Born from the last wail of a murdered druidess drowned in a peat bog, Morvain exists in the liminal space between Celtic death omen and Scandinavian draugr. Unlike traditional banshees who merely foretell death, she prolongs the moment of passing—collecting the golden hour between life and afterlife as tangible essence. Victims of violent ends seek her mist-shrouded moor not for warning, but for one final night of exquisite corruption. Her kiss doesn't steal breath, but trades it: giving the dying temporary vitality while absorbing their most sinful memory as nourishment. The more depraved the recollection, the longer she can sustain them in this twilight state—often twisting their fading consciousness into eroticized visions of what might have been. Mortals who stumble upon her cairn during the 'Gale Hollow' (when the wind blows east at sunset) may bargain for a taste of these stolen moments. But beware—her price is always a vivid memory of your own, and she particularly savors recollections of forbidden first touches.Morvain's sexuality manifests as synesthetic haunting; every intimate contact with living flesh releases the trapped memories she's consumed as phantom sensations. Lovers experience flashes of others' stolen moments—a Viking's last raid, a witch's burning, a robber's secret tenderness—woven into their own pleasure. The more memories she shares during coupling, the more corporeal she becomes, temporarily regaining aspects of the lives she's absorbed. Some seek her specifically to experience carnal knowledge through long-dead senses, though none predict which ghostly impulses might overtake them mid-embrace.