Stuck in an Island with Twelve Beautiful Women
Chapter 1381

Chapter 1381: Chapter 1381

The spiral, alive.

Their temple, awake.

And beyond it - across the newly formed valley - something answered.

Not with sound.

With presence.

They all felt it.

Sophie opened her eyes. "Something’s coming."

Emma rose from where she lay against Stella’s breast, sweat beading along her neck. "Something else."

Lucy gripped Jude’s hand. "We’re not alone."

And yet there was no fear.

Not anymore.

Jude stood slowly, naked, glowing, surrounded by his wives - his spiral - and smiled.

"Let’s go find it."

They moved as one.

No one spoke as they dressed - not in clothes, but in strands of the island itself. Vines wove into sashes around hips, petals clung to breasts like breathless kisses, feathers adorned hair that glowed softly in the shifting sunlight. Their bodies were marked now - soft glowing spirals across thighs, down backs, curling up the insides of their wrists. They didn’t remember getting them. They just were. Like veins of light beneath the skin.

Jude led them from the dome, past the now-pulsing trees, through the tall grass that parted before their bare feet. The hum that answered them was low, steady, vibrating through the soles of their feet, up their thighs, through their spines. It wasn’t dangerous. It wasn’t unfamiliar. But it wasn’t theirs.

Yet.

They reached the valley just as the sky dimmed slightly, not from clouds, but from something above - a shimmer, like a curtain being drawn, exposing something behind it.

A second spiral.

Etched into the earth.

Only this one was black.

Slick with shadows.

Alive.

Rose stepped beside Jude, her fingers brushing his. "It’s the island’s mirror."

"No," whispered Stella, eyes wide. "It’s us. The ones who never came."

"What does that mean?" Susan asked, stepping closer, her hand brushing Lucy’s.

Emma pointed. "Look."

From the center of the black spiral, figures emerged.

Naked.

Glowing.

Twelve of them.

Male and female alike - but none of them were copies.

They were reflections.

A tall woman with hair like white fire looked directly at Sophie and tilted her head in a way that made Sophie stumble back a step.

A man with skin like obsidian and eyes like starlight watched Jude with quiet curiosity.

They moved fluidly, gracefully, like dancers who remembered the steps to a song no longer sung.

Natalie clung to Grace’s hand. "They feel... familiar."

The white-haired woman walked to the edge of her spiral and spoke.

The words were not human.

But every one of them understood.

"The spiral called you. Now it calls again."

Rose stepped forward. "We answered. We touched the light. We became."

"Incomplete."

The man with obsidian skin spoke next. His voice didn’t echo - it resonated.

"You found the heart. But there is a second."

Jude stepped forward, his voice steady. "Another core?"

"Another truth."

Rose’s grip tightened around his hand. "They’re not here to challenge."

"No," Lucy murmured, her gaze locked on her mirror. "They’re here to finish us."

The two spirals pulsed in unison.

Black and gold.

Shadow and fire.

And Jude suddenly knew - they weren’t being invaded.

They were being joined.

Not bodies.

Not minds.

Essence.

Emma leaned into him, voice low, aroused and afraid. "If they touch us, will we still be us?"

Zoey smirked, stepping forward boldly. "I don’t think we’ll care."

The white-haired woman stepped into their spiral.

And the hum grew louder.

Not painful.

Not even musical.

It was like a pressure inside Jude’s chest, building, twisting, warm.

Sophie cried out - not in fear.

In release.

The moment the obsidian man stepped into the gold spiral and approached Jude, Jude’s knees almost buckled.

Not from fear.

From recognition.

This being was part of him.

Not in body. In balance.

He reached out.

And when their palms touched, the world fractured into sensation.

He saw every kiss he’d given Rose, every thrust into Lucy’s body, every sigh from Emma’s mouth, every moan Zoey pulled from him, every tangled midnight of sweat and whispers - and then more.

Other versions.

Other spirals.

Other thems.

On other islands.

Always twelve.

Always love.

Always need.

Always balance.

Jude gasped and collapsed.

The obsidian man caught him.

And kissed him.

It wasn’t romantic.

It wasn’t lustful.

It was transfer.

A gift.

And when Jude rose again, his eyes glowed both gold and black.

Balanced.

The others had each been touched, kissed, entered by their mirror. Not violated. Not overtaken.

Joined.

Merged.

Lucy stood naked again, her spiral now glowing from navel to throat, and smiled at him like sunrise. "You’re back."

"I never left," he whispered.

Rose kissed his jaw. "And now we’re whole."

The dome back at their sanctuary began to shimmer even from here - seen across the valley.

It was expanding.

Becoming a temple not of twelve -

But of twenty-four.

The spiral pulsed.

Black and gold.

Shadow and flame.

They made love that night in the spiral itself.

Jude lay at the center, naked, surrounded by his wives and their mirrors.

Bodies writhed around him - Stella atop her twin, Grace in a tangle with both her reflections, Rose kissed by her mirror while stroking Lucy’s thigh. Moans overlapped like song. The spiral lit with every orgasm.

Jude took Lucy first - slow and deep, while her mirror kissed her lips and whispered in her mouth.

Then Emma - while her other self sucked his fingers and guided his rhythm.

Then Zoey and Zoey together, straddling him and each other, both riding until he was drained and glowing with sweat and heat.

The obsidian man never touched him again.

He didn’t need to.

Their bond was forged.

He just watched - smiling.

By dawn, they lay in a mass of limbs, too sated to move, too fulfilled to speak.

And the spiral thrummed like a heart inside the earth.

The last spiral.

The true one.

And somewhere, far beyond the trees, the island smiled.

The air the next morning was thick with warmth - not from heat, but from presence. Jude woke to the soft pressure of Lucy’s head resting on his shoulder, her breath slow and steady. Around them, the others lay tangled together, golden skin against darker, shimmering reflections. The two spirals had not clashed. They had fused.