Author's Note: Although you can consider this a companion piece to my story in progress "Quest for Peace", you can read it without ever having read that other story. In "From the other side" I explore a relationship that I don't think a lot of people ever give a second thought. I can't tell too much or I'd give away the plot. I had already published this some time ago, but I've smoothed it over in a few places and decided to add an author's note. I hope you enjoy it!

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From the other side

He felt lost. Always lost. Lost, alone and incomplete, as if a part of his soul had been torn from him. He couldn't see, couldn't hear, couldn't smell, couldn't feel... Time had no meaning, life had no meaning. Every night he wandered the roads, always shrouded in shadows, shunning people, not wanting to be seen. If only he could find what he'd lost, if only... It is time, he decided, it's time to finally face it. It's time to face my fears. But to do that, to find what he'd lost, to look his personal horrors in the face, he knew he had to go to the one place he'd sworn never to go again: the place where Harukhana had died.

With his ailing body and fragmented mind, bordering on insanity, he'd walked aimlessly, seeing and hearing things that weren't there. Sometimes he thought he could hear her footsteps, her voice, her laughter. Some nights, when clouds covered the stars and moon, he saw her face in the haunting darkness, her smile, her eyes. Oh gods, her eyes… I'd do anything to see those eyes again. People never talked to him, only about him. Their voices floated around him when he neared a village, warm, living voices, full of happiness, sadness and the promise of death. His heart didn't ache, it couldn't, but he longed to feel the warmth, the warmth she'd always showed him.

This night, through the haze of confusion, of emptiness, his own voice sounded clear for the first time in years. I have to do it. I owe it to her. I can't live like this, but I… I can't die like this either. I have to. For her. His swerving, chaotic walk became purposeful as his feet remembered the path. His body had always known where to go, his grief providing him with an inner compass to guide him to that dreadful place. He set off for the Blasted Lands. He didn't need to hide anymore and he shrugged of his cloak of shadows near the town of Booty Bay, immediately causing a panic on the road he'd been walking on unseen.

"By the gods, where did that come from?"

"Guards, call the guards!"

"Get him, don't let it get away!"

"Oh Ysera, it's awful! That smell…"

"I say kill it!"

These words meant nothing to him, they came from a world he had never felt close too. It was true that he looked horrific, since he had stopped caring about himself since Harukhana's death. But even though he looked horrible, with his cracked skin, oozing wounds and the stench of decay that followed him everywhere nowadays, his muscles were still as strong as they had always been. And when some of the braver folks attacked him, he grabbed hold of his faithful hammer with both hands and deflected the curses and spells that were shot at him. The pain they inflicted was insignificant, he didn't even feel it, because a much deeper pain had been his companion for more than those two years. After the casters were dealt with, two warriors attacked him. He easily took care of them, without killing them of course. Just as she would have wanted.

When they first met, in a dark place somewhere beneath Orgrimmar, he'd hated her. Hated every bone in her body, every inch of flesh he could see. She was the enemy, someone to hate, to hurt, to kill. He couldn't harm her, imprisoned as he'd been in magicals chains, he couldn't even touch her. When she looked at him, she took a step back as if his blazing hate had physically hurt her. But she recovered quickly and looked at him again. With a shy smile. That smile had smashed through his hate, pierced his soul. He'd blinked.

"Hello," she'd said, "my name's Harukhana. What's yours?"

He didn't give it to her that night nor in the many nights that followed. They'd kept him there, bound by ancient magic that even he had to obey. Taken from his family, amidst his enemies, he'd tried to fight, to free himself, but nothing worked. She came to him. Every night. He'd felt a connection to her, a strange feeling he'd never known before. The more he came to know her, the more his hatred subsided. Not for everyone, only for her. For Harukhana. Finally, she'd taken hold of his chains and he had told her his name. It was the beginning of the end of his loyalty to his family.

She'd made him understand that all life is precious, even his. That he should fight when needed, but never kill unless there was absolutely no other choice. Never before had anyone spoken to him like that, never before had he felt so deeply about someone. When he returned to his 'home', which was sometimes unavoidable, he never spoke of her. Never mentioned her name, never talked about what she meant to him. They wouldn't have understood, just as I don't understand them anymore. My family... They shared blood and body, but they didn't share their thoughts, their morals. Ever since his last return from 'home', he'd tried his best to forget them, until she'd said that he shouldn't.

"They're part of you, part of who you are and part of what you will become," she'd told him.

"To forget them would be to forget a part of yourself and then you wouldn't be who you are now. Don't forget them, don't hate them for who or what they are. You were like them once. Maybe they too can change. You owe it to yourself to at least try. Just don't forget them..."

And he didn't. He didn't forget them just as he didn't forget her. When she'd died, his family tried to take him home, but he refused to go. He wouldn't go, wouldn't forget about her, about what she'd taught him, about what he'd felt when she was still alive. And now here he was, being attacked by members of her family, with their green skin and fangs looking every bit as threatening as she could sometimes look. I won't kill them, he thought, I won't. I have a promise to keep.

So he walked away. They continued their attacks and he defended himself when he felt in serious danger. Otherwise he just kept walking, in plain sight, the embodiment of their enemy. He didn't care what they thought or did, he was following his heart. And her voice, which he had been ignoring for so long, had finally awoken inside him and guided him on his journey.