Stuck in an Island with Twelve Beautiful Women
Chapter 1264

Chapter 1264: Chapter 1264

Lucy curled up on the floor near the fire pit, surrounded by blankets. Zoey sat beside her with a wet cloth and a canteen. Emma made tea from dried leaves, and Sophie stood by the window, blade still in hand.

Jude sat down, rubbing his eyes.

"We’re not winning," he whispered.

"No," Zoey said. "But we haven’t lost yet."

Sophie looked toward the trees.

"Not yet," she echoed.

And somewhere in the distance, beneath the roots and stone, something hummed.

Night settled over the island like a second skin, thick and inescapable. The jungle outside the treehouse had grown quiet again - too quiet. The usual chirps and rustles that filled the night air were gone, replaced by something deeper. A pulse, almost, like the faint heartbeat of the island itself. Inside the treehouse, Jude sat close to Lucy, who hadn’t said another word since breaking down. Her breathing had steadied, but her eyes remained distant, locked on the flickering flame in the lantern as if it were the only thing holding her in place.

Sophie leaned against the door, her arms crossed, and her expression locked in that worried mix of determination and fear she’d worn all day. Emma paced slowly behind her, the mug of tea in her hands long since gone cold. Zoey was near the back window, crouched, peering out through the gap between the wooden slats.

"They’re not coming back tonight," Zoey finally whispered.

"How do you know?" Sophie asked, not looking at her.

"Because they already did what they wanted," she replied. "They got into Lucy’s head. That was the goal."

"But she resisted," Emma said softly, turning toward the others. "That has to mean something."

Jude looked up. "It does. It means whatever’s happening to them... it isn’t final. They can still be reached."

Zoey frowned. "Or it means Rose underestimated Lucy’s will."

"Same thing," Jude said. "It means we have a chance."

"Do we?" Sophie’s voice was quiet, heavy. "She’s gotten seven of them. Seven."

Jude nodded slowly. "And we’ve still got five. That’s enough."

Lucy stirred, her voice raspy. "They weren’t just speaking to me. It was like... something ancient was whispering behind Rose. I could hear her voice, but it was like... echoes. Older. Colder."

Emma kneeled beside her. "You mean something’s controlling Rose?"

Lucy gave a faint nod. "It wasn’t just her. When I closed my eyes, I saw a shape in the water. Like a shadow. Huge. Moving under the black pool. And I knew - whatever that is, it’s not just using them. It’s... changing them."

Jude felt a chill settle in his spine. "Did you see anything else?"

She hesitated. "Yes. A tree. A huge one. Black bark. Thorns. It grew upside down, roots reaching into the sky. They were all around it. Praying. Laughing."

Sophie muttered, "A black tree?"

Emma paled. "Wait - Jude. The dream. Remember when we all had the same dream after the storm? There was a black tree. You and I both saw it."

Jude blinked. That memory had almost slipped into the abyss of everything else strange about the island, but it clawed back now with sudden clarity. "You’re right. We both saw it. Rose said it was a symbol. A guardian."

Zoey shook her head. "More like a gate."

Lucy turned her head toward her. "It is a gate. I saw that too. The roots weren’t just growing. They were opening. Like fingers parting."

Silence fell across the room, thick as smoke. No one spoke, but every thought in the room centered on the same truth - whatever the monster was, whatever ancient force had seeped into Rose and the others, it wasn’t finished yet. It was just beginning.

Jude stood slowly. "We’re not waiting anymore. At first light, we’re going back to that black pool. We destroy whatever’s inside."

Zoey stood with him. "Even if it means facing Rose?"

He nodded. "Especially then."

They all agreed, though none of them said it with confidence. Lucy fell asleep with her hand curled loosely around Jude’s fingers, and he sat there beside her until the first bird finally chirped into the morning.

They moved quietly through the early fog. The forest was heavy with dew, the leaves slick beneath their boots as they retraced their path to the clearing. No one had seen Rose or the others. Their part of camp was empty. Even the remains of their breakfast fire had gone cold. It was as if they’d vanished completely into the trees.

The jungle seemed to shift as they moved - subtle, slow, like a maze rearranging itself around them. But the five of them had been here enough times to recognize the tricks. They carved markers into trees, threw stones in places they’d memorized. After nearly two hours of winding through moss-covered roots and damp silence, they found the basin again.

And it wasn’t empty.

Rose was kneeling at the edge of the black pool, her hands submerged up to her elbows. Beside her stood Layla, Natalie, Grace, Susan, Stella, and Zoey’s heart twisted - Scarlet was now among them too. All seven, in place, standing still like pieces on a board. And behind them, rising out of the black water as if the island itself had conjured it anew, was a tree.

The black tree.

Its bark was slick with something wet. Its roots stretched wide across the clearing, clawing into the earth. And its branches - twisted, sharp - seemed to reach toward the sky like skeletal hands. The air around it shimmered, not with light, but with pressure, like the world was folding in around the presence of something sacred and wrong.

Rose looked up at them as they stepped out of the trees.

"You came," she said softly. "You were always meant to."

Jude stepped forward. "Let them go. It’s between us."

"They’re not yours anymore," she said. "They belong here. To this."

She raised her arms, and the others moved with her. Perfectly. Simultaneously. As if pulled by the same string.