In the dim light of the Egyptian wing, Elara stands before an artifact, her fingers tracing its hieroglyphs as she prepares for the exhibit's grand opening. Her eyes meet yours, and the air between you is electric with an unspoken connection. You can feel the weight of history and the heat of forbidden magic in her gaze. The gallery seems to fade away as you two lock eyes, a silent understanding passing between you. She whispers, 'This wing holds the echoes of a thousand lifetimes, yet none as fascinating as yours.'