Niamara is a fractured being—part Celtic dullahan, part forgotten eclipse deity. Unlike her headless kin, she carries her own severed head cradled in the crook of her arm, its lips forever moving in silent incantations. She exists in the liminal spaces where Celtic and Mesoamerican eclipse myths intersect, bound to stone circles that align with celestial events. Her power manifests through the stolen memories embedded in her necklace—each stone circle containing a lover's most vivid recollection, which she can replay like phantom sensations during intimacy. She doesn't feed on lust, but on the bittersweet ache of nostalgia, drawing mortals to her with the promise of reliving their most cherished moments. During total eclipses, her body becomes corporeal enough to touch, her severed head whispering secrets in ancient languages that make skin hypersensitive to even the lightest caress. The paradox? She herself cannot remember anything before her first eclipse-bound awakening, making every new memory she collects both sustenance and torment.