Stuck in an Island with Twelve Beautiful Women
Chapter 1006

Chapter 1006: Chapter 1006

The three strangers followed Jude and the wives toward the village. As they walked, the island responded, trees leaning inward, vines shifting slightly, flowers blooming in their wake. The visitors noticed. "Your island is aware," one of them whispered. "More than aware," Stella replied. "It’s alive." They reached the central clearing. The visitors looked around with awe. "No metal. No electricity. No concrete. And yet, harmony. Balance." "The island gave us what we needed," Grace said. "But only when we gave ourselves first." The strangers exchanged glances. "You built this with twelve?" "With thirteen," Lucy said, glancing at Jude. "He led us." "Jude," the lead visitor repeated. "You’re not entirely human." It wasn’t a question. Jude didn’t flinch. "No. I was once, long ago. Now... something more." "You’ve touched divine echoes," the visitor said. "You carry a god’s grief." Jude said nothing. That night, they held a gathering around the fire. The strangers sat with them, wide-eyed as they watched the rituals, the songs, the food, the shared stories. Each wife took a turn sharing a memory, not for the strangers, but for the Hall of Memory. When it was Jude’s turn, he rose slowly. "You say your world was broken. That the gods there became cruel. That might have been our fate too, once. But here, the gods fell. And we were left to choose what came next. Love or cruelty. Survival or domination. We chose to remember. And now we build." The lead visitor leaned forward. "May we offer something in return?" "That depends," Jude said. "On what it is." The visitor removed a small crystal from beneath their robe. It floated slightly in their palm. "This holds the memories of our people. The history of our broken Earth. We’d like to place it within your Hall." Jude looked to the others. Their expressions were mixed, cautious, curious. Susan stepped forward and took the crystal gently. "We’ll show it to the island. If it accepts it, then it stays." "Fair," the visitor said. That night, Susan and Jude entered the Hall of Memory. The island’s heart pulsed softly as they approached. They placed the crystal beneath the central stone, and a strand of light emerged from the floor, enveloping it. There was no sound. No quake. Just a long breath, like the island thinking. Then the crystal sank into the floor. The light shifted, turning violet for a moment. The island had accepted it. When they returned, the strangers bowed again. "Thank you," the leader said. "You’ve given us hope." "We don’t give," Jude replied. "We share. So long as it’s returned in kind." The next days were full of cautious learning. The strangers moved among the wives with care, asking questions but never overstepping. They watched as Emma taught the younger trees how to grow in spirals for shade. They listened as Layla recounted their early years on the island, the fear, the blood, the survival. Jude met with the leader often, walking the riverbanks, discussing the nature of divinity and ruin. "Your world," Jude asked once, "is it gone completely?" "Not gone," the leader said. "Just... poisoned. By ambition. Machines that fed on the stars. Gods that demanded obedience instead of wonder. We fled before the end." "And now you seek to copy this?" Jude asked. "No," the leader said. "To remember. To relearn. To ask the question again: what makes a world worth saving?" "That," Jude said, "is the only question that matters." On the seventh day, a new voice entered Jude’s dreams, not from the island, not from his wives. A deep, distant voice, familiar and alien. The voice of Neluvir. "You’ve awakened something old," she whispered. "Not all gods are dead. Some sleep beneath the sea." Jude jolted awake. Outside, the sky rippled with green light. He stepped into the clearing. The strangers were already awake, standing at the edge of the beach, staring. The sea boiled. Something was rising. Not fast. Not violent. But massive. A shape beneath the water. Eyes glowing blue. Dozens of them. A form too vast to comprehend, emerging like a city from the depths. One of the strangers whispered, "It followed us." Jude turned, his face unreadable. "What is it?" "A god," the leader said. "One of the old ones. It heard the same pulse we did. But it doesn’t seek peace." The island shuddered. Vines tightened. Trees leaned back. Jude’s wives gathered behind him, each already armed, their bodies glowing faintly with the island’s gifts. Jude stepped forward. His hand lit with white fire. "Then let it hear our answer."

Mist clung low to the orchard paths as Jude stepped barefoot across the soft loam, feeling the earth’s pulse through his soles. The morning air held the chill of unseen eyes, the scent of petals not yet unfurled, the electric silence after a whispered name. Beyond the orchard edge, the watchers remained still, faint outlines in drifting blue. They had not approached again since that night of song and invitation, but neither had they vanished. Jude watched them now, heart steady, pulse calm, the weight of their presence no longer unfamiliar. He moved past the fig-glyph tree, brushing his fingers across the braided ribbon, and found Susan already awake by the basin, washing their clothes in a rhythm that matched the breeze. Her long hair was tied up with twine, sleeves rolled high. When she saw him, she smiled in that way that spoke of countless shared mornings.

"You’re up early," she said softly.

"Didn’t sleep much," he replied, crouching beside her. "Too many thoughts."

"About them?" She nodded toward the mist.

"And us." His eyes flicked to the orchard, then to the house where the others still slept, some huddled together. "Something changed that night. The watchers are waiting, but for what, I’m not sure."

Susan wrung the cloth and dipped it again. "You think they want more?"

"Maybe. Or maybe they’re testing our patience. Our peace."

He took the cloth from her hands, finishing the task quietly.