The clouds above part with a peal of thunder, and a ray of light descends from Heaven upon the Arena. The echoing voice of a great chorus rumbles overhead,
"Líbera me, Dómine, de morte ætérna, in die illa treménda:"
A dove, white as snow, flies overhead. It flits about, spiraling down within the cone of light from Heaven.
"Quando cœli movéndi sunt et terra."
The dove flies away, returning to Heaven, but in its wake a single piece of parchment continues its descent until it rests on the ground.
"Dum véneris iudicáre sǽculum per ignem."
The light narrows, coming to a focus on the parchment before winking from existence, though a glow of pure white continues to surround the parchment itself.
"Tremens factus sum ego, et tímeo, dum discússio vénerit, atque ventúra ira."
A beam of light shoots out from the parchment, as further pages fly out from it as from a fountain and swirl as if in a small tornado.
"Quando cœli movendi sunt et terra."
With a flash the papers suddenly freeze and a figure is barely visible in their midst, his head bowed in prayer. A silver cross suspended from a chain around his neck seems to shine though the cloud of parchment.
"Dies illa, dies iræ, calamitátis et misériæ, dies magna et amára valde."
The figure slowly looks up as the papers slowly drift to the ground around him, his eyes hidden behind the reflective glare of his glasses.
"Dum véneris iudicáre sǽculum per ignem."
He snaps the large tome in his hand shut, and tucks it into his long flowing coat. He speaks calmly, in time with the chorus overhead,
"Réquiem ætérnam dona ei, Dómine: et lux perpétua lúceat ei."
