Stuck in an Island with Twelve Beautiful Women
Chapter 1716

Chapter 1716: Chapter 1716

The stars above shifted. Not in position, but in shape. They twisted slowly into a spiral, golden lines connecting them in ways that formed a vast glyph in the sky. Jude stood instinctively. "It’s a signal."

Emma starred up. "A map."

Rose walked toward the center of the rise, her hair like fire in the starlight. "It’s a message."

Jude followed her, the others rising in silence. Together they stood in a circle again, just like in the ring. He felt it before it happened - the heat low in his belly, the tremble in the earth, the way the island’s breath quickened like arousal.

From the shadows of the trees came light.

A dozen glowing figures emerged.

But they weren’t people.

They weren’t spirits either.

They were echoes.

Reflections.

Of themselves.

Each one matched one of them in shape and height - but their features were blurred, their edges rippling like heat waves. They moved with sensual grace, each stepping toward their living counterpart.

Lucy gasped softly as her mirror stepped forward, raising its hand. When their fingers touched, golden light surged up her arm. She cried out, not in pain, but in pleasure. Rose’s mirror reached for her next. Then Grace. Then Zoey.

Jude’s mirror did not approach.

It stood at the edge of the circle, watching, waiting.

Then Sophie’s mirror spoke. Its voice was both hers and not hers - layered and resonant.

"You are the root."

Jude stepped forward. "What are you?"

"We are your reflection. Your result. Your echo across time."

He swallowed. "Are we dreaming?"

"No. You are remembering. The island stores memory in light. In sensation. In pleasure. This is what you’ve planted."

Susan’s eyes were wide. "Are you... us?"

"No. But we will be."

The mirrors began to circle, and the golden light between them grew brighter. Bodies met bodies - not in combat, not even in ritual - but in touch. In mimicry. Lips pressed to mirrored lips. Hips met hips. Breaths caught.

When the mirror that looked like Lucy kissed her full on the mouth, she moaned into it and melted. Jude watched as each of his lovers met their mirror - first tentatively, then hungrily.

Only his remained apart.

"I don’t understand," Jude said.

The mirror spoke again. "You are the seed. You cannot touch what you will become. You can only create it."

Jude looked at the women - his women - each glowing, each wrapped around themselves and something more. It was more than erotic. It was divine.

And as each one cried out in release, the echoes melted into light and shot upward into the star-shaped glyph. One by one. Until only Jude and his mirror remained.

"Now what?" he whispered.

"You wait," the mirror said, and faded into gold.

Jude collapsed to his knees, breath ragged. Lucy rushed to him, wrapping him in her arms, her mouth on his temple.

"You did it," she whispered. "Whatever it was."

Rose knelt beside him too. "It was a planting. In the sky. In the soil. In us."

Emma stood above them all, her body outlined in golden fire. "The next generation of us."

A hush fell.

No one said it.

But they all felt it.

Something was coming.

Not a threat.

A promise.

They lay together again that night, curled around Jude like petals around a bud. He touched each of them. Kissed each of them. Held each of them.

And when he finally slept, he dreamed of golden children playing in rivers of honey, laughter echoing through the trees.

And the island smiled.

Jude woke with a slow inhale, not from a dream but from the warmth of skin pressed against his own, the scent of wildflowers and morning dew in the air, and the gentle flutter of fingers trailing along his chest. Lucy was the first face he saw when his eyes opened, her golden irises still kissed by the light of the night before. She was watching him with a look he couldn’t quite define - tender, awed, and something deeper. Like reverence. Like love made ancient.

"Morning," she whispered, voice rough with sleep.

"Morning," he replied, brushing a strand of hair from her cheek.

"I dreamed of the stars," she said, eyes still half-lidded. "But they were seeds. And we planted them."

He kissed her brow, his lips lingering. "You think they’ll grow?"

She nodded. "I think they already have."

Around them, the others were beginning to stir. Emma sat up slowly, rubbing sleep from her eyes. Sophie stretched beside her, one arm flung over her stomach as she looked up at the sky, which still shimmered faintly with the residue of the star-glyph. Grace and Zoey lay entangled near the fire pit, murmuring to each other in hushed tones. Rose stood already, bare and regal as ever, looking to the east where the valley dipped into golden mist.

"Something’s moving," she said without turning.

Jude sat up, Lucy pressed against his side. "Another vision?"

"No," Rose said, finally turning to look at them. "This time it’s real."

They dressed in silence, wrapping themselves in cloth spun from soft fronds and woven vines. There was no more shame in nudity - just practicality now. The day had purpose. The moment Jude stood fully, he felt the thrum again - the same beat from the heartstone, but fainter, buried beneath the soil like a sleeping giant.

"We need to follow it," Sophie said, joining him. "It’s calling."

No one questioned it. They packed light, a few fruits, some gourds of sweet river water, and small stone blades Zoey had carefully sharpened the night before. They walked together, no leader this time, just a circle that moved as one. The forest opened before them like it had been waiting.

They followed the pulse - not just beneath the earth but now resonating in their own blood. It led them deeper than they had ever gone, through a new part of the island where the trees were darker, the air cooler, the golden light fainter but more concentrated in pockets - mossy stones, fungi that pulsed like breath, flowers that swayed without wind.