Chapter 1338: Chapter 1338

On the fourth morning, the air held a kind of electricity - subtle, invisible, but undeniable. Jude felt it first as a tightening in his chest, not panic, but pressure, like the moment before thunder cracks the sky. The others noticed it too. Lucy stirred against him in their woven nest and blinked up, her pupils widening as if she sensed it in the light.

"The island’s waking up again," she whispered, her voice husky from sleep and kissing.

Jude kissed her bare shoulder, then rose, glancing around the clearing. The central bloom had grown in the night - taller now, its petals trembling slightly as though catching signals from deep beneath the earth. A second fruit shimmered at its core, fuller and more luminous than the first.

Zoey stood nearby, arms crossed over her chest, her skin kissed by sunlight and streaked with dried salt and pleasure. "It’s calling us again."

"To do what?" Emma asked, crouching beside the flower. "It gave us a gift. We planted it. Now it gives more."

"Maybe the island is... multiplying through us," Grace said slowly, running her fingers through Stella’s hair.

Sophie exhaled sharply. "Or evolving. Each ritual. Each union. Each bloom."

They circled the flower once more, naked and half-dreaming in the morning light, every body still humming from the pleasure that never quite left them. Jude looked at the second fruit. Its glow was pulsing in a new rhythm - slower, deeper.

Lucy approached him and took his hand. "We need to go where the river meets the sea."

"Why?" Jude asked, searching her eyes.

"Because I dreamed of it," she whispered, "and in the dream, the next fruit was planted where salt and sweet water meet."

That was enough. Without hesitation, they began walking.

The jungle shifted for them now. Trees parted, vines bent. The path wound like muscle memory through the green and into the valley below. They moved as one - twelve women and Jude, their feet light on the damp earth, their hearts beating in sync. He carried the fruit, cradled in cloth, its heat leaking into his chest with every step.

When they reached the place where the river surrendered to the ocean, the air changed. It was thicker here, charged, ripe. The sand was darker, the stones streaked with red mineral veins. The water lapped with twin voices - one cold, one warm. This was a place of crossing. Of fusion.

Zoey was the first to step into the tide. She waded out until the water kissed her thighs and turned back, her hair slicked and wild. "This is it."

Jude approached the shoreline, the fruit still glowing in his arms. The island whispered again - this time louder, more insistent.

Rose met his gaze. "This one will need more."

"More?" he asked.

Rose’s eyes flicked to the others, who had already begun shedding what little cloth they wore. "More of us. More of you."

The ritual began with a kiss - Stella to Grace, Lucy to Sophie, Natalie to Zoey, each kiss deep and slow, unhurried. Jude moved into the center as they surrounded him, twelve bodies sleek with sweat and salt, circling, swaying, reaching for him.

Layla dropped to her knees and kissed his stomach, her mouth trailing lower. Susan moved behind him, her fingers dancing up his spine, whispering promises into his ear. Emma and Rose knelt on either side, stroking his thighs, while Lucy kissed him, tongues brushing, breath mingling.

When he sank to the wet sand, they descended on him like waves.

Every mouth, every hand, every part of them took him, kissed him, claimed him. His cock moved between them all, wet with mouths and hands and thighs, always surrounded, always worshipped. They passed him between them like a treasure, like an altar, each one riding him or guiding him into another, every motion precise, deep, tender, then wild. Sophie came on his mouth, shivering and clutching his hair. Zoey rode him facing the sea, her breasts bouncing with every gasp, until Emma took her place, wrapping her legs around his waist.

They filled him. Drained him. Refilled him.

When he came inside Rose again, the earth cracked.

Not in destruction.

In birth.

The water between river and sea turned luminous. The fruit floated from his arms and into the confluence, where it split open not with rot but bloom - like a firework beneath the surface. The water shimmered silver, then gold, then settled into a soft pink glow that coated the shore.

And from beneath, something rose.

Not a plant.

A structure.

An altar, formed of coral and stone, veined with glowing roots that pulsed in time with their hearts. At its center, a basin waited - empty but humming.

Rose stood, dripping and radiant, her belly flushed with heat. "This is the next stage."

Grace tilted her head. "Of the island?"

"Of us."

Lucy climbed onto the altar, unashamed, her skin slick and glowing. She lay back in the basin, spread wide, inviting. "It wants more love."

Jude didn’t hesitate.

He climbed the altar and knelt between her legs, kissing her slowly, whispering every word she’d ever needed to hear. Then he slid into her, and her moan echoed like song through the trees.

The others joined them, touching and watching, guiding and whispering, until all of them were connected - hands to breasts, mouths to thighs, fingers inside and over and through. The island surged around them, wind lifting their hair, water splashing in rhythm to their cries. It was not lust anymore.

It was creation.

When Jude spilled again into Lucy, her eyes went white with bliss and something deeper. The basin filled with light, not liquid, and the altar pulsed once more.

The island accepted their offering.

And the altar grew.

Walls formed around it - not barriers, but embraces. The coral twisted upward, forming a circular room open to the sky. Moss and vine laid themselves gently across the stone. The basin remained, pulsing.

Their temple.

They lay there until dusk, bodies curled together in sacred exhaustion, the water lapping soft and slow now.

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