The city appears as if an angry god ripped up the walls and buildings and stacked them on top of each other to form hundreds of precarious spires. It seems as if each spire could fall at any moment, and some do – yet the next day the fallen spire stands once more, but not necessarily in its previous location.
Strangely, sounds from the nearby jungle do not carry into the ruins. The only noise is the creaking of the towers.
The stone surface of the city's floor is marked by countless handprints, varying from the size of a human child's hand to massive prints over twenty feet across. All of these hand prints have seven fingers.
Those who dare to spend the night in the city are killed by some unknown force, their crushed bodies and scattered belongings added to the spires.1