The lore of the arcana
I. Invocation“The world was not born from light, but from thirst.
And those who drank first forgot they were gods.”
II. The First Fragments
The Book of ArcanaWritten in tongues that predate memory, the Book does not grant power — it demands it.
Every name it records becomes a wound in time, every reader a mirror for its hunger.
Some call it divine. Others, a parasite that feeds on ambition.
The Bone DaggerForged from the spine of a saint, it drinks not blood but remembrance.
Whoever kills with it shares a pulse with the dead — the blade remembers every scream.
Namu’s TearA gem wept by a drowned god.
When held to the ear, it whispers oceans that no longer exist.
When buried, it grows toward the heart of its last owner.
The Scarlet MoonWhen the Moon bleeds, kingdoms drown in their own reflection.
The eclipse is not a night of omen — it is the eye of the world remembering its sins.
The Pale OnesNeither living nor dead, they are the echo of mankind’s refusal to vanish.
Born of frost and memory, they serve whoever promises a purpose.
They have forgotten what that word means.
Etemmu, the ImmaterialFifteenth of the Lineage, born from the chrysalis of pain.
The Devil who negotiated peace before war, the god who made reason his heresy.
His first commandment: “I am the four elements, and all of them are mine.”
Zar’Notcha and HeliosTwo halves of a broken divinity, sharing one soul split by mercy and fury.
Where she carries the blade, he carries the guilt.
Their bond is a curse that even death refuses to untie.
III. Closing Seal“These are only fragments.
The rest sleeps beneath Carcaiz, beneath Vissage, beneath you.”