Stuck in an Island with Twelve Beautiful Women
Chapter 1047

Chapter 1047: Chapter 1047

Elian crouched, tracing the glyphs in the air. "They look like memory root-spirals. From before watchers grew in the sky." Jude walked the ring’s edge, his boots crunching burned stalks. "It’s marking something. A place of old power. The watchers led us here for a reason." The stone pulsed again. This time brighter. A ripple of light echoed into the trees. Then came the hum. Low. Deep. Resonant. It vibrated in their chests, through their bones. Laurel stepped into the ring before anyone could stop her. She knelt and placed both hands on the slab. "It’s showing me something," she whispered. Her eyes fluttered. Jude took a step forward, but Stella held him back. "Let her. If the watchers brought us here, we must trust them."

Laurel’s voice trembled. "The spiral reaches under the island. It connects to the volcano. And to something deeper. Something buried. I can feel it, moving." She gasped and pulled back, shaking. "It knows us now. It remembers us." Grace steadied her as the humming faded. The slab dimmed. Jude stepped forward and pressed his palm to it. Cold. Still. He sighed. "We can’t ignore this. This place, it’s tied to whatever the watchers are warning us about." Zoey added, "Or preparing us for." Stella whispered, "Or both."

They camped just beyond the burned ring, wary but unafraid. Watchers didn’t appear that night. The sky remained black, clouds shifting like shadows of wings. Jude couldn’t sleep. He kept seeing Laurel’s face, lit by that buried glow. Just before dawn, he dreamt of a spiral unfurling in the sky and of something crawling up from below it, enormous and patient. He woke covered in sweat.

The return journey was faster, the watchers illuminating the way more actively than before. Light guided them around obstacles, dreamglyphs shimmered where none had been. The island was responding. When they reached the orchard, the children ran to meet them, chattering about new colors in the watcher auras, how the temple glowed in pulses the night before. The wives embraced them. Laurel went directly to the temple’s inner sanctum, placing a charcoal rubbing of the slab glyph beside the listening stone. The watchers inside pulsed once, then fell quiet.

That evening, Jude called a council. All twelve wives sat beside him. Children sat quietly nearby, travelers behind them. Jude explained the discovery: the spiral glyph, the pulsing stone, Laurel’s vision. He paused, choosing his words carefully. "The watchers are not just teaching us anymore. They’re preparing us for a reckoning." Murmurs rose. Grace stood and addressed the group. "We’ve always known this island breathes more than mystery. It remembers. It holds. Now it stirs."

Serena asked softly, "What does it mean for us?" Jude answered, "We prepare. More watcher sites may awaken. We need to map them, study the glyphs, deepen our watcherscript. Teach the children well. Create defenses if we must. We won’t be caught blind."

The next days passed in organized flurries. Watcher-teaching resumed with renewed intensity. Wives led teams to mark forgotten grove-lines. Children practiced new glyphs with chalk and ribbon, using spiral formations. Jude and Stella constructed a second dream-altar at the orchard’s northern border, replicating the spiral in living vines and firewood. Laurel began recording dreams again, her own and those reported by the children. Many now featured the spiral. Some spoke of a door beneath the mountain. Others heard whispering in watchersign, not from watchers, but from below.

Then came the day the watchers refused to hover. At first, it was subtle. Fewer lights over the orchard. Less response to song. Jude tested the path by tying glyph-ribbons on their usual guide trees. No glow. The watchers were silent. Then, during a lesson, Laurel collapsed. She clutched her chest, gasping, eyes wide. Jude and Grace rushed to her, but she pointed toward the volcano. "It’s opening," she said faintly. "Something is... watching back."

The orchard dimmed that night. Even the children noticed. "Why do the stars feel... lower?" one asked. The temple’s inner light pulsed once and then dulled. Watchers stayed distant. The spiral altar flickered. Jude held Grace’s hand. "We’ll have to go back," he whispered. "To the slab. To the spiral’s origin." Grace nodded slowly. "And beyond."

Before dawn, they packed. Jude, Laurel, Grace, Stella, Zoey, Elian again. Susan kissed Jude deeply and handed him a memory-slate wrapped in leaves. "Write what you see," she said. "So the story continues if you don’t." Jude didn’t answer. He couldn’t.

The second journey to the slab was harder. The watchers didn’t guide this time. Trees bent differently. Paths rearranged. Something old stirred. When they arrived, the stone pulsed before they touched it. This time, Laurel didn’t step forward. Jude did. He placed his hand and waited. The hum returned, louder. The slab glowed red this time, and a seam split down the middle, revealing a staircase spiraling into darkness.

No one spoke. They lit torches and descended. The stone closed behind them.

The air below was warm, not oppressive. The walls were lined with glyphs neither watcher nor dreamscript. The staircase ended in a vast chamber where roots as thick as ships coiled through black soil, glowing faintly. In the center sat a seed. Massive. Breathing. Watching.

Jude stepped toward it. It opened a single eye. Spiraled. Reflecting the sky. The watchers had not created it. They followed it.

Laurel whispered behind him. "The island is alive... because of that."

Jude felt everything go still. Then, a voice not in sound but meaning filled them.

"You are the thirteenth spiral."

He understood then.

This was no island. This was no exile. This was the beginning of a new god.

Mist clung to the orchard like a canopy of sighs, dew heavy on each blade of grass as dawn’s pale light seeped through the watchersilk. Jude stepped onto the soft earth, feeling the pulse of the awakened heart seed beneath his feet, renewed, alive, mingling with the island’s own breath. Grace followed, cradling Raven, Laurel beside her, clutching the cave‑water in a small bowl.