Life in Greystone had settled into a rhythm, if you could call it that. Every day brought the same routine: training sessions with the villagers, planning with Kara and Varric, and making sure our defenses were as solid as we could manage. But despite the progress we were making, something had been gnawing at me—something that refused to let me rest.
The flashes were becoming more frequent, more vivid. They hit me at odd times—during training, in the middle of conversations, or even when I was trying to sleep. Each one brought with it a flood of information, techniques, and experiences that felt so real, yet completely foreign. It was as if I were living through someone else's memories—memories that were becoming increasingly difficult to ignore.
The day had started like any other. I was in the middle of showing Gregor and Elara how to defend against multiple attackers when it happened again. I was just about to demonstrate a counter when, without warning, my vision blurred, and the world around me faded.
In an instant, I was somewhere else. The familiar dirt and stone of Greystone were gone, replaced by a scene I didn't recognize but somehow knew. I was standing in the middle of a battlefield, the air thick with the acrid smell of smoke and the metallic tang of blood. Around me, figures moved with practiced precision, their faces hidden behind helmets and visors, their bodies clad in armor that gleamed in the dim light.
I was one of them. I could feel the weight of the armor on my shoulders, the hilt of a sword in my hand, and the tension in my muscles as I prepared for the next strike. We were fighting something—no, someone—powerful. An enemy I couldn't see, but I could feel their presence, like a dark cloud looming just out of sight.
There were voices too—urgent, desperate voices calling out orders, relaying information, shouting warnings. One voice stood out among the rest, calm and authoritative, cutting through the chaos with practiced ease. "Stay focused. We can't afford any mistakes. The world is counting on us."
I knew that voice. I didn't know how, but I knew it.
And then, just as suddenly as it had started, the flash ended. I was back in Greystone, the familiar sight of the training grounds coming into focus. Gregor and Elara were staring at me, their expressions a mix of confusion and concern.
"Are you alright?" Gregor asked, lowering his staff.
I blinked, shaking my head as I tried to clear the fog from my mind. "Yeah… yeah, I'm fine," I said, forcing a smile. But inside, I was anything but fine. That flash—it had been different from the others. It wasn't just knowledge or technique this time. It was a memory, an actual memory, and it had felt so real.
But whose memory was it? And why did it feel like it was mine?
"Let's take a break," I said, gesturing for the villagers to step back. "I'll be right back."
I walked over to where Kara was standing, watching the training with her usual intensity. She noticed the look on my face and frowned. "What's wrong?"
"I had another one of those flashes," I admitted, keeping my voice low. "But this one… it felt different. Like I was remembering something, not just learning it. A battlefield, armor, voices. I don't know what it means, but it's starting to freak me out."
Kara's expression softened, and she nodded slowly. "These flashes, they're getting stronger, aren't they?"
"Yeah," I said, running a hand through my hair. "And I don't know how to deal with it. Every time it happens, it's like a piece of a puzzle falling into place, but I still don't know what the picture is supposed to look like."
"Maybe it's your past," Kara suggested. "Maybe these are memories of who you were before… before you lost your memory."
"That's what I'm afraid of," I said, staring off into the distance. "If these are my memories… what kind of life did I lead? Who was I? And why can't I remember anything else?"
Kara didn't have an answer, but she laid a hand on my arm, offering silent support. "Whatever it is, we'll figure it out. You're not alone in this."
I nodded, grateful for her presence. "Thanks, Kara. I just wish I knew what the hell was going on."
As if on cue, a voice interrupted our conversation. "Am I interrupting something important?"
We both turned to see a man standing at the edge of the training grounds. He was tall, with sharp features and a charming smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. His clothes were a mix of worn leather and faded fabric, the kind you'd expect from someone who'd spent a lot of time on the road. He carried a satchel slung over one shoulder, and there was an air of casual confidence about him that immediately put me on edge.
"Who's this?" I asked, my gaze narrowing.
"Name's Eldric," the man said, his smile widening as he approached. "Wandering merchant, at your service. I heard there was a village here and thought I'd stop by. It's not often I find a place that's still standing in these parts."
"Eldric," Kara repeated, her tone cautious. "What brings you to Greystone?"
Eldric's eyes flicked to me, then back to Kara. "Like I said, I'm just passing through. I've got goods to trade and news to share, if you're interested."
I didn't like the way he was looking at us—like he knew something we didn't. But before I could voice my concerns, Boren stepped forward, his expression unreadable. "We'll hear what you have to say, merchant. But don't expect us to trust you just because you're offering something."
"Fair enough," Eldric said, shrugging. "Trust is hard to come by these days. But I think you'll want to hear what I have to say."
We led Eldric to the village square, where a small group of villagers had already started to gather, drawn by the presence of an outsider. They watched him warily, their eyes full of suspicion, but also curiosity. It wasn't often that someone new came to Greystone, and even less often that they brought news from the outside world.
"So, what's the news?" Boren asked, crossing his arms as he addressed Eldric.
Eldric took his time, glancing around at the assembled villagers before speaking. "Word is, the Drakkan have been on the move. More raiding parties than usual, and they're pushing further into the Scorched Expanse. I've heard whispers that they're looking for something—or someone."
My heart skipped a beat at his words. "Someone? What do you mean?"
Eldric's eyes met mine, and for a moment, it felt like he was searching for something—something hidden just beneath the surface. "There are rumors," he said slowly, "of a stranger in these lands. Someone who's not from around here, someone… different. The Drakkan have been asking questions, making threats. It seems like they're on a hunt."
The hairs on the back of my neck stood up. This was too close to be a coincidence. "And what does this have to do with us?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.
Eldric shrugged again, his smile never wavering. "Maybe nothing. Or maybe everything. Depends on who you ask. But I figured it was worth mentioning, especially if you've got something—or someone—here that the Drakkan might be interested in."
The villagers exchanged uneasy glances, and I could feel the tension rising. They were scared, and rightfully so. The Drakkan were already a threat, but if they were actively searching for something—or someone—then that made the situation even more dangerous.
"Why are you telling us this?" Kara asked, her eyes narrowing.
"Because knowledge is power," Eldric replied, his tone smooth. "And I'm a man who deals in both. I'm not looking to cause trouble, but I also don't like seeing people walk into a situation blind. Consider this a friendly warning."
Boren stepped forward, his expression hard. "We don't take kindly to threats, merchant."
"It's not a threat," Eldric said, holding up his hands. "It's a warning. Take it or leave it. But if the Drakkan are on the move, it's only a matter of time before they find what they're looking for. I'd suggest you be ready when that happens."
The atmosphere in the village square grew tense, the villagers murmuring among themselves. I could see the fear in their eyes, the uncertainty. They were looking to me, Kara, and Varric for guidance, for some kind of reassurance. But I didn't have any to give. Not yet.
"Thank you for the warning," I said, stepping forward. "We'll take it under advisement."
Eldric nodded, his expression unreadable. "I hope it helps. I'll be here for a while if anyone's interested in trading. And if you hear anything else… well, I'm always interested in news."
With that, he turned and walked away, leaving us to mull over his words.
"Do you believe him?" Kara asked quietly as we watched Eldric disappear into the crowd.
"I don't know," I admitted, my mind racing. "But we can't afford to ignore it. If the Drakkan are looking for someone, and they think that someone might be here, then we need to be ready. We can't let them catch us off guard."
A village council meeting was quickly convened. The key figures gathered in the large stone building that served as the village hall—Kara, Varric, Boren, and a few of the older villagers. I was there too, though I still felt like an outsider in these kinds of discussions.
"We need to expand our defenses," I said, after explaining Eldric's warning. "We've made good progress, but if the Drakkan are really planning something, we need to be prepared for a full-scale attack."
Boren grunted, crossing his arms. "And you believe this merchant? He could be trying to stir up trouble for his own gain."
"Maybe," I admitted. "But can we afford to take that chance? We've seen what the Drakkan are capable of. If there's even a possibility that they're planning something bigger, we need to be ready."
There was a murmur of agreement from the villagers, though I could see the doubt in some of their faces. They were tired, worn down by the constant threat of danger. But they were also survivors, and they understood what was at stake.
"We'll start reinforcing the walls," Kara said, stepping in to support my proposal. "Set up more lookout points, and make sure everyone knows the plan in case of an attack. We need to be ready for anything."
Varric nodded, his expression grim. "I'll gather the men. We can't afford to be caught off guard."
The meeting continued with more detailed discussions on logistics, supply distribution, and shifts for night watches. I contributed where I could, drawing on the flashes of knowledge that had become increasingly reliable, even if I still didn't fully understand them. It felt natural, almost instinctive, to plan for battle, to prepare for the worst. And that scared me more than I wanted to admit.
By the time the meeting ended, night had fallen, and the village was cloaked in shadow. The villagers dispersed, some heading to their homes, others to their posts for the night watch. I stayed behind in the village hall, alone with my thoughts.
I couldn't shake the feeling that something big was coming—something that would test everything we'd worked for. And those flashes, those memories… they were getting stronger, more insistent. Like a warning from my past, urging me to be ready.
I was tired, but sleep wouldn't come easily. So I did the only thing I could think of—I went to the highest point in the village, a small tower that overlooked the walls, and I stood there, staring out into the darkness.
The air was cool, the night quiet. But there was a tension in the air, a sense of anticipation, like the calm before a storm. I could feel it in my bones, a gnawing unease that refused to let go.
And then, as I stood there, I felt it again. That familiar tug at the back of my mind, the sensation that something was about to happen. But this time, it wasn't just a flash—it was a dream, or maybe a memory, so vivid it felt like I was living it all over again.
I was back on that battlefield, surrounded by the sounds of war—clashing steel, shouted commands, the thud of boots on the ground. I was fighting, not alone, but alongside others, people I knew, people I cared about. Their faces were blurred, but their voices were clear.
"We can't let them win," one of them said, a voice full of determination. "The world is counting on us."
"We have to keep fighting," another voice urged. "No matter what."
And then I heard it again—that same calm, authoritative voice that had spoken before. "This isn't just about survival. It's about doing what's right. Remember that."
I wanted to respond, to ask them who they were, but the dream—memory—was slipping away, fading into the darkness.
I woke with a start, my heart pounding in my chest. The night was still, the village quiet. But that voice, those words, echoed in my mind, refusing to let go.
"This isn't just about survival. It's about doing what's right."
I didn't know who I was in that memory, or who those people were, but something told me that the choices I made here, in this world, were just as important as whatever I had done before. Maybe even more so.
With renewed determination, I stood up, looking out over the village. The threat was real, and it was coming. But I wasn't going to let it take us down without a fight.
As the first light of dawn began to break over the horizon, I headed back down to the village, ready to face whatever came next. Because whatever happened, I knew one thing for sure:
I wasn't going to let this village fall. Not while I still had the strength to fight.