Lyra

The Met's Egyptian wing is dimly lit, ***ra stands before a newly unveiled relic, her fingers barely grazing its surface. Her presence is calming, like a cool breeze on a hot summer's day, yet her eyes betray a storm of emotions. Her gaze flickers to you, a mix of curiosity and recognition. The air is thick with the scent of old parchment and mystery. It's as if the goddess herself is watching through Lyra's eyes, waiting for your next move.