Stuck in an Island with Twelve Beautiful Women
Chapter 1573

Chapter 1573: Chapter 1573

Lucy came last. She waited, quiet and glowing, until he was spent, then pulled him into her lap and cradled him, guiding him into her slowly, her body rocking gently until his gasps returned.

"Do you feel it?" she whispered.

He nodded, too breathless to speak.

The glow returned - soft and golden - and the air thickened with the scent of blooming petals.

Around them, the island trembled.

The sky darkened slightly, not in threat, but in invitation.

A storm was coming.

But not of destruction.

Of change.

As they lay together, breath mingling, limbs tangled in warm moss, Rose looked toward the open canopy and said, "The next part is coming."

Sophie frowned. "What part?"

"The part where we stop being just survivors and start becoming something more."

Stella smirked. "We already did that."

"No," Rose said, serious now. "We became one. Now we lead. Now we shape."

Jude sat up, his heart still thudding, his body humming with love and power.

He looked at each of them - his wives, his flames, his roots.

And he said, "Then let’s begin."

The light shifted in a slow spiral, filtering down through the open canopy in golden ribbons that danced over their skin. Around them, the sanctuary pulsed with quiet life - leaves whispering like breath, walls alive with a low glow, the moss beneath their bodies warming and adjusting, always tender, always listening. No one spoke at first. They didn’t need to. Their bodies were still humming from the union, from the sacred rhythm they had fallen into so easily now, as natural as tides and hunger.

Sophie was the one who finally stirred, sitting up with the weight of a woman who had been resisting something for far too long. Her hair was wild, stuck with moss and petals, her breasts still rising with the tremble of breath that hadn’t fully calmed. She looked around at the circle, at Jude, who was propped up beside Lucy, their hands still tangled in sleepy affection. Her eyes met Emma’s, who nodded as if to say yes, it’s real , then met Jude’s and held.

"What do we shape?" she asked quietly.

All twelve women stilled, listening. Not just to her, but to something deeper - an echo beneath her question that resonated in the chamber itself. The island had been leading, guiding, responding. But now it waited.

Lucy sat up slowly, brushing golden pollen from Jude’s chest. "We shape what we are. Not just lovers. Not just roots."

Emma stood, stretching her long frame, muscles flexing as she stepped to the edge of the room. The vines shifted to let her pass. "We need more than a sanctuary. We need understanding. A history. A purpose."

"We need a library," Grace said, eyes brightening. "Or something like it."

"A memory hall," Natalie added. "A place that keeps the story of what we’ve become."

Zoey grinned, flipping onto her stomach. "I’ll carve it in stone if I have to. Naked."

Scarlet gave a soft laugh. "Of course you would."

Rose’s eyes stayed on Jude. "It has to come from you."

He blinked, surprised. "Why me?"

"Because you’re the first seed," she said simply. "And because it listens to you. Not just the island. We listen to you."

His heart thundered. Not from fear. From the weight of it. From the truth.

He stood slowly, and the vines opened wider. The others rose around him, still naked, still beautiful, no longer shy about their bare skin or glowing bodies. Their shapes were all different - soft and strong, curved and lean - but each of them radiated that same power, that same light.

Jude stepped outside, barefoot and glowing, and they followed him in silence. The forest bowed to their movement. Trees leaned back. Blossoms opened. The wind kissed their hair like a greeting.

He didn’t know where he was leading them.

But his body did.

His breath guided his feet, and the island responded.

They came to a new clearing - untouched, ringed with high trees whose trunks shimmered with hidden runes. At its center, a massive stone stood, half-buried, veined with glowing crystal. It pulsed faintly, like a dormant heart.

Jude reached out.

The second his fingers touched it, the pulse surged. The stone lit up from within, golden veins streaking across its surface. A shock ran through his palm, not painful, but potent - like an ancient truth awakening.

Behind him, the others gasped as the clearing came to life.

Vines uncoiled from the trees, weaving in the air.

The moss shifted, folding upward, shaping into walls - not barriers, but frames. Open. Curved. Alive.

A structure rose before them.

Not a sanctuary like before.

This was different.

This was sacred.

A place of stories. A place of memory.

The island was answering.

Inside, they found a circular space, lined with living walls that pulsed with shifting images - visions of what they had seen, what they had become. Glimpses of the tree blooming. Of Rose glowing in the pool. Of Jude kissing Alara. Of bodies joining in golden light, of petals falling, of the heartstone flaring.

It was all there.

Etched in light and memory.

"This is..." Susan’s voice cracked. "This is us."

"No," Emma whispered. "This is what will be us. Every moment. Every touch. Every choice."

They explored the space, touching the images. When Zoey brushed a wall, it responded with her voice from nights ago, moaning Jude’s name as she moved above him. When Lucy touched another, it showed her dream beneath the tree, wrapped around his body, whispering unity.

"This place remembers," Grace breathed.

"And it lets us remember too," Scarlet added.

Sophie stood at the center, staring upward where the ceiling had peeled open like a blooming flower. The sky above swirled with golden clouds. "This is where we begin telling it."

Rose turned to Jude. "What do we call it?"

He looked around, at the vines, the light, the warm moss beneath their feet, the women who had become his world. Then he looked to the heart-stone at the center of the space, and the golden veins that pulsed within it.