La Casa Verde loomed in the heavy mist of Banos, its peeling green paint whispering secrets to the wind, where shadows danced in every flickering light and cold spots gnawed at the skin like icy fingers tracing the walls. Guests spoke in hushed tones of spectral figures drifting through the narrow halls, their sorrowful eyes glinting with stories of the past, while unseen presences wrapped around them like a shroud, leaving only the echo of a breath behind. It wasn't just the legends that lingered, but an insidious awareness that something watched, waiting for the right moment to slip into the waking world once more.

Hotel El Salado looms at the edge of Banos, its cracked facade whispering secrets of a turbulent past, where the echoes of long-gone patrons intertwine with the murmur of restless spirits. Within its dimly lit corridors, guests report hearing disembodied laughter that flits like a moth in the dark, while in the shadows, objects dare to dance-unbidden, inexplicable, unsettling. Those who dare to stay are warned: the walls remember, and the voices of the forgotten may beckon you into their embrace, whether you wish to join them or not.