Chapter 36
The Legion Building in Manhattan is an astonishing feat of horticultural engineering that must be recorded in our histories. As such, we have requested and compiled papers on the topic by ten eminent scholars across multiple fields, with two specialist photographers providing a visual reference.
—Archival document in the Angelic Library, Refuge (After the War)
“Walk with me, hbeebti.”
They walked out into the vibrant colors of New York in fall, and ended up in the section of forest next to the Tower that was simply called Legion’s Home.
Because that was what it was, born of the skyscraper the Legion had turned into an indoor forest in their years in New York.
The building had long since disintegrated, the last pieces removed when they became unsafe to leave in situ, but the forest had been permitted to grow as it would.
It had come through snows and heavy storms undamaged, and the massive canopies of the seven giant trees that ringed the forest protected what was underneath so well even in the depths of winter that the area below remained clear of snow and ice, seeming to maintain its own temperate climate.
In the center of it all grew the Legion tree, a tree far taller than many a skyscraper.
The entire place was enough of a natural wonder that scientists—mortal and immortal—had asked permission to study it over the centuries.
Many papers had been written about it, without anyone ever being able to explain how this wondrous place existed.
To keep it safe and protected—for it was the Legion’s home—it had never been opened up to the public, and Tower residents knew to treat it like a treasure.
No parties in the Legion forest, no masses landing in the branches.
This was a place for contemplation and wonder.
Today, Elena and Raphael walked under the canopy of the nearest tree and deep into the temperate interior. As always, the leaves rustled in a soft undulating pattern, tree to tree.
Not a breeze.
A specific and familiar pattern no one else had ever caught or reported.
Nobody would ever convince Elena that it was anything but a warm welcome to their aeclari by the Legion. She didn’t know how the Legion had embedded their love for Elena and Raphael into the trees, but that it was there was a beautiful truth.
“I told you that I was a guard in the angelic nursery once,” Raphael said after they’d been inside the tranquil green silence for several minutes.
“I was young—guards are not much needed at the Refuge, as all the strongholds have powerful angels who will come to the assistance of the Medica if called, but it makes the parents feel better to know their newborns are protected, and so soldiers of two or three hundred often stand watch there.”
“I remember Izzy doing it for a few years while he was based at the Refuge. Sam and Tarielle, too.”
There hadn’t been a significant number of births since the baby boom immediately after the War of the Death Cascade. It was as if once the population was balanced, the clock had slowed down to a glacial pace. Just enough births for a watch to be kept.
Izzy and Sam had both sent her photos of them cradling babies in their muscled arms. Izzy’s smile had been a beam of sunlight, while Sam had reminded her more of Raphael with children—a quiet, protective intensity to him.
Tari had been different yet again, the recordings taken by her cousin, Sam, showing the now-senior wing commander singing sweetly to unsettled babies until they calmed, their tiny bodies curled up in sleep.
“It is considered a boring task by most warriors—before they do it,” Raphael said. “Afterward…it changes us for the better. To be in charge of protecting such fragile new lives, it defines who we are—who we should be—as warriors.”
“Protectors,” Elena said.
“Yes, just so.” He opened out his wings, one magnificent wing brushing over her own, before he closed them back in. “While most nursery watches are quiet…sometimes, things do go wrong.”
Lines carved into his face, he continued.
“During my time on watch, I was in the Medica when first one, then a second woman died while with child.” The words were wrenched out of him.
“It is a known complication and risk with angelic births—even Keir cannot stop it when things go that horribly wrong. Both times, we lost the mother and her child.”
Raphael shuddered out a breath.
“Listen, Archangel,” Elena said, her hands cupping his face and her voice firm—because she wasn’t about to allow this fear to torment him.
“I have archangelic cells in my body.” Her ability to heal was akin to that of a much, much older angel.
“I know there are no guarantees in life, but I can tell you that our little spark feels as strong as…well…a super-parasite.”
Their child kicked just then, as if to prove the point.
Her “oof” made the searing blue of Raphael’s eyes flash with untrammeled emotion before he looked down.
Taking his hand, she placed it on the spot where the kiddo’s knee or foot or elbow was trying its best to poke its way out of her body.
“See?” she murmured. “Probably going to out-feral Naasir and Andi’s cubs. ”
“I’ll be proud that our child is such a wild creature.” An exhale as he wrapped her up in his wings and arms. “I have tasted fear before this, when I thought to lose you—now, that fear is multiplied until I can’t breathe at times.”
She slid her arms around him. “We’ve got each other to hold on to,” she told him, because no one knew her own fears as well as Raphael. “And we’ve got each other to lean on—when I falter, I lean on you. Lean on me, beloved mine.”
Shuddering, he bent his head so that his cheek rubbed against hers, and they stood there in the forest created by the Legion that was a little piece of magic.
She thought she caught a flash of light from the corner of her eye, as if the Legion mark had glittered, but when she looked, she saw only the subtly glowing outline of the stylized dragon.
That often happened when Raphael came to the forest.
Here, he was closer to their Legion than anywhere else in the world.