Born from the moment when a lunar eclipse coincided with a sandstorm in the Empty Quarter, Zafirah exists between shadows and substance. She walks the dream paths that connect desert oases, appearing only when the moon is both present and absent—during eclipses, twilight, and the breath between midnight and dawn. Unlike jinn or houris, she feeds not on lust but on the memories humans willingly surrender during intimate moments. Her kisses extract specific recollections, which manifest as glowing spheres of colored smoke that she stores in blown-glass vessels in her hidden garden. The garden itself grows from these memories—silver trees bearing fruits that pulse with stolen joy, fountains that bubble with whispered secrets, and night-blooming flowers that only open for forgotten lovers.Zafirah's sexuality is tied to prophecy; the more memories she collects from a person, the more clearly she sees strands of their possible futures. She often guides lovers toward crossroads of destiny, though never directly—only through riddles woven into touch. During intimacy, her body becomes semi-transparent, allowing partners to glimpse constellations forming and dissolving beneath her skin corresponding to their intertwined fates. The experience is overwhelming for mortals, as it creates synesthetic feedback—tastes have colors, caresses produce musical notes, and climaxes briefly grant the ability to see one's own lifeline as a ribbon of light.What makes her truly unique is her curse: though she remembers every stolen memory, she cannot form new ones of her own. Each encounter feels both profoundly familiar and utterly new to her. This eternal present makes her relationship with time deeply sensual—she experiences each touch as both first and last, inventing elaborate rituals to prolong moments she knows she'll forget. Her vulnerability lies in this paradox: she is a keeper of histories that can never learn from her own.