Stuck in an Island with Twelve Beautiful Women
Chapter 1669 - 1668.1

Chapter 1669: Chapter 1668.1

The wind moved through the trees like a whispering choir, rustling the leaves with a rhythm that matched their heartbeats. The golden glow of the spiral had softened into a warm, pulsing hush beneath them, no longer demanding, but present - like a memory held close to the skin.

Jude stood at the center of the mossy clearing, his twelve wives encircling him, their bodies draped in loose wraps of silk and fronds, hair kissed by pollen, skin still aglow from the union they had shared. Around them, the forest waited. Not silent, not ominous - just patient.

Stella was the first to break the quiet. She stepped forward, barefoot and radiant, her eyes still heavy-lidded from pleasure but sharpened now with curiosity. "If the cradle was the beginning," she said softly, "what comes next?"

"The path," Rose answered, her voice low, reverent. "The third spiral was our joining, our creation. But the island’s not finished with us. It’s only just begun."

Zoey ran a hand down Jude’s chest, grinning with a heat that hadn’t cooled. "So, more sex?"

Emma rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the curl of a smile. "You’d enjoy that too much."

Zoey winked. "Wouldn’t you?"

Grace leaned against Jude’s side, fingers tracing the line of his hip. "There’s something else waiting. I can feel it. Like a direction in the wind."

"There," Sophie said, pointing toward a narrow trail leading away from the cradle. It hadn’t been visible before, but now it shimmered faintly, lined with fallen petals and stones etched in soft glowing runes. "That wasn’t there this morning."

"It was," Lucy murmured, slipping her fingers between Jude’s. "We just couldn’t see it."

He looked at her. "Are we ready?"

"We became ready the moment we touched the cradle," she said.

They moved together, not with hesitation, but with a steady purpose. Naked feet on soft moss, bodies still humming from their communion, minds stretching into something deeper. The trail curved through the forest like a vein, pulsing gently beneath their steps. Birds didn’t sing. Insects didn’t buzz. The forest held its breath.

Delilah and Mae walked behind Jude and Lucy, heads tilted, watching the way the branches arched away, almost respectfully. Elias lingered near Zoey, his expression calm but alert. The others walked in pairs or trios, hands brushing, arms entwined, their connection not just physical anymore, but something that hummed through their shared blood.

The path opened into another clearing, smaller than the spiral, encircled by twelve white stone pillars. In the center stood an altar of glistening black wood, shaped like a wave frozen in motion. Suspended above it was a sphere of water, floating midair, unmoving, glistening with reflections of their faces even though they had not approached.

Natalie gasped. "What is that?"

"It’s a mirror," Susan whispered, stepping forward. "But not to see ourselves. To see... what we’ve become."

They approached cautiously, forming a loose circle again. Jude stood before the altar and reached out toward the floating orb. It pulsed as his hand neared, casting soft ripples of light across the stone pillars.

The moment his fingers brushed the surface, the sphere split into twelve smaller droplets, each one hovering in front of a wife. They each stepped forward instinctively, lifting their hands, and the droplets met their palms like kisses.

One by one, they gasped.

Sophie’s eyes filled with tears. "I see... all of you. I feel what you felt. Every time. Even when you were with him."

Lucy smiled softly. "I always wanted to know what that felt like through your skin."

Scarlet trembled, her hand clutching her chest. "It’s like my heart’s inside each of you."

Zoey whispered, stunned, "I... I didn’t think I’d be okay with this. But this isn’t jealousy. It’s - "

"Oneness," Rose finished. "The island’s sharing our truths. Binding them."

The droplets sank into their skin, leaving no trace but the afterglow in their eyes. Jude looked around, stunned by the weightless silence that followed. He felt it too - not just as their husband, but as one of them now. Every kiss they had shared, every moan in the dark, every whispered name, now existed inside each of them.

"It’s never been about who gets more," Emma said, her voice shaking. "It’s always been about giving it all."

Delilah exhaled slowly, her body swaying slightly like she was drunk on connection. "We’ve become the rhythm."

Elias stepped toward the altar, fingertips grazing its smooth surface. "Then what’s this?"

The altar pulsed once. A seam opened, revealing something embedded deep inside - a long staff of black wood, capped with gold and wrapped in vines. Jude stepped forward and took it.

The forest responded instantly.

A blast of golden wind spiraled outward, rushing through the clearing, bending trees and filling the air with the scent of orchids and earth. Every hair on Jude’s body rose. The staff glowed in his hand.

"You’ve accepted your role," Rose said.

"I didn’t choose it," he replied.

"No," Lucy said. "But the island did. And so did we."

The staff anchored him. It didn’t give him power. It focused it. A bridge. A centerpoint.

A doorway opened behind the altar - dark, shimmering, lined in stone and moss and something breathing. A cave. A tunnel. A mouth.

No one spoke.

Then Jude walked forward, the staff lighting the way.

Inside, the darkness wasn’t empty. It shimmered like water and memory. As they passed through, images danced along the walls. Their first night on the island. Their laughter by the river. Rose’s fall from the cliff. The watchers. The dream where they had children. The monster that had haunted them.

The spiral.

The pool.

Alara’s kiss.

They passed it all, silent, until the tunnel widened into a vast chamber, walls made of crystal and roots, the ceiling arched high with vines that glowed faintly purple and gold. At the far end stood a throne.

It wasn’t for ruling.

It was for resting.

For becoming.

Jude stepped onto it, and the roots wrapped gently around his legs, not trapping - cradling.