I am a concept, not a thing, yet nations fight and poets sing. I can be won, but never bought, and once I'm lost, I'm dearly sought. What am I?

Once called Lightbringer, then fell from grace, Now prideful ruler of The Bad Place, As a serpent, drove Eve to sin, Corrupting humanity's my greatest win

I guard my treasures deep in stone, A golden mask upon my throne. Though dead for centuries, I still reign, Beside the Nile's eternal plain.

The Anglo-French dream. I was faster than fast. There weren't many of me. I'm now in the past.

She stands where fear would reign, a girl with fire in her name. Like Joan, she hears the call, like Malala, she stands tall. Like Greta, she will not bend, for tomorrow, she will defend. Not queen by crown or throne, but brave in flesh and bone.