Stuck in an Island with Twelve Beautiful Women
Chapter 1013

Chapter 1013: Chapter 1013

Scarlet smiled. "We’re good at that. You’re good at that."

He brushed her braid back and kissed her temple. "You give me reason to be."

The night pressed around them, warm and living. Jude felt the stir of something deeper now, past peace, past survival. The watchers were not just guardians or threats or spirits. They were neighbors. Teachers. And maybe, in time, friends.

But the mountain loomed still in the center, quiet and waiting.

Tomorrow, they would decide what it meant to answer a dream. And perhaps one day soon, they would stand together before the forbidden place, not as invaders, but as children of the island, seeking truth not conquest.

Tonight, though, they rested in each other’s arms, the orchard whispering soft lullabies, and the watchers watching, always watching, from the edge of knowing.

Misty light lingered in the orchard as Jude opened his eyes, the air warm and damp like a half-forgotten dream. He stretched slowly, feeling the echo of last night’s whisper, a dream Serena had had, guiding them toward the mountain. Today felt like the turning point. The watchers drifted silently above the saplings, pale orbs of blue poised in the trees. Jude rose, walking barefoot across grass that held too much dew. Grace appeared at his side without sound, pulling her shawl around her shoulders. Her eyes were steady but thoughtful. He reached for her hand and squeezed. All around the longhouse, rhythmic breathing spoke of families sleeping deeply, shelter in unity. Jude took a breath and nodded to Grace. "Today, we decide," he whispered.

They roused the others with soft urgency, no alarm but determined calm. The wives gathered, bodies stretching, eyes bright with intent. Of the twelve, eleven had stayed in the orchard except Stella, who’d slept on guard near the garden. All knew what hearing Serena’s dream meant. Children stirred, curious, slipping from sleep into purpose. Jude addressed them all. "The watchers wait. Serena’s dream showed guidance. Today we go to the mountain’s edge, not to confront, but to listen." He paused. "We go with peace." There were nods and firm breaths. Natalie carried water; Susan packed herbs; Rose took incense; Scarlet checked knives but kept them sheathed; Emma and Lucy gathered memory slates; Zoe and Layla wove ribbons; Sophie and Stella took torches just in case. Grace and her carried Laurel and Raven; Jude shouldered their supplies shared, small bundles of flatcakes and dried fruit.

Out of the orchard they moved in tandem, orchard fading behind, watchers becoming fainter. The forest closed in, green ceiling entwined with vines; earth soft with aged loam. Every so often a watcher streaked between trunks, a breath of brilliance to guide them. The group paused at glyph markers they’d carved early on, traced patterns beneath finger, affirmations of safety and memory. Children mimicked gestures, learning watchers’ hand signs. They passed pools that caught light like plates, reflecting watcher-blue dusk, though the sky overhead glittered gray. Along the path, ribbons marked their trail like constellations pinned to earth.

Three hours into their climb, where ferns loomed chest-high and moss dripped over rocky outcrops, the sky cleared. Above, watchers glowed in clusters; the procession slowed in reverence. Jude opened his mouth to speak, but voices hushed. Then Serena pointed upward. A watcher above them pulsed strong blue, then brighter. It flickered rhythm before drifting skyward. Others followed, drifting like a silent signal. A hush fell as light floods through clouds. They advanced as renewed. Perhaps it was invitation.

They reached foothills of black stone, ground hard and layer-worn. Mira’s Dream had guided them here. They’d come upon a ring of eroded stone blocks laid in circle, ancient, weathered, carved with glyph echoes of watchers and tree roots. This formation did not belong to them. Stella whispered, "It predates us." Light traveled between them, illuminating carved shapes. They stood at threshold of unknown ritual ground, watchers hovering low. Jude placed Laurel in a wife’s arms, giving her hand to Grace. He stepped into the circle, torch held upright. "We come with open hearts," he called softly. Wives arranged offerings along circle’s edge: painted stones, braided ribbons, seedlings, memory tablets. Children placed flatcakes, offered names.

Jude placed a ribbon-laced shard of memory-stone at center. He lit incense. Grace lit another torch. They stood in pairs until each lantern glowed. All twelve wives reached forward, setting tokens from memory bundles: Lucy’s earliest drawing, Rose’s crafted bone amulet, Emma’s carved flute piece, Susan’s healing dagger with inscription, Layla’s woven vine bracelet, Natalie’s fresh herb bouquet, Zoe’s painted glyph-stone, Sophie’s sewn patch depicting watchers, Stella’s torches and glyph-slate, Scarlet’s thread-wrapped herb vial, Serena’s woven ribbon of watcher silk. They stepped back as one.

Jude lifted his torch higher. "We bring pieces of our souls," he said. "Witnessed by watchers. We accept your guidance now." He bent, touched his palm to the stone ground. "Show us what we must learn."

They waited. Eyes across stone ring and dancing watcher lights. The afternoon sun shifted; shadows melted into dusk. Suddenly torches snapped, wind rushing low, and a watcher streaked across sky in swift arc, trailing tendrils of mist. Waterfalls echoed in distant valley. Another watcher pulsed at their feet. The ring came to life, glyph carvings glowed faint, lines intertwining stone and watcher light. From the center, soft vibration hummed through ground into feet.

Urged by that pulse, Jude moved deeper, opening palms. Grace followed, repeating silent prayer. Watcher lights drifted inward; the tokens they placed vibrated softly. The ground responded, tiny shoots sprouted between stones, glowing shoots rising between carvings. A single seed sprout at center glimmered pale, others followed. A watcher bent low to touch it with mist. Everyone gasped in wonder.

Night fell suddenly, candles flickered. In darkness, watcher-lights shone brightest, bathing tokens and seedlings. All watched, hearts full. Then, as one, the watchers circled the ring, drifting skyward until they formed an arch above the circle. Light cascaded like dawn rising. The seeds sprouted vines that twined memory ribbons from ribbons to stone edges.