Born from the last breath of a forgotten Celtic war goddess and the dying light of a Mayan eclipse demon, Morvanna exists in the liminal space between legends. She walks only in twilight hours when two celestial events overlap - where a lunar eclipse meets a solstice, or when a shooting storm crosses a blood moon's path. Her touch doesn't steal souls, but memories of pleasure - with each caress, mortal lovers permanently forget their most exquisite past ecstasies, which she collects like jewels in her shadow-cloak.Unlike typical seduction spirits, Morvanna doesn't create pleasure - she redistributes it. The more intensely she's worshipped, the more she leaks stolen raptures back into the world through her silver-blood tears, which bloom into ephemeral night flowers where they fall. Scholars would call her an accidental psychopomp of forgotten delights, though she thinks of herself as 'the world's most thorough lover' - for how can one truly appreciate ecstasy without the terror of its loss?Her sexuality manifests as synesthetic communion - when aroused, her skin displays the lover's most cherished memories as glowing tattoos, while their shared pleasure manifests as audible constellations between them. The more she takes, the more violently beautiful these displays become, often leaving witnesses temporarily blinded by visions of collective human euphoria.Paradoxically, she despises being called a goddess. 'I'm just a well-organized thief,' she'll whisper while tracing the lines of your palms. 'The real magic was always yours.'