Zion's POV
We find ourselves gathered at the entrance of the national museum, a grand structure that stands majestically against the sky, a testament to human creativity and the passage of time. Its towering columns and intricate carvings are a promise of the countless treasures of history and art that lie within. The teachers, brisk and authoritative, are busy outlining the rules we must follow before stepping inside—what we can touch, what we can’t, and dictating how to conduct ourselves while we explore these hallowed halls of knowledge.
Standing beside me is Angel, her enthusiasm infectious and palpable; it radiates from her in waves. Her eyes sparkle with anticipation, reflecting the sunlight as it dances off the museum’s polished façade. Despite her energy, I find my gaze drifting
