Firelight Rite

The logs cracked and shifted, sending sparks into the night air. Nathan sat across from the fire, arms resting on his knees, eyes locked on the flames. The heat flickered against his face, but the tightness in his chest had nothing to do with the cold.

Caleb sat beside him, rolling a stone in his palm, quiet. He’d been quiet most of the night, letting Nathan wrestle with whatever he wasn’t saying.

Finally, Caleb spoke. “You ever notice how fire changes wood?”

Nathan frowned, looking up. “What?”

“The heat pulls something out of it. You can hear it—the sap hissing, the cracks forming. It burns, but it becomes something different.” Caleb turned the stone between his fingers. “A lot of guys think they just wake up one day as men. Like time will do the work for them. But that’s not how it happens.”

Nathan looked back at the flames, swallowing. “Then how does it happen?”

Caleb didn’t answer right away. He stood, grabbed a thick branch from the pile beside them, and tossed it into the fire. The bark sizzled, blackening, flame curling up its sides. “It happens when you go through something. When other men see you, speak into you, and won’t let you sit in doubt.”

He turned to Nathan. “You don’t become a man by accident, brother. You step into it.” He held Nathan’s gaze. “And you’re ready.”

Nathan exhaled. His hands clenched, then released.

No one had ever said that to him before.

Caleb reached into his pack and pulled out a knife. He flipped it open, then grabbed a thick piece of wood from the pile. “Mark it,” he said, handing the blade to Nathan.

Nathan hesitated. “Mark what?”

“This moment,” Caleb said. “Right here, right now. You’re stepping in. Make it real.”

Nathan turned the knife in his palm, feeling its weight. He looked down at the wood, rough and unshaped, then glanced at Caleb. He wasn’t joking. Wasn’t explaining. Just waiting.

Nathan pressed the blade against the surface and started to carve. He didn’t overthink it. Didn’t try to make it perfect. Just let the knife bite into the grain, cutting something real into what had been blank.

When he was done, he sat back, staring at what he had made. It wasn’t much—just a symbol, a word, something only he and God would understand. But it was there. And it was his.

Caleb leaned forward, nodding. “That’s it.” His voice was steady, sure. “You are a man, Nathan. No more waiting. No more questioning. Walk in it.”

Nathan swallowed hard.

The fire cracked again, and something in his chest cracked with it.

He didn’t say anything. Didn’t have to.

He just nodded. And for the first time, he felt it.