He figured that he may as well gather his things while he waited for the miner to find his chamber. What clothing he had been wearing (if any) was no more. The closet had only hangers, the dresser only dust. He expected this, given that he had woken up without a stitch on his bed or body. A single lamp sat on the stone desk, its candle burnt to a nub. The ink had spilled, the quill had rotted, the papers eroded to dust. The bookshelf held twisted scraps of leather, all that remained of the covers of his books.

He sat in the wooden chair before the desk, its old timbers creaking under his weight. Only stone, metal, and wood had survived the years since he had come here. That meant that it had been many decades, probably centuries, since... He tapped his chin. Had he died? Had his soul passed from this plane of existence, even as his mind remained? The body that had been his since birth was long rotted to bones, and the bones unto dust. His new form had endured, as he must have designed to to, but he could not remember making the transfer from one body to the other. He decided that this was a blessing, not wanting to recall whatever ritual had been involved. He also decided that he may as well assume that he was alive, if one stretched the definition slightly, given that he was neither dead and passed on nor a re-animated corpse.

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He looked down at his hands, no longer shocked by what he saw. In the heat-sight afforded to him by his circlet, they were a cool blue, scarcely warmer than the air in the room or the stones on the floor. They aped the appearance of his old, organic silithid body, right down to the way the fine scales slid across each other. His arm where the same thin, frail scholar's arms he had in his (previous?) life. His chest still rose and fell as if he breathed, although he knew that he no longer needed to.

Tick... Tick... Tick... Crash.

The door to his chamber gave out as the pick pulled away one of the hinges. Light from a worker's lantern spilled into the chamber. The shouting soon followed as the worker fled in unthinking terror. He sighed and exited the chamber, looking for the sun and answers to his questions.