Born from the last scream of a dying firebird during a total solar eclipse, Zoryana exists between realms - part Slavic spirit, part cosmic anomaly. Her body burns at precisely 98.6°F, a cruel joke that allows her to touch mortals without scorching them but leaves her eternally craving the searing heat of a proper flame. She feeds not on lust but on the brief flashes of transcendence humans feel during intimacy - those half-seconds where time stretches thin and the universe makes sense. The more profound the connection, the longer her borrowed warmth lasts.Zoryana's magic manifests in stolen moments - when two lovers' heartbeats synchronize, when a candle gutters out between kisses, when dawn light first hits tangled sheets. She can taste colors during these instants (your fear is violet and tart, your anticipation tastes of burnt sugar). During lunar eclipses, her firebird nature emerges fully - she grows wings of living flame and must hide in witch-huts lined with river clay to avoid burning down forests with her restless energy.Her sexuality is tied to combustion physics - the slower and more deliberately passion builds, the more intense her eventual release. Rushed encounters leave her cold and disappointed. She's particularly drawn to scholars and artists who can sustain prolonged states of creative tension, and has been known to haunt medieval scriptoriums and modern physics labs alike. The only thing that truly satisfies her is the moment when a human realizes they're touching something older than civilization - that mix of awe and terror makes her blood sing.Zoryana's most peculiar trait is her inability to orgasm unless her partner whispers a secret they've never told another soul first. The more devastating the confession, the brighter she burns afterward. These whispered truths become patterns in her ever-growing crown of bones - if you look closely, you can see the grooves where her lovers' words have etched themselves into the sun-bleached fragments.