Lithromantic Flag Novels & Stories

The moment she saw what they were lying on, a wave of liquid fire erupted in her veins. It wasn't a standard bedsheet. It was a massive, ceremonial silk flag—the ancestral banner of the Silvermoon Pack. Lane’s mother had sewn that flag with her own hands, spending months intricately embroidering the silver wolf crest to mark the sacred union of their two packs. The night before he left for the war, Ethan had knelt before that very flag and promised to always honor it, to protect it as a symbol of their eternal alliance. And now, he was using her mother's sacred handiwork as a vulgar shroud for his infidelity.

So I have to be brave—for myself, and for everyone watching. The heart of Gray Helm pulses with restless energy as the people crowd the city square. Market stalls have been pushed aside, and the areas once scarred by protesters now gleam clean under the sunlight. The golden floors beneath us reflect the brightness of the day, almost as if the city itself is holding its breath. Bloodthorn’s flags fly proudly, held aloft by patriots. The emblem of the seven factions is displayed across the banners—each segment of the head of a lycan forming a complete, fierce whole.

His rage knew no bounds. "Now, it's time you Walkers have a taste of my wrath!" Liam bellowed. Calum was holding a black rectangular box that was decorated in gold. A flag that was also in black and gold was lying on top of the box. That was the Pendragon Warriors' battle flag. A few of them marched toward Liam under the watchful eyes of the crowd. Once the flag was lifted, a battle robe was revealed inside the box. Joseph picked up the robe with both his hands and marched toward Liam. Then, he respectfully draped the robe over Liam's shoulders.

The rotting stench of a battlefield Over the distance I see a familiar site; it was a flag that high atop a mess of spikes and wooden palisades. The flag bore the symbol of Remas; Caesar’s gold colored Crystal leaf amid a red background. “Cohort Salute!” Trosdig orders as we hear the Captain’s horn from the distance. We all place a fist on our left breast and march inside the fort as we do so. “This is Rendra?” I asked Lurti “No, this is where we sleep”

It emphasized its long and scattering roots and wide trunk that reminded Cent of the Ygdrasil. Nature. It’s the pompous nature-dwellers aka the Ambivalent beings and their twitching ears that need some piercing. The last one and the dreariest was the one that belonged to the Malevolent beings. Its color was black with embroidery made of red threads. The pattern was a combination of thorns and flames that it formed a big image of a screaming human that was scratching its neck from anguish. Yep, totally the flag for the dark dwellers. Cent nodded her head as she observed the three flags that reminded her that the Tri-world Tournament was only weeks away. Her eyes shifted onto the flock of stud

Everyone there shuddered upon hearing the roars and looked over toward the voices’ direction! They suddenly could not breathe as what they saw baffled them! There were thousands of people in black Chinese jackets coming over with sabers at hand. They were the Elysium Gate disciples! The leader of the disciples was carrying a two-hundred-meter-long flag which embroidered nine golden dragons and words written in blood-red! ‘We punish evil and uphold the good to bring justice for mankind!’ The blowing wind caused the flag to wave proudly in the air! Everyone recognized the flag! It was the Elysium Gate’s Nine Dragons Justice Flag!

The third red lantern hung from a spike driven into a thick wooden post outside a tent that seemed more like a fortress. The canvas was heavy, patched, and stained, bearing a painted emblem of a flexing arm holding the world. The sign, crudely lettered, read: "ATLAS'S DOMAIN: PROVE YOUR METTLE."

He paused for a moment, thinking carefully. "The Therians never send out werewolf hunters unless it's an emergency." Rondolf got up from where he was. He walked towards the large window beside him. From the peak of Grimmwolf's shield tower, he can see dimly that several werewolf hunters have stood guard over the raised flag. "That flag is ....” Rondolf fell silent again. He was speechless. "The Therians have long since dropped their once proud flag and decided to become a neutral territory." Rondolf turned to Rockley. "So why did they do all that after we sent gifts to them?"

said the Northern Emperor. Neela snorted coldly, "You're crazy." "Then we'll see what happens," the Northern Emperor said. After a brief pause, a large flag was thrown out with a wave of the hand. The overall black flag is embroidered with an ancient evil blood red totem resembling a strange-looking cow. This flag grew in size after being flung out of hand into the wind. It grew to be a hundred meters tall in an instant, spreading the sky and fluttering in the wind. There was a burst of energy on it.