Stuck in an Island with Twelve Beautiful Women
Chapter 1046

Chapter 1046: Chapter 1046

The wives formed a circle around them. Grace knelt and poured cave-water at the roots of the central seedling. Children placed new runestones around the tree, a ring of new seal. Watchers pulsed high arcs across the canopy. Juxtaposition of dawn sunlight and watcher-glow created a rainbow haze. Jude closed eyes and spoke a watchersign vow.

They spent the next days reinforcing the temple and orchard around the awakened heart. A new spiral altar was planted at the cave mouth above, wreathing seed with watcherscript vines. Wives crafted bound scrolls from cave runestones and watcherscript tape, texts of the awakening, to be kept at the temple. Children learned watchersign for "heart," "awakening," "memory," "seed." Travelers came to witness heart rising; they made runestone offerings. A gathering was called for the eclipse moon, when watchers, seed, island, people, watcherscript and memory would realign.

When eclipse night arrived, the moon bleeding black upon rising, twenty aides from the island greeted them. Temple courtyard filled with watcherscript runes glowing silver beneath watchersilk canopy. Eternal heart runestone lay before listening stone; ribbons and cave-water offerings surrounded it. Wives, children and travelers held hands across the circle. Jude stood at the altar with Grace and Laurel between them.

Laurel held a dream-gem polished by cave water, its glow faint but alive. She spoke watchersign: "We speak. We remember." She laid a gem on the altar. Watchers streamed in hundreds above, arcs dancing like aurora. Wives sang watchersong; travelers responded with echo harmonies. Heart runestone glowed; cave-water steamed; roots underneath hummed visible lines across courtyard floor; watcherslit hissed through ribbon-wire patterns. The island sang.

They sang until the moon had passed into night once more, watchers pulsing to release, roots calming, temple stilling. The heart stone gleamed faintly. Future sealed into covenant.

After, they knelt and drank quietly from cups of cave-water; children fell asleep in their arms. Wives comforted travelers.

Jude held Grace and whispered, "The island is whole again." She nodded, tears shining. "A pulsing heart."

They slept beneath a watchersilk canopy, hearts full of echoes. In the dawn they would begin teaching the new covenant, the awakened heart of the island, carried forward in watcherscript, in seed, in children, in heart.

Mist pooled at the base of the watcher trees, thick enough to blur the orchard edges where the dew-laced grass shimmered under the rising sun. Jude stirred beneath the watchersilk canopy, eyes fluttering open to the faint rhythm of watchersong pulsing through the morning air. The song was different today, subtle, winding, not alarming but unfamiliar. Grace was already awake beside him, legs tucked beneath her, sketching on a fresh memory-slate. She looked up when she noticed him watching her, and in her gaze was a shared understanding. Something had shifted again. Outside, the children’s laughter drifted between branches, light and unburdened. Laurel was directing a group of them in a dance meant to teach watchersign for "spiral," using leaves and ribbons tied to sticks. They moved in circles around the youngest saplings, leaving trails of color. The watchers above responded with soft arcs of green light, mimicking the spiral motion in the sky. It was beautiful, but it deepened the strange feeling twisting in Jude’s stomach. The watchers never repeated patterns without reason.

The wives gathered near the seedling ring by midmorning. Susan and Rose brought baskets of dewberry, while Natalie and Serena laid out the dreamslates from the previous day, each inscribed with verses the children had translated into watcherscript. Zoey, Lucy, and Layla finished assembling the spiral altar from driftwood, stones, and sea-glass, reflecting the children’s lessons into something more permanent. Stella and Scarlet arrived last, whispering about something they’d seen near the eastern perimeter of the orchard, a flicker of movement too deliberate to be wind, too strange to be an animal. Emma and Sophie said they’d heard low tones the night before from the northwest cliffs, watchersong harmonies they didn’t recognize. Jude rubbed his palms together, absorbing their accounts. The watchers weren’t just reflecting the spiral, they were amplifying it, folding it back into the land.

They began a new watchersong ritual beside the spiral altar, combining old chants with fresh glyphs. Children offered new dream gems, their small fingers trembling slightly as they placed them between the stones. Jude stood at the center and closed his eyes, letting the watchersong fill him. Images flashed, an expanse of roots glowing below ground, a heartbeat of light deep beneath the volcano, a vast spiral carved into the dark. He opened his eyes sharply. "We’re being summoned," he said softly. The wives looked at one another. Jude continued. "Not to danger, not yet. But the watchers want something. They’re guiding us again." Stella stepped forward, voice quiet. "Then let’s listen."

They organized a scouting group, Jude, Grace, Stella, Zoey, and Elian, along with Laurel who insisted despite Jude’s hesitation. "The watchers called through the spiral we created. I need to see where it leads." Jude didn’t argue. They packed lightly: flint, ribbons, runestones, vine-rope, dried fruit, dreamslates, fire-powder sealed in gourds. They left as the noon heat began to press down, watcherscript glimmering faintly on the trees, marking their path eastward. Children waved them off with a blessing chant, one Jude felt coil around his limbs like a protective thread.

The orchard faded into moss-draped forest, the familiar watchersigns thinning until the trees grew silent. The deeper they walked, the heavier the quiet became. It wasn’t the silence of absence, it was the silence of attention. The land was listening. Zoey walked with her hand always grazing the bark, whispering watchersign phrases like "travel," "seeking," "trust." Stella marked trees with dream glyph as they went, tying ribbons every few lengths, always in spirals. After three hours, they found the first anomaly: a wide circle of blackened grass, scorched in a perfect ring. In the center stood a single stone slab, no taller than Jude’s chest, etched with unfamiliar glyphs. Grace approached slowly, her hand hovering. The slab pulsed once, softly. Laurel stepped closer, narrowed her eyes. "This isn’t a watcherscript." Zoey leaned in. "No. This is older."