By the time we reached the village, I was pretty sure that if I never saw another jagged rock or treacherous ravine again, it would be too soon. My legs felt like lead, my head was pounding, and every muscle in my body screamed for rest. But we were here. We made it.
The village was small, nestled against the base of a towering cliff. Stone walls encircled it, tall and solid, but not exactly comforting. More like a reminder of how much the people here had to fear. A handful of buildings huddled together inside the walls, their stone and wood exteriors weathered and worn. Smoke drifted up from a few chimneys, the only sign of life in this otherwise bleak landscape.
As we approached the gate, I could feel the tension in the air. The villagers had seen us coming; a group of armed guards stood by the entrance, their weapons drawn, eyes narrowed in suspicion. These weren't soldiers—they were farmers, miners, everyday people forced to become warriors because of the world they lived in. They looked tired, wary, and more than a little on edge.
"Stay close," Kara murmured to me as we neared the gate. "They'll trust you if they see you're with us."
"Right," I muttered, trying not to look like the exhausted, half-dead outsider I probably resembled. I wasn't exactly sure how I could make myself look trustworthy when I barely trusted myself, but I'd take Kara's word for it.
The guards tensed as we came closer, their grips tightening on their makeshift weapons. One of them, an older man with a scar running down his cheek, stepped forward, eyeing us warily. "Kara? Varric? What are you doing out here? And who's this?"
Kara raised a hand, signaling for the guards to lower their weapons. "It's alright, Boren. We were ambushed on the way back. This man saved our lives."
Boren's gaze shifted to me, his eyes narrowing. I could practically feel the suspicion radiating off of him. "And who is he?"
"Good question," I said, trying to muster up a friendly smile. "Wish I knew the answer myself."
Boren didn't look amused. "You bring a stranger here, one we know nothing about, and expect us to just let him in?"
"He's with us," Kara said firmly, stepping between me and the guards. "If it weren't for him, we'd be dead. He's earned our trust."
Boren's scowl deepened, but after a long moment, he sighed and lowered his weapon. "Fine. But he stays in the guest quarters, and we keep an eye on him. We can't be too careful."
"That's fair," I said, relieved to have at least made it through the gate. "I'm not looking for trouble. Just a place to rest."
Boren grunted, clearly still suspicious, but he gestured for us to enter. The gate creaked open, and we stepped inside the village walls.
The first thing I noticed was how quiet it was. There were people here—families, children, elders—but they moved with a sense of urgency, heads down, eyes darting around as if expecting danger to jump out at any moment. The buildings were sturdy but plain, with little in the way of decoration or comfort. It was clear that survival, not luxury, was the priority here.
"Welcome to Greystone," Kara said as we walked through the village. "It's not much, but it's home."
"Home," I echoed, looking around. It was hard to imagine calling a place like this home, but then again, I couldn't remember what home felt like. Maybe this was as close as it got in this world.
As we walked, I couldn't help but notice the way the villagers glanced at us—or rather, at me. Their eyes were filled with fear, distrust, and something else… desperation? It was like they were clinging to whatever semblance of safety these walls provided, knowing it could be ripped away at any moment.
"They don't trust easily," Kara said, noticing my gaze. "Can't blame them, considering what we've been through. Raiders, monsters, even the land itself seems to turn against us."
"I get it," I replied. "I don't exactly scream 'trustworthy' right now."
Kara gave me a small smile. "Trust is earned here, not given freely. But I think you'll earn it."
We reached a small stone building near the center of the village, and Kara led me inside. It was sparse—just a few beds, a table, and a couple of chairs—but it was warm, and right now, that was all I cared about.
"You can rest here," Kara said, gesturing to one of the beds. "I'll let the others know what happened, and then we'll figure out what comes next."
"Thanks," I said, feeling a wave of exhaustion wash over me. "I appreciate it."
Kara nodded and turned to leave, but before she did, she paused in the doorway. "You're not like the others who've come through here," she said, her voice thoughtful. "You don't just fight to survive. You want to help, even when you don't have to."
I shrugged, not sure how to respond. "Guess it's just how I'm wired."
She smiled, a genuine smile this time, and left the room.
I collapsed onto the bed, finally letting myself relax for a moment. My body ached, and my mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, but I couldn't ignore what I'd seen in the village. These people were scared—terrified, really—and it wasn't just because of the Drakkan or the dangers of the wasteland. It was deeper than that, like they'd given up hope of things ever getting better.
I wasn't sure why it bothered me so much. Maybe because, in a way, I felt the same. Lost, with no memory of who I was or where I belonged. But I wasn't ready to give up just yet.
I'd helped Kara and Varric survive out there, but what good was surviving if it meant living in constant fear? These people deserved better. And maybe, just maybe, I could help them get it.
The next morning, I found myself wandering the village, taking in more of the sights—or lack thereof. Greystone was as bleak as I'd first thought. The villagers kept to themselves, their conversations hushed, their movements quick and efficient. There was no laughter, no joy. Just the grim determination to make it through another day.
It didn't take long for me to decide that something needed to change.
I found Kara and Varric near the village's central well, talking with a group of villagers who all wore the same exhausted expressions. As I approached, their conversation fell silent, and the villagers eyed me warily.
"Morning," I said, trying to sound more cheerful than I felt. "I've been thinking… you all live under constant threat, right? Raiders, monsters, the works?"
"That's right," Kara replied, crossing her arms. "Why?"
"Because I think you can do better than just waiting for the next attack," I said, looking around at the group. "I've seen what you're up against, and I've seen how you fight. But you're relying too much on brute strength and not enough on tactics. You need to be smarter than your enemies, not just stronger."
Varric frowned. "We're not soldiers. We're miners, farmers. We don't have the training for that."
"You don't need to be soldiers to defend yourselves," I said, my mind already racing with ideas. "You just need to work together and use the environment to your advantage. Set traps, create choke points, learn to anticipate where an attack will come from. I can help you with that."
The villagers exchanged uncertain glances, clearly unsure of what to make of my offer. But Kara was watching me closely, her expression thoughtful.
"And what do you get out of this?" Boren, the guard who had met us at the gate, asked suspiciously.
"Nothing," I said honestly. "I just don't like seeing people live in fear. If I can help change that, then that's enough for me."
There was a long pause as the villagers considered my words. I could see the doubt in their eyes, but also a flicker of something else—hope, maybe? It was faint, but it was there.
Finally, Kara nodded. "Alright. We'll give it a try. But no promises."
"Fair enough," I said with a nod. "Let's get started."
The next few days were a blur of activity. I worked with Kara, Varric, and a handful of willing villagers to set up basic defenses around Greystone. We reinforced the walls, set up tripwires and pitfalls around the perimeter, and created lookout points with clear views of the surrounding area.
I also spent time teaching them basic tactics—how to anticipate an attack, how to move and fight as a unit, how to use the terrain to their advantage. It wasn't much, but it was a start. And more importantly, it gave the villagers something they desperately needed: a sense of control.
I could see the change in them as we worked. The fear was still there, but it was tempered by determination. They were no longer just waiting for the next disaster to strike—they were preparing for it. And that made all the difference.
Kara and Varric were by my side the whole time, helping to organize the villagers and keep morale up. Kara in particular seemed to have a knack for leadership, and the villagers were starting to look to her for guidance.
By the end of the week, Greystone was a different place. The defenses were up, the villagers were more confident, and for the first time, I saw a few genuine smiles.
It wasn't much, but it was progress.
One evening, as the sun set behind the cliffs, casting long shadows over the village, I stood with Kara and Varric at the edge of the wall, looking out over the wasteland.
"You've done a lot for us," Kara said quietly, her eyes on the horizon. "I wasn't sure about you at first, but… you've proven yourself."
"I'm just doing what I can," I replied, feeling a bit awkward under her praise. "It's not much, but maybe it'll help."
"It's more than we expected," Varric added, his tone grudging but sincere. "You've given us a fighting chance. That's more than most would do."
I nodded, feeling a strange sense of satisfaction. "I'm glad I could help. But this is just the beginning. There's still a lot of work to do."
Kara smiled, and for the first time since I'd met her, it reached her eyes. "You're right. But for now… it's enough."
As I stood there, looking out over the vast expanse of scorched earth, I couldn't shake the feeling that I was finally starting to find my place in this world. I still didn't know who I was or where I came from, but maybe that didn't matter. Maybe what mattered was what I did now, in this place, with these people.
And if that meant fighting for a better future, then that was a fight I was willing to take on.