Stuck in an Island with Twelve Beautiful Women
Chapter 1547

Chapter 1547: Chapter 1547

They moved again - Jude, the twelve, and now Elara - walking through the city as though they were the only ones who truly existed. Their steps didn’t echo. Their touch didn’t bruise. They left trails of warmth behind them: benches that no longer felt cold, walls that smelled like summer, cracked sidewalks bursting with small blooms. They weren’t forcing change. They were coaxing it. Awakening it.

And the city responded.

People began to stare longer.

Not in confusion. Not even in lust.

In recognition .

A man in a suit dropped his briefcase and followed them for a block before turning away and sobbing silently into his hands. A pair of teenage girls holding hands gasped when Lucy smiled at them and touched one of their cheeks. That girl fell to her knees, laughing, tears streaming down her face. She whispered, "I remember. I remember..."

In a small courtyard, an old woman sat on a bench alone, her cane beside her. She had not spoken to anyone in weeks. When Jude walked past her, she looked up - and the moment their eyes met, she smiled, closed her eyes, and whispered something in a language none of them spoke. But it was the island’s tongue. They felt it.

They stopped again at dusk - on a rooftop that overlooked a vast part of the city. The sky was burning with clouds painted violet and crimson, the last rays of sun shimmering like the edge of gold-leaf.

Jude stood at the edge and looked out. Around him, his wives were settling onto the warm stone, bodies draped in easy comfort. Elara sat close beside Lucy, her legs curled beneath her, her face peaceful.

Sophie approached Jude, sliding her arms around his waist. "They’ll come to us now."

"They already are," he said, pointing.

Across the skyline, tiny lights were blinking on in patterns. Not random. Not electric.

Golden.

In windows. On rooftops. In alleyways.

One here. Two there. Then dozens.

People who had seen them. Felt them. Touched something inside themselves that had slept too long. Now it was waking.

"They’re beginning to remember," Zoey whispered from behind him.

"Not everyone," Emma said softly. "But enough."

Rose stepped forward, lifting her hands to the sky. "This is what we were meant to do."

Jude turned to her. "And this is only the beginning, isn’t it?"

She shook her head. "It’s the middle , Jude. The beginning was the island. The middle is now. And the end?"

"There is no end," Lucy said, resting her head on Elara’s shoulder. "Only deeper dreams."

As night fell, they circled around Jude again.

This time it wasn’t sex. It wasn’t ritual.

It was intimacy.

Soft. Electric. Endless.

They kissed him, one by one. Each kiss a memory. A promise. A breath of something only they shared. He kissed them back, hands exploring skin he had loved a thousand times and would love a thousand more. Elara watched quietly at first, but when Lucy pulled her close and pressed their mouths together, she moaned softly and surrendered.

Jude reached for her then, pulling her into the circle. She joined without hesitation. Her skin was warm, her breath sweet. She straddled his lap, and his hands slid down her back as their lips met for the first time. Her moan bloomed between them, her glow deepening.

She moved on him slow, learning him, learning herself. The others watched, touched, supported. Susan stroked Elara’s hair. Grace kissed her spine. Zoey curled beneath them and licked along Jude’s thigh until he gasped.

Elara came hard, breath caught, voice rising like birds at dawn.

Jude followed, crying out her name, their bodies locked in sweat and bliss.

And around them, the city pulsed again.

Faster this time.

Wider.

More lights flickered on.

More hearts opened.

The dream was no longer just theirs.

It was beginning to spread.

The wind shifted - warm, fragrant, carrying scents that had no business existing in a city: jasmine, rain on bark, the sweet musk of bodies tangled in ecstasy. From the rooftop, Jude could see the shimmering halo that had begun to crown the city. It wasn’t a trick of light. It was a veil lifting. A truth revealing. Windows below opened slowly, cautiously, as if people had forgotten how to open things without fear. From one, a woman leaned out, her mouth parted in awe, staring not at them - but at the sky now glowing with ribbons of gold.

Lucy lay beside Jude, her cheek on his thigh, humming softly. Elara nestled in his lap still, her breath steady, her limbs loose with satisfaction. She glowed brighter now, her edges warm and alive like she had finally shed a skin she hadn’t realized she’d been trapped inside. Stella ran fingers down Jude’s chest, trailing light. Sophie and Emma sat side by side, their knees touching, watching the city with solemn eyes and restless energy building again in their bones.

"We’re waking them," Grace whispered. "One soul at a time."

"But the rhythm’s quickening," Rose said, standing tall and nude at the edge of the rooftop. The golden light curved around her like a halo, her hair loose, her eyes sharp. "Something bigger is coming. The more they feel, the more it builds."

"What happens when too many remember too fast?" Emma asked.

Rose turned to face them, her body illuminated by starlight and city breath. "Then we shift again. Like we did on the island. Like we will always do."

Jude sat up slowly, brushing hair from Elara’s flushed face. "Are we still the center?"

"You’re the pulse," Rose said, stepping closer. "But they’re becoming the current."

Below, streetlamps flickered. Some went out entirely. In their place, vines grew - actual green tendrils spiraling up the metal poles, blooming with soft golden flowers. People stared, frozen mid-step, phones forgotten in their hands. One woman dropped hers entirely, letting it shatter on the pavement as she knelt to touch a vine wrapping around her ankle.

Jude stood, helping Elara up with him.