Stuck in an Island with Twelve Beautiful Women
Chapter 1012

Chapter 1012: Chapter 1012

It moved not with menace but curiosity, bending slightly to observe the spiral of offerings. Its form pulsed with a soft blue glow, echoing the same color Jude had seen the night they sang beneath the saplings. The watcher circled them slowly. When it reached Jude, it paused.

Jude met its presence with open palms. "We invite understanding," he whispered. "We don’t come to claim or conquer. We live to grow. We live to love."

The watcher shimmered. Then it raised one long, flickering arm and touched the lantern. The flame danced brighter, burning white for a moment before settling into a calm gold. Then the watcher stepped back, blending into the mist again until it vanished.

They sat in stunned silence.

Natalie spoke first. "Did that... was that agreement?"

Emma nodded slowly. "Or acknowledgment. Or curiosity."

Susan wiped a tear from her cheek. "It didn’t feel like a warning. It felt... gentle."

Jude stood. "Let’s not ask for more today. Let them rest with our words."

They packed their things, left the spiral untouched, and returned to the orchard under a sky now fully awakened. The air smelled of sunlight and old bark. As they crossed back into familiar paths, Grace and Rose ran to meet them, faces alight with questions. Jude only smiled and nodded.

That night, they all gathered together under the stars. No watchers appeared this time, but the air was thick with presence, as if the forest remembered. After dinner, Jude wandered to the spring with Layla. They hadn’t spoken much that day, but her hand had found his under the table during the meal, and when he rose, she followed.

They walked barefoot, following the lantern-lit path through the garden, passing herb beds and water jugs still beading with condensation. The spring was quiet, the surface glassy, reflecting the moon like a hidden eye.

Layla sat at the edge, her legs dangling into the cool water. "You’ve been quieter lately."

"I’m listening more," Jude replied, sitting beside her. "Not just to the watchers. To all of you."

Layla smiled. "And what do you hear?"

He turned to her, studying the way her hair curled at the edge from the humidity, the way her fingers traced circles in the water. "I hear steadiness in you. Even when the world bends."

She leaned her head on his shoulder. "It still frightens me. That they might take this all away."

"They haven’t yet."

"No," she whispered. "But I know how stories end."

Jude wrapped an arm around her. "We write our own story. And even if they change the ink, we hold the pen."

Layla tilted her face toward him. "Say that again."

He did.

She kissed him then, slow and deliberate, tasting of moss and moonlight. The spring lapped gently against their ankles, and the lanterns flickered in rhythm with their breaths. Jude’s hands moved carefully, reverently, as if she were made of mist herself. Her lips curved into soft gasps against his jaw, her body folding into his like wind into sail.

Later, when they lay side by side in the grass beside the spring, Jude whispered, "You don’t have to be brave all the time."

Layla kissed his chest. "But I choose to be."

The next day began early. Jude rose with Rose, who was already grinding herbs near the smoke pit. Her hair was pulled back, sweat beading at her temples. She greeted him with a kiss and handed him a mortar.

"I need more of the white-root," she said. "The children have sore throats again."

Jude kissed her forehead. "I’ll find Lucy and head into the grove."

He did, and Lucy was waiting near the garden wall, knives strapped to her thighs, expression clear and sharp as ever. She was the quietest of them, but also one of the most reliable. She spoke little during their trek, only pointing occasionally to markings she’d carved into bark the week before.

As they walked, Jude felt the weight of everything settling deeper, these simple tasks now layered with meaning. Every herb cut, every whisper exchanged, felt like a step into a greater weave.

Lucy stopped suddenly. "There."

He followed her gaze. A small patch of white-root grew beneath a leaning cedar, untouched by animals. As they knelt to harvest, a watcher shimmered into form behind the trees, not close, just watching. Lucy didn’t flinch.

"We’re safe," she said simply.

Jude nodded. "We must keep earning that."

Back at the orchard, they handed the root to Rose, who began grinding it with honey. She mixed in boiling water and handed small cups to the children, who drank with wrinkled noses. The day flowed on, gardening, cooking, laughter echoing from tree to tree.

That night, Jude took Natalie aside. She had been quieter than usual, eyes searching corners, hands twitching at the hem of her dress.

"What is it?" he asked as they walked past the edge of the orchard.

She hesitated. "Last night... I had a dream. Not like the ones we’ve had before. It wasn’t memory. It was... instruction."

He turned toward her fully. "Go on."

She touched his arm. "I was standing near the mountain. Alone. But I wasn’t afraid. I saw a figure, tall, like the watchers, but more... detailed. Like it was wearing a skin of stars. It didn’t speak. It pointed to the volcano and then to my chest."

"Your heart?"

She nodded.

"Did it feel like a threat?"

"No," she whispered. "It felt like a request."

Jude exhaled. "You think it’s telling you to go there?"

"I don’t know. Maybe not me. Maybe us."

He took her hand. "We don’t rush this. But if the watchers want a meeting, "

"Then we’ll meet them," she finished.

Later, after the fires dimmed and the children were asleep, Jude sat at the edge of the orchard with Scarlet. She was weaving a new set of watcher-ribbons, her fingers deft and quick.

"I think they like blue," she said without looking up.

"I think they like being seen," Jude answered.