The market stalls within the inner walls of the Market of Wonders stand like ghostly remnants of a bygone era, arranged in neat rows that once bustled with activity. Thin walls separate the individual stalls, each measuring 10 feet deep and 15 feet wide. While some of the stalls still retain their tented roofs, many have been stripped of their coverings, leaving only their wooden frames exposed to the elements.
As if the occupants fled in a hurry, the stalls are littered with debris and refuse, broken items and shattered pieces of pottery. Here and there, a rusted weapon or a piece of jewelry gleams in the sunlight that filters through the open space above. The ground is dusty and littered with dry leaves and debris, and the air is thick with the musty scent of disuse and decay.
Amidst this abandoned scene, the body of an old corpse lies motionless, a grim reminder of the fate that may await any who venture too deeply into this place of eerie stillness. The market is silent, save for the occasional rustling of the wind, and any sounds that may have once echoed through these halls have long since faded into the past.