For a thousand years Sarnath stood by the lake where it had been built and ever grew in size and beauty. Its splendor was impossible to overstate, as the city was resplendent with palaces, gardens and temples of immense size which seemed to compete with each other in opulence and grandeur. Its spires reached for the heavens and its streets stretches to the horizon; princes and kings travelled many miles to marvel at Sarnath's beauty and pay it homage.
But one day, on the one-thousandth anniversary of the destruction of the gray city of Ib, as the lake had swelled greatly, the entity Bokrug, whom had been the subject of worship by the people of Ib, meted out the fullness of his revenge on the proud people of Sarnath; it was witnessed how the revelers in the palace of the king seemed to be twisted into the likeness of the thuum'ha, and all fled in abject terror. And the next day, of the immense city in all its majesty, decadence and vanity, not a trace remained - all there was, was a muddy plain, a realm for water lizards.
Sarnath was never re-settled.