Protagonist's POV
It had been three days since the Drakkan attacked Greystone, and the village still smelled of smoke and blood.
I stood at the edge of the village, surveying the damage. The walls were battered, the ground still churned up from where the traps had been triggered, and the air was thick with the grim reality of what had happened. The villagers moved like shadows, exhausted but determined. They worked to repair the defenses, tend to the wounded, and bury the dead.
There were too many dead.
The weight of their loss hung heavy on my shoulders as I moved through the village, offering help where I could. My body was still healing from the wound I'd taken during the battle, but the Healing Factor was doing its job. I felt the fatigue, though, deep in my bones—a kind of exhaustion that went beyond physical strain. It wasn't just the fight. It was everything. The memories, the weight of leadership, the faces of those who had died while I lived.
I couldn't stop thinking about that flash, the memory that had hit me so hard during the fight. The battlefield, the soldiers who looked to me for guidance, and the woman—the woman who felt so familiar, even though I didn't know who she was. I could still see her face, hear her voice calling out to me in that desperate moment. It had been so real, more than just a dream or a fragment of some forgotten life.
It was a memory, I thought, but why now? Why is it coming back to me now?
"Hey, you with us?"
I blinked and turned to see Varric approaching, his broad frame filling most of the narrow path between the makeshift tents where the wounded were being cared for. He was limping slightly, a bandage wrapped around his thigh from a nasty cut he'd taken in the fight, but other than that, he looked as solid as ever.
"You've been staring off into space for a while," Varric said, his voice gruff but concerned. "Something on your mind?"
"More than I can explain," I admitted, shaking my head as if I could clear the fog in my brain. "Just… thinking."
"About the dead?"
I nodded. "And everything else. The flashes, the decisions we've had to make… the people we've lost."
Varric grunted in acknowledgment, his eyes scanning the village. "Yeah, it's hard not to think about it. But we can't dwell on it too much, or it'll eat us alive. We're still here, and we need to keep moving forward."
He was right. As much as the losses weighed on me, there was no time to wallow in guilt. The village needed me, needed us. There was still so much to do.
"Come on," Varric said, clapping me on the shoulder with a meaty hand. "Kara's organizing the next round of fortifications. She wanted to go over the plans with you."
I nodded, falling into step beside him. We walked through the village, passing by groups of villagers working on repairs. Gregor was overseeing the rebuilding of the northern wall, his face a mask of concentration as he directed a group of younger villagers. Elara, still recovering from her wounds, sat nearby, her hands shaking as she tried to sew a tear in her tunic. Despite everything, they kept going. They had to.
As we approached the center of the village, I spotted Kara standing by the remnants of the village hall, where a crude map of Greystone had been laid out on a table. She was talking to a few of the other village leaders, her face set in that determined expression she always wore when there was work to be done.
"Kara," I called out as we approached.
She looked up, her eyes narrowing as she saw me. "You're late."
"Got caught up thinking," I said, offering a small, tired smile. "What's the plan?"
Kara didn't smile back, but there was a flicker of understanding in her eyes. "We need to reinforce the western gate. It took the worst of the damage during the attack, and if we get hit again, that's where they'll break through. I've got a few of the villagers working on it, but we'll need more hands."
I glanced at the map. The western gate had indeed taken the brunt of the Drakkan assault. It was still standing, but barely. We couldn't afford to leave it vulnerable.
"I'll help where I can," I said. "But we should also consider setting more traps. If we can lure them into another ravine—"
"That won't work a second time," Kara interrupted, her voice sharp. "The Drakkan aren't stupid. They'll adapt."
I frowned, but she was right. The ravine trap had worked, but the Drakkan wouldn't fall for it again. We needed something new, something they wouldn't expect.
"What about expanding the village?" Varric said suddenly, his deep voice breaking the tension. Kara and I both turned to look at him.
"Expanding?" Kara asked, raising an eyebrow. "How do you mean?"
"We can't stay isolated forever," Varric said, crossing his arms. "We barely survived this attack, and next time, we might not be so lucky. We need more fighters, more supplies, more allies. There are other villages out there, other settlements. If we can form alliances, we'll stand a better chance."
Kara's face tightened, and I could see the wheels turning in her mind. She didn't like the idea of relying on others, and I couldn't blame her. Greystone had always been self-sufficient, even if it was by necessity. But Varric had a point. We couldn't keep fighting like this, with just a handful of villagers and whatever scraps we could find.
"It's risky," Kara said finally, her voice low. "We don't know what's out there. What if the other villages don't want to help? Or worse, what if they see us as a threat?"
"We don't have a choice," I said, stepping in. "Varric's right. If we keep fighting alone, we'll lose. We need allies, or at least people who are willing to trade with us. We can't survive another attack like the last one."
Kara didn't respond right away, her eyes scanning the map, her lips pressed into a thin line. I knew she was thinking about the risks, weighing the options. Kara was always the cautious one, always thinking ten steps ahead.
Finally, she nodded. "Alright. We'll start by reaching out to the nearest settlements, see if they're open to negotiations. But I want to be clear—if this goes south, we pull back. We can't afford to stretch ourselves too thin."
"Agreed," Varric said. "I'll start putting together a scouting party. We'll leave in a few days, once things are more stable here."
As they discussed the details, my mind drifted back to the memory of the battlefield—the soldiers, the woman, the weight of leadership. The flashes were becoming more frequent, more intense, and I couldn't shake the feeling that they were trying to tell me something. Something I wasn't ready to face.
Who was I back then? And what did I do?
Kara's POV
I watched the villagers as they moved through the wreckage, trying to piece Greystone back together one stone at a time. The sun was starting to dip below the horizon, casting long shadows across the broken walls, and I couldn't help but feel the weight of it all pressing down on me.
We'd survived, but barely. And now it was up to me to keep everyone moving, keep everyone fighting. The village looked to me for leadership, just as much as they looked to him—the stranger with no past, no name, but a growing reputation as our savior.
I trusted him. I did. But lately, something had been… off. He was distant, distracted. And it wasn't just the aftermath of the battle. He'd been like this ever since the flashes started. He hadn't told me much, but I could tell it was weighing on him, whatever those memories were. He wasn't sharing everything, and that worried me.
Still, I didn't have time to confront him. Not yet. The village came first.
"Everything alright?" Varric asked, breaking me out of my thoughts. He was standing next to me, arms crossed, his usual scowl softened by exhaustion.
"Yeah," I said, though my voice lacked conviction. "I just—"
"Don't," he cut me off, shaking his head. "You're doing fine. Stop second-guessing yourself."
I looked at him, surprised by the bluntness of his tone. Varric wasn't one for motivational speeches, but I could see the honesty in his eyes. He believed in me, even if I didn't always believe in myself.
"Thanks," I muttered, turning back to the map. "We'll figure it out."
Varric nodded, then motioned toward the far side of the village. "You want me to talk to him? The merchant?"
My eyes flicked toward Eldric, who was lounging near one of the tents, a small fire crackling beside him. He had been nothing but cryptic since the battle, offering vague warnings about the Drakkan and the future. Something about him didn't sit right with me. He knew too much, and he was too comfortable in the chaos.
"I'll handle it," I said, my voice hardening. "You focus on the scouting party."
Without waiting for a response, I made my way across the village, my eyes locked on Eldric. He saw me coming, of course, and that smirk of his widened as I approached.
"Kara," he said, his tone dripping with amusement. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"
"Enough games," I said, crossing my arms and glaring down at him. "You knew about the Drakkan attack before it happened. And now you're sitting here like you're waiting for something. What aren't you telling us?"
Eldric raised an eyebrow, his smirk never fading. "I've told you everything you need to know."
"Not good enough," I snapped. "You knew about the Drakkan. You knew about the attack. Why? What's your angle?"
Eldric's smile faltered for just a moment, but then it was back, even sharper than before. "Let's just say I have… connections. And those connections tell me that your little village here is about to become very important in the grand scheme of things."
I narrowed my eyes. "What does that mean?"
Eldric leaned forward, his voice dropping to a whisper. "It means that the Drakkan aren't the only ones who are looking for something. Or someone. You and your nameless friend over there? You're part of something much bigger than this little patch of dirt you call a village. And when the time comes, you'll have to decide where you stand."
My heart raced, but I didn't let it show. "What are you talking about?"
Eldric just smiled, leaning back against the log he was sitting on. "You'll find out soon enough."
I stood there for a moment, fists clenched at my sides, before turning on my heel and walking away. Eldric's words echoed in my mind, and I hated that they made sense. There was something more going on—something I wasn't seeing yet. And it scared me.
Protagonist's POV
I didn't sleep much that night. My mind was still racing with thoughts of the battle, the memories, and now Eldric's cryptic warnings. What was he playing at? And how much did he know about me?
I sat outside one of the tents, staring into the fire as the embers crackled and popped. The village was quiet now, most of the villagers finally getting some rest. But I couldn't shake the feeling that something was coming. Something bigger than the Drakkan. And I wasn't ready for it.
The flashes were getting stronger. More vivid. And I had no idea how to control them, or what they meant.
As I sat there, trying to make sense of it all, another flash hit me—this time more powerful than any before.
I was standing on a battlefield, but it wasn't the one from the last memory. This time, it was after the fight, the air thick with smoke and the stench of death. I looked around, my body aching, my heart heavy. And then I saw her—the woman from the last flash, the one with the fierce eyes. She was standing in front of me, her face streaked with dirt and blood, but she was smiling.
"You did it," she said, her voice soft but full of pride. "You saved them. You made the right choice."
I wanted to respond, to ask her who she was, but before I could say anything, the flash cut out, leaving me gasping for breath in the real world.
My heart pounded in my chest, and I stood up, trying to shake off the lingering emotions from the memory. Whoever that woman was, she was important. And I had a sinking feeling that the choices I made in this world were tied to the ones I made in my past life.
I glanced toward the horizon, where the sky was starting to lighten with the first hints of dawn.
Something was coming. I could feel it. And whether I liked it or not, my past—and my future—were on a collision course.