No one remembers her name.
She was the first Arkana — an alchemist, perhaps…
or a forgotten queen whose story dissolved into shadow.
Some say she was only a dreamer who never found the exit from her own dream.

She lived in a nameless city, surrounded by silent clocks and velvet walls that whispered back.

By day, she never stepped outside. By night, she wove. She wove silences, memories, symbols — from black lace, from aged leather, from brocade threaded with secret gold. From the dreams of those who never fit anywhere else. And when her creations were finished, she scattered them into the world with a single note:

“Not all that is dark should be feared. Only understood.”

Then, she disappeared.
What remained?

A name.
An echo.
A threshold.

Enter if you’ve ever felt out of place.
Enter if your heart beats a little louder at night.
Enter if the moon has ever felt more like home than any house you’ve lived in.

Dark Arkana is a world for the different.

And you belong here.