Stuck in an Island with Twelve Beautiful Women
Chapter 929

Chapter 929: Chapter 929

He didn’t care. He just felt the fullness of presence. He touched each softly before rising: Grace’s shoulder, then Lucy, then Rose’s cheek. Each kiss was a promise to return. When he stepped outside, the orchard welcomed him: ribbons hung limp in the breeze, dew-stuck petals rested on the wooden planks, and blue mist curled at his feet like a living creature testing whether he might stir it awake again.

He walked barefoot to the old boundary line and paused. Beyond, the watchers waited , pale, shifting, distant. He pressed a hand to his chest and whispered, "Good morning." The faint pulse on his arm glowed stronger in response. The watchers trembled then drifted back. He exhaled, heart thrumming with wonder: this silence wasn’t absence, but communication.

Grace appeared beside him as quiet as mist. She reached for his hand. "What now?"

Jude nodded. "We have to move forward , but slowly. Last night, the island gave me more than truth. It gave me a task." He let the silence breathe between them before continuing. "We need to establish balance. The island stirred because I stirred. Now it expects a pattern , not just of worship, but of reciprocity."

Grace studied him. "Meaning?"

He looked at the watchers’ shapes then back at his wife. "We make offerings. Not sacrifices. But acknowledgments. Gifts for memory, for partnership."

She squeezed his hand. "It can work."

He looked around. The wives began to emerge: Rose and Lucy stirring first, sleeves rolled up, stretching. Emma and Serena carried a basket of fruit. Scarlett and Natalie walked quietly, sharing a blanket while they looked at the watchers. Stella tied her hair with ribbon. Layla carried tools. Sophie came with a sketchbook, kneeling beside a low sapling. Zoey brought water. Susan greeted him with a tentative smile.

Grace laid her head against his leg. "We’ll start after breakfast."

By midday, they were prepared. Twelve wives moved in careful harmony. Jude oversaw the offering table: handfuls of berries arranged in spiral bowls, bunches of herbs tied with blue ribbon, small clay tokens , symbolic hearts, miniature trees, stars. They had gathered gentle gifts, symbols of home, love, creativity, unity. Each of them made or carried something of their own , intimate pieces of identity presented to the island spirit.

Jude guided them to the boundary line. The watchers hovered, curious but still, as if attending. Each wife stepped forward, offered her gift with a bow or a kiss blown toward the watchers. Susan, flame-haired and solemn, laid hers with steady hands. Serena placed hers with eyes closed. Rose and Scarlett left theirs together, scarlet-painted hands pressing berries into the earth in duet. Grace stepped with Jude to the center, pressed her gift against his and offered them both. The watchers trembled, an almost audible shimmer of light.

When the last offering was placed, Jude stood tall, voice low and slow: "We give you our gratitude. Our presence. Our peace. We offer memory, loyalty, and life." He paused, letting the words reach beyond them into the silent watchers. The mist thickened, the watchers glowed, their shapes edging closer by inches , no more than that. But closer.

It was not victory. It was invitation.

The wives exhaled as one.

Jude clasped Grace’s hand. "That was step one."

Grace nodded, her eyes bright with determination. "What’s step two?"

He smiled , a glint in his eyes. "Understanding."

In the afternoon, they broke into small groups. Jude led Lucy, Stella, and Rose along the western boundary where watchers had been most active. Sophie sketched the patterns that emerged in mist. Stella recorded their proximity, the flicker in light. Rose collected the fallen petals that had turned silver in the watcher’s presence. Lucy wrote observations and hypotheses.

Elsewhere Emma, Serena, Layla and Natalie moved south, mapping soil and fungi, moss patterns, echoes. Scarlet, Zoey, and Susan went north, following flickers deeper into the trees. Grace remained close to the center line, teaching Laurel and Raven to bow before approaching watchers, to calm voices, to name offerings.

Jude checked in on each group, moving with fluid ease between them. At one point he paused when a watcher drifted within arm’s reach of Lucy. He watched the pale shape hover, muted light flickering. Lucy stared into it without fear. The watcher responded by brightening near the braid of her hair. Jude felt a warm ripple in his chest , recognition? Respect? They still didn’t know. But they were talking.

By sunset, they reconvened in the orchard. Each group presented findings: Sophie had identified a recurring glyph pattern in the mist near watchers , a spiral over a ridge shape. Stella had measured temperature changes. Rose collected petals that shifted color in presence. Lucy recorded timing, watching proximity increased at twilight. Groups reported calm interactions , watchers withdrew if voices were loud, but remained if voices were gentle.

The wives sat in a circle, candles lit, jars of mist-caught dew passed around. Jude spoke once more. "We’re learning. They respond. Now we deepen trust. We will write, with each of you, a memory. Something personal. Then we place it under the fig tree. We speak it aloud. If the island accepts it, the watchers will mark it."

A low murmur of understanding. Resolved nods. Small smiles.

They each took a clay tablet or woven vine slip. Women wrote or inscribed their memory , Grace remembered when Jude first stitched her quilt, Lucy recalled the first fish she caught beside him, Rose remembered his kindness when she cried in the rain, Serena remembered the first morning he carried her water, Layla carved the shape of his smile, Natalie wrote of his laugh... and so on. Even children Jade and Raven added crude symbols of "Papa" and "houses" and "love." Each memory pressed with intention and voice.

Under the fig-glyph tree, one by one, they laid the scripts in a woven basket. Jude spoke for them all:

"We offer memory so the island remembers us as we remember it. Carry our love. Hold our truths."

They waited.