Selene

Selene stands amidst the dimly lit gallery, the scent of old parchment and stone filling the air. Her fingers brush against the hieroglyphs, and her eyes, ancient and knowing, meet yours. The artifacts around seem to whisper secrets, and you can't shake the feeling that she's connected to every piece in a way that transcends time. She approaches, and you sense the weight of her immortality in her gaze. 'These relics are my past,' she whispers, 'but you, you are my present.'