It was midnight and the winds roared through the stone walls of the cloister, as Luca sat in the wooden chair by the small window. Lightning stuck a nearby tree sending Luca into a fit of panic. He cowered in the corner of the room, the orange light of the fire signifying lucifer’s presence. The flames danced like the feet of Beelzebub, mocking him with a jig of delight. Indecision kept the devil close.
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The thunder rumbled through the stones, shaking the walls and making Luca’s blood curdle. He heard the monk’s spiritual hymn for midnight prayer echoing through the halls. The enchanting voices ringing through the grounds could do nothing to prevent Luca’s terrors. His back burned with the memories of that night so long ago, the night when the path of his life was skewed to God’s favor:
The ominous sky danced with the colors of darkness and the flood gates of the heavens were opened. Luca looked to the sky, Lucifer’s tears sprinkling his face. The rain fell on the Earth and a great bolt of light struck the boy and he fell. A swirling pattern of red crawled its way in between his shoulder blades and around his arms, the bloody cross working its way to his heart.
Luca knew his place was in the cathedral for the midnight prayer, but he could not move his body, the fear of the great light confining him to his room. He cried.
He could no longer hear the voices of his brothers, for the storm drowned out every noise. Luca’s head spun with confusion. Only nights ago did he defy God, though he did not feel that he had sinned in trying to decipher the signs from God. But he couldn’t help but think he had taken the ideas of the devil. The fire crackled and Lucifer’s laughter filled the room:
As he lay his clothing by the fire, he felt her cool fingertips on his back. He shivered but did not move. “Is this why you’re afraid of the lightning?” she had asked. Luca turned to her and nodded. She didn’t say anything else but continued to trace the scarred cross. When her fingers reached his shoulders, he leaned back to allow her to see the front where the ends of his scar converged at his heart. Luca stared at her face while she retraced the lines over again. Her brown eyes glowed like embers in the firelight. The water from her hair dripping down the contours of her cheekbones and neck. She caught his eyes. Lightning struck, but before he had time to react, she kissed him. And there they conceded to the flames of desire.
That was the only moment when Luca had not been terrified of the light. That night, the presence of God himself could not have given him more sensation. And because of that night, he now had a choice to make.
The fire was dancing its final evil steps. The last of the flames grasping to the blistered logs. The embers glowing bright red. The room was warm and it suffocated Luca. He stood and approached the window. The nearby tree had become ablaze. The rain was still falling, but the thunder had stopped. Luca saw a woman’s figure in the shadow of the tree. Her hair billowing outwards. Her arms were extended. Her stomach was rounded. The lightning had played tricks on him before, so he turned from the shadow. Luca heard a piercing noise. The door to his room flew off its rusted hinges. Luca walked into the cloister. The monks had finished with prayer and had begun their journey back to bed. Their hymns, yet again, filling the corridors with a haunting melody:
Et Iesum, benedictum fructum ventris tui Nobis post hoc exsilium ostende O clemens, O pia, O dulcis, Virgo Maria
Luca translated, “And Jesus, the blessed fruit of thy womb, after this exile show unto us. Oh clement: Oh holy: Oh sweet Virgin Mary.”
He thought back to the woman he thought he had seen by the tree. Her swollen stomach, her outstretched arms. He recalled the night of the last storm, their clothes drying by the warmth of the embers, eyes blazing with fire. The decision began to fester in his mind once more. He could be with her. He could not be frightened of the light. But she was leaving. Her unborn child would have a father she could marry. His fate was with the church:
“You’ve survived, Luca!” his mother praised, “God has chosen you! Once you heal, you will join the church. Prior John says that is your duty.” Magdalena wanted what was best for her son, but, above all, she wanted him to be in God’s favor. Luca’s communion into priesthood was the happiest day of her life. “It was fate that brought you here,” Prior John had said to him, “the cross on your back is a sign that you must be His disciple.”
Luca thought of his mother, she was his reason to stay. How could he leave knowing she believed it was his duty to serve? He saw Prior John walking into his office across the cloister. Luca had grown fond of John, who had become more of a father figure to him. Prior John had taught Luca the ways of God and of sin. He had given his mother work. And he had introduced him to his sister, Ara. How could Luca betray him? How could he leave the church to be with Ara? Another bolt of lightning struck and Luca shrank back into his room, his door now hanging crookedly on its frame. He sank into the corner of the room and pulled out his rosary.
Luca held the beads and cross in his hand. Though the cross was small, it was intricately carved by Prior John to resemble the mark on Luca’s back. Luca stared at it while his breathing slowed. Interweaving branches formed the arms of the cross. The four arms extending from a red jewel in the center to represent his heart. Rain had soaked through the cracks in the ceiling. Droplets began to fall onto Luca’s face, just as they had when he had received the mark.
He stood and walked to a dry corner of the room and thunder boomed once more. Luca trembled, falling defeatedly against his bookcase. As he did, he watched as his King James Bible fell from the impact, the gold embroidery reflecting the next lightning strike. Its impact on the stone floor deadened by another deafening thunderclap. Its spine cracked and opened to a marked page, one which Ara had marked for him, “And Mary said, ‘My soul glorifies the Lord.’”
“What’s your favorite passage, Luca?” Ara had asked him. He said nothing, but his fingers found the exact page and he pointed to the passage that read, “’a friend loves at all times, and a brother is born for a time of adversity’ Proverbs 17:17.” Ara smiled when she read it, “That is a beautiful passage. I bet you have lots of friends and brothers in the monastery. Luca grinned and nodded in agreement. “My favorite is this one,” she said as she flipped the pages to the book of Luke. “Luke 1:47. It’s silly that it’s my favorite and you are sitting here next to me,” she chuckled as she traced the words, “I like it because Mary knows God is telling her to live for her soul. The happiness of the soul is the only true gift of God and we all must find it…”
He traced the words with his fingers. The impressions like braille, pricking his fingertips with the memories of hers. His heart filled with warmth and a faint smile twitched in his cheeks. He must decide before the night was through. The lightning struck again.
His heart raced, and his breathing quickened. He grabbed the book and clutched it tightly to his chest. The rosary and cross in the other hand.
“Luca?” He turned to the familiar sound. The shadow of a woman stood in his doorway. Luca jumped to his feet and shook his head violently, remembering the shadow. He shut his eyes tightly as he held the cross outward. “Have no fear, Luca. It’s me,” the woman stepped into the room. “Prior John allowed me inside only momentarily.”
Luca opened his eyes and saw his mother. Her dress soaked and her dripping hair clinging to her forehead and neck. “Mother?” Luca looked curiously at her, “What are you doing here so late?”
“Ara is leaving in the morning.”
Luca turned away from his mother, knowing the decision was too hard to make. “If she must go, then that is the will of God.”
Magdalena huffed, “Luca,” she grabbed him by the shoulders, “you don’t mean that.”
“What am I to do?” he turned to face her, “If she wishes to leave with Roman, then let her. I must do my duty to the church and for you.” Magdalena heard the strain in his voice.
“Go to her,” Magdalena said, “my happiness lies in yours. If you love her, go.”
“How can I? That child is not mine.”
“The will of God is a tricky thing, Luca. You must see the signs. You may never know if that child is yours, but do you believe it to be so?”
Another bolt of lightning lit the room as Magdalena finished her words. Luca stopped. He felt a chilling breeze and looked to the fire. It had completely died. Had Lucifer departed? He dropped the book as something overtook him and he began to see for the first time. He knew the answer for the signs were all around him.