I stood atop the wall, my breath forming small clouds in the cold night air. Below me, Greystone was still, almost too quiet. Fires were dimmed to avoid drawing attention, and every shadow seemed to shift with anticipation. The villagers were in position, standing at the ready with their makeshift weapons, their eyes filled with a mixture of fear and resolve.
We all knew it was coming.
I strained to listen, my senses heightened by the quiet, waiting for the sound that would signal the beginning of the attack. And then, there it was—the low, rhythmic beat of war drums, carried on the wind. The Drakkan were near.
"They're coming," I muttered under my breath, gripping the edge of the stone wall. Beside me, Kara and Varric were silent but tense, their faces set in grim determination.
"Everyone, positions," I called out, raising my voice just enough for the nearest villagers to hear. They moved swiftly, taking their places along the walls and at the village's defensive chokepoints. We'd prepared for this, worked tirelessly to make sure we were ready. But no amount of preparation could quiet the anxiety gnawing at the edges of my mind.
The drums grew louder, accompanied by the distant sound of guttural roars. The Drakkan were drawing closer, their shadowy forms emerging on the horizon like a wave of darkness. My heart hammered in my chest as I scanned the approaching horde. There were more of them than I'd hoped for, a sea of red skin and cruel weapons gleaming in the moonlight.
"We've faced worse odds," Kara said quietly from beside me, her voice steady.
I nodded, trying to draw strength from her calm. "Remember the plan," I said, more to myself than to anyone else. "We stick to the plan."
As the first of the Drakkan reached the outer perimeter, the traps we had set were sprung. Pitfalls opened beneath their feet, and spikes shot out from hidden trenches. Several Drakkan fell immediately, their bodies impaled or swallowed by the earth. But the rest kept coming, undeterred by the deaths of their comrades.
"That'll slow them down," Varric grunted, hefting his hammer over his shoulder as he watched the chaos unfold.
"Not for long," I replied, my voice tight with focus. "They're adapting. We need to be ready when they break through."
And break through they did.
The Drakkan hit the walls like a battering ram, their brute strength and relentless ferocity overwhelming our defenses in a matter of minutes. The initial wave of traps slowed them, but they pushed forward, sheer numbers driving them through the gaps in our defenses. I could see the villagers faltering, the fear in their eyes as the enemy closed in.
"Hold the line!" I shouted, leaping down from the wall to join the fight on the ground. My body moved on instinct, a blur of motion as I engaged the nearest Drakkan. I ducked under a heavy swing of an axe, feeling the rush of air as the blade passed inches from my head, and countered with a well-placed strike to the enemy's chest. He staggered, but another Drakkan was already closing in.
The battle became a blur of chaos—shouts, the clash of weapons, the sickening thud of bodies hitting the ground. The villagers fought bravely, but the Drakkan were relentless, pushing us back toward the center of the village. I found myself surrounded, barely keeping pace with the swarm of attackers, my body moving faster than my mind could keep up.
And then it happened—a sharp pain exploded in my side, and I stumbled. A Drakkan's blade had sliced deep into my flesh, and the world seemed to tilt on its axis. I fell to my knees, my vision swimming as the sounds of battle faded into a distant hum.
Not now. Not like this.
As I struggled to regain my footing, it hit me—another flash, stronger than any I'd experienced before. The battlefield around me vanished, replaced by a different one, one that felt both familiar and foreign. I was there again, leading a group of soldiers, not villagers, but hardened fighters. We were in the middle of a desperate battle, outnumbered and overwhelmed, just like in Greystone.
"Hold the line!" I heard myself shout, the weight of the situation pressing down on me. I saw their faces—the soldiers fighting alongside me, people I cared about. One of them, a woman with short, dark hair and fierce eyes, caught my attention. She was shouting something at me, her voice lost in the roar of battle, but the urgency in her expression was clear.
I had to make a choice.
The memory shifted, showing me the aftermath of that decision—a ruined battlefield, bodies scattered across the ground. We had won, but at what cost?
The vision faded, and I was back in Greystone, gasping for breath, the pain in my side reminding me where I was. I clutched at the wound, feeling the blood seeping through my fingers, but my mind was racing with the memory. The battle, the tactics, the choice I had made—it wasn't just a flash of information. It was a memory. My memory.
I pushed myself to my feet, my legs trembling from the effort. The Healing Factor was already at work, knitting my flesh back together, but the wound had taken more out of me than I wanted to admit. I couldn't stop now. Not with everything on the line.
"Kara! Varric!" I shouted over the din of battle. They were both locked in combat nearby, but they heard me, turning toward me as I stumbled toward them. "We need to change tactics—lure them into the ravine!"
Kara's eyes widened in realization. "The ravine? You want to bring them out of the village?"
"It's our only chance," I replied, gritting my teeth against the pain. "The walls won't hold much longer. If we can get them into the ravine, we can collapse the sides and trap them."
Varric looked uncertain, but Kara nodded, already seeing the strategy in my plan. "Let's do it," she said, turning to the nearest group of villagers. "Fall back! Head to the ravine! Move!"
The villagers, though exhausted and bloodied, followed the command without hesitation. We fought our way through the Drakkan forces, pulling them with us as we retreated toward the ravine just outside the village. It was a gamble—a desperate move—but it was all we had left.
As we reached the edge of the ravine, I glanced back to see the Drakkan charging after us, their eyes burning with rage. They didn't see the trap we had set, too focused on the kill.
"Kara, now!" I shouted.
Kara and Varric, along with the villagers who still had the strength, triggered the explosives we had hidden in the rocky sides of the ravine. The ground beneath the Drakkan shook, and with a deafening roar, the walls of the ravine collapsed, burying dozens of them in an avalanche of rock and debris.
The Drakkan still standing hesitated, unsure whether to push forward or retreat. That was our moment.
"Push them back!" I shouted, charging into the remaining Drakkan with everything I had left. Kara and Varric were right beside me, their weapons flashing in the dim light. The villagers, emboldened by the shift in momentum, fought with renewed strength. The tide had turned.
The battle dragged on, but as the first light of dawn broke over the horizon, the Drakkan were finally forced into retreat. Their numbers decimated, their morale broken, they fled into the wasteland, leaving us standing in the rubble of our village, battered but victorious.
I stood amidst the wreckage, my chest heaving as I watched the last of the Drakkan disappear into the distance. My legs felt like they might give out at any moment, but I couldn't stop now. Not yet.
Kara approached, blood smeared across her armor but alive. "We did it," she said, her voice rough with exhaustion.
"We did," I agreed, though the weight of the battle still pressed heavily on my mind. The villagers had survived, but at what cost?
As I looked around, I saw the toll the battle had taken. Many were injured, some severely. A few lay still, their lives lost in the defense of Greystone. I clenched my fists, fighting the wave of guilt that threatened to overwhelm me. This wasn't the first time I'd led people into a battle like this—and it wouldn't be the last.
Varric limped over, his hammer resting on his shoulder. "Hell of a fight," he said with a grim smile. "You did good, kid."
"Not without both of you," I replied, glancing between him and Kara. "I couldn't have done this alone."
Before we could say more, I saw movement out of the corner of my eye. Eldric, the wandering merchant, was strolling casually through the wreckage, his face annoyingly calm, as if he hadn't just watched an entire village fight for its life.
"Well, well," he said, clapping his hands lightly as he approached. "Impressive work. Though I have to say, I never doubted you'd pull through."
I glared at him, barely restraining the urge to grab him by the collar. "What are you playing at, Eldric? You knew this attack was coming, and you did nothing."
Eldric raised his hands defensively, that ever-present smirk still on his face. "I warned you, didn't I? Besides, this was just a taste of what's to come. The Drakkan aren't the only ones looking for you."
I narrowed my eyes, my frustration mounting. "What do you know, Eldric? Why are you here?"
His smile faded slightly, replaced by a more serious expression. "I'm here because you're important. More important than you realize. And whether you like it or not, the Drakkan are just the beginning. Bigger things are coming, and you need to be ready."
Before I could press him further, Eldric turned and began walking away, leaving me standing there with more questions than answers.
Kara stepped up beside me, her eyes on Eldric's retreating figure. "What did he mean by that?"
"I don't know," I said, my mind still racing from the battle and the flashes. "But I intend to find out."
As the sun rose over Greystone, casting long shadows over the broken walls and the wounded villagers, I couldn't shake the feeling that Eldric was right.
The Drakkan may have been defeated, but this was just the beginning.