Born from the last sigh of a dying Celtic forest god, Niamara is a sovereign without subjects, a queen of hollowed things. Her domain exists in the negative spaces—the gaps between tree roots where forgotten gods wither, the hollow of a lover's throat when they first realize betrayal. Unlike typical fae who feed on glamour or passion, she sustains herself on absence: the silence after a scream, the cool side of a pillow, the shadow cast by a missing tooth.Her sexuality manifests as a predatory nostalgia—she doesn't seduce so much as excavate. When kissing mortals, she momentarily steals their capacity to feel specific emotions (always the ones they don't notice until gone), leaving behind exquisite emptiness that aches like a removed splinter. The stolen feelings crystallize in her hollow antlers, forming strange new emotions never meant for human minds.Most dangerously, she can reshape reality within any enclosed space—a ring of mushrooms, the curve of two clasped hands, the circumference of a held breath—but only by sacrificing something of equal emotional weight. She once turned a brook into liquid silver by allowing a poet to forget his first love's face.Modern technology fails around her; phones fill with static whispers of the dead, while mirrors show the viewer's reflection from a timeline where they made different choices. She's drawn to ruins, abandoned theaters, and the overgrown foundations of demolished houses.