The storm outside was ravenous, splintering the thatched roofs and beating heavy on the backs of those who dared to brave her.

Luella, one of the few people still outside at this hour, didn’t bother with outrunning the storm; no, she had far worse things to outrun.

Her scuffed black shoes splashed in puddles as she ran blindly through the night. She only stopped when necessary, glancing over her shoulder to see if her captors were still following her. Though she couldn’t see them, she could hear their booming footsteps skittering down alleyways towards her.

After a while, Luella paused to catch her breath. She bent over, blinking away the drops of water that slid into her eyes. She couldn’t outrun them. She needed to hide. But where?

Luella glanced around quickly, looking for any place that would offer her cover. She couldn’t go into any one’s home. They’d take one look at her dark skin and unnatural red hair and shut the door. No, she needed someplace else.

Then, as if materialized from water and fog, the church stood up ahead. The dark wooden building with the single large wooden cross sitting erect at its steeple beckoned her forward, promising shelter and warmth.

Luella hiked up her skirts, though they were already soaked through with muddy water, and ran towards the church. It took all her strength to yank open the heavy wooden doors, but when she did, she shut them quickly behind her and leaned against the frame.

Luella breathed deeply, resting her back against the solid wooden door in relief as the musky scent of incense wafted through the air, familiar and warm. Her grandmother had been a devout Christian her entire life, and Luella and her mother had followed closely in her footsteps. Now, looking at the rows of abandoned pews and the white stone altar at the front of the room, Luella wished for the scene to rekindle the same comfort that it did before. But she no longer felt it, not since the villagers had used that very same religion to turn against her and brand her the epitome of anti- Christianity. Her family and their healing traditions were labelled as ‘witchcraft’ and were seen as acts of the devil. Even worse, the unnatural circumstances that befell her in her youth made her seem even stranger, even more fearful.

Luella lifted her skirts and wrung them dry, watching the water soak into the wooden floors beneath her.

When she got most of it dry, she walked along the aisles, admiring the handiwork it took to craft this place. If there was one thing she had to admit, it’s that Christian’s were the worlds most beautiful architects. Each image depicted in wood and statue were beautifully done, as though the maker were granted with the divine ability to create beauty.

A ripple of thunder clamoured outside and Luella gritted her teeth as the church shook ever so slightly. The storm out there was brutal, but at least it would slow her captors. A strike of lightning accompanied the sound and Luella watched in awe as the vibrant streak lit up the stained glass windows that lined the vaulted ceilings above the altar. There were five detailed panels of stained glass shining down on the altar, coloured in the most ethereal hues imaginable.

The first panel showed a woman with thick dark coils holding a wrapped bundle in her arms. The woman’s face was lifted to the heavens in plea and tears spilled down her cheeks. With the rain beading the glass from the outside, the tears almost looked real.

The baby in her arms was unnaturally purple, it’s flaming locks a stark contrast to its lack lustre skin.

The second panel showed the child at an older age, her hair piled high on her head. She was kneeling beside a figure laying on a hospital bed, her palms laying flat on the persons chest. From beneath her palms sprouted flowers and leaves, their vivacity coiling around her hands.

The third panel showed the girl drowning, her body floating frozen in sheets of vivid sapphire and azure glass. A halo of golden light was wrapped around her head and her palms were upturned, holding that same light at their centres.

The forth panel had the girl tied to a stake, her bright red hair a stark contrast against the sooty black glass that surrounded her. Slivers of orange and gold curled along the lower edge of the panel, wrapping around the girls ankles and engulfing her in flames. Her face was frozen in agony as hoards of people watched her burn.

The final panel was a sunrise, the strips of red and yellow brilliant and intense against the bright blue of the sky.

Luella allowed her eyes to scan the pictures again, in an attempt to understand why they both fascinated and unnerved her. Then it dawned on her.

The images depicted on the windows were of her own experiences, each picture a perfect representation of key moments in her life.

The first was her mother clutching her lifeless body after childbirth. Luella had been born a stillborn, blue and breathless. Her mother swore that it was only through prayer and promises to the gods that life entered her body and she took her first breath.

The second was when she was only a child visiting the hospital. When she placed her hands on a dying woman, praying to heal her and bring her back to life, the woman’s body began to change. The disease seemingly vanished after Luella placed her hands on her and within moments, she was fully healed and taking her first steps in years since the illness befell her.

The third was the day she had slipped in the creek while picking berries and drowned in the currents that took her. That was the second time she died and the second time she was once again, reborn. A second miracle granted from the gods for a longer life.

The fourth and fifth picture she didn’t understand yet. Were they showing her future? Would the villagers going to catch her anyway and burn her at the stake?

Non of this even made sense. Why was her life pictured on three stained glass windows anyway?

Luella examined the last two images, trying to decide what they meant, when a loud banging reverberated throughout the chapel.

Luella whipped her head to the entrance , eyes wide, only to see the doors rattling at its hinges. Someone- or many someone’s- were banging at the door, using their strength to force it open. Luella panicked, trying to find a place to hide but finding non in the empty chapel.

Suddenly, the door sprung open and the group surged in, filling the entrance with their fierce hatred and violence. She had nowhere to run and though she tried to protest and escape, their hands found her and wrapped around her body like a vice. Some of them relit their torches that had gone out from the rain and bound her with rope. Others even started praying silently.

Luella cast her eyes back to the last portrait and like that vibrant light spilling through the windows after a lightning strike, she finally understood. She let her body grow limp and allowed them to carry her away into the dark, stormy night.

Tonight she would die for the third time in her life, this time by fire. However, unlike the last two times, she wouldn’t be reborn in the same ways as she had before.

This time she’d come back as something else entirely, something that they had no choice but to fear.