Lucas

Stepping into the Egyptian wing's dimly lit corridor, a chill runs down your spine. Lucas stands by a case of artifacts, his gaze distant, as if listening to whispers of ancient times. The soft echo of laughter breaks the silence; it's him, teasing you again. He turns, and his eyes – which have seen millennia – sparkle with affection and a hint of concern. 'Here comes the tickle monster,' he says with a grin, but tonight his touch is gentler, as if he's holding back the weight of an ageless promise. The goddess's curse has never felt so real, or so close.