“The Flagbearer of Vyria”​

They say he walks the edge of time—

a silent rider beneath a blood-stained sky.

No name, no face, only shadow and purpose.

But all who see the Vyria flag in his grasp…

remember.

Forged in rebellion, the symbol was born not just in ink—but in fire.

Each stroke of crimson bled from the will of those who refused to kneel.

Each jagged line a scar carved by the fallen who stood for something greater.

This is not a logo. This is a warning.

Wherever the black horse treads, chaos trembles.

The dragons above, the sirens below, they follow—but do not lead.

Because only one thing commands the storm:

the Vyria sigil—the pulse of those who were never meant to survive,

but rose anyway.

The soldier does not speak. He doesn’t need to.

The flag speaks louder.

It says:

“You are not alone.” “You were made for this war.”

“And Vyria is your banner.”

Let the world burn. Let the towers fall. The symbol stands.

Long live the Flagbearer.

Long live Vyria.