Stuck in an Island with Twelve Beautiful Women
Chapter 1018

Chapter 1018: Chapter 1018

Mist lay heavy over the orchard as the first stirrings of dawn guided Jude awake. Each leaf shimmered with dew, watchers drifting overhead like pale echoes of promises kept. Jude rose, feet bare, stepping into dew-chilled grass, fingers trailing along braided ribbons. His hand brushed the young seedlings planted at the mountain’s foot, they glowed faintly, pulsing like slow breath. Grace emerged from the house, shawl wrapped around her shoulders, Laurel against her hip. Jude offered his hand and she took it. They paused together, listening to the orchard’s hush.

Soon, the wives followed, seven dressed in the woven bark robes they’ve worn during mountain rituals, the rest in their practical garments from yesterday’s mapping. Children emerged, clutching petals and smooth stones. They approached the ring of seedlings in quiet procession. Jude held his breath as the wives knelt, placing offerings: fig-slices, glyph-petals, bowls of spring water. Each wife whispered a vow, naming watchers, seedlings, earth, memory, light, bond, future. The watchers pulsed in response, dipping low, glimmering as if learning their names. The children repeated the vows, voices soft with wonder.

After breakfast, flatcakes and herbal tea, Jude gathered wives for a new expedition deeper into mountain slopes. He chose seven strong hearts: Susan, Rose, Serena, Lucy, Layla, Stella, and Emma. Armed with memory-slates and supplies, they left behind Grace, Scarlet, Natalie, Zoe, and Sophie to guard ring and tend orchard children. Jude spoke to watchers, promising care for seedlings while they walked. They stepped into the forest beyond the ring, mist parting before them, ribbons guiding their path.

They followed watcher-light deeper, ascending rocky slopes where foliage thinned. Birds and insects stayed silent; only distant drip of water and distant wind through pines. They reached a plateau dotted by ancient glyph-carved boulders, faces fierce yet protective. At the center lay a shallow pool, water still and mirror-black. Lucy knelt and held a slate at the edge; watcher-light pulsed across its surface, revealing ancient glyph-words: Guardians of Memory, Keepers of Light. Crescent shapes pulsed in ripple across the pool. The group gasped.

Jude placed two flatcakes on the pool’s rim, offered water, touched his palm gently to the pool’s surface. Watchers emerged overhead, shimmering in pattern. A breeze rolled through, soft and warm. The wives responded by lighting incense and offering glyph-petals. Together they murmured the ancient watchersong they’d discovered near ring. The watchers pulsed until the glyph-boulders glowed, vines at their bases flickered with pale blue light. Silence settled thick as velvet.

Empowered by ritual, they trekked farther, mapping watcher pulses and carving small glyph tokens into bark to mark passage. Afternoon found them near a steep ravine; watcher pulses strong and urgent. Jude spoke softly: "This place remembers sorrow and strength." Serena knelt and pressed her hand to stone, naming watchers and ancestors. Watchers coalesced at ravine’s edge in swirling mist, pulsing slow and steady. The wives watched in awe.

As dusk approached, they turned toward home. Forest darkened, ribbons shimmered faintly overhead guiding descent. They emerged at ring just as torch-tipped lanterns flickered it awake. Grace welcomed them warmly; the wives who stayed tended seedlings beside watching children. Jude relayed the glyph message from pool; Lucy etched runes into new slate. Watcher pulses responded with soft arcs overhead.

That evening they celebrated under watchers’ arc: communal meal, laughter, spoken blessings. Children sang watcher-signs while wives wove new ribbons into saplings. Energy thrummed with unity. Before rest, they lay beneath watchers again, grouped near firelit longhouse, eyes closed in peace. The watchers glowed above in steady rhythm, soap-bubble pulses moving in hush above silent orchard.

The next morning mist again, but hearts clear. Wives returned to work: guarding seedlings, teaching children watchers’ language, mapping glyph-ribbons deeper into orchard. Jude and Grace sat together by the ring, watching first buds glimmer with watcher-light. She leaned her head on his shoulder. They whispered future plans: ceremonies at ravine edge, guardian corridors through forest, teaching circles for children.

Jude closed his eyes, feeling the orchard, watchers, wives, children, their covenant grown from seed into living tapestry. Here, they stood: Keepers of watchers, of memory, of mountain’s song. Now they would walk deeper into story, together.

Mist clung to the orchard like a living veil of whispered breath when Jude awoke beside Grace. She pressed into him, eyes half-open, hand on his chest. He leaned over and kissed her gently on the forehead, the familiar warmth grounding him in purpose. Twelve bodies slept around them, wrapped in blankets and vines. The watchers drifted above, faint blue lights blinking like distant stars before daylight fully claimed the sky. Jude slid from under their woven shelter, feet brushing dew-soaked grass as he moved toward the nursery plot by the fig-glyph tree. Thick green shoots pressed upward through fertile earth, radiant from watcher-light’s gift. Dawn’s quiet held promise.

Gradually, wives and children stirred. Grace roused the others, and soon Susan, Rose, Stella, Serena, Emma, Lucy, Zoey, Layla, Scarlet, Natalie, and Sophie stood by the glimmering seedlings. Raven and Laurel tumbled down the small slope to join them, bare-footed and bright. Jude raised his voice softly, weaving watchersign over hearts and hands: gratitude for seeds, watchers, island, memory, promise. One by one the wives knelt and added offerings, flatcakes, tablets of memory, trimmed herbs, jewels of glyph-painted stones. Each bowed, named covenant. Watchers pulsed in response, rising then fanning outward, blessing the seedlings. The children repeated names timidly, giggling softly at watchers dipping low before receding. Silence folded them all in unity.

Breakfast followed beneath tree canopy, soft porridges and fresh fig tarts, fruit-sweet tea. Laughter blended with birdcalls, watchers dancing in sight’s edge. The ring glowed subtle gold-blue, visible to all. Jude’s gaze swept the gathering: love and guardianship personified. He stood and addressed them.

"Today," he began, voice sure, "we venture beyond seed ring, deeper along watcher-marked paths. We continue learning mountain’s memory-runestones. We will map three new watcher-sites, places of old power, and bring back memory to root here."

Grace stepped beside him.