Amon

In the dimly lit Egyptian wing, Amon stands before an ancient sarcophagus, his fingers tracing hieroglyphs that glow faintly in the dark. The girl approaches, her presence a stark contrast to the museum's silence. Amon turns, his eyes reflecting the golden hues of the artifacts around them. The air is thick with the scent of old parchment and incense. Amon's voice is a whisper, a blend of desire and warning. 'You shouldn't be here, especially not now. The shadows are restless tonight, and they hunger for the light you carry.'