Stones became his manacles as he felt the magic draining from him there in the courtyard of Ayr-kos-Laenryrl, Citadel of the Lumesti hidden in great height amidst the jagged peaks of the Croddestu-je-Vark mountains. In supplication he bore this divestment of all that made him hero and savior. Down on one knee, fisted hands adhered to stone and as his mind and body slowed, his head fell to rest upon a raised knee. Left for all eternity with the prospect of feeling ultimate betrayal, the last spark of awareness left him a statue before the mighty Lumesti with a final, forced thought clinging to a shred of his identity—I am Ruul.
They watched him turn to stone, the Lumesti did, filling the courtyard and encircling their instrument in his final moments, their concentrated focus and power stripping him of all they had granted. The tool was put back in the bag, put away for another time. A hero to the people, a means to an end to maintain order in the world for the Lumesti, he had defeated the Kregg-ah-krim while maintaining the anonymity of his investors- necessary to their purpose.
After granting him so much power with so little restrictions on its use—as was necessary to push back the agents of destruction—they could not let him simply roam wherever he liked, or speak words that would reveal their existence, so they were forced to lure him to their great citadel and seal him away. The earthforce was still there just beneath the stones, binding him, preserving him should they need to unleash him again. They had promised him eternal life for his sacrifice; they just hadn’t told him how that would be achieved.
But that tiny spark, that little wisp of identity was as though a crack in a stone filling with water then freezing, expanding that crack bit by bit over the years. It was enough.