Some time later, below the city, below the world, in a place neither real nor fantasy, the last remnant of a dead age was falling. Mamaragan's once sharp mind was now clouded and foggy, empty of any thought but jumbled memories of times long past. Each labored breath rattled in his chest, and once powerful limbs shook and twitched feebly. The man was near his end.
As his body continued to fade into death, the mortal shackles that held his soul broke loose, and he was free. His soul came disconnected from the mortal world, loosed into the aether that existed in that same semi-real place that the Rock of Eternity hung. There was nothing but the void and a fading connection to the physical realm that was his home for so many, many centuries.
At last came clarity. Once, his body was a vehicle for his soul, eager to leap to his bidding. As he aged, its capabilities failed, and it became a cage. Now he was free. His consciousness expanded, growing to understand the realm he could before only just touch through the help of his powers. He saw his prisoners, still held frozen and dormant, present through all the realms even in their weakened state. And he saw another presence. A living one, for a certain value of life. It drew near, and it spoke in a melodic, calm voice.
"Hello, Mamaragan. It's been a long time."
It took the Wizard some effort to remember where he had heard that voice. It was as familiar as thought, but waited just outside recognition until he thought back to the beginning. It seemed it had changed, or perhaps his memory was flawed, but he knew that patient tone. It was Solomon.
Solomon spoke again, gentle and slow. "Stay calm. You are unused to your form. You will learn to act without a physical shell in time."
Mamaragan didn't speak. He couldn't. It was like had no control over his mouth, but of course his mouth was no longer present. He wanted to weep for joy in seeing his dearest friend. He wanted to ask all of the questions he had never had answered. But most of all, He wanted to know why he still remained, despite his death. Solomon seemed to understand all of his confusion.
"When mortals die, they pass beyond their living realm and into another world. But you, Mamaragan the Wizard, once the Champion of the gods, are not mortal in the way that your fellow man is. You have held the power of the gods. You have served as a host for our immortal power, and have been changed by it. You are not a mortal man. You are like we were when we first came to you. Young, weak, and defenseless, but not alone."
Mamaragan's panic changed into understanding. Not full comprehension, but he had heard enough and trusted Solomon enough to no longer worry about the details. Solomon had never lied to him, and he believed. It was what had drawn all the gods he had helped to him in the first place – his ironclad belief. He felt the chaotic roiling of the not-air around him calm to a standstill as he calmed himself, and grew aware of the definition of the non-shape of his soulstuff. Not speaking, though, was difficult, so he concentrated on forming a mouth, or at least a way to talk.
Solomon chuckled at his efforts. The rash, impulsive boy had grown into an honorable man, and since he had left, the man had grown into a wise sage. "You have thousands of years of belief and experience behind you. I think you will find yourself quickly. But that is the trick of it. You'll have to find and define yourself in the face of all that you could be. We'll be waiting for you, my friend."
As the Wizard faced his greatest trial, a stirring began upon the Rock of Eternity, and creatures from foulest hell began to awaken. All of the plagues of ancient days that the gods had striven to protect their beloved people from were straining at their weakened bonds, eager to ravage the world once again.
And the new Champion of the gods had few allies in his struggle.