The empty portals of the windows, once proud bearers of rainbow images in glass now show only the moon, high in the cloudy sky. It is against this skyline the figure stands, silhouetted, wreathed in a heavy cloak. As the wind tugs insistently, the figure appears to turn. The darkness is broken by a pinprick of orange light, floating in front of what must be the figure's face. The orange glow provided is however too weak to show more than a hint of features, which quickly become shrouded by a thin screen of white smoke.

Far away, on the horizon, a crack of thunder sounds, accompanied by a brief flash of light within the clouds. As if this were a signal, rain begins to fall lightly on the shattered church, building quickly to drum a staccato beat on the flagstones. Another flash and rumble, from closer, and again the sky is illuminated briefly. The wind increases in strength, pelting the droplets of rain against the figure as if in a fury. The figure still stands, unmoving, as the storm continues about.

A third strike of lightning, and the scene is illuminated once again, accompanied by the spiraling fall of the orange light to the ground, there to land in a shower of sparks. The figure's head moves slowly, surveying the destroyed area before it, and is accompanied by a voice..

'...A good day's work...'

A final crack of thunder, the brief flash of light brightening the church once more, to show the figure has departed, and a peculiar pale shape lying upon the desecrated altar.

A bloodied pair of wings, as were once thought to be worn by angels...