00:00There's a story whispered among travelers in the south about a city that shouldn't exist, by day, it's alive, cobbled streets lined with gas lamps, markets buzzing with life, children laughing as church bells ring at noon, it's the kind of place where strangers passing through swear they've rested in its warm-ins, eaten its food and traded with its shopkeepers, but when night falls, the city is gone.
00:22No lights, no streets, no voices, just an empty stretch of swamp where the buildings once stood, and if you try to stay, you wake up outside the ruins, cold and confused, with nothing around you but broken stone and weeds.
00:36Some claim the city was cursed long ago, punished for a sin no one remembers, others say it's a mirage, a ghost city, trapped between this world and another.
00:45But the strangest part, every visitor describes the same landmarks, the same faces, even the smell of bread baking from a bakery that does not exist.
00:55And sometimes, sometimes those who wander too far into the alleys before sunset are never seen again, so if you're re-traveling through the south and you hear bells ringing from a place that is untorned any map, think twice before you step inside, because when night comes, the city won't let you leave.
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