Varric's POV – The Scouting Party
The morning was crisp, with a chill in the air that bit at your skin but wasn't quite enough to make you shiver. It was a reminder that winter was creeping closer, and with it, more danger. If Greystone didn't secure allies soon, we'd be buried in more than just snow.
I adjusted my hammer across my back, feeling the weight of it—a comfort. Beside me, the small group we'd gathered prepared to head out: a mix of villagers, a few of the more capable fighters, and, of course, him—the nameless stranger who'd become our leader, whether he liked it or not. The villagers called him "Stray" now, partly out of affection, partly because he'd shown up with nothing and no one, like a stray animal wandering into the fold.
He didn't seem to mind the nickname. In fact, he wore it like armor, never correcting them, never offering more.
"Everything ready?" I asked, glancing toward Stray. He was quiet, scanning the horizon, his expression distant again. It wasn't just the weight of this trip that was on his mind. Lately, he'd been like this more and more—detached, lost in thoughts or memories only he could see.
"Yeah, we're ready," Stray said, his voice low, almost distracted. His eyes flicked to the group, then back to the horizon. "We should move. It's a long way to Stonecradle."
He wasn't wrong. The journey ahead was rough—through rocky plains and dangerous territory, and Stonecradle wasn't exactly known for being friendly to outsiders. But we didn't have a choice. We needed resources, alliances, something more than just our worn-down walls and whatever scraps we could gather from the wasteland.
Greystone wouldn't survive another attack without help.
"Alright," I called to the group, my voice gruff as always. "Let's move. Stay sharp. The wasteland doesn't care about your good intentions."
The villagers fell into step, some more confident than others. Stray moved with purpose, his posture tense, like he was preparing for a fight that hadn't even started yet. I knew he felt the same weight I did—maybe even more so. But I couldn't shake the feeling that he wasn't fully here. His mind was somewhere else, somewhere far from Greystone, and that worried me more than anything.
As we set out, I couldn't help but wonder: was Stray the leader we needed? He was smart, sure, and he had this uncanny ability to predict danger before it happened. But there were things he wasn't saying, things he wasn't telling us. I respected him, but trust? That was harder to give.
Protagonist's POV – Preparing for Departure
The cold air stung my lungs, but it felt good. Clean, in a way. I'd been in a fog for days now, ever since the flashes started getting worse. Ever since I saw her again. The woman in my memories—her face, her voice—it was becoming clearer with every flash. But the more I remembered, the more it felt like I was forgetting something else.
I kept my eyes on the horizon as we walked, trying to focus on the mission. Stonecradle was our goal, and we needed to make contact, to form some kind of alliance. If we didn't, Greystone wouldn't last. But every time I blinked, the flashes came back. I saw the battlefield, the soldiers, and her—telling me I'd made the right choice.
But what choice? And what had it cost me?
I hadn't told anyone about the flashes, not fully. Kara knew something was off, but I couldn't bring myself to explain. Not yet. Not when I didn't even understand it myself.
The group was quiet as we walked, the only sound the crunch of dirt and rock beneath our boots. I glanced toward Kara, who had stayed behind to oversee the rebuilding. She'd wanted to come with us, but I told her Greystone needed her more. I wasn't sure if that was true, but part of me was glad she'd stayed. The tension between us had been growing, and I knew she could see that I wasn't fully present. That I was being pulled in two directions—the here and now, and whatever my past was.
I need to get a grip, I thought. The village is counting on me.
But as I looked ahead, into the vast wasteland that stretched before us, I couldn't shake the feeling that whatever was coming wasn't something I could face alone.
Protagonist's POV – The Journey to Stonecradle
The landscape around us was brutal, jagged rocks and dry earth as far as the eye could see. The sun beat down from above, but the air was cold—a strange contrast, as if the world couldn't decide whether it wanted to freeze us or burn us alive.
We moved cautiously. My Danger Sense hadn't gone off yet, but that didn't mean much. The wasteland had a way of catching you off guard when you were least prepared.
Varric kept the group in line, his hammer always within reach. He was good at this—leading, keeping the others calm—but I could see the way his eyes darted toward me every now and then, as if waiting for me to give an order, or maybe to crack under the pressure.
I wasn't sure which he expected, but I kept my mouth shut and my eyes forward.
Hours passed, and we made good progress, but the terrain became rougher the closer we got to the ravine—a deep canyon that cut through the land like an open wound. Crossing it was the fastest way to Stonecradle, but it wasn't without its risks. One wrong step, and you'd tumble into darkness.
As we approached the edge, I felt it—that familiar pulse at the back of my neck. My Danger Sense. I stopped short, holding up a hand to signal the group.
"Wait," I said, my voice low. "Something's not right."
Varric glanced at me, his eyes narrowing. "What is it?"
I scanned the area, trying to pinpoint the source of the feeling. The ground beneath us was uneven, and the rocks along the ravine were loose, crumbling under the slightest pressure. But it wasn't just the terrain. There was something else.
And then the flash hit me.
"You have to make sacrifices," the woman said, her voice soft but firm. I saw her face clearly now—her fierce eyes, the way her mouth curved into a sad smile. "It's not just about you. It's about the greater good."
The battlefield was different this time. Smaller, more personal. And the weight of her words pressed down on me like a lead blanket.
I snapped back to reality, gasping for breath. My heart pounded in my chest, and I staggered, catching myself before I fell.
"Stray?" Varric's voice was sharp, concerned. "What the hell was that?"
I shook my head, trying to clear the fog. "I'm fine," I muttered, though I didn't believe it. "Let's keep moving."
Varric didn't push, but I could feel his eyes on me as we started again, more cautiously this time. The flash had left me rattled, and I couldn't shake the feeling that I was missing something important—something about who I used to be, and what I had to do now.
Varric's POV – Stonecradle, First Contact
Stonecradle was a fortress, carved into the side of a mountain and bristling with defenses. Thick walls of stone lined the perimeter, and watchtowers loomed above, manned by grim-faced guards. As we approached, I could feel the tension in the air. They weren't expecting us, and in a place like this, unexpected visitors weren't exactly welcome.
"We'll need to be careful," I muttered, glancing at Stray. He nodded, his face still pale from whatever vision had hit him back at the ravine. I wasn't sure what to make of that, but now wasn't the time to ask questions.
We were led into the village, past rows of blacksmiths and miners, their eyes following us with suspicion. Stonecradle wasn't like Greystone. These people were tougher, harder. They had the resources we needed, but convincing them to help us? That would be the real challenge.
We were brought before Rurik Ironhand, the village chief. He was as solid as his name suggested—a massive man with arms like tree trunks and a permanent scowl etched into his face. He didn't look pleased to see us.
"What do you want?" Rurik asked, his voice gruff. He didn't waste time with pleasantries.
"We're from Greystone," I said, stepping forward. "We've been hit by the Drakkan. Hard. We need help—supplies, fighters. We're offering a trade. You help us, we help you."
Rurik's scowl deepened. "And what can you offer us that we don't already have?"
I glanced at Stray, hoping he had something to offer. He was quiet for a moment, then stepped forward, his voice calm but strong.
"You've been hit by the Drakkan too," Stray said, his eyes locked on Rurik's. "We know they've been raiding villages in this region, and they'll come for you eventually. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but soon. Greystone is smaller, but we've fought them off before. We know their tactics. I can help you prepare, fortify your defenses. Together, we stand a better chance."
Rurik didn't respond right away, his eyes narrowing as he sized Stray up. "You think you know more about war than we do?"
"I think I've been through enough to know what's coming," Stray replied, his voice steady. "And I think you know it too."
Rurik grunted, but I could see the wheels turning in his head. He wasn't a fool. He knew the Drakkan were a threat, and having someone like Stray on his side, even if he didn't trust him, was better than facing them alone.
"I'll think about it," Rurik said finally, his tone dismissive. "For now, you can stay. We'll talk more tomorrow."
It wasn't much, but it was a start.
Eldric's POV – Greystone's Shadows
Back in Greystone, I watched the villagers bustle about, rebuilding, fortifying. They moved like ants, unaware of the bigger picture, the grander game being played. And that was fine by me.
Stray and his little scouting party were on their way to Stonecradle. I knew they'd make it there safely—more or less. That was all part of the plan. But what they didn't know, what they couldn't know, was that their little mission was just the beginning.
I leaned back in my chair, watching the smoke rise from the blacksmith's forge. Greystone was on the cusp of something, and Stray—poor, confused Stray—had no idea how central he was to it all. The flashes he'd been having, the memories? They weren't accidents. They were the pieces of a puzzle, one that had been carefully constructed long before he ever arrived in this world.
He was important. More important than he realized. But the real question was, would he figure it out before it was too late?
I smiled to myself. Either way, things were about to get interesting.
Kara's POV – Greystone's Burden
The weight of leadership wasn't something I'd ever asked for. I was a warrior, a fighter. But leading? That was different. It wasn't just about swinging a weapon or taking down an enemy. It was about making decisions, the kind that could cost lives if I made the wrong call.
Stray had left me in charge while he and Varric went to Stonecradle, and every day since then, I'd questioned whether I was the right person for the job.
The village was holding together—barely. The Drakkan had taken a lot out of us, and every day was a struggle to rebuild, to keep people focused, to keep them alive. And then there was Eldric, always watching, always with that knowing smirk. He made my skin crawl, but I couldn't put my finger on why.
I glanced toward the training grounds, where a group of villagers was sparring. I'd been pushing them hard, preparing for the next attack. Because there would be another attack. There was always another one.
But as much as I focused on the present, I couldn't stop thinking about Stray. He'd been distant lately, more than usual, and I knew it had to do with the flashes he'd been having. I trusted him, but I was starting to worry that whatever was going on in his head was pulling him away from us. From the village.
And if he didn't get a grip on it soon, Greystone might not survive.
Protagonist's POV – The Return to Greystone
The trip back from Stonecradle was quiet. We'd secured a tentative agreement with Rurik—nothing solid, but a start. We had resources, a promise of future support. But the whole way back, something gnawed at me.
As we got closer to Greystone, the feeling grew stronger. That pulse at the back of my neck, the one that always signaled danger, was there again. It throbbed, stronger with every step.
"Something's wrong," I said, my voice tight. Varric shot me a look but didn't argue.
When we reached the edge of the village, I saw it—faint plumes of smoke rising into the air.
My stomach dropped.
Without a word, I broke into a run, my heart pounding in my chest as I raced toward the village. Whatever had happened, whatever was waiting for us, I knew one thing for certain:
The worst was far from over.