Stuck in an Island with Twelve Beautiful Women
Chapter 935

Chapter 935: Chapter 935

Morning rose with golden heat. Dew dried early. The orchard bustled with energy. Today, Jude would help Emma and Sophie create the first true map of watcher activity, etching it on bark and stretching it across the east wall of the longhouse. Grace led the children in planting tiny glyphs among new fig saplings, while Serena and Zoey prepared new songs, melodies designed to test watcher response to tempo changes.

The rhythm had begun. A bond deeper than survival was forming now, a call across mist and memory, across love and fear. Jude could feel it in his chest, each time he looked at his wives, each time he touched the soil, each time the watchers responded in kind.

Something ancient had awakened in the island.

And it was listening.

The mist lingered heavy over the orchard, thickening like a silk curtain drawn too slowly across the stage of dawn. Jude stepped into it, barefoot, the damp grass cool and soft beneath him. Around him, the trees stood silent, their leaves trembling with the last breaths of night. The watchers hovered just beyond the mist’s edge , faint, shapeless, pulsing like distant lanterns.

He paused beneath the fig-glyph tree, the bark still etched with offerings and names, and closed his eyes. In the quiet of before light, he heard something faint: a heartbeat beneath the earth, a slow, deep pulse that matched his own. He opened his eyes and stepped forward, the mist swirling around his calves. Somewhere in that silence, he felt the island breathing.

He turned at the rustle of soft footsteps and smiled when Grace appeared, shawl gathered around her shoulders, lantern in hand. She slipped into step beside him, the warmth of her shoulder gentle against his arm.

"Did you hear it too?" she whispered.

He nodded. "Yes. The pulse under the roots. The island answered last night."

Her eyes glowed in the lantern light. "They responded again, didn’t they?"

He squeezed her hand. "Three watchers imitated the rhythm of our offering in the fire circle." He paused, listening to the distant heartbeat. "I think we’re lifting the veil."

They walked together to the eastern edge, where Sophie and Emma had begun stretching a woven-bark map across wooden stakes. The map was detailed: watcher sightings, mist trails, offering circles, song spots. Jude watched as Sophie inked a cluster of spots near the ash trees.

"They came closer there," Sophie explained. "They paused, shimmered, then repeated the step sequence."

Grace knelt beside Jude and whispered, "They’re learning rhythm. Pattern. Our language."

Jude looked at the map thoughtfully. "Then we recalibrate." He turned to Sophie. "Mark new spots in concentric circles. Around the watchers’ core. I want six offering points , one for each branch in the northern canopy."

Sophie’s excitement was palpable. She began to mark them in red clay. Jude watched her trace each one, his heart humming with possibilities.

By midmorning, the sun had burned through the mist and the orchard vibrated with life. The wives moved in purposeful harmony: Rose and Susan prepared flatcakes; Lucy and Zoey braided ribbons; Serena and Stella carried water; Layla and Natalie selected herbs. Children darted around, mimicking their mothers, learning early the cadence of offerings and watching for watchers.

Jude gathered everyone at the fire circle. "Today, we build the offering pillars," he announced. "We’ll carve six stakes , one for each offering point. Each will bear a glyph: unity, memory, hope, trust, protection, awakening."

Grace stepped forward, drawing small sketches in the dirt. "We’ll carve them together. Each wife chooses a glyph for her pillar."

Excitement and reverence wove through the group as they selected stakes from a freshly fallen birch. Each took a tool and began carving: Lucy etched unity with interlocking rings; Rose carved memory as a spiral branching outward; Serena carved hope as a rising flame; Stella carved trust as a circle enclosing a dot; Layla carved protection as a tree rooted deep; Natalie carved awakening as an open eye.

Jude watched with pride. He traced his fingers over their work, offering water in small clay dishes to seal the carvings. Each pillar soaked up the water and glowed faintly with wet glyph lines. Watchers drifted close at the margins, observing, respectful. The mist had lifted, but the watchers remained, silent as swell.

By late morning, the pillars stood in a ring beyond the orchard edge. Jude and seven wives , Grace, Lucy, Rose, Serena, Stella, Layla, and Natalie , stepped between them. The others watched from the orchard’s soft green border: Susan, Zoey, Emma, Sophie, Scarlet, and the children, each quiet, expectant.

Jude spoke, voice steady but soft: "We build this circle to offer our intent. To speak our bond with the island. To invite the watchers to remember. We call upon unity, memory, hope, trust, protection, awakening." He moved clockwise and touched each pillar in turn. Grace followed, then Lucy, Rose, Serena, Stella, Layla, Natalie , each touching their own pillar, head bowed. When they reached the first pillar again, Jude took a deep breath.

He hummed the old offering melody, slow and clear. Grace joined, soft harmonies weaving through. The seven combined voices echoed across the orchard, carrying through the watchers and deep into the earth. Sunlight danced across carved glyphs, the pillars pulsing lightly.

A hush enveloped the clearing. Then the watchers shimmered into slate shapes , pale, vertical, distinct forms, six of them, each hovering before one of the carved pillars. Each watcher’s bands of light pulsed once... twice... three times, matching the offering sequence.

The wives exhaled. Tears of wonder glimmered. Jude stepped forward. He knelt before a watcher and pressed his palm to earth, then lifted it to the watcher. "We listen," he whispered. The watcher’s streaks glowed, then retreated to hover, as if content.

Light rippled across the clearing. Many watchers flickered closer but stayed just beyond the circle’s edge. The wives stood, hands held, breath even.

After a moment, Jude spoke again: "This is step three. A living bond. We will return nightly to sing, to name, to offer. We’ll watch how they respond , if they speak, if they move closer, if they mark our offerings."