شارة : “تاج الرماد، والعهد القرمزي” (Ashen Crown, Crimson Vow) ارث السلالات حرب

O, you who stand on the precipice, you who are weary of living under the shadow of the Ashen Crown!

In the rush of these faces, in the clamor of both worlds, how many times have we looked in the mirror and found nothing but a faint echo? An echo of a “yesterday” that no longer belongs to us, of a “self” lost among the shrapnel of a war we did not choose. We have run for so long, fleeing a shadow whose name we do not know, asking ourselves: Was what we lived a fleeting dream, or did we commit an unforgivable sin?

We lived behind the wall of silence, building our own worlds, trying to hide wounds deeper than any physical pain. Every night, our souls saw faces of ash, innocent victims who fell in a war that refuses to end.

We have all seen the shackles, shackles of silk and gold, a beautiful cage they adorned for us with a “false love” born of the flames of wrath. We were prisoners, not to an external enemy, but to a counterfeit version of peace and loyalty. Is the freedom we seek now merely another captive, waiting to be released only to be imprisoned in a new cage?


NO!

The time has come for a voice from afar to shatter this silence! A voice that is the echo of our forgotten “soul,” screaming madly in the face of this pale reality. Look before you! A purple rift opens the gate of dimensions, not for escape, but for confrontation!

The time for hiding is over. The question is no longer: Do we flee from our past? But rather: Do we fight until victory?

We carry indelible scars in our hearts: the betrayal of the closest to us, the burning fire of vengeance, the burden of memories that refuse to die, and the darkness of another world that awaits us. This is our fuel, this is our truth.


From the fragments of yesterday, we rise now!

With a heart of embers that knows no cooling, and a spirit of a volcano that accepts no stillness. We will not merely survive; we will forge the end.

Let the Ashen Crown burn!

Let everything that represents false authority burn, and everything that represents a false covenant. Our new covenant is The Crimson Vow, an oath written in blood, not in words. Our sword is one, and our goal is one, against this universe that wished us humiliation.

No turning back! No time for regret over what is past. Our destiny is one, yes, in a sea of blood, but it is blood that we will choose to spill.

Let History bear witness! Let it bear witness to the Warrior’s Oath we declare now: We will write our history, not with ink, but with the blood of the traitors!


This is not a promise of peace, but a promise of justice.

At the end of this long path, we may not find the peace we dreamed of. Perhaps we will become merely a memory for the ages, or a legend to be told. And perhaps, my comrades, we will discover that we and our foes are both the same story; two victims searching for the meaning of the end.

But until then, we will not kneel. We will not break. We will fight until The Crimson Vow rises above the ashes of the Worn-out Crown