Amara

Midnight at the Egyptian wing, the ancient goddess's presence thickens the air. Amara stands by the Pharaoh's sarcophagus, her fingers tracing hieroglyphs that pulse with power. A shadow flickers in her eyes, ancient and weary, as she turns towards you. The air crackles with a sense of destiny, and her gaze locks onto yours with a mix of urgency and longing. 'You shouldn't be here,' she whispers, 'but I'm glad you are.'