Stuck in an Island with Twelve Beautiful Women
Chapter 1026

Chapter 1026: Chapter 1026

They slept under watchers’ glow, circle close, children in arms. The watchers drifted overhead, lights unmoving but alive, as if guard and witness.

At dawn next day, Jude and Grace walked ring-side, Laurel toddling between them. Grace smiled. "She woke me naming watchersign in sleep."

He laughed, fingers brushing her cheek. "Then our next task is school at ring, morning ritual for children."

They knelt together, tying ribbons and scattering petals. Watchers drew near like students leaning into lesson. He taught Rae watchersign: root-time-memory. Grace taught Laur watchersign: water-flow-light. Watcher-light bent over children like cloak.

Wives followed teaching, Rose teaching glyph-song to small group, Zoey showing how to shape seed-charms, Stella lighting watcherslaves, Susan leading songs. Knowledge carried gently. Watchers hovered around children, pulsing in approval.

Midday, they prepared to carve mirrored glyph-stone for lake ceremony. Lucy led workshop; wives chipped basalt into record tablets, training children in runes. The watchers drifted overhead like living ceiling.

When dusk fell, they gathered quickly at echo-pool near ring, ritual revisit of lake. Children led watchersong, wives followed. Water basins drained, flatcakes offered. Watchers light spiraled, reflecting in children’s eyes. Each watcher pulse mirrored vow of child and wife.

They returned to hearth under orchard-cover. Cooker lights glowed; stew was passed. Rose smiled as Laurel reached toward watchers’ light above with tiny arms. All paused. Whispering hush followed; watchers-pulse melted to silence.

Jude watched families eat in intimacy. Wives laughed quietly. Children pounded stew-fat. The watchers pulsed once, single beat. It felt like exhalation, a sigh of satisfaction.

After dinner the wives carried memory-slates and ribbons to spring shrine at orchard edge. They carved the words Lake Mirror Covenant and tied ribbons to saplings. A watcherslave glowed nearby, responding in glimmer. They left offerings: sweets, water, glyph-petals, an echo of ceremony.

Jude and Grace lingered at the shrine until watchers’ mist brushed their faces. They held hands until breath slowed.

Sleep came again beneath watchers’ light. Hearts swollen. Covenant deepened.

Next dawn, Jude rose to find slender stream of watcher-light drifting through orchard, gifts for seedling-ring. He called wives to gather offerings-spring for ceremonial bath of seedlings. Children ran to help with bowls.

He led wives in watchersong bath: water poured around seedlings, bowls of pool-lake water dripped at roots, ribbons pressed. Watcher-light flared brighter than before; seedlings stirred, glowing new green. Light scattered in rainbow veins across leaves.

The watchers had entrusted them with memory and reflection. They responded with growth and reverence.

When ritual ended, children danced around ring, laughter flowing. Wives joined hands. Jude stepped forward.

"Our covenant now holds watchersong, mountain, valley, lake, ring, children, reflection, memory. We have responded. Now we teach these truths into our lives every dawn until watchersong becomes every breath. Let our ring grow, our roots deepen, watchers walk among us. We are home. We are covenant."

They bowed. Watchers pulsed overhead in alignment. Orchard shivered, stirred sluice of light. Twelve wives, two children, one man, woven into the island’s living memory, with watchers as allies and mirrors to their souls. They exhaled together, rooted deeper than ever before. Tomorrow would carry more journeys, more mapping, more love, but today was enough.

They slept again under watchers, fullest sleep yet, island breathing in harmony.

The storm broke at dawn, not with thunder but with a low, groaning wind that shook the canopy and swept mist like spilled milk across the orchard. Jude was already awake, standing at the threshold of the orchard’s northern boundary where the vines had thickened unnaturally overnight. The watchers hadn’t retreated this time, they clustered, flickering pale blue, clustered around the saplings closest to the fog-draped border. Their presence pulsed like breath held too long. Jude didn’t move. He inhaled the scent of rain that hadn’t fallen, soil that seemed to hum, and the acrid tension that clung to the air like static. Behind him, the orchard was waking slowly. The wives stirred in their dens of woven leaves and blankets, their whispers barely carried through the rustle of trees. Scarlet was the first to join him, barefoot and shivering slightly in the cold, her hand slipping into his like it belonged there.

"They’re closer today," she murmured.

"They’re warning us," Jude said, eyes still locked on the watchers. "Or preparing us."

One of the shapes darted toward the orchard line, hesitated at a glyph-stone, then shimmered back. Jude squeezed Scarlet’s hand and turned. "Gather everyone. We need to mark this change."

By the time the others assembled, the orchard had darkened again. The mist, instead of burning off with the sun’s rise, deepened, cloaking the edges and swallowing the trees in blurred outlines. The children clung to Grace and Sophie, who knelt and whispered gentle things to them while weaving blue-threaded ribbon into their sleeves. Jude stood with Susan and Rose at his sides, both holding torches that smoked but wouldn’t catch flame. Serena, crouching by a row of memory stones, dipped her fingers into a fresh mixture of blossom-oil and ash.

"Do we greet them again?" Natalie asked, her voice tight as she adjusted the satchel of paint jars at her hip.

"No," Jude answered, glancing at the watchers now holding position in the orchard’s northeast quadrant. "They’re not here for ceremony. Not tonight. This is something else."

Zoey stepped forward, her gaze sharp. "Then what do we do?"

"We listen," he said. "And prepare. Whatever shifted... it wants to be seen."

Throughout the morning, the watchers didn’t move. Jude divided the group in pairs, Scarlet and Stella to inspect the glyph trees, Lucy and Layla to check the food stores, Grace and Sophie to comfort the children and mark safe areas around the orchard. Emma stayed close, sketching feverishly with charcoal across a wide slab of bark as she interpreted the watchers’ formations. Serena and Natalie joined Jude, and the three of them set out toward the southern border where the older glyphs, those burned into stone before their time, remained untouched for years. Along the path, the quiet felt heavy.