Stuck in an Island with Twelve Beautiful Women
Chapter 1019

They chose six to go, Emma, Lucy, Stella, Serena, Layla, Susan, comforted the children, leaving them with Grace, Rose, Zoe, Natalie, Scarlet, Sophie. Love and purpose anchored both parties. Jude kissed Grace’s hand, she held tape of seed-water and blessed him with whispered prayer. They hugged children, promised safe return.

At forest’s edge, watchers glimmering faint arrows in morning light, wives carried food packs and scrolls. Each clipped glyph-ribbon to brow, attaching translation-slate and hymn-slate to belt. They entered deeper paths. Birds startled at their passage, vines curved aside. Under canopy, pulses guided them along hidden creek. They traced watcher-light in moss and stone, stopping for inspection.

First waypoint: shallow cave under old root-system. Watcher glow bright. They cleared vines at entrance. Inside, damp stone; glyph-carvings glowed faint. Stella lit torch, mounted slate to rock. Whispered watchersong. Lucy pressed slate to surface; carvings shimmered, glyphs syncing. She read faint runes: Earth remembers courage; root stands when storms pass. Wives murmured vow: Courage under hardship. Offerings placed: flatcakes held by root-shaped bowl of stone, small vine-wrapped memory tokens. Firelight flickered watchers inside cave, pulsing silent applause.

Second waypoint: ridge overlook of ravine. Watcher-light formed ring in midair above chasm. Serena pointed; wives laid offerings at rock edge. They wrote vows in finger-slate: Bond beyond fear; our memory guides. They sang glyph-hymn and watched watchers spiral outward in slow concealed patterns. Watching watchers light echo their song.

Third waypoint: waterfall glade. Moss slick. Rainbows in spray. Watchers streamed through mist. Wives set offerings on rock ledge, jade-painted stones, glyph-petals, memory-slates. Layla carried water to fill small basin carved in rock. They whispered watchersong with cracked voices. Watchers pulsing bright as stars. Wives wiped tears. A watcher flitted low and touched basin water. Droplets glowed gold-blue. They drank a few, they feel unity. Others washed hands, blessing them.

Evening approach. Sky amber. They retraced path along creek, dusk sighing through leaves. At ridge, watchers escorted them off mountain-slope, lights marking safe descent. Descending slowly, hearts full. They reached ring under flickering torches arranged by sentinel-wives. Children cheered; wives embraced under watchers’ gentle glow.

Under fig-glyph they shared tales of each waypoint, reading newly scored runes. Seedlings stirred as offerings placed. Each wife added glyph-petal to the ring.

They loosed laughter and tears as husband and wives hugged. Food shared again, firelight rich with shared purpose. Jude stood before watchers, hands raised.

"Our covenant deepens. We carry memory in earth, rock, water. We guard ring and report mountain’s whisper. We continue teaching watchersong. We welcome island’s pulse among us." Light pulsed overhead at each vow.

They sang watchersong in broken harmonies, stronger for their journey. Watchers shimmered in response, weaving new ribbons of light. Wives formed hands-strewn circle, children center. Connection shaped where roots met sky.

Night fell. Families slept inside longhouse. Some kept watch beneath watchers, Jude with Grace and Susan by firepit, watching watchers arc over seedlings. Their breaths synchronized, hearts gentle.

Jude’s hand gripped Grace’s, blessed union across mission’s work. She whispered, "We’re home enough."

He replied: "Our story grows mountain-side. Our ring sings watchersong. We have lit the path."

They kissed softly.

Dawn next day yielded gentle rain, orchard cleansed, seedlings bright. Wives and children greeted watcher-showers with petals and song. Jude watched gratitude glowing in their eyes.

He led wives to weave new glyph-ribbon along creek-edge, chorus of unity. Watchers glowed faint trails along streamline; vines of seedlings responded with tendrils of light. Friendship shaping island bloodline.

Soon morning became midday, Wives engaged in teaching sessions: children memorize watchersign language; wives carve runes into marker-stones at waypoint footings; Grace cooks seed-porridge for walkers and ring-tenders alike. Jude surveys from hilltop, heart swelling.

Evening soon. He calls them back near ring. Tonight they begin watchersong passages in chorus at mountain base. They gather, memory-slates held.

At dusk, they climb path from ring to waypoint 1, torches in hand. Wives ahead, children sheltered by Grace and Rose. Watchers glint above. They chant watchersong in climb.

At waypoint 1: candle ceremony. Wives lay glyph-petals and candles, then light watcherslaves, small branches wrapped with watcher-mist and sealed with rune-slates. Flames pure and blue. Song rising in power, seedling song, watchers’ signature. Watchers pulse, reflecting across mist. Wives arms open, faces wet with tears and rain of emotion. Light walls rise on ridge.

They remain in hymn until embers dim, watchers swirl around couple. Children yawn; wives close eyes, chanting blessing.

They descend at careful pace, home under watchers guiding them. They return through orchard where seedlings glow bright. Under fig-tree, last words offered before rest.

Jude utters under breath: "Tomorrow we go deeper. More waypoints. Our covenant grows seeds into story. We walk watchersong until island sings in return." Wives echo vow and sink to sleep.

In watchers’ light and seed-ring glow, they rest, twelve hearts, two children, one man, bound in watchersong, rooting into mountain memory. Tomorrow awaits their steps toward valley beyond.

The air was thick with moisture as Jude stepped through the tall ferns, the moss under his feet still damp from last night’s rainfall. The forest ahead seemed to breathe in unison with the waking island, each tree sighing mist from its bark and each branch swaying gently as though acknowledging his passage.

The ritual the night before had settled something deep in his chest, like a knot gently loosening, and now his thoughts pulsed with clarity. Behind him, Lucy and Serena walked side by side, their hands occasionally brushing, their fingers entwining now and then without a word. They carried baskets filled with offerings, woven grass tokens, beads polished from river stones, petals pressed in cloth.

Jude carried the carved seed figure he had fashioned at dawn, the one he intended to leave near the watcher post by the willow bend.The watchers had not come close again during the night, but their presence was felt.