Stuck in an Island with Twelve Beautiful Women
Chapter 1021

Chapter 1021: Chapter 1021

Jude felt it then, a thought. Not in words, but in sense. You are seen.

A tear slipped down Sophie’s cheek.

The watcher faded, not retreating but blending. One by one, the others did too. The mist lingered.

They stood in silence for long minutes before dispersing. Most returned to the hearth. But Jude and Grace stayed behind.

She looked up at him, her eyes bright, face flushed with something between awe and tenderness. "That was communion."

He nodded. "Something sacred."

She moved closer, fingertips trailing along his arm. "Do you feel it? The island breathing with us now?"

"I feel you," he murmured, brushing hair from her cheek. "And it makes everything brighter."

She leaned up and kissed him. Not hurried. Not overwhelmed. Just sure. Her arms wrapped around his neck as his hand slid along her waist. They kissed again, deeper, until the orchard vanished behind them and the pulse of the island faded into the thrum between their ribs.

He lifted her gently and carried her toward the house.

Later, wrapped in furs, the window open to night’s cool breath, Grace whispered, "They’re showing us their truth because we’re living ours."

Jude smiled against her neck. "Then we’ll keep giving it. All of us."

She touched the curve of his jaw. "Then tomorrow, we walk deeper."

He nodded. "To the next watcher glade. The more they trust, the closer we’ll get."

Outside, the orchard shimmered with quiet mist. Not haunting. Not foreboding. Just presence. Watching.

Emma joined them before dawn, Laurel curled in her arms. "She wanted to sleep where the moonlight is," she said with a laugh.

Jude helped settle the child by the window and kissed Emma’s shoulder. She kissed his cheek in return, then lay back, her arm brushing Grace’s. The three of them stared at the ceiling for a while, listening to crickets, feeling the house breathe around them.

Tomorrow would bring new risks. Maybe a new glyph. Maybe even a step toward the mountain. But tonight, they were warm, whole, and watched by something ancient.

And somehow, for the first time, that felt like peace.

Mist lay like pale silk across the orchard when Jude stirred, the world’s quiet hum still echoing last night’s communion. He blinked upward through the woven canopy at watcher-glow pulsing gently, as if breathing with the seedlings at the mountain’s foot. Grace stirred beside him, curly hair damp with dawn dew. He slid an arm around her and held her close until they both breathed, learning morning.

Beyond them, the wives and children awoke in slow chorus. Hands reached for one another, laughter murmured soft. Twelve hearts beat steady. Jude rose, slipping barefoot through grass alive with dew, offering morning watchersong in silence as he passed braided ribbons. Alder-shaped figures hovered over seedlings, pulses in blue light reminding him watchers never sleep, only wait.

They gathered beneath fig-glyph tree for breakfast: flatcakes and creamy porridge, sweet honey bread and warm tea. Children chased watcher-glow between saplings, giggles trailing across air. Susan handed him a cup; Rose pressed a slice of fruit into his palm. He smiled, tasting simple comfort with deeper meaning: this morning, they would move again, deeper into island mystery.

Jude stood, wiping his brow gently. He cleared his throat and addressed the group: "Today we follow watcher-pulse toward the hidden glade beyond the ravine. We carry offerings, glyph-slates, and our voices. We learn their pattern. We offer harmony." He paused before looking at each wife in turn: "Will you join me?" Hands raised, one by one: Susan, Rose, Serena, Layla, Natalie, Zoey, Lucy, Stella, Emma, Sophie, Grace, Scarlet.

They packed supplies, flatcakes, ribbons, memory slates, incense, and arranged themselves in a loose line behind him. Children stayed with half the wives to tend seedlings, teach watchersign, and prepare orchard-vigil. The watchers gleamed overhead, ribboned paths marking their way.

They followed ribbons and watcher-glimmers, moving through forest that thickened with each step. Birds fell silent; vines curved skyward as if guiding their passage. After crossing the ravine over woven root bridge, the watcher-pulse quickened; they paused to tie new glyph-ribbon markers, noting patterns.

Mid-afternoon they reached it: hidden glade ringed by ancient stones, each carved with spiral glyphs and root-wrapped runes. In the center lay a shallow pool, surface dark as glass. Watcher-lights drifted across its face, casting shifting coats of blue and violet. The air was thick with hush.

They laid offerings along pool rim: flatcakes scored with glyphs, bowls of honeyed water, vines braided into hearts. Each wife dipped a finger and pressed glyph-slates into scented bowls of petals. Jude stepped forward, bowed low, and spoke watchersong in low tone: rhythm of earth, root, seed, memory.

Watcher-light responded, pulsing slow then faster. Stones glowed; moss stirred; the pool’s surface shimmered. A ripple spread outward as though something beneath had awakened. Jude lifted a flatcake and broke it into petals, letting crumbs drop into the water. It glowed. A watcher emerged, form still mist-dappled, pause before stepping into pool. It knelt, water swirling around legs like luminescent hug. Wives gasped softly; Grace’s hand tightened on his.

A second watcher emerged; then a third. Light reflected in their forms, each pulse echoing love and promise offered. One approached the flatcake crumbs and gently absorbed them, light intensifying before subsiding. They exited pool and drifted toward wives, touching arms like blessing before withdrawing.

Jude watched breathlessly. Their presence flickered like candle. Then they hovered above, arching light across glade, Arc of Offering.

He knelt and touched clear water. "We accept your gift," he whispered. "We walk together, deeper into the island’s memory."

The watchers responded in gentle pulse. He looked to the wives. Each wiped joyful tears.

They slept at glade’s edge that night, torches lit low, seeds glowing softly, watchers hovering as canopy. Children nestled safe with Grace and Rose. Jude held her hand as they watched watchers drift.

In the dream-phase of night, Jude heard voice not in words but resonance: You become vessel; you hold memory. He woke with heart pounding.