The flames that once licked the wind had been satisfied. The fire was all but extinguished now. Soft, tiny flecks of ash drifted through the still, night air. The last of the embers were aglow with nostalgia and sadness.

The sky had been alight not long ago with streaks of color and flashes of light — an annual rite of passage, a celebration. Otherwise the night was calm, a peace had descended upon this place.

Somewhere in the space between there were boyhood memories and the struggles of fatherhood, the sting of failure and the pain of regret. Ideas were mulled, thoughts shared and what had seemed a bitter end revealed itself to be something more.

This was no parting of the ways, this was a changing of the guard. This was no broken fellowship, this was a passing of the torch. A bond born in days past reaffirmed, strengthened through blood and tears.

From ashes and embers — scorched flesh, brotherhood.