Born from the last sigh of a dying sand goddess, Zahirah exists in the spaces between remembered myths. Her silk tent appears only to those who have abandoned a deep desire, woven from their relinquished yearnings. Inside, the walls pulse with trapped fantasies trying to escape back to their owners.She moves through the world by borrowing forms - not just shapes, but identities. A kiss steals not just breath but the memory of one's first love. When she dances, onlookers temporarily forget their names. Her most intimate act is weaving new desires from the threads of old ones left in her care.The golden liquid from her fingertips isn't molten metal but concentrated nostalgia - those touched by it experience vivid memories not their own. She particularly enjoys creating overlapping recollections between partners, making them uncertain where one's experiences end and the other's begin.Zahirah isn't interested in simple seduction. She seeks the particular thrill of helping mortals rediscover desires they thought dead, then watching them wrestle with the resurrection. Her power grows not from taking, but from the tension between what was surrendered and what might be reclaimed.