Stuck in an Island with Twelve Beautiful Women
Chapter 1560

Chapter 1560: Chapter 1560

Jude looked at the pulsing ground. "We give it a piece of them, to keep them safe?"

Rose nodded. "A single drop of blood from each mother. Nothing more. Enough for the island to know them. To protect them. To love them back."

They formed a circle around the clearing’s center. Moss and vine arranged itself beneath them like a woven nest. The women moved with calm, measured intent - no hesitation, only understanding. Each took a small, sharp thorn offered by the forest, its tip pulsing with gentle heat.

Grace went first. She pricked her fingertip and let one drop fall into the center.

The ground drank it greedily.

Susan followed, then Natalie, then Stella and Zoey. Scarlet stepped in next, her baby nestled on her hip, her hand steady as the thorn pierced her skin. Lucy and Sophie, silent and focused, let their blood join the soil. Emma did not flinch. Neither did Grace, again, pressing her palm briefly to the dirt.

When Rose stepped forward, the ground pulsed.

Her drop sizzled.

And then the vines parted for the last.

Jude.

He wasn’t a mother. But he was the root.

The others turned to him as one, silently inviting.

He stepped forward, sliced a thin line across his palm, and held it over the center.

The blood dripped.

The soil surged.

And the clearing erupted.

Not violently. Not loud.

But alive.

The buds opened one by one, twelve blooms, each shaped like a starburst - each one a different color, as unique as the mothers who bore them. Petals stretched toward the sun, kissed with shimmering dew, and a light ribboned from each blossom straight into the sky. The island had accepted the offering.

The connection was complete.

The babies stirred in their mothers’ arms. They blinked, smiled, cooed. A few giggled. One reached for the air, catching a falling petal like it was the most obvious thing in the world. The mothers laughed, gasped, wiped tears.

"They’re safe now," Rose whispered. "Bound here. Always."

Jude stepped to her, brushing her hair back, his hand lingering at her cheek. "Do we stay?"

Rose leaned in and kissed him softly. "Would you leave?"

He shook his head.

Lucy stepped up, her child tucked against her shoulder. "We build something now."

Sophie looked around. "Something bigger than survival. We thrive."

Emma knelt by one of the new flowers, her fingers grazing the stem. "We teach them how to live. Not just breathe. Live. "

And so the work began.

But it didn’t feel like work.

It felt like play.

They didn’t build a house.

They grew one.

The trees bent for them, branches weaving to create a canopy overhead. The floor bloomed with moss thick enough to sleep on. Water pooled near the entrance - clear, sweet, rising from the ground like a gift.

Jude carried vines with Zoey, tied knots with Stella, wove leaves with Grace. Scarlet gathered petals and pressed them into the walls. Natalie shaped hollows in the roots for storage. Susan gathered glowing stones from the nearby stream to line the sleeping nests.

Sophie carried two babies at once. Lucy hummed lullabies in a tongue she hadn’t known she could speak. Emma created a sleeping ring at the heart of it all, and Rose, ever guiding, shaped the central hearth with her own hands - an open fire that burned blue and gold but never scorched, never needed wood.

When the home was complete, they stood in its center and listened to the silence.

The babies had already begun crawling.

Not walking - floating.

One child drifted gently through the air toward Jude, giggling as her tiny fingers tugged at his curls. Another circled Lucy, orbiting like a soft star.

"They’re using the island’s energy," Rose said.

"They are the island’s energy," Grace corrected.

That night, they feasted - not out of necessity, but celebration. Fruit split open with a touch. Nectar poured from hanging vines. They drank and danced, laughing beneath glowing moons - three of them now, slowly orbiting one another. The children floated above them like fireflies, occasionally settling on shoulders or laps, pressing glowing cheeks to skin before drifting again.

Jude kissed Lucy under one moon, then Sophie under another. Rose danced with Zoey, hair wild, limbs loose, laughter spilling like a waterfall. Emma sat beside Stella, their shoulders pressed together, watching the firelight dance on each other’s skin. Grace and Susan braided flowers into each other’s hair. Natalie fed her child from a fruit bowl shaped like a heart.

They didn’t need language to speak anymore.

Touch was enough.

Glance was enough.

Love - radiant, pulsing - was more than enough.

When night thickened, they curled together in their new home, twelve women and one man, the children floating overhead like stars in a private sky. The fire purred softly, casting long shadows on the walls. Lucy nestled against Jude’s side. Rose lay draped across his chest. Emma held his hand. Sophie kissed his shoulder. Around them, the others breathed slow and deep.

Jude looked up at the hovering children. "What happens when they grow?"

"They’ll teach us," Lucy said sleepily. "Not the other way around."

Rose whispered, "They’re the future of this place."

"Of us," Natalie murmured. "Our bond made flesh."

Jude’s heart ached with a love too large to hold. He kissed Rose’s hair, then Lucy’s forehead. His eyes met Emma’s. Then Sophie’s.

"We’re not just surviving," he said aloud. "We’re becoming something new."

And as if in answer, the children above them began to hum - not words, but a vibration, soft and constant, like a lullaby sung by stars.

The island answered, its light dimming gently.

And together, wrapped in each other’s arms, hearts humming, breath aligned, they fell into a dreamless sleep.

The island watched.

And smiled.

Morning returned in golden silence, not with the harsh demands of survival, but with the soft invitation of rebirth. Dew clung to petals that hadn’t existed the day before. The air shimmered with low, melodic warmth, as if the island itself exhaled around them.