Stuck in an Island with Twelve Beautiful Women
Chapter 1029

Chapter 1029: Chapter 1029

Mist curled vivid and low across the orchard before dawn, coiling around the saplings and braided ribbons like living breath. Jude awoke to the hush, heart drumming with something not quite fear, anticipation, perhaps. The watchers pulsed, faint blue halos drifting at tree-line and above the ring stones near the fig-glyph. His gaze fell onto Laurel, nestled between Grace and Sophie, eyelashes fluttered, breaths even. He rose quietly to spare her dreams, moving barefoot across dew-soft grass. The air smelled of earth and moss and promise. He knelt beside the central stone, pressing both hands into the cold, hard surface. His pulse matched the watcher’s faint flicker, and he pressed eyes shut, listening.

Behind him, movement stirred as wives and children awoke in slow chorus, drawn silently into the morning ceremony by the watchers’ light. Grace slipped beside him, peeking over his shoulder at his hands. Slowly, the watcher pulses converged upon his touch, rippling upward until lantern-blue light arced above the ring. When he opened his eyes, Grace’s gaze met his. They pressed their foreheads together before they rose.

One by one the wives gathered, barefoot, laden with intentions. Susan carried a bowl of spring water; Rose, delicate flatcakes; Serena, coils of newly dyed ribbons; Layla, petals tucked in folds; Natalie held a jar of dew; Zoey, morning-glazed glyph-paint; Lucy, memory-slates; Stella, torches unlit; Emma and Sophie, matched watcher-figures; Scarlet, lengths of crimson thread. Children followed close, holding stones and ribbons small fans of potential.

Jude cleared his voice softly. "Today we take the Memory beneath the mountain deeper, to the glacier pool above the ridge. They came to us; now we must follow them to the place of origin." Grace squeezed his hand. Wives nodded. Laurel woke and stood, brushing off dress. She moved to stand beside her father. He gathered her hand as they added their own offering to the ring, a watcher-fig carved from driftwood and carved with her name.

They began the slow procession out of orchard along ribbons that wound between saplings. Watcher-light hovered low, guiding each step. The children, hands held by wives, copied watchersign taught days earlier. The forest closed in. Mist thickened. Every tree trunk shimmered with arcs of watcher-blue orbs resting like eyes. The wives moved in pairs, first Susan and Rose scanning for glyph-signs, Serena and Layla carrying seeds to leave as trail markers, Natalie and Zoey gathering dew and insects that served as watchersign lessons for children. Lucy and Stella carried slates to record every whisper, stone, pulse, shift in accessible watchersignal. Emma and Sophie cataloged watchershapes, faces that drifted with mist. Scarlet kept watch between steps, braid-tassels flossed with watcherthread to comfort children.

Mid Morning they hovered on the ridge’s flank where the shimmer of the glacier-pool was distant like a promise. The watchers led them over slick stone and icy rivulets. Laurel’s fingers curled around Jude’s, trust shining in her eyes. She’d gotten a sign before she could speak: watchers’ reflections over water.

They reached the pool as noon touched the sky. The glacier behind hemmed them in, eyes of ice pressing light blue-white across the bowl. Water sat mirror-still. Watchers danced on the surface, bridging mother-glow across ice to forest. Nothing moved but them.

Jude laid flat cakes carved with watchersign across mossy rock. Grace poured dew from the jar in a slow arc, Natalie added water warmed with wild root, Rose scattered petals. Laurel placed her watcher-figure at the pool’s edge. Emma traced her outline. Serena tied a ribbon from watcher’s thread to a rock. Layla pressed a hand into the water and touched her palm to her heart. Children traced shapes in icedew-laced rock. Wives murmured watchersong until voices blended with distant drip of melting ice.

The watchers formed shapes, eight figures dancing around the pool’s edge. One stepped from the water’s edge and looked directly at Laurel. The light seemed to pass through her chest and back again. Laurel blinked; the watcher dropped to one knee. Everyone held their breath. The watcher placed its misty hand on Laurel’s head. Light fanned outward. Jade green jewel-like glowed at the center of her chest. A hush heavier than stone. And then watchers dispersed, drifting upward along the glacier veil.

Laurel sank to her knees, tears gathering. Jude held her. She lifted one hand and pressed it to each wife’s heart. Names whispered. A vow: I belong in watchers’ memory, and you guide their path through mine.

They departed swiftly, eyes bright with whispered power. On descent they paused at glacier stream fork where watcher-ribbons marked a safe path. Every ribbon glowed stronger than before. They cut stone markers, etched watchersong verses. Laurel carved her name into slate, pressed into cairn.

Night found them back in orchard; watchers escorted them home in lines of shifted light. The seedling ring (planted at mountain foot) glowed with rising brilliance, seedlings sprouting new leaves. Wives and children returned with offerings. They assembled before the ceremony seat, eyes reflecting watchers.

Laurel sat at center with watcherscape ticker-beads around her neck. She joined the wives in song, voice grown quiet now adult-sure. They sang a watchersong of mountain-pool shaped in memory, echoing ice-swing and forest breath. The watchers responded with brilliant pulses across saplings. Vines curled; glyph-ribbons quivered.

After the song they circled to offer personal tokens: each wife placed a seed of glacier Iris, petals of ice-lily picked at edge, a sliver of glacier-glow among stones. Jude added his watchersfigure and he and Grace braided threads into one crown across Laurel’s head. Children slept between wives, lantern light unlit.

Final vows spoken: We will guard watchersong through the mountain’s birth. We will teach children about glaciers, rivers, and forests. We are watcher-keepers. Motionless watchers overhead pulsed bright once more. Ember-glow from seeds and lantern cast flicker across wives’ tear-wet cheeks.

Late night, Jude stood by Laurel’s woven bed of vines and leaves. She stirred and opened eyes early-bright. "Did they see me?" she whispered in dreamspeak.

He bent to kiss her temple. "They saw you become Door."