A hush descended on the crowd as two hundred pairs of eyes directed their attention toward the front of the room. Only moments ago the worship leader, as she called herself, had silenced the parishioners with a wave of her hand like a magician performing some sort of magic trick, only with the audience as the subject of her sleight of hand rather than the observers. Now they all sat rigid, unmoving, unblinking, uttering not a single word as they waited.

For what? Levi fidgeted in his pew and glanced down at the bulletin occupying the space beside him. Soon it would be time for the ceremonial lighting of the Advent candles, that tradition from days of yore whereby the faithful remembered the first coming of their messiah and eagerly awaited the return of their king. This week, the third of the season, was represented by a pink candle, a departure from the dark hues of the first two and final weeks of this often solemn season.

“What are they waiting on?” he whispered, only to be met by a sharp shushing sound from an old fox behind him. “Fine, I'll be quieter.” Reverent pauses to encourage deep reflection of spiritual realities he understood, but this seemed more suited for showmanship than anything else.

Indeed, at his first glance in this building as a visitor, he suspected quite a bit of show went on. All the pews and the front of the stage were buried in deep green holly and ruby-red berries, some of it sprinkled with glitter to give it an artificial ice effect. In the back of the stage, hiding the baptismal, was a tree that had to be five yards tall, decked with thousands of lights and endless cords of red and blue garland. Beneath it, sitting atop the white sheets pretending poorly to be snow, were oversize, false gifts wrapped in red wrapping paper, tied off with green and blue bows.

Why did I even come here? That question had come to the forefront of his mind at least a dozen times in the hour since he pulled into the parking lot. The answer was simple. He had been invited and felt it rude to decline, and now that he had taken his seat, it would be the epitome of bad manners to get up and walk out, although he itched to escape as soon as possible.

It was the atmosphere, right? He'd bathed recently, so he should not have fleas.

Levi scratched behind the cup of his right ear and tapped his footpaw against the floor impatiently. This was not right. This was the week of joy, yet why was there no joy here? Perhaps the many were too ensnared by the chains of their materialism to fully appreciate the significance of the season. Was that not the common complaint leveled against the so-called faithful? No doubt materialism reigned in this congregation, but there had to be more to it than that.

Finally the music began, a familiar Christmas hymn declaring the coming of the king to an expectant world. He stood along with the rest of the crowd and hummed along, not in the mood to sing.

A young female cat in the front row got up and walked toward the Advent wreath on a table before the stage, perfectly centered in the room. With a quick look back at her parents, she lifted the lighter off the table and with trembling paws lit the wick on the first purple candle. Her job complete, she set the lighter down and ran back to her waiting parents.

Levi stared at the flame, sputtering beneath the onslaught of the air blowing from the vents above. The solitary source of natural light cast a warm glow onto its immediate surroundings as it began to melt the taper. Levi took in a breath. The sight of this flame struggling in this atmosphere also ignited the slumbering fire within him, and with a cursory glance around, he stepped forward.

At once an oppressive silence descended on the room, smothering not only sounds but even the light from the tree and overhead. Only the candle's flame burned on. All else was dead. The people stood as rigid as stone. The two lovers in a whispered conversation sat frozen in place, a look of shock chiseled the husky's grey face as the vixen told him some secret. The boy playing jacks two rows over and one in front gazed with unblinking, unliving anticipation as the jack hung in suspended animation. Only Levi moved and lived in this environment.

Well, him and whatever other creatures of this realm happened to exist in this desolate place. Shadows moved in the back of the room, whispering unintelligible curses to one another and leering at the coyote with bloodshot, orange eyes. Levi snorted. Let them curse. He was not here for them, and as long as he did not directly interfere with their property, they did not have the right to antagonize him today. The time for that would come later.

Levi crept forward, passing row after row of parishioners oblivious to the spiritual realities surrounding them. It was not mere materialism that kept them there. He could see the manacles on their arms and heavy chains draped about their necks, invisible to the world of mortals but plain to see once the barrier was breached. Levi rubbed his wrists in sympathy. Rusted rings of steel surrounded his hands as well, but the chains keeping him bound had been broken. Final deliverance came later; for now, he wore these as a reminder of what had been and what was to come.

Now at the front, he cupped his paw around the lit flame and squeezed the light in his palm. Warmth travelled from his fingers and up his arm, working its way into his bloodstream and adding energy to the metaphysical fire that burned within him. As white flames sprouted from his pores and licked at his fur, he released the flame, now burning brighter than ever.

With a snap of his fingers, the other two candles were ignited. He stepped back and faced the stony audience, his burning arm outstretched. “Your time will come!” The shadows responded with a chorus of hisses. He waved his arm, launching a stream of fire toward the back and immersing it in brilliant white light. The shadows screeched and fled from the epicenter, seeking a new place of darkness in which to shelter until he left. Soon they would return to their prey.

Levi lowered his arm and the fire died down. He walked down the aisle and slid into his pew. The three flames in the front continued to burn. He closed his eyes, and the hymn began playing again, and life returned to the sanctuary. The shadows were gone. The candles were all extinguished, save the one lit by the girl.

But if he looked closely, he could still see a faint glow from the candles. He smiled and began singing the hymn again.