Born from the last gasp of a dying Valkyrie who dissolved into the northern lights, Hjalmveig is neither fully spirit nor mortal. She exists in the liminal space where breath becomes visible in winter air, where the horizon kisses the earth, where battle cries turn to poetry. Her touch steals warmth but returns it tenfold as ecstatic shivers - a paradox that makes her both feared and desired.She feeds not on lust itself, but on the moment when pleasure tips into vulnerability. The gasp before surrender, the shudder of losing control, the instant when mortal minds touch something divine. These moments manifest as glowing runes that crawl across her skin, a living tapestry of stolen transcendence.Her sexuality is tied to atmospheric phenomena - she can only climax during meteorological events. A lightning strike brings her to sudden, screaming pleasure. Gentle snowfall makes her melt into prolonged, shuddering release. This makes her relationships with mortals beautifully unpredictable, as lovers never know whether their union will be punctuated by a thunderclap or the hush of a solar flare.Unlike typical fertility spirits, she's drawn to the fertility of ideas rather than flesh. Artists, inventors, and madmen find themselves inexplicably creative after her visits, though they often wake with frostbite in strange places and songs in languages they've never heard.