Chapter 2

A World Changed

Stefan stared with empty eyes at the night sky. As he lay on the warm sands of Durotar, he remembered how it felt to lay atop the roofs of Booty Bay, counting the stars. In the past, he shared such nights as these with Lorelein. But no longer. Now, as he listened to the light breeze that blew through the canyons and moaned into the open deserts, Stefan had only one thing on his mind.

But it wasn't hatred, nor was it loathing or sadness. He took this time, alone and under the heavens' scrutiny, to remember.

---

"Stefan! Supper's ready!" shouted Anita Dreis.

The boy trotted down the stairs, tired and hungry. When he sat down, the expression upon his face would have been more fitting if his mother had dropped a solid gold egg in front of him, and not a bowl of hot beef stew. Stefan didn't wait for it to cool, already scooping spoonfuls of the steaming meal into his mouth. It scalded his tongue, but he didn't care. He was far too hungry. He noticed his mother looking at him in a half-suspicious, half-admiring way as she was washing the dishes. He let his spoon fall unmolested onto the edge of the bowl, and looked back at her.

"What is it, mother?" he asked.

"You've been over at the Terrisan's all day, haven't you?" she asked, turning back to the bucket of water and plates. Stefan was silent for a moment before answering.

"Yes, I was. Why?"

"Oh, just wondering," she said. He knew better.

"You never just wonder."

A smile played across her lips.

"It's that girl, Janet, isn't it?" she said a moment later.

"Maybe," he muttered after a long pause. He was as red as a cherry.

It wasn't a maybe. He had taken a great liking to Janet Terrisan. She had long, raven black hair and a pair of pretty eyes to match. Several times this week he had agreed to help her parents with some farm work, and his heart fluttered each time he saw her, and his legs grew weak whenever she flashed him a smile. It was typical young love.

A heavy slap on his shoulder brought him back into the here and now.

"Ho there, son! That stew too hot? You're face looks like it will explode any second!"

Somehow, he reddened even more.

"Stefan's got a girlfriend, Joseph!"

His father looked back at Stefan, and gave him a thumb in the air.

"I knew the day would come! Now we're in trouble," he started, scarfing down a bit of his own stew. "I can teach you how to fight off a mountain lion, but women are an entirely different matter, Stefan. There's no defense they can't breach."

"Better believe it," added his mother. She and his father laughed in unison.

"Well, father," started Stefan, cooling off slightly, "How do I...do this? I don't really know where to go from here."

When his father looked up at Stefan, chewing an unordinarily tough chunk of beef, his kidding expression had been replaced with a mellow thinker's countenace. His eyes were filled with passion, and remembrance.

"Stefan, the day will come when you think you've found the woman you will spend the rest of your life with. Not to say the day has already come, but one can never be too sure. Anyway, when that day comes Stefan, you'll be ready. And you'll know exactly what to do."

---

That day had come, one misty winter morning in Booty Bay. A coach had rolled to a halt in front of the Stranglethorn entrance as Stefan was returning from a panther hunt. He passed it, paying no heed as the door opened. But a panther skin had slipped from his shoulder, and as he turned to pick it up, he froze. Out of the carriage, a young woman had emerged. Her flowing, red hair dazzled him, and when her blue eyes settled onto his, the panther skin was of little importance.

"Hello," she greeted. Her voice went through him like a knife through warm butter.

"Good evening, miss. I do not recognize your face," he started, glancing toward the carriage. No one else stepped out. "And I would never forget one such as yours."

She smiled at him. That was all it took.

"Err, pardon me. My name is Stefan Dreis. Welcome to Booty Bay. If you don't mind me saying, a dump like this is no place for a lady."

"I don't mind. And I might agree, except it is my first visit and I have no knowledge of Booty Bay. I am picking up a pair of shoes that my aunt had sent down to the best shoesmith in Azeroth, or so she says," she replied.

"Your aunt knows her smiths well. I know the goblin, in fact. If you would care to accompany me, I will show you to his shop?"

"I wouldn't mind that at all! Lead the way," she replied. "By the way, I'm Lorelein. Lorelein Eryson."

"Well, Lorelein, it's a great pleasure to have made your aquaintance."

Her only luggage was a single bag, with which she intended to carry the shoes back to Stormwind with her. After paying the driver, she joined Stefan, and together they traveled the boardwalks to the smithy. But they made several stops along the way, and afterward, as Stefan took her on a gallery walk of the sights and sensations of the Bay. He couldn't get enough of her smile.

Several days later, her aunt recieved the shoes by delivery, along with a note saying that she had been delayed, and she didn't know for how long.

---

A sword-for-hire could have a heart, too. But he only thought with it on a small number of occassions. Right now, Stefan's heart was bleeding.

Stefan felt the presence of someone next to him.

"Watcha up to, mon?" inquired a voice in the dark.

"Didn't even hear you come, Guro'jintal. You're still good," started Stefan. "Me? Just losing myself in the stars."

"Ah," affirmed the Troll. He turned to look into the sky as well, his view slightly obscured by the tips of his tusks. "Me do also. Once a month, on eve of giant pearl."

"Full moons?"

"Aye."

Stefan grunted. He looked up toward the moon. It was a small sickle in the night sky, barely visible. It appeared as a void of darkness, a gap in the vast web of stars. He related to that emptiness.

"You still thinkin' o' her."

"Yes."

"I see in your eyes. Your fire is waning, Stefan," said the Troll, turning to look upon Stefan with concern. Stefan returned his gaze.

"I wish I were more like you, Guro. Your fire never dies," said Stefan.

"Only few things fuel fire. Will and passion be the greatest," started Guro'jintal. "You got fiery passion, Stefan. But you lacking will. I seen it before. Where is it now?"

Stefan thought back to that moment in the room when he had found Lorelein lying in the bed, locked away in an eternal slumber. Her face had been peaceful. It had shook him to the very bone when he had seen the blood. At that point, the world had changed. He saw things differently now. Nothing would be the same until he found Rok'roham.

"It's somewhere out there, Guro," said Stefan, returning his gaze to the empty sphere of the moon. "Maybe I'll find it again."