The flame is a mirror, always reflecting the wood it consumes. In that mirror, the secret is that the tribe knows the fire will burn what must be burned. Each ceremony is a contract with entropy: you give up the old to make room for the new. The paradox dissolves if you see the flame not as a threat, but as a covenant. It protects the lineage by demanding sacrifice, yet it can destroy if the balance tips. In that, the hidden meaning is a lesson: to keep a tradition alive, you must willingly let its fuel die, otherwise it will devour everything.