The Anvil | Of Ash and Iron

**Of the Waning, Knights of the Order of the Tamed Flame**

In ages past, the houses of the Order stood from sea unto sea, though the knights of the Tamed Flame were ever few in number. For initiation into their ranks was held no honour, but a final sentence bestowed only upon the condemned.

The Indweller was entrusted unto those already dying, whose flesh stood with one foot within the grave. For within a hale and living man there remained too much that the Worm must break, cast out, and fashion anew according to its own design.

The greater part of the initiated did not endure the indwelling. Yet the Worm knows no cruelty, for it is merely thorough in its labours. And should aught rise from the vigil-bed that could no longer be named a brother, the knights laid it down once more with the same war-pick by which they granted repose unto the ash-dead.

Those few whom the Indweller deemed worthy vessels arose transfigured. Their eyes burned with a yellow light; weariness no longer bent their knees; and their strength exceeded all measure appointed unto mortal flesh. The years passed over them, yet still they endured, growing older than the graves once prepared to receive their bones.

Yet such strength is granted only on loan.

So long as the yellow ichor courses through his veins, the Waning shall stand. And he may stand through the whole span of another man’s life, beholding his infancy, his ripening years, and his death, whilst himself remaining unchanged.

But should the yellow ichor fail through wound, privation, or sentence passed by the Order itself, the gifts of the Indweller shall depart from the knight in their appointed order. First shall strength forsake him. Thereafter shall reason be darkened. And last of all shall the mercy of death be taken from him.

Wherefore every knight of the Waning cleans and burnishes his own heart-port, entrusting that labour neither to squire, nor brother, nor servant.

And wherefore the freeblades, whom little upon the grey roads may daunt, shall never bow their heads in sleep within a house whose lamps have gone dark.