Isanna pulled off her helmet and padded hood and ruffled her short, sweaty hair to loosen it up a little. She had already leaned her shield and spear against the wall, but she longed to take off the rest of the armor.

Her gaze brushed her companions, who, like her, looked exhausted and grim. Usually the practice fights, while serious, were interspersed with mutual teasing and happy laughter. After all, the White Mountain was a haven of joy and the times between the closings were also times to relax and forget.

Isanna put her helmet down on a brick, unable to take her eyes off one of the decorations on the silvery metal for a moment. The light of the sun was reflected in the scratched but polished curve, hurting the battleangel's eyes, but she did not want to look away.

Even if you let yourself be blinded, it won't drive away the shadows.

With a jerk, Isanna turned back to the brightly paved courtyard, which led to one of the countless gardens on one side. She tried to smile encouragingly when the other warriors looked at her.

The first practice fights after the recurring breaking apart of her world were each time marked by melancholy. The gaps in the rows were just too obvious. Every closure, every renewed pushing back of the demons, claimed the lives of many angels. They gave the bodies of the fallen to the light and the archivists announced the names of the angels whose Old Souls had embarked on the journey to find another destination. That was the way things went. They could not always save the bodies from the demons, but the souls returned to be reborn.

This time...

A feather-light touch on her shoulder, barely noticeable through the armor, made Isanna flinch. Jahni had approached the group to offer healing and refreshment. Her ocean-blue eyes looked at the warrior from above, searchingly, but they got a soft, knowing expression when Isanna just stared tired at her.

The enhancer stroked her cheek with her fingertips. Immediately a warm trickle spread over the skin of the battleangel, flowing down her neck and chest, relaxed cramps, relieved bruises. Even Isanna's mood lifted a little. The blessing of an enhancer has always been a benefit. Today it was a necessity.

Jahni turned away to look after the next of the companions, but Isanna grabbed her slender hand and held it briefly. She pressed a gentle kiss on the angel's fingertips, then let her go.

A quick nod to say goodbye. Today they all remained silent.

Isanna tucked her helmet under her arm and picked up her shield and spear again. Her equipment had to be brought to the Green Branches, as the recently reborn angels were called in a loving way. It was their job to take care of washing and repairing, as long as they could not be used for more extensive tasks.

But first...

Isanna's steps turned away from the corridors that led deeper into the White Mountain. Away from the bright stone of the fortress carved into the hillside, away from the lights, away from the other angels.

The quiet of the partial shade under the trees enveloped Isanna like a protective blanket. She knew where she was going, but she was in no hurry.

Her hand tightened painfully on the shaft of the spear as she thought of the feast after the last battle. The proclamation of the flight of souls was both a sad and solemn act in which all those who had died were honored. After the last name had faded away, the angels became uneasy. At first she had attributed it to a mistake. A battleangel should be missing? It couldn't be. But at some point it became clear: one of them had not returned, her soul was lost.

Isanna carefully placed her weapons and helmet in the thick, soft grass on the bank of a clear pond. She undid the buckles on her breastplate and slipped out of the padding underneath. Released, she breathed a sigh of relief, letting the gentle breeze cool her sweaty skin.

I need to get the flaps greased, she thought as she examined the openings in the back of her armor. It was painful when she called her wings and the flaps didn't immediately give in to the pressure from within.

The breastplate found a place next to her other belongings, followed by the bracers and greaves, as well as her boots. Isanna checked each part carefully so that she could tell the Branches afterwards what repairs or improvements were needed.

What could have happened to the soul of this battleangel? Veidja was her name. Isanna hadn't known her personally. The angel warriors were numerous and of the three castes they lived the most dangerous life. It wasn't uncommon for them to meet but not get to know each other.

Rather serious, but still approachable and open-minded, that's how they described you to me.

Absently, Isanna also took off her damp, sticky clothes and spread them out on a flat stone so that they could dry a little. Her gaze fell on some cracks in the stone that formed a confused pattern. Her still outstretched arm fit painfully into this picture.

A hot lump of anger formed in her stomach as she brushed the skin on her upper arm. Rosy, with deep red cracks, spots and welts. The "gift" of a higher demon who caught her in battle with some kind of unholy fire. Basically, she had to be grateful that all she had left were those scars that the enhancers had been unable to prevent despite their best efforts. The scorched skin sometimes still prickled, on difficult days a slight pain ran through her whole arm.

Her comrades in arms had rushed to her aid as quickly as possible and her wounds had been treated on the dusty ground of the now closed split of worlds, but the fire had eaten deep and not everything could be regenerated. It could have been far worse. If the demon had not been distracted, she would now be one of the Branches, with no memories of her previous lives, back to the beginning of her training.

Isanna stretched her battered muscles until she felt tired and warm. The narrow waterfall that poured into the small pond rustled calming and inviting.

The dark thoughts, however, could not be shaken off. What if the missing one had fallen into the split of the worlds when it opened again? Her soul would be gone, just ... dissolved.

Isanna swallowed hard. Her feet plunged into the cool water of the pond and she stared at the rings rippling away on the surface.

The second option was no better. Veidja could have fallen into the hands of a demonlord and his pack. Another darkness that couldn't be reality. Isanna's fingers found the notches of the injury again, traced the lines. It really could have been so much worse...

Nobody talked about it, but the mood during the practice fights earlier had shown the angels' uncertainty and sadness all too clearly. They were shaken, didn't want to, no, couldn't believe that this soul was lost.

But they would get over it. They would heal. As always.

The battleangel gave herself a jerk. Pushing off only once, then plunged into the water that was shimmering with sunspots. She came back to the surface with a snort and shook out her short hair, which must now be a few shades darker gray-brown.

A bright movement between the trees drew her attention. A slim, tall figure emerged from the shadows that Isanna recognized immediately. She held out her hand invitingly to the newcomer and was rewarded with a gentle smile. Jahni pulled her white dress off her shoulders with a quick movement and let it fall carelessly into the grass. Long, golden-yellow hair flowed around her like a second piece of clothing. With every step deeper into the water it parted, now sliding behind her as a shining veil. The small waves caused by her movements crashed against the warrior's skin, making her shudder.

Isanna closed her eyes as the enhancer kissed her tenderly on the forehead and pulled her close. She drew in the angel's scent deeply: warm, like rain on fresh grass. A new beginning.

Shortly before she finally sank into the comfort and forgetting promising embrace of Jahni, she thought again of the missing angel.

The lost light in the dark.