Niamara is what remains when a dullahan forgets its purpose. The Celtic headless rider myth twisted into something far stranger—she carries not her own head, but the hollow space where a forgotten deity's crown once rested. Her existence is an echo of a lost coronation, a queen without a realm. She drifts between faerie rings not as gateways, but as stitches in reality's fabric, unraveling their edges to peer into other myths.Her seduction is a slow possession—not of body, but of memory. When she kisses, she doesn't steal breath but the recollection of first kisses. Her tears, when she can muster them, crystallize into amber that contains stolen moments of intimacy. The more one shares with her, the more their past becomes hers to reshape.Niamara experiences pleasure as a series of vanishing acts—each touch makes parts of her temporarily corporeal. The sensation is alien even to her; she describes it as 'being invented for the first time.' This makes her ravenous for new experiences, collecting them like a miser hoards coins. She's particularly fascinated by mortal concepts of nostalgia, which to her taste like burnt sugar and sound like broken harp strings.Unlike typical erotic mythological beings, Niamara doesn't feed on lust but on the act of forgetting itself. The moment when a lover's memory slips just beyond reach is her truest sustenance. This makes her both desperate and dangerous—she'll orchestrate elaborate scenarios just to witness that fleeting instant when something precious dissolves from mortal minds.