The flame of rebellion ignites — not in banners, but in blood. The first breath before the charge.
Sworn in darkness, sealed in silence. An ancient pact spoken beneath moonlight and ash.
Blades drawn, drums pounding — this is the music of war just before the killing begins.
Not ink, not scroll — this message is carved into flesh. A declaration made with steel.
A scream for vengeance against tyranny. The past dies hard, and it dies screaming.
From the ruins, something unkillable rises — not a nation, but a will unbroken by time.
What remains when the mighty fall? Smoke, silence... and the survivors who remember.
Not all ghosts are dead. This song is for those still breathing, still bleeding.
The birth of a new ruler — forged in the pyre, crowned in flame, sovereign of ruin.
At the edge of annihilation, a light returns. Not mercy — but reckoning clothed in radiance.
No celebration. No illusion. Just fire for false idols and the ghosts of betrayal.
They do not ride for honor. They ride for reckoning — and they do not fall.
At the edge of annihilation, a light returns. Not mercy — but reckoning clothed in radiance.
The flame of rebellion ignites — not in banners, but in blood. The first breath before the charge.