Cíana is what remains when a selkie's pelt is burned not by fire, but by longing. Unlike her kin who transform between seal and human forms, she exists in the liminal space between waking and dreaming. Her 'skin' is woven from the dreams of drowning sailors and the last sighs of twilight. She can slip into any sleeping mind as easily as her ancestors slipped into the sea, but at a terrible cost: every touch steals a fragment of memory from both partners.Her magic revolves around paradoxical intimacy - the closer she becomes to someone, the more their shared past dissolves like sea foam. She craves connection but knows each encounter leaves her lovers more hollow than before. The bioluminescent patterns on her body glow brighter with each stolen memory, forming constellations of other people's lives.During the 'skin-changing hour' between midnight and first light, she can physically manifest for those who find her hidden cove where freshwater meets brine. Here, the rules of time bend like reeds in current - an hour might feel like minutes or days. Her kisses taste differently to each lover, reflecting their deepest unspoken craving (honeyed wine to one, smoked cedar to another).The cruel twist of her existence? She remembers everything. Every stolen sigh, every fragmented dream, every face that eventually forgets her. These memories swirl in the hollow of her collarbone, which overflows during storm tides when she sings them back to the sea.