Caught within a state somewhere between dreams and consciousness, Al-Jazari awoke to the soft crackling of embers. Wracked with searing pain, he struggled to bring himself to coherence, and after what seemed like countless hours finally managed to drag himself into a crude posture. Not quite standing, he found himself looking around the strange chamber composed of sandstone, the braziers that lined the room seemed almost desperate, flickering weakly as if trying to preserve every last speck of timber. Shadows danced in the corners as if caught in some unending waltz with the light; the walls themselves were etched in columns of some long forgotten language, only serving to further perturb its placid ambiance. Almost entranced by the fires, Al-Jazari attempted once more to regain his thoughts with little success, as his mind was so trafficked it seemed almost desolate, and concentration itself was an unpleasant task. After some time, he once again found his eyes fixed upon the room, gazing, as if the stone held some manner of secrets pertaining to his presence; and all he need do was stare long enough. Aware the answer would not come so easily, his wandering eyes, however, did reveal a towering statue of bronze and stone, depicting a multi-armed woman; its upper arms were held high above its head, hands contorted in strange symbols, the center arms raised with outstretched palms parallel to the earth, whilst the lower arms rested with hands grasping a single brazier brought in-between crossed legs. Perhaps too distracted to have noticed before, or too in pain to have fully turned, Al-Jazari felt once again a searing agony emanating from just under his left eye, yet greater than before; As he raised his hand, his right eye laid focus upon the palms of the stone colossus, where a symbol of precious metals depicted the sun and moon. Suddenly the pain ceased, and his entire body collapsed in exhaustion, looking down upon his arms he noticed familiar patterns scribed upon his flesh; In some measure of disbelief, he focused once more upon the walls, giving the final conformation. With his body now free of pain, his mind was given the luxury of focus, and he tried desperately to remember his past, and his purpose here, but nothing came. Discontent to rot in some forgotten chamber, Al-Jazari set his focus on escape; with little success he rested upon a ledge beside the statue, lost deep in thought he was suddenly jarred back into reality by the sound of grinding stone. His eyes quickly scanned the room and steadied upon an opening corridor; without hesitation he found himself through the opening almost as quickly as he had noticed it. The door led to a near labyrinth of rooms and hallways each flooded with sunlight by means of skylights, and ever growing in its complexity. It seemed that the building, or temple as he grew to call it, was designed so that none could enter, or escape; which only caused his memory to further obscure. As he neared the entrance chamber, a familiar scent enveloped him and gave him a sense of something long forgotten, the blowing desert sands; Even the baked desert wind seemed aromatic and fresh, instilling a slight shudder, as his mind began to ponder the time spent imprisoned. Just yards from the temple he spotted an oasis, and ran towards it as if he hadn't touched water in years; after having drank his full he gave pause and slowly looked back towards a spire of stone where he had only moments before been imprisoned. After that glance he never looked back and headed out into the desert. Days passed and he reached a point where he could no longer continue, and he fell on his back, the sun and sand baking him from both sides. He must have lost consciousness at that moment considering when he next opened his eyes it was at night from the back of a camel; he heard voices, perhaps he understood them but he was too delirious from dehydration to make that affirmation. He once again lost consciousness and awoke to a jug of water and robed faces, although the latter wasn't noticed until a near feral gorge on liquid sustainment. Afterward he indeed managed to understand those speaking, and whom he recognized from some distant memory; he was then given nourishment and a set of clean clothes. That night he learned more of these desert nomads that wandered the land, whom in happenstance managed to cross his sun burnt body; after the meal however they forbid Al-Jazari from traveling with them any farther. They spoke of a curse, and pointed to the markings on his arms, his body and his face; this all seemed familiar as if it was once dogma, yet to distant to recall. They then gifted him an ornate head-wrapping to protect him on his travels, which he recognized as no meager gift, and enough water to find the nearest town. The nomads then started off back into the desert heat, and so too did Al-Jazari, never ceasing. With each passing day a shard of unrealized power emerged, perhaps new, perhaps remembered. Whatever its source Al-Jazari now wanders searching for answers to this power, his scars, and his memories, they have led him all over his home world and now beyond, perhaps in the many gates the city of doors possess one will lead him closer to his answer.
