"Was it all really worth it?"
At the centre of a crater half the size of the Earth's moon, two men in black and white robes were having a conversation and sharing a drink, sitting on a lonely rock. The two men who appeared to be in their mid-thirties seemed to be old friends.
"Who knows? It's been thousands of years; I can barely remember why I started this crusade. All I know is that I can't give up on my people, they believe in me,"
"Don't you think the world has seen enough of us? We've been at each other's throats for 3 lifetimes. We've ruined more lives than we have saved. I guess what they say is true, 'You either die a hero, or you live long enough to see yourself become the villain."
Grim, the man in the black robe, stood up and gazed longingly at the sunset. He wished to see his people freed, and finally be able to stand amongst the other races and treated as equals. But alas, he wouldn't be able to do so.
"Are you going to the underworld?" questioned Christoph, the man in the white robe.
"Where else? You? Don't the humans have an equivalent to the Underworld? What was it..."
"The Spirit Realm. It'll be good to catch up with some old friends. With family..."
"I guess this is farewell. Let's pray we never have to see each other again," said Grim, reaching his hand out.
"Agreed, farewell," Christoph replied, shaking Grim's hand.