Stuck in an Island with Twelve Beautiful Women
Chapter 1008

Chapter 1008: Chapter 1008

That night, as thunder rumbled faintly across the ocean, Jude lay between Serena and Grace. He kissed Serena’s fingers, listened to her heartbeat. She smiled into his neck.

"We’re growing," she whispered.

"In many ways," Grace added, placing a hand on his chest.

They made love slowly, reverently, as if echoing the island’s rhythms. Outside, the watchers watched nothing but rain.

The next day, Jude and a new group returned to the glade. This time, Susan brought a new glyph: a swirl overlaid with a heartbeat line. It meant union. They spoke new names. The watchers appeared again. This time, they moved.

One shape crossed the boundary into the glade. Only a footstep, barely. Jude did not react. He just bowed, slow and deep. The watcher flickered. Then withdrew.

Progress.

They returned once more. That evening, the orchard was alive with a quiet hum. Not fear. Not tension. Anticipation.

Something was coming. Change.

And Jude, with twelve wives, two children, and watchers whispering in the wind, would be ready.

Mist wove through the orchard branches like pale ghosts as dawn crept in, softening each leaf and petal. The world seemed paused, watching. Jude woke to the hush, something stronger than silence, a quiet anticipation. He swung his legs from the mattress of woven ferns, treading bare feet across dew-slick planks, every step a prayer. Grace stirred beside him, stretching limbs heavy with unspoken purpose. He laid a hand on her belly, Raven and Laurel’s laughing presence still nestled within her. No words passed; their shared breath said enough.

Outside, the watchers hovered just beyond ribbon boundaries, faint but seen, as if holding their breath in waiting. Jude stood, began to gather his worn satchel, leather soft from age. Grace joined, gathering supplies, herb-infused water, flatcakes studded with fruit, a fresh glyph-slate painted in golden glaze. They would go together.

Eleven wives emerged one by one. Susan and Rose with woven baskets, Lucy carrying memory-tablet and quills, Stella with her bound scrolls, Sophie with petals colored like dawn, Scarlet with painted bracelets of blue thread, Serena with incense coals, Layla holding herb bundles, Natalie with healing salves, Emma with record-slates etched anew. Zoey and Grace carried ribbons braided around memory-core shards. Jude counted silently: twelve hearts, twelve promises, twelve voices bound by love and purpose.

They walked toward Solen’s Grace glade where watchers had begun their slow approach. Footsteps quiet, hearts steady, love tangible in the space between them. The forest welcomed them with soft rustles as if acknowledging their passage. Moss seemed to reach toward their bare legs. The glade waited. Candles had been planted at the circle’s edge and a low bench of carved wood offered a place to sit.

Jude stepped to the center. Eyes steady on forest edge. He picked up the central glyph-slate. Golden swirl overlapping heart, its meaning announced but not yet known. He raised voice:

"We return to speak truth. We claim again friendship and promise."

He laid slate, placed flatcakes and ribbons at its base. Grace lit incense, smoke rose in spiral that matched their glyph.

The watchers shimmered in response. One shape hovered at the circle’s boundary, as always, but today a second appeared, a slender watcher, fingers of mist descending to brush a ribbon.

Heart clicking like a pulse, Jude swallowed. He stepped forward. "We bring story. Not feast, but song."

Soft, he began to hum that melody they’d made, the one of naming watchers, children humming in echo. Wives joined, voices weaving chords into mist. The watchers drifted forward, one, then two, then three, touching light to slate, to ribbons, to flatcakes with cautious grace. Their shapes rippled, colors shifting. They tasted, they listened.

When song ended, silence thicker than stone. Clover at their feet stood still. Finally, one watcher drifted deeper, two pangs of light touching each wife’s shoulder. Jude felt breath lift from his soul. They let tears come.

Another watcher followed, then more. Mist tangled around their ankles. Watchers filled a dozen spaces in the circle. Children, escorted by Susan and Serena, entered with whispered names and offered petals. The watchers recoiled briefly at first, but then bent low as children called their names, proof of memory. More shapes appeared, not entering but pressing against the edge until the circle bloomed with living mist light.

The wives exhaled together; their breath warmed dawn into day. Jude stepped forward, hands open. "We walk together. Heart to heart. We speak your names. We carry your presence through our home. Remain. Learn us. We learn you."

The watchers paused, still. One shape, largest, knelt where the glyph-slate had been set. Light brightened there, glowed like a promise. It pulsed in return.

Then they receded, drifting away, back over the tree line, ascending higher, leaving dimensional shimmer behind. Wives sank to their knees, tearful, elated.

Jude closed his eyes. The watchers had chosen to step into the glade. Today, not markers, they had entered. Sanctuary was formed anew.

They returned home in quiet procession. Fifteen pair of eyes reflected the early sun. Children led the way, skipping in giggles. Women followed, arms linked, spells of gratitude woven in silence.

The heart of the orchard glowed softly now, each sapling tied with fresh ribbons. Candles burnt low where offerings had lain. The watchers no longer hovered beyond, they walked within places previously silent. The orchard felt changed, friendlier, softer, not wild, but alive in knowing connection.

Susan poured water into the basin and invited the wives to wash hands before breakfast. Laughter spilled over bowls of root stew and flatcakes warm with honey. Children spoke of watchers glimpsed in dreams overnight.

After eating, Jude and Grace walked together to the shrine by the broken bridge. They carried memory-slates, each etched with lessons learned, vows renewed. They knelt and held them within bowls, letting water swirl through their fingers.

The watchers had gathered again, six near vines, others near tree bark. They glowed. They pulsed.

Jude spoke soft: "Here we promise again to remain faithful. To this bond, this home, this island’s mystery."