Stuck in an Island with Twelve Beautiful Women
Chapter 1045

Chapter 1045: Chapter 1045

Jude stood at the threshold under the watchersilk canopy, heart coiling with fear he could not name. Beside him, Grace hovered, holding Raven close, Laurel silent beside her still-glowing braid. The wives stepped forward beside Jude, Susan, Rose, Serena, Layla, Natalie, Zoey, Lucy, Stella, Emma, Sophie, Scarlet, all with watchful eyes. The children shifted in their blankets, sensing the shift in air though dream still hovered in their faces.

Jude breathed, clearing a knot of dread. "They’ve gone quiet," he murmured. "We awaken something deeper." Grace placed her hand on his arm. He nodded, steeling himself. They would walk down into the spiral stair, into the heart that had stirred at the slab and now beckoned like a breath beneath the earth. He looked down at Laurel. "You must stay," he said gently. "This is beyond even your insight." She reached up and brushed his cheek. "Bring me back seeds," she whispered. "From the heart." He pressed his forehead to hers. "Yes," he promised. She turned to the wives. "Guard the watcherscript. The temple. The children." Each wife curved toward her in maternal vow. "We will," they said.

Jude turned and moved. Grace went with him. Stella, Zoey, and Elian flanked them. They gathered flint torches and memory-slates, tied runestones to belts, they would write the story they might not return from. The temple remained unlit behind them; watchersilk walls shimmered faintly in absence. They passed through cathedral of seedlings, crossbars of dreamribbons hanging but still, runes etched in earth. The orchard exhaled around them, giving way to trail lit by dawn’s promise, though watcherscript lights had emptied from trees.

They walked into forest, leaves compressing beneath each footstep. No birds sang. No wind rustled. Only the distant echo of waterfall, a reminder that water still ran, life still pulsed. They passed the spiral altar they’d built months ago; now it lay dark, vines wilted, glint of assembled sea-glass and driftwood dulled. Grace lifted her face as if in prayer. "We’ll make a new spiral," she promised. Jude took her hand. They pressed onward.

Three hours in, they reached the burned ring where the stone slab had stood. Now the ring plowed and cratered, the stone gone. A whisper of watcherscript remained carved into scorched bark on surrounding trees. Zoey knelt, fingers tracing glyph: spiral-root facing downward. "The watchers knew something would be taken," she said. "They left warning." Stella touched her belt runestone, then Grace. All paused, feeling the rhythm in ground tremble, feet responding. Elian held his torch higher. "The stair, the door below, opened without that stone." Jude nodded. "It is calling."

They found the stair hidden in earth, sunk beneath a bed of roots. Vines retracted as they approached, revealing stone steps spiraling downward into darkness. Jude tested a torch. It burned dim, as if the air swallowed flame. Still they descended.

The spiral staircase wound inward for what felt like hours. Memory etched itself on their minds, childhood echoes, shrine memories, watchersong fragments. They urged each other forward until light appeared below: warm orange flame, but no torch, not unburned. Crystalline glow lit vast cavern. The walls glowed with bioluminescent veins shaped like root patterns. Stalactites dripped dew that glittered. At the center lay that great seed, massive, breathing, veined with riot of fluid crystalline fractures. Around it coiled huge roots across dark soil.

Jude swallowed. "It’s the spiral eye." Grace stared, pressed Laurel’s runestone against chest. Elian scanned walls, whispering watchersign terms. Stella approached the soil bank and placed her hand palm-down. The ground shivered. Then a voice thundered, not heard, but known. Echoing in bone. "You come."

All froze. The seed trembled, cracking. Bioluminescent vessels pulsed. From inside sprang a vine, thicker than any leg; it wove a path toward them. Grace gasped. Jude moved forward as if drawn, then stopped. "We come to witness, to tell, to serve. Not to steal."

The vine paused in motion, pulsing. Grace laid runestone at seed base. Others followed, memory-slates, dream-gems, water jar, ribbons. Laurel’s runestone touched the vine tip. It glowed. Light rippled across cavern.

The voice again, soft now, like night song: "You are steeped in watcherscript but not yet in true memory." Grace swallowed. "Show us." The vine lowered, wrapping around jewelled runestone, lifting it like offering. The runestone absorbed glow, warping to inscribe dozen new glyphs. Jude watched tears gather in his eyes. Grace placed her hand where vine had touched; she gasped, eyes alight. "I’ve felt the island’s mind," she whispered. Water seeped through cave floor. Roots pulsed; narrow vessels beneath their boots felt like heartbeat.

The vine withdrew slowly, rising back into the seed. Then the entire seed glowed bright in one catastrophic flash. The chamber shook. A wave of sound, like choir of watchers, layered, longing, filled them. It wasn’t watchersong. It was island breath, memory unifying. Tears trickled unbidden. The wives and children would not hear this, they had done their work. This was theirs.

When the light dimmed, the seed pulsed slower now but larger. The vine faded from view at its base. Walls glimmered steady radiant root-lines. Jude breathed sharply. "The heart has awakened."

Grace whispered: "The watchers guided it." Stella nodded, shoulders sagging. Zoey knelt by cave edge with Laurel, drawing runes in soggy slate, first glyphs of new covenant. Elian recorded each moment. They stayed until dawn cracked above ground. Only when tempers had settled and runes carved across stone did they climb upward.

They emerged, world greying with early dawn sun. Seeds of life glimmered across roots at slab ring. They looked at bowl of cave-water Grace carried, it rippled with phosphorescent glow. She dipped a finger and sprinkled it near stair entrance. Ribbons drifted; a new spiral of energy coalesced at cave mouth. They knew it: watcherscript would regrow here.

Back in orchard, wives and children waited. The moment they stepped onto grass, watchers tickled light into saplings and ribbons. Susan rushed to Grace and pressed palms, tears shining. Rose gathered Jude in embrace, sober and wide-eyed.