It is December 1997 and Jonathan is 18
There is such a thing as a perfect fire. Anyone who has ever seen one knows that it is perfect simply by looking at it and understanding the way it makes its shapes; the way it forms and breaks down, always in a state of flux. A perfect fire has three parts; a screamer, a perpetual announcement, and a dancing metamorphosis.
The screamer is so demanding, it usually sits low in the wood pile and emits a flame so powerful that the sight of the onlooker becomes blotchy the instant he or she looks away. (Physical)
The perpetual announcement figures that it’s the most important, and to get the attention of the onlooker, will actually attempt to make shapes and figures which the viewer could recognize as something familiar. (Mental)
The dancer draws the most attention; the most enigmatic of the three, this part has hypnotic qualities, which mesmerize the onlooker, drawing him or her closer to the fire, and then recoiling, as if reconsidering the decision to open itself to the onlooker. (Spirit)
These three parts each fear the same thing, their eventual extinction, and because of this fear, each part must be contained within a fireplace or a woodstove, someplace where this fear can be controlled by a proper moderation of wind, water, or earth.
(Just look at Yellowstone if you wish to see an example of what happens without containment.)