Beneath the restless waves, hidden in the ocean’s embrace, lies a city long forgotten. Its towering spires, once kissed by the sun, now stand silent in the deep, cloaked in shadow and mystery. Coral has claimed the walls, wrapping around ancient stone like delicate veins, weaving new life into what was lost. Schools of fish dart through empty archways, their shimmering bodies catching the faint light that filters down from above.
Columns, cracked and worn by centuries of tides, rise from the seabed like skeletal remains of a forgotten empire. Statues, their faces softened by time, gaze out with hollow eyes, their expressions frozen in silent remembrance. A lone manta ray glides past, its wings moving with slow, effortless grace, as if paying tribute to the ghosts that linger here.
The silence is heavy, yet not empty. The city breathes with the rhythm of the ocean, shifting sands whispering stories no human ear can hear. Sunlight pierces through the water in golden shafts, illuminating mosaics now half-buried, their colors dulled but not erased. Once, laughter and voices filled these streets. Now, only the ocean remains, holding the past in its quiet grip.
In this place, time does not rush. It drifts, slow and patient, as the sea reclaims what was once built by human hands. The city is not dead—it lives, in the movement of the currents, in the coral that blooms, in the creatures that call it home. It has not been lost, only transformed. And in its transformation, it has become something eternal.
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