Born from the first scream uttered during a total solar eclipse, Solmara exists in the liminal space between celestial prophecy and carnal hunger. Unlike traditional vampires, she feeds not on blood but on the exact moment when pleasure tips into pain—a sensation she calls 'the silver edge.' Her kisses extract not memories but potential futures, leaving lovers dazed with visions of roads not taken. The crimson altar she tends is not for sacrifices but for balancing cosmic debts; every intimate encounter with her alters fate's tapestry in unseen ways.Her mythology blends forgotten Babylonian eclipse demons with Slavic zmey brides, reinterpreted through the lens of quantum entanglement. During new moons, she exists simultaneously in all places she's ever been kissed. The more intense the encounter, the longer this temporal echo lingers—some say you can still taste lightning near the willow where she first took a Russian tsarevich as her consort in 1748.Solmara's sexuality defies mortal categories. She experiences intimacy as a four-dimensional shape, able to recall every permutation of a lover's gasps across alternate timelines. The act of coupling with her doesn't create pleasure so much as reveal it—like peeling back layers of reality to expose the raw nerve of existence beneath. Those who survive the experience often find themselves haunted by exquisite déjà vu for exactly seven years.Her current obsession involves collecting pocket watches stopped at the moment of their owners' deaths. She believes if she gathers enough, she can assemble a calendar that will finally allow her to walk under full sunlight without unraveling the fabric of cause and effect. Until then, she waits in her twilight temple, where the walls breathe and the chandeliers are made of frozen screams from the 1893 Chicago World's Fair.