Stuck in an Island with Twelve Beautiful Women
Chapter 926

Chapter 926: Chapter 926

The sky bled silver as the sun cracked the edge of the horizon, casting long shadows through the orchard where Jude sat alone, cross-legged beneath the fig-glyph tree. His arms still glowed faintly from the mountain’s touch, the glyphs now fully part of his skin, not painted, not temporary, but alive. They pulsed softly with his heartbeat. Birds stirred in the canopy overhead, and a breeze stirred the ribbons tied to the trees, causing them to flutter and whisper like voices just out of hearing. He inhaled deeply. The island smelled different now, richer, fuller, almost sentient. As if it had taken notice.

Behind him, footsteps padded across soft grass. He didn’t turn. He already knew her rhythm.

Grace knelt beside him and leaned into his shoulder, her hand brushing lightly over the glowing marks. "You didn’t sleep."

"I couldn’t," he said. "It feels like something’s waiting."

"We’re all waiting," she murmured. "But no one wants to pressure you. Not after what you saw."

He looked at her then. Her eyes were tired, but not from fear. From expectation. She wasn’t afraid of what he had become. She’d seen it in the way she’d held him last night, the way her touch had steadied his breath when the glow made the children stare too long. "I want you to come with me today."

Grace blinked. "Where?"

"To the edge. Where the watchers used to stand."

She hesitated. "You said last time, "

"I know. But this isn’t about the mountain. Not yet. It’s something else. I felt it before dawn." He touched the earth. "Something’s moving."

Grace nodded slowly. "I’ll wake the others."

The wives gathered quietly, dressed in soft cloth, their hair braided with fresh leaves and charms. They had learned to read the shifts in Jude’s breath, the pauses in his voice. They knew he wasn’t the same. But they also knew he was still theirs. Susan kissed his cheek. Rose braided a feather into his hair. Serena adjusted the belt around his waist. Layla offered a curved blade, not for war, but for symbol. Natalie touched his shoulder, Zoey took his hand for a moment. Lucy gave him a small glass jar filled with mist-caught dew. Stella knelt to whisper a blessing. Emma pressed a painted stone into his palm. Sophie smiled, wordless, and Grace wrapped a silver-thread ribbon around his wrist. Scarlet, last to approach, wrapped her arms around his neck and said, "Come back changed, but come back."

They moved through the orchard in near silence, leaving Laurel and Raven with Emma, who had stayed behind to keep the children safe. As they passed the outer edge, the air thickened. Not in menace, but in weight. Like the island was watching. Like it held its breath.

Jude led them along the western slope, where the land dipped into a shallow ravine choked with vines and curling roots. The earth was warmer here, as if fire lived beneath it. The mist thinned, revealing strange shapes in the distance, new trees, twisted and thick with white bark, their trunks spiraled unnaturally. Watchers had never stood here. No ribbons ever marked this path. But the glyphs on Jude’s arms burned brighter the farther they walked.

They reached a clearing just before midday. The land here was scorched, blackened in a perfect circle. At the center stood a single tree, its limbs bare, bark charred, but from its base grew dozens of tiny white flowers. Jude approached it slowly, breath catching. He reached out and touched the bark.

The tree sang.

Not aloud. Not in any language.

But in memory.

He saw flashes, fire racing across the sky, a child with silver eyes standing in a broken temple, hands raised to stop something unseen. A circle of stones. Blood on leaves. A kiss shared in secret beside a river. Twelve voices calling one name.

His.

Jude fell to his knees.

Grace caught him. "What is it?"

He could barely breathe. "This tree, it remembers. Me. Us. All of us."

Serena stepped closer, eyes wide. "This wasn’t here before. We would’ve seen it."

"It grew overnight," Zoey said softly. "Or it appeared. Like the mountain entrance."

The ground rumbled faintly. The wives backed up instinctively, but Jude stayed, fingers still pressed to the bark.

The tree pulsed beneath his touch, and something opened.

The world shifted.

Suddenly they weren’t in the clearing anymore.

They stood in a great hall made of trees and bone and smoke. The roof stretched to the stars. At its center, a circle of stone chairs, twelve, all empty. The wind whispered in a tongue that wasn’t quite speech.

Grace clutched his hand. "Is this real?"

"Yes," Jude said. "And no. This is a memory. A truth."

Shapes filled the chairs, tall, radiant figures cloaked in robes of dusk and flame. Their faces blurred. Their presence overwhelming. Jude took a step forward.

"They were the gods," he whispered.

One figure turned toward him. "You were one of us."

Jude flinched. "No. I’m, "

"You were cast out. You chose humanity. Love. Form. You left the circle."

Another voice spoke. "But the circle is breaking. And your blood is the last thread."

"I don’t want to be a god," he said.

"You don’t have to be," the voice replied. "But you must remember."

The vision shattered.

He staggered backward, the charred tree swaying gently in a wind no one else felt.

Grace pulled him into her arms. "What did you see?"

"I saw the gods," he whispered. "And I saw myself among them."

Susan stepped forward. "Do you believe it?"

Jude looked around at the twelve women who had made his exile into home. Who had turned loneliness into family. Who had loved him before he knew his own name.

"I believe in you," he said. "More than I ever believed in divinity."

They stayed in the clearing until the sun dipped low. The flowers at the tree’s base began to close. Jude collected a few, tucking them into a pouch. The wives touched the bark one by one. Some cried. Some whispered prayers. Others kissed the petals.