"Lisa Dixon reporting here for Channel 9 news," a voice rang through many television sets in the wrestling circuit. "The case of twelve-year-old Emerald Anduril, daughter of wrestling journeyman Lantlas Anduril, has been carried out in the court of Judge Tomas Eldenshade. The little girl, a native of Munich, Germany, was viciously slain last year and until recently, there hadn't been a shred of evidence linking anyone to this heinous crime. However, today can be considered a bittersweet moment for Anduril, as a long line of tragic moments have preceded this time in his life, losing his fiancée Emily DuPrae two years ago as well. The person who may have tipped off authorities to the eventual conviction of Anduril's murderer remains a mystery."

The screen shows Anduril, his blue hair tied back, and the empty expression on his face. "The conviction means little, as no true justice can be carried out for taking the life of a child."

"Has this affected your career, Mr. Anduril?"

Lantlas, weathered and clearly on the tail end of a long day, simply looks down at the ground as the room remains silent. "After having relived the murder of my daughter, I'd hardly think wrestling would be on the forefronts of anyone's mind. I'm merely grateful for the fact that someone finally had the fortitude to turn in the aggressor."

…

The cold stone steps led into a dark corridor. Heavy air made even breathing slightly difficult, but there wasn't a thing that was going to stop this encounter. As I approached the door of solitude at the end of this hallway, Devon Drake stood aside her brother Tomas, who flung a set of keys in his hand with the cocky smile on his face.

"Consider this your moment of justice," he cackled as he continued his knowing grin. Devon nodded at his side, and the feeling of cold metal slipped into my hand as all the emotion of the day traveled through my veins. The person behind this door was responsible for the death of Emerald, and no amount of mercy would make this acceptable.

…

The world had changed since I'd gotten into wrestling. At one time the very fiber of my being, competition in the business had merely become an afterthought, a means of escape from the world that seemed to be collapsing unto itself before my very eyes.

Many prophecies foretold the end of the world as a day of explosions, of wars being fought to an ultimate conclusion of doom, of gods returning and messiahs saving the innocent. The very thought of eternity drove many humans to pursue means of attaining it, at the cost of ending the lives of those who were in their way, or those who fought for a different means of immortality.

Swords were driven into hearts, guns fired into bodies, and words were cursed upon the wretched and the weak. Books were written of a savior, translations made their way around the world, and separate stories became similar with different names. Wars were engaged by the holy and the secular alike, and Mother Earth was wounded by the suffering taking place on her surface. In the sea of the children of gods, many had been corrupted by power and greed, and mass death was becoming an accepted means of carrying out a society.

Mother Earth was dying, simply trying to survive all of the grief-stricken and bloodshed taking place had become a task. The loss of life and the hatred on her surface caused tears from the great Mother to fall from the sky. Twelve tears falling from the skies created life, as the Elven race was created from Mother Earth as a last ditch effort to keep the planet from being destroyed. Hair stained blue from the tears of their mother, the children of the Earth were placed to help the children of the gods mend their differences and bring about peace on this beautiful planet

Through the years, the destinies of all 187 Elven beings to ever populate the planet were carried through, and all but two could resume peace in their dimension of existence, away from the lives of the humans they were once created to aid. Myself and Kieran remained, sorting out the final unfinished business of the entire race, while still making a futile effort to resolve the differences of humans. But even in the ten years of my journey through the professional wrestling business, it certainly seemed as though humanity would bring about the end of itself with or without aid.

No longer were issues and differences resolved, as instead sides were chosen before debates even took place, completely based on labels given to them by the speakers of their particular belief and political system. Many different sets of truths existed based on what category in which they were told they needed to be, and stalemates stalled resolutions on even the most elementary of problems.

Belief systems had become a business, as had any other service that was originally designed to aid humanity, their fellow brother, and the common good. Authority was no longer distributed among the righteous and the benevolent, but more who spoke the best and who had the most monetary value. Police were no longer there to protect, but to trap and catch to meet the monetary quotas required of them to fund their pensions. The medical profession had become a business of charging people more than they could afford, and in time addicting humans to drugs that they didn't need and took away their individuality. Soon the entire world would be addicted to medicines for reasons they could never explain, making them more susceptible to manipulation and the greed of the privileged few.

Conversation had been replaced with letters on a screen, be it a computer or a phone. It was no longer about human interaction, but who could get the fanciest with the most functions in order to strip language down to basic shortenings and meaningless phrases that had taken the place of true value. People no longer cared for each other, instead making up letter symbols to predicate the emotion they could no longer feel for a fellow human.

Even athletic competition had become based on monetary participation of the selected area, and contests were soon influenced by outside sources in order to bring in the most capital gain. The world was a shell of the former planet to which I had grown accustomed, and even that was through my own perspective. To many the world had been dead long before I had even discovered my own existence, and the end had been determined centuries before the Elves were even created.

It became an accepted inevitability. The oceans would rise, and lands as anyone knew them would forever be dramatically altered. The United States would become two islands, the Great Lakes overflowing and moving south, dividing the landmass conquered and protected by the manifest destiny of generations, wiping away land, cities, people, and countless memories.

When the memories are dead, that is when the world will end.

When humans can no longer recall the moments of significance and love in their lives, the world would not have to be destroyed to have met its demise. When love loses its power to conquer all, and bring the divided together, that world is no longer worth surviving. It will happen, it's inevitable.

Humans will one day no longer to be able to feel emotion, to have the capability to care about one another. Love will be destroyed in favor of the transaction, and souls will die while the bodies continue to breathe, the hearts continue to beat, and the eyes continue to observe the falling grace.

And I observe this world, changing as it has even in a decade. Ten years to an immortal being can seem like mere seconds, but the fall of graciousness made it seem like an eternity in and of itself, and it had come time that I knew it had to end. No matter the actions I would take, the methods I'd follow, the people I'd touch, nothing could change the course of humanity. And when humanity can no longer be affected by the actions of those there to protect it, there is no reason to continue opposing the struggle. It's time the world and humanity itself is left to determine its own destiny.

Professional wrestling had left the priority on my radar long before I'd come to this decision, and with one last valiant battle left in my tank, I knew it was my time. The business itself had passed me by, as these young talented kids were creating a new generation of workers and fans, and I was no longer able to be a part of it. Regardless of the ability I still had, the passion was gone, and my drive had been long altered to other events far more prioritized on the scale of importance than a simple athletic contest. I'd felt that I had known this long before signing with GCW, and that it was one last effort to regain lost glory that had led to the attempt in the first place.

The mentoring I'd done for the younger generation of competitors was enough of a reason to not consider it a failure, but where once I'd been considered one of the best in the world, my last effort was going towards something in the middle of the show. Perhaps none spectating would have any idea of the road I'd traveled, and many in the back would not be aware of the Elvish Tale that had preceded my precise point in time, at that very moment, where I take my final steps as a full-time professional wrestler.

Words would be expressed, and emotion would be revealed, but I feared it would be wasted on deaf ears. Something to be dissected and ruined by the internet and those who felt they had to criticize everything one of us does in the business, to measure it up to a gold standard that no one had ever and would ever meet. Fans could no longer be satisfied or positive, and it had become a task to even attempt to prove anything to them. I felt for the young kids in the business who would have to measure up on a totem pole that doesn't even exist. Negativity and self-righteous arrogance had replaced the once gracious and supportive fan base I'd known when entering the business, and for that reason as well, I knew it was my time to leave.

Would the words be there when the time came? Only the moment would be able to answer that question. That moment, this moment… is Eternity.

…

I finally released my grasp on the door, and I could hear the surprised gasps of the two beside me. Stepping away on the cobblestone floor, mere feet away from the killer of my daughter, I rescinded my desire to seek ultimate justice. Turning away for the exit, I could feel Devon stepping toward me.

"Lantlas? Aren't you going to do anything?"

I sighed, deeply inhaling what I could of the thick air. Finally turning my head to meet the questioning gaze of the two closest to me in my life, I could only hope they'd understand.

"No, Devon, I won't."

"Why not?"

"Because the world has suffered enough without a life being taken by one who was sworn to protect it."

With that, I disappeared into the darkness of the deep night, knowing my purpose on this planet was coming to an end, and there was a world to which I would return. A place where the end was not near, and peace prevailed. It might not have been the real world, but it was the world I knew. And for the rest of eternity, with what existed and where I knew it would be, for the moment that was okay.

It would have to be, for I knew one day that time would come. One day, the world would have to understand. And on that day, I will know that I've done all I could to protect it, to save the ones I love from falling into the vicious cycle that would eventually end their existence. Maybe then, I would find peace.

For the memories lived within my head…

And therefore…

The world could never truly end.

Now I understand.

By choosing to leave this world, I have saved it by ensuring its existence… somewhere.

I'd done my purpose, I'd fulfilled my destiny.

My time had come, the mission was done.

The moments… the memories…

This moment…

Is…

Eternity.