Stuck in an Island with Twelve Beautiful Women
Chapter 910 - 911.2

Chapter 910: Chapter 911.2

Jude led them west, crossing the iron‐stake node again, then climbing across the fungal ring and ridge. Each nod aligned them, kept them together. Their symbol map lay safe in their packs, but this path, the silent option beyond, is evolving, expanding with each footfall.

They moved as one. The forest rose up around them: deep green, suffocating, alien themes carried on wings of insects. Light fell fractured through leaves. Shadows formed between steps and moved faster. They didn’t speak beyond soft commentary: "Here," "Watch there," "Feel that." Each step a question answered.

By midday they reached the grotto, a place they’d skirted before, a dark dip in the terrain under dangling roots and moss. Mist pooled here, swirling in damp coolness. It seemed too still, too deep, unnaturally silent.

Jude knelt on the rim. The hush felt thick enough to swallow them. He gestured for Lucy and Emma to come closer. Grace and Natalie knelt on the opposite side, as if encircled. Eleven wives crouched, leaning in. Eleven breaths, held.

Jude dipped a hand into the misty pool. Water trickled cold. The air around them hissed as tiny whirlwinds spun. A shape flickered below the surface, movement inconsistent with ripple. Something slid behind current, like a keening whisper.

He withdrew his hand. Water dripped between his fingers. He met Grace.

"We’re named?" he asked.

Grace answered firmly. "We are named. Together."

Jude exchanged glances rapidly, bulbs of decision, and pressed his hand back against the water. The cold snagged on his soul. He sucked breath.

"Then step in," he said softly. "Together."

One by one they stood and placed hands in the pool, cold, liquid memory. Each sleeve rolled up. Each stood firmly. Each scrawled their vow in hushed tones: "I remember," "I remain," "I hold." Their words sank into the waters. The pool drank them.

Jude spoke then: "I bind us here." He closed his eyes in the center and spoke aloud: "We are names given, memories kept, hearts tethered to each other and this island. Let no shape claim our flesh or mind. Let the watchers know: we are here. We belong."

A low hum escalated, steel-thin, rising to nowhere. The mist swirled. Vines trembled. Then the forest inhaled and exhaled in one breath. The grotto’s echo dissolved.

They withdrew their hands, formed a circle around the basin. They bowed and walked back up.

The sun hovered low. Still silent. Still static. When they reached the top ridge, they paused. Birds returned. Leaf-drips resumed. The hush was broken. The forest exhaled.

They pressed onward, deeper than any map could reach. The ground sloped downward toward the volcanic rim, but veiled by trees, volcanic rock unseen, life undimmed.

They walked further. Ribbons tied on trees, blue for memory, red for unity, but each node they touched left only promises, no watchers.

They found yet another fungus ring, of bright violet mushrooms. They did not linger. Jude marked with ribbon and sample jar. Grace dropped a final affirmation: "Our memory defies obliteration."

They carried on, crossing what felt like a new border, an unseen line shifting from map to life. The air smelled warmer, peppered by sulfur but sweetened by new flowers. Roots snaked across faint paths. The terrain felt younger, wild, expectant.

Finally they reached a small clearing, smooth stone floor beneath an ancient canopy. At its center lay a shallow pool, its surface like oil, black and seeing, reflecting pinpricks of sky. They recognized it by shape, mirror-pool.

Jude took a step closer. He hesitated. The last time he had seen a mirror-pool it had reflected his own face, riven with grief. Now he looked at his wives, formed of trust, scarred by confusion, named through ritual. He thought of the pact they’d made: memory, unity, presence. He let his reflection hover over water, then each wife did too. Eleven faces hovered over eleven shapes in the pool.

He took Grace’s hand, Lucy’s, Emma’s. They stepped in slowly, knees bleeding from stones but spirits tethered. Water slithered over their skin, cold, deep, alive, pulling at muscle, dredging memory from bone. They sank to mid-thigh. Their reflections rippled.

He spoke, voice low and deliberate: "Who are you?"

His reflection bobbed and stretched; their eyes echoed his vowels. Then Lucy spoke: "We are memory."

Emma added: "We are named."

Grace said, "We stand as one."

Jude nodded. "We come with names. With unity. With truth."

His wife Serena whispered into the water: "I am Serena. I remember."

And so it went around, until each voice filled the clearing, each name, each vow dipped and spilled. The forest accepted, not with thunder or wrath, but with quiet, leaves tremoring, vines breathing, wind flickering. Then the pool went still; the surface gathered clarity, reflecting devoid shapes, but not watchers, just eleven steadfast faces.

They walked out of the pool and back onto earth, water pooling at their ankles and dripping. They touched each other hands. No words left.

The sun dipped low; evening winds rustled again. They began to circle back.

By dusk, the group emerged onto the central walkway near the treehouses. Exhausted, but triumphant. The watchers were silent. The map lay unused in its box. The nodes had been pressed freshly into memory, again and again. The pillars of bowline and ribbon held stronger.

Into the firepit they all gathered, even Nefertari and Serena brought logs, flint, and blankets. Smoke drifted skyward.

Jude looked at them without speaking for long minutes. Then he said softly: "We broke past every boundary today, nodes, map, grotto, ridge, mirror. We stood under truths we named, we answered the island’s call. We wear names. We wear vows. We wear each other’s hearts."

He met Grace’s eyes: "What we have done... does it feel true?"

She smiled, shoulders leaning. "Yes."

The others nodded, hushed agreement passing between their breaths. The firelight danced in their eyes.

Jude exhaled. "I don’t know what comes next, another shape, another node, deeper uncharted places. But I know this: we named ourselves as a single force.