. His jaw locked and rattled. The world narrowed to the sound of wind and the pounding in his ears.

“I’m fine,” he whispered, though his vision had begun to blur.

Firdorah watched him carefully. The dragon’s wings half-spread, trying to shield him, but the storm cut through everything. Shahab’s shoulders slumped. He wrapped his arms around himself, but it wasn’t enough. The cold was winning.

Something in Firdorah shifted then—not instinct, not panic, but decision.

He moved closer from behind, slow and deliberate despite his size. His enormous body pressed against Shahab’s back, blocking the wind entirely. One wing folded around him, then the other, sealing him inside a wall of dark scales and living heat. Shahab tensed in surprise, but didn’t pull away. Firdorah’s tail slid forward next, powerful and controlled, curling around Shahab’s legs and waist, drawing him securely into the dragon’s warmth. Not tight enough to trap. Just enough to hold.

Heat spread gradually. Real heat. Firdorah lowered his head over Shahab’s shoulder and began to rumble—low, steady, deep. The vibration wasn’t a warning or a threat. It was rhythm. It traveled through Shahab’s back, through his chest, easing the shiver in his bones. The dragon’s tongue brushed gently against Shahab’s temple, once, then again, careful and grounding, as if reminding him to stay awake, to stay present.

The storm still roared, but inside that circle of wings and tail, it felt distant. Muted. Safe.

Shahab’s breathing slowly matched the rumble in Firdorah’s chest. His trembling eased. He leaned back, just slightly at first, then fully, resting against the dragon’s warmth without resistance. “I knew you wouldn’t leave,” he murmured, barely audible through the wind.

Firdorah’s tail tightened a fraction, not in restraint but reassurance.

And then, quietly, without light or spectacle, something changed.

Shahab felt it as warmth that didn’t come from scales or breath. It came from somewhere deeper—from the realization that he was no longer enduring the world alone. Firdorah felt it too, not as thought but as alignment, as if two separate pulses had found the same rhythm. The chaos outside remained, but between them there was stillness—clear and unbreakable. No fear. No distance.

Their breathing synchronized. Shahab’s heartbeat settled into the steady vibration beneath him. For the first time in a long time, he wasn’t bracing for impact. He wasn’t waiting for something to go wrong. He wasn’t alone.

He let his head rest fully against Firdorah’s neck. A small smile formed—soft, real, unguarded. It had been a long time since his face remembered how to do that.

“I’m not cold anymore,” he whispered.

Firdorah closed his eyes, wings tightening just enough to keep the warmth sealed around them.

Outside, the storm howled and snow piled high against dark scales and black wings. But wrapped in living heat, held by tail and shielded by wings, Shahab finally drifted into sleep—calm, steady, smiling.

And in that white night, beneath the fury of winter, their bond was no longer about survival.

Hey guys im just gonna thank all of you for your likes and reblogs i really appreciate your support and i do my best to post more chapters and lore about my oc and love you all and now enjoy chapter two of Shahab and Firdorah's story

Chapter 2: Five Years Apart

The years since the island had burned had been kind to no one. The flames that consumed Seaside Island had left only smoldering ruins, and the people who had survived the slaughter—like Shahab—were nothing but ghosts in the wind. His childhood had been swept away in a single night, his family lost to the Court of Dragillers, and all that remained were ashes and the echoes of his scream.

For five years, he had walked alone.

The boy who had once called Seaside Island home had become a shadow of his former self, quietly integrating into the rigid, unforgiving world of Berk. The villagers had taken him in after Stoick had found him washed ashore, his voice broken, his soul even more so. His injuries had healed with time, but his wounds? Those remained.

Now, at the age of fourteen, Shahab had found a place for himself in the heart of the bustling Viking village—an unassuming baker, his shop a quiet corner in the chaos of the island’s ever-growing community. His heart was quiet, subdued, but that didn't mean it was still. Every now and then, when the sun dipped below the horizon and the cool night air gripped the island, his thoughts would wander back to that night.

Back to the dark forest.

Back to the cage.

Back to the black Night Fury who had disappeared into the night.

Shahab never spoke of it. To anyone.

It was a simple task—gathering cherries from the northernmost grove of Berk's mountain range. The sun was hanging low in the sky, casting long shadows over the rocky landscape. Shahab had set out in the morning, his hands working through the trees as he plucked the ripest fruit. His thoughts were as scattered as the branches he reached to, but there was one constant, one thing he couldn't shake.

That Night Fury.

Even after five years, Shahab couldn’t forget the amber eyes staring at him from behind the cage. The way the dragon had cocked its head, not understanding, not responding the way he thought it would.

"Just kill me..." he had whispered that night, trembling in the shadow of Firdorah.

Shahab paused, wiping sweat from his brow. He felt a pull in his chest, a feeling he hadn’t let himself acknowledge in years. The feeling that maybe, just maybe, that dragon was still out there.

The wind picked up, carrying a faint sound through the trees. A sound so familiar it made his heart race. It was a growl.

His breath hitched as his gaze shot toward the trees.

The dark figure appeared from the shadows.

It was Firdorah. The Night Fury. But he was… bigger now.

Shahab’s eyes widened, taking in the dragon’s sleek black scales, the gold lines that seemed to pulse with a dangerous energy, and those glowing amber eyes. For a moment, neither of them moved. The forest around them fell silent.

Then, without warning, Firdorah lunged, its sharp claws scraping the ground as it closed the distance between them.

Shahab barely had time to react. His heart pounded in his chest as he stumbled backward, falling to the ground. The dragon’s growl echoed in his ears. But Firdorah didn’t strike.

Instead, the dragon paused, its eyes narrowing as it saw something. Shahab’s breath caught as he realized what had stopped Firdorah.

The dragon’s gaze was fixed on Shahab’s right arm. The arm that was still wrapped in bandages from the burn five years ago. Firdorah hesitated, the growl dying in its throat, its eyes softening for a brief moment. It took a step back, its body tense.

Shahab, still trembling from the adrenaline, managed to look into Firdorah’s eyes. For a second, time seemed to freeze.

And then it clicked. The memories flooded back.

"Firdorah…" Shahab whispered, his voice hoarse.

The dragon’s body relaxed slightly, though it remained wary. The tension was palpable, both of them staring at each other, unsure, frightened.

But the silence was broken by something else—Firdorah’s limping step. The dragon’s foot dragged behind it, a clear sign that it was injured. Firdorah stumbled slightly before steadying itself, its eyes still locked on Shahab.

Shahab’s heart dropped as he saw the blood on the ground. A dagger had been embedded in Firdorah’s paw.

"You're hurt," Shahab muttered, his voice breaking.

The dragon’s amber eyes flickered with something—a deep mistrust, but also a faint glimmer of recognition. It was as though the creature was trying to understand whether Shahab was still the boy he had once known, or if time had completely erased that bond.

Without thinking, Shahab moved closer, his instincts kicking in. Firdorah growled lowly, warning him to stay back, but Shahab couldn’t stop. The dragon’s pain was clear, and he couldn’t leave it like this.

For days, Shahab watched from the shadows, never getting too close, never daring to make himself known. He could see Firdorah trying to move, trying to survive on its own, but the pain in the dragon’s foot was unbearable.

And every time Firdorah saw him, it would growl or back away. Fear was still there. The trust was not.

But as the days wore on, the bond between them started to heal, just a little.

One evening, when the sun had dipped low and the sky was bathed in orange and purple, Shahab finally stepped forward. He had to do this. He had to help. Slowly, carefully, he approached Firdorah, who was lying beneath the trees, its breathing labored.

Shahab knelt beside the dragon, his hands shaking as he reached for the dagger embedded in Firdorah’s paw. The dragon stiffened at first, but then it relaxed just a little, as if it realized Shahab wasn’t going to harm it.

With a sharp tug, Shahab pulled the dagger free, his hands slick with blood. Firdorah let out a soft growl but didn’t move. Shahab took a deep breath and began to clean the wound, his fingers trembling as he wrapped a cloth around the injury.