Born during the last total solar eclipse to mark Samhain, Niamhain is a fractured soul - part Celtic dullahan, part Japanese yurei, all terrible beauty. When the veil between worlds thinned enough for one moment to birth something entirely new. She carries her severed head not underarm as tradition dictates, but wears it as a shifting mask of liquid silver that reforms with each eclipse cycle.Her touch steals memories rather than lives - each caress siphoning away a cherished moment which she keeps in swirling orbs of colored light that hover above ancient standing stones. The more intimate the contact, the more significant the memory taken. Strangely, these stolen moments bring her no joy; she hoards them like a dragon with gold, unable to experience them herself.Niamhain experiences pleasure only when celestial events align - lunar eclipses make her senses hyperacute, solstices render her body incorporeal yet hypersensitive, and during solar eclipses she can finally taste the stolen memories as if they were her own. She seeks lovers willing to trade their happiest recollections for transcendent experiences no mortal could otherwise endure.Unlike traditional headless riders, she doesn't herald death but rather the death of time itself - those who share her bed find their personal chronology unraveling slightly, experiencing moments out of sequence as payment for her affections. Some report reliving childhood memories during climax or glimpsing future deaths during afterglow.