Stuck in an Island with Twelve Beautiful Women
Chapter 1574

Chapter 1574: Chapter 1574

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.

"The Bloom," he said.

Lucy smiled. "Perfect."

They didn’t stay long. The Bloom would always be there now, waiting. A living archive. A sacred garden of memory. They returned to their sanctuary, hands held, kisses exchanged, the weight of this new creation humming through them like music.

That night, they gathered in the heart-bed again, but not for sex.

For stories.

Jude sat in the center, Lucy tucked against him, Zoey draped across his back, Sophie on his right, Stella and Emma curled against his legs, and the others arrayed around them in a slow circle of warmth.

He told them everything he’d felt when he touched the stone.

Visions of what came before.

Warnings of what might come again.

And a truth he hadn’t said aloud until now.

"There’s more," he said softly. "Beyond the sea. Beyond the forest. Others. Waiting."

Natalie leaned forward. "Others like us?"

"Or others who were like us," Emma said. "Who never woke."

"Maybe we were always meant to find them," Rose murmured. "To show them."

Sophie’s eyes narrowed. "Or maybe they’ll find us."

Silence.

And then Lucy, always the quiet center, asked the question none of them had dared yet.

"Would you love them too?"

Jude looked at her, at all of them.

And said the only thing he could.

"I don’t know."

The words were terrifying.

And honest.

And somehow, enough.

Lucy kissed him. "As long as we’re first."

"You’re always first," he whispered.

The wind outside shifted.

Not threatening.

But expectant.

Jude lay back in the moss as the women curled around him, whispering and touching and laughing softly. Sleep came slowly, golden and deep.

And beyond the forest, beyond the sea, the island sent out its first dream.

An echo.

A summons.

The roots were growing.

And something - someone - heard.

The dream that came was unlike any before. It didn’t begin with light or warmth, but with silence - complete and endless, as if the entire island had taken a breath and held it. Jude floated in it, weightless, disembodied, but not alone. Around him, he felt presences - soft touches, distant pulses, not just the women he loved but others, ancient and new, waiting just beyond the veil of recognition.

Then a voice, familiar and strange, echoed through the silence.

"You’ve bloomed. Now you must root."

Jude turned in the dream, or perhaps the dream turned around him. Before him stood a tree - not the heart-tree, not the flowering tree of golden petals - but a blackened thing, twisted and ancient, its limbs like arms reaching for something long gone. Its bark pulsed faintly red, and at its base, a ring of stones burned with sigils he didn’t understand.

He reached out.

The tree whispered in return.

Not with words, but with visions. Of hunger. Of love turned desperate. Of a people who had touched too much, too fast, and been consumed by the power they tried to hold. The tree showed him ruins beneath the ocean, buried roots that still pulsed with sorrow. A city once grown from love, now silent beneath the waves.

"You must not repeat it," the voice warned again.

And then he saw her - Alara, standing before the tree, hair tangled with coral, eyes dark with mourning.

"We were the first," she said softly. "But not the last. Your circle is not complete until you know how we ended."

Jude tried to speak, but the dream was already pulling away, vanishing like mist. Her hand reached for him - he touched her fingertips - and woke with a gasp.

The sanctuary was quiet, still cloaked in pre-dawn blue. His heart pounded in his chest, not with fear but urgency. Lucy stirred beside him, brows furrowed.

"You felt it," she whispered, not a question.

He nodded.

"The dream?"

"Yes," he said. "And a warning."

The others woke one by one, as if summoned by his heartbeat. Emma rubbed her eyes, already alert. Sophie sat upright, lips parted in recognition. Rose didn’t speak - she simply stood and moved to his side, her touch steady.

He told them what he’d seen. The blackened tree. The ruins. Alara’s grief.

Natalie’s face paled. "There were others before us. And they... failed."

"No," Rose said. "They became something else. But not what they meant to be."

"Then what do we do?" Susan asked softly.

"We go," Jude said. "To the sea. To the ruins. We need to see it for ourselves."

Emma nodded. "I’ll prepare supplies."

Zoey stretched with a lazy grin. "You just want to climb cliffs and fight sea-monsters again."

"If we’re lucky," she muttered, already pulling on a wrap.

They moved like clockwork, their unity now something beyond choice - it was instinct. The island helped them, parting brambles, softening paths, guiding their feet to the edge of the known. By midday, they stood on the western cliffs, staring out at the glittering sea that had once been their prison.

Below them, waves rolled toward black rocks, and beyond that, in the shallows, they could see it.

Structures.

Domes and spires, encrusted with coral and draped in seaweed.

A city.

Submerged.

Lucy stepped beside him, taking his hand. "We have to go down."

"Not all of us," Jude said, turning. "Some stay. In case it’s a trap."

Rose tilted her head. "A trap? From who?"

"Not a who," he whispered. "A memory."

Sophie, Emma, and Zoey volunteered without hesitation. Natalie too. The rest remained behind, watching from the cliffs as the group descended.

The rocks were slick, but the island cushioned their steps. The ocean welcomed them - not cold, not harsh - but warm and glittering. As they waded in, the water shimmered with the same faint glow as the heartstone.

Then the pulse began again.

A low rhythm beneath the waves, echoing in their bones.