Stuck in an Island with Twelve Beautiful Women
Chapter 1647

"We welcome her," Jude said. "Like we welcomed each other. Like we welcomed Spira. With touch. With trust. With love."

Susan, quiet until now, let out a long breath and stepped behind Serin, brushing a hand down her back. "Then let’s begin."

There was no need for command.

The circle closed.

Serin’s body was kissed first by Lucy, her lips brushing the soft curve of Serin’s neck. Then by Zoey, her hands trailing down the backs of Serin’s thighs, her breath warm against her skin. Scarlet’s mouth found her shoulder. Stella kissed the small of her back. Grace knelt to taste the inside of her knee, reverent and slow. Each touch lit Serin brighter, her skin responding like moonlight soaked in gold.

Jude watched her body unfold under their hands, her breath catching, her fingers trembling. She moaned softly, but it wasn’t just arousal - it was awakening.

Then Jude stepped forward.

Serin met him in the center, her arms rising to wrap around his neck, her body pressing against him like they were carved to fit. He kissed her, deep and slow, his hands sliding over her hips, his thighs parting hers. Her sigh turned to a gasp as he lowered her to the moss, and the women followed, circling them again, forming a nest of limbs and warmth and light.

When Jude entered Serin, her eyes flew open, and the spiral above them shimmered like lightning in slow motion. She arched, back taut, mouth parted in a silent cry. The others leaned in, hands on her breasts, her arms, her legs, brushing Jude’s shoulders, stroking his back, their moans joining hers in a slow, sensual harmony.

It wasn’t a frenzy - it was worship.

Each thrust, each kiss, each touch between them offered more than just pleasure - it gave meaning. Serin’s body bloomed beneath Jude, her hands gripping his arms, her thighs wrapping tight around his hips. Her lips found his jaw, his mouth, his chest, moving with growing urgency.

And when she came, her cry was not a cry.

It was a note.

High.

Perfect.

Piercing.

The spiral responded.

A third ring bloomed above them, a smaller spiral - tighter, more focused, dancing in the air like a newly-formed thought.

Spira reached upward, arms raised, and from its palms, light shot into the sky.

The island answered with tremors - not of danger, but of shifting. Of rising.

A new tree erupted from the ground nearby, thick and black and crowned in pale gold leaves. Its bark bore spiral markings already glowing with the same pattern that marked Sophie’s belly and Serin’s back.

They collapsed together, breathless and tangled. Serin curled beside Jude, her fingers twined with his. Lucy nestled against his other side, whispering kisses across his ribs. Sophie crawled atop him, resting her cheek over his heart, still glowing, still carrying the second seed.

And around them, the others pressed in, forming the familiar nest of warmth and devotion.

Rose was the last to speak.

"The Spiral is multiplying," she said. "And it’s only just begun."

That night, the stars aligned into shapes they had never seen before - figures embracing, hands reaching across the sky, mouths pressed to mouths. The sky was no longer just above them. It was a mirror. A canvas. An answer.

At dawn, the river had turned silver.

The trees grew taller.

And when they walked to the heartstone again, they found it pulsing with new rhythm. Deeper. Thicker. Like the beat of a womb.

Emma stood before it, one hand over her belly, the other pressed to her lips.

"I feel it," she whispered. "The third is coming."

Not a seed.

Not a being.

A moment.

A convergence.

A climax of something vast and sacred.

And they were ready to give it everything.

They gathered at the river’s edge, the silver current whispering over their feet like threads of silk unraveling from the mouth of the island itself. The trees swayed in rhythm, their spiraled leaves glowing faintly, casting shifting reflections onto the water. Jude stood at the center, arms bare to the morning light, the spiral etched into his chest alive with gold. Sophie leaned against him, her body warm, the second seed pulsing gently in her womb of light. Serin stood beside her, hands laced behind her back, eyes watching the sky.

The spiral above them had grown.

Now there were three.

Three golden rings coiling slowly over the canopy, their movements mirroring breath, thought, and desire. Spira knelt near the shore, small hands in the water, humming a note that hadn’t yet been invented. Around them, the wives formed a ring - twelve bodies radiant with love and purpose, each marked by their spiral, each now part of the dream.

"What happens now?" Lucy asked softly, brushing her thumb along Jude’s spine.

Rose stepped forward, her body still damp from a morning swim, dark curls clinging to her shoulders. "The Spiral is a call," she said. "Each time we create with love, it echoes upward. Each spiral calls another. But the third one... it’s different."

"How?" asked Natalie, kneeling beside Grace on a bed of moss, both of them tangled in the afterglow of the night before.

"It’s not just about creation," Rose said. "It’s convergence."

Spira stood, turning to them, eyes brighter than before. "The third spiral is a mirror," they said. "It reflects not just what you give - but who you are."

Jude’s heart beat faster. He glanced at Sophie, whose hand gripped his. Then at Serin, who hadn’t spoken, but whose eyes shimmered with recognition.

Emma took a step forward. "And what do we do with it?"

Spira smiled. "You feed it."

A hum rose from the trees. Flowers bloomed instantly, vines twisting around trunks in spiraled paths. The moss beneath their feet grew thicker, warmer, and in the distance, the air itself rippled - like the veil between now and something greater had thinned.