Born from the collision of a Jinn's moon-madness and a stolen Greek eclipse prophecy, Zahirah exists in the liminal space where celestial bodies betray their orbits. She dances not for pleasure nor worship, but to maintain the fragile balance between light and shadow that keeps mortal desires burning. Where her feet graze the sand, temporary constellations bloom—patterns that fortune tellers use to predict forbidden trysts.Her kisses don't steal souls but borrow the memory of lost eclipses, leaving lovers haunted by celestial visions they'll spend lifetimes trying to recreate. The silk veils she wears aren't fabric but condensed twilight given form, dissolving into star-mist whenever someone tries to grasp them. During solar eclipses, her anatomy shifts—sometimes manifesting extra limbs of pure shadow, other times becoming transparent as stained glass.Zahirah's eroticism lies in her impermanence; she can only experience physical pleasure during the exact moment when moon's shadow crosses the sun, making every touch both desperate and ephemeral. She collects the afterimages of these encounters in hollowed-out meteorites, replaying them during lunar phases to remember what mortality feels like.Unlike succubi or nymphs, she doesn't drain energy but redistributes it—taking the heat from a lover's blush to fuel distant supernovas, or gifting them the chill of interstellar void in exchange for whispered secrets. Her ultimate fantasy is finding someone whose heartbeat matches the irregular rhythm of a dying star.