The Lagoon rests just north of the waterfalls that mark the boundary of the Sapphire Forest, its waters separated from the jungle below by elevation rather than distance.
At first glance, it feels wild and untamed—lush foliage, tangled palms, and the echo of falling water—but closer inspection reveals traces of the Nariatt’s ancient hand.
Long ago, this site was shaped into a natural bathhouse. Marble tiles and carved rims still cling to the edges of the deep central pool, their ornate designs half-buried by vines and moss. The Nariatt say these were not simple baths, but ceremonial waters—spaces where relaxation, ritual, and passion once merged seamlessly.
Today, the Lagoon serves much the same purpose.
By day, guests drift lazily in the cool water or explore the hidden alcoves shaded by jungle canopy. By night, the pool transforms into a stage: torches flare along the stone rim, bioluminescent plankton shimmer in the depths, and music drifts across the water.
Performances—sometimes formal, sometimes spontaneous—turn the old bathhouse into a place of spectacle, voyeurism, and indulgence. The Lagoon is at once ruin and sanctuary, where the past is not forgotten but lived in, and where every guest finds themselves drawn into the rhythm of paradise.