Fatigue had settled into her bones, paralyzing her since she had been forced before His throne. She tried not to think about it, but there were few distractions in the chamber.

She had slept for a while, but even if her soul would have liked to find some more refuge in the embrace of the dreamless darkness, her mind had become restless.

Now she sat on the edge of her bed, her head hanging and aching, trying to ignore the fact that her clothes still smelled of ash and something more unpleasant.

What will happen now?

Tired. Sore. Shattered. Empty.

So far, she had always found some confidence in herself. And when she ran out of it, defiance and stubbornness had taken over, building her a bridge to the next island of hope despite all the setbacks.

But right now, she didn't know what else to cling to. Cut off from the steady stream of affection and support. Alone. Only enemies around her. In a few cycles, a decision was due that she basically couldn't make if she didn't want to lose herself. And then He.

It was a mercy that she could barely remember what had happened to her before His throne. Decomposition. Dying. Hers, that of other angels, of all feeling, of life itself. Veidja trembled again, every time the shreds of memory caught up with her.

Why not just give up? She couldn't win here, couldn't make a difference. Maybe if she gave up, the demons would quickly lose interest in her. She would have to suffer for a while, but then they would kill her. Or just forget about her... It didn't matter.

Her head was heavy in her hands, her elbows dug into her knees.

Heavy. Lonely. Dark.

Veidja's breathing was shallow. She was aware that panic lurked at the edge of her perception, but she wasn't sure if she wanted to push it back.

How long she sat there like that she didn't know and she barely reacted when the door to her chamber was opened.

She was called to take a bath and change her clothes as if she had just been fighting in the arena. What lay behind her was worse. She didn't mind the routine, but this time she couldn't feel even a hint of pleasure as the warm water cleansed her skin. Absentmindedly she washed herself, stood in the stream of air and put on the clothes that had been laid out. Pants, bands, a shirt with a stand-up collar, all in muted gray. How appropriate.

She was ready faster than usual, so she sat on the floor, head and back against the wall, and waited, trying not to think. She stared into the water of the pool, counting the tiny ripples that formed for reasons she didn't feel able to care about.

When the door opened, she simply remained seated. Why hurry? Mildly surprised, she caught the scent of the demonlord. Not your servants this time?

"Come."

Sure, why not. Following orders took the least of her energy right now.

Slowly, the battleangel stood up. Her body obeyed without a murmur, but her gaze remained fixed blearily on the floor. She trailed after the demon, following his soft noises without looking up. She could not muster the will to find out where he was leading her.

Only when N'Arahn stopped did she look around without interest. The corridor was carved or shaped from the same black stone as all the other corridors in the warmonger's fortress, but it ended in front of an intricate lattice gate. Swirling shadows prevented Veidja from seeing what lay beyond it.

N'Arahn placed one hand on the bars and with the other drew his sigil on a metal plate embedded next to the gate. The shadows between the metal bars receded and the angel involuntarily took a step forward so that she could see better.

The demonlord turned to the side and beckoned her closer.

"I want to show you something."

Glancing at him fleetingly, she let the inquiring gaze of his bright green eyes slide off of her. She didn't want to lose this feeling, this curiosity. She had been convinced that she could no longer feel this way, that nothing would bring her out of her inner darkness. But now... This was something special, something important. She could just sense it.

And there was this smell. Foreign, aromatic.

She was past the demon in a few steps. Behind the gate, the corridor opened up into a wide, high-ceilinged room. Perhaps as large as the arena, the actual dimensions of this cave were difficult to estimate, as plants grew everywhere.

A garden!

Veidja looked around in bewilderment. She didn't know any of the plants; they were all strange colours, from red to purple to gray and brown; green was only a splash here and there. Some of the plants seemed to be bearing fruit. The air was humid and not too warm.

She had almost forgotten that N'Arahn was standing behind her. The soft click of the closing gate reminded her abrupt.

She only half-turned towards him, not wanting to take her eyes off this abundance of life. Greedily, with a sudden thirst, she sucked in the air that carried the scents that had lured her to the gate. If she had to describe the aroma in one word, it would have been vivid.

"How...?" How had he done that? How was it possible? But she couldn't wait for the demonlord's answer, had to get closer.

Before she could start running, N'Arahn held her by the arm.

"'Easy." He smiled. "Not everything here is safe." Then he let go of her.

Veidja looked at him for a moment, her vision suddenly clear again. She breathed freely. The demonlord looked over her head into this strange forest. He seemed... content, perhaps even happy. And relieved? Why did he just let her go?

Later.

Veidja let herself be swallowed up by the plants, their colours and scents, didn't use any of the paths, but instead ventured further off into this oasis deep in the stone. The light did not come from torches or fires, but from crystals and moss-like plants that covered the walls. It couldn't replace the sun, but life in this cave apparently didn't need that much, was used to meagre resources. And yet it was glorious. The battleangel laughed as a drop from a giant leaf shattered coldly on the back of her neck. Life always finds a way.

Her feet slid over the soft cushions of moss on the ground. Veidja was almost dancing. The blackness and hopelessness that had taken hold of her receded before these small, unclouded specks of joy. The angel felt increasingly stronger and lighter.

In front of her, the plants opened up into a clearing, overshadowed by a huge tree that seemed to reach up to the ceiling of the cave. Veidja gaped in amazement, walking slowly around the imposing trunk. The bark was rough and cracked; she could well imagine climbing up it. How would the view from its crown over the garden be?

A rustling sound made her turn around. Something had moved between the large leaves at the edge of the clearing. There, again; this time she could see some branches swaying.

Suddenly a small animal shot out, a swirl of gray shadows. It chased with long, frantic leaps to the nearest cover, its long ears tucked close to its outstretched body.

How can...

Veidja had barely processed the sight of the fleeing hare when another shadow jumped out of the bushes. The lithe hunter stopped abruptly when he saw the angel. The hare was not forgotten, but the wolf looked at her with watchful amber eyes. Only a moment of frozen time, then the predator disappeared into the undergrowth, after its prey.

The angel expelled the breath she had been involuntarily holding.

"Fascinating, isn't it?" N'Arahn's voice was right at her ear.

- - - - -

Veidja did not flinch. Impressive. Cause he was sure she hadn't noticed him.

He knew he had disturbed the moment, her absorption. He regretted it, but he could no longer hold back his pride in his work.

The garden was his secret, his refuge. When he needed to relax, he came here. And it seemed that the garden also had a revitalizing effect on the angel. He had hoped so. The visit to the Lord of Hell had dimmed Veidja's light in a way that had been as unsettling for him as her fading out due to the lack of sunlight had been back then.

She didn't know it yet, but she had been here once before. When he had carried her and brought her to the crown of the tree under whose sprawling branches they now stood.

It helped. Her light is back. With almost numbing relief, N'Arahn had watched his angel explore the garden. Her laughter had taken his breath away, every fiber of his body under burning tension.

He had wanted to show her the garden anyway, but when he had picked her up earlier, seeing her so beaten and overcast... Had those really been his words, that hope was a poor concept? A self-deception and only for weaklings? He would have to have a serious word with himself about narrow-minded views.

Veidja turned to him, slowly crossing her arms. Her eyes had the same watchful, waiting expression as those of the direwolf. And the same colour...

"How?" She really wasn't one for big speeches. But she would have to be a little more specific if she wanted to share in his secrets. N'Arahn leaned his shoulder against the tree and just raised an eyebrow.

The angel nodded slightly, as if she was acknowledging that he could ask for more.

"How is that possible? The plants. The animals." She made a gesture that included the entire cave.

The demonlord tilted his head to the side.

"I'm a pretty powerful demon. In case you haven't noticed," he grinned. Ah, he just couldn't help teasing her. That impatient look on the angel's face was too delightful. But today he didn't really want to upset her.

More seriously, he explained, "It took a long time. I could only bring seeds." He shrugged. "The animals aren't real." His gaze wandered to the bushes where the wolf had disappeared. "But a shadow life is better than none at all."

There had been a time when he had been among humans for longer. Back then, he had also decided to avoid His court as much as possible, to distance himself from the other demonlords. He hadn't been particularly interested in humans, but he had been irritated by how they could brutally attack each other and then devote themselves to raising animals and tending plants. Not just to feed themselves.

He hadn't expected it of himself, but his curiosity led him to spend energy researching this perplexing behavior. What could be so captivating about a garden?

It was difficult, but not impossible, to pull objects through the portals. It was just a question of how much energy one were willing to expend. However, this spent energy was lacking elsewhere, in N'Arahn's case for the creation and maintenance of his fortress and legions, which was why he had had to proceed with extreme caution. Every visit to the other realm brought him a handful of soil, without which nothing would have grown here. Single seeds were the most he could bring back; living, growing plants would have been too expensive, too conspicuous. Animals... They only survived the passage through a portal for a short time, during which they had already succumbed to insanity.

Nevertheless, his garden had needed more than just his own care. Despite the plants that gradually grew, even if only as twisted and altered versions, the garden somehow remained empty.

So he created animals from shadows. Semi-material illusions that disappeared as soon as the demonlord left the garden. He knew it was unseemly how much time he spent in this cave. How much of his resources he used to keep his garden alive. And yet he kept sitting under the old tree repeatedly, letting the bustle of the shadow animals and the slow rhythm of the plants wash over him. It calmed him, kept his head cool and clear.

The battleangel still looked at him, unwavering. Did she sense how much this place meant to him?

With a jerk, N'Arahn detached himself from the trunk, looked up into the branches and placed a hand flat on the bark.

"Look up."

It was a feat of strength to brace himself against the protection of the fortress, to break open the cave ceiling and stop the red sand from spilling over his garden. But he was practiced at it, allowing the old tree some time in the sun now and again.

By a most welcome coincidence, a ray of light shone through the dense canopy of leaves right in front of Veidja's feet. The angel's eyes grew wide. For a moment, her restraint was gone, her inner shield, her resistance melted visible.

N'Arahn had surprised her. He watched the realization surge through her, the light filling her as she held her face to the flickering illumination.

A shiver ran over his skin; he could not take his eyes off the warrior.

The pride and relief he had felt when he saw Veidja's reaction to his garden, how accepted he had felt, was nothing compared to the happiness that flowed through him now. His angel glowed, seemed so... whole. Wild. Alive. Beautiful.

The moment was over far too quickly. Veidja took a step back, out of the beam of light. But the sun still seemed to echo in her eyes. She had never asked how he had been able to fulfill their pact back then. Now she knew. He had wanted to give her this gift, no matter what she decided. Though he would not deny that he also hoped this knowledge tipped the scales slightly in his favor.

N'Arahn carefully closed the cave ceiling again. Then he led Veidja to the gate and to her chamber. They were both silent on the way there, watchful, filled with new certainties.

If she was leaving, the level of his loss had probably just risen. The garden was a secret for a reason. And yet he regretted nothing.