Stuck in an Island with Twelve Beautiful Women
Chapter 961

Chapter 961: Chapter 961

Dawn broke with soft fingers against the orchard. Jude stirred, half-awake, mindful of the night’s lingering heat on his skin where Grace had curled against him. The fire had gone cold, the embers vanished. He rose quietly, stepping over blankets and limbs until he found Grace’s hand in the dawn’s glow. She woke at his touch, eyes hazy and curious.

"We move today," he whispered.

She nodded, smooth as breath. "I’m ready."

They slipped outside, leaving the others sleeping in tangled warmth. The grass was wet, silver light pooling between blades. Jude led Grace by the hand to the eastern edge of the orchard where the watchers still shimmered, thin, pale figures lingering like memory’s echo. They watched. Their forms held no menace now, but something patient, expectant. Jude met one watcher’s gaze. It tilted away, but didn’t vanish, an invitation, perhaps, or a question: "Will you leave together?"

Jude felt Grace’s breath against his arm. He whispered something he’d never say in full to another soul in this world: "Not without you." The watcher’s mist gathered, then withdrew slightly, giving them space.

They returned inside. The wives stirred as he passed, some rising, others leaning into each other. A dozen faces looked to him, trust and anticipation in every eye. Jude gathered them by the communal table, silent now but full of purpose. They had agreed last night: today, they ventured out together. The watchers retreating signaled readiness.

Jude laid a map on the table, careful folds pressedflat. "We go three ways," he said. "Grace and I will lead east, to the sentinel grove." He pointed past the orchard’s edge, where silver saplings still bowed by glyph-light grew in spiraled circles. "Second group, Scarlet, Serena, Susan, follows the river north to the mountain’s foothills, to mark breakpoints. Third group, Zoey, Layla, Emma, skirts the western perimeter, tracing old demon paths and finding new markers. We reconvene at dusk. Everyone return together. We cross tomorrow."

Scarlet stepped forward. "And the watchers?"

Jude nodded. "They know. They’re letting this happen."

No one spoke further, only nodded.

By mid-morning they were walking in three bands, moving in sync, overseen by pale watchers at intervals near the orchard’s border.

Jude and Grace led the eastern branch. The wood here felt fuller, older than the orchard, thicker moss, deeper roots. Light fell in rippled shadows. Grace carried a pouch of crushed blue petals tied to her belt. Jude held the severed watcher glyph shard Scarlet and Sophie had found. As they walked, mist brushed their calves, then receded.

They found the sentinel grove after an hour. Twelve tall sapling-trees stood in a ring, each trunk grazed with glowing silver runes. Beneath them was lush green grass that hummed in soft vibration.

Grace knelt, touching a rune. It pulsed under her fingers. Jude breathed in. "This place remembers more than we do."

They circled, placing ribbons at each tree base, Grace’s blue threads, Jude’s vine bracelets, watchers’ glyph shards twined into wreaths of grass. Light caught the silver runes, brightening them before dimming again. A watcher rose in center of grove, form partially translucent, eyes steady, as though they’d carved it here themselves. Jude and Grace held each other’s hand. The watcher lowered its head, ghostly. Then stepped back. Mist closed around it and it faded.

Jude leaned close to Grace, whispered: "We’ve been blessed."

Grace leaned into him. "We’ve been remembered." They departed, leaving the grove in stillness, return-track smoothed by mist.

Meanwhile Scarlet, Serena, and Susan tracked north, following the river. The water ran swift, colder here. Monster tracks crossed on the banks, clawed, broad. Scarlet laid a ribbon over one print. Serena dipped her fingers in the water and blew. Ripples spread across every ripple in the stream. Each wave bore faint glows, glowing then extinguishing.

Susan pointed upstream. "Old crossing." The rocks there formed a bridge. Upon one sat a glyph-etched stone half-submerged. They pressed the stone then, each in turn. The river glimmered. On distant bank, a watcher appeared, its form starker against the water. It lifted an arm. They saw their wrists flash where ribbons had been tied. Sign of protection, maybe acknowledgment.

Scarlet waved, smiling. "They guard us."

The watcher dipped its head and drifted away. They followed the river to the trench’s lip at the mountain’s base, marking more stones with red powder extracted by Emma. By noon the sun stood high, shining over their backs.

In the west, Zoey, Layla, and Emma reached the edge of the "demon path," a scarred ground where beasts had once prowled. Now only moss-filled ruts remained, dotted with glyphs no human had drawn. Zoey pressed her ear to the ground. "There’s a hum." Layla crouched beside her. They traced the path until Emma spotted a cluster of vines forming a doorway arch carved into rock behind shrub. Huge runes carved into stone. They recognized fragments of watcher-language, melted by time.

They tied sky-blue ribbons to nearby branches. Then each stepped forward, laying oblations, simple clay bowls of honey and pollen, before the arch. They stepped back. The arch remained empty. But when Zoey stepped close, it pulsed. A ripple of energy. They backed away slowly. Emma traced a hand over the glyph. "Something lit the door."

A watcher appeared behind them. Not visible, but its presence pressed down, comforting and warning at once. The trio left offerings, then retraced their path to the orchard, hearts racing.

By dusk all six parties reunited. They shared maps, marked ribbons and runes. Each group spoke softly, reverently, of watchers seen and gifts given. The orchard watchers had drawn back earlier. Now they lingered just inside trees, glowing faintly darker blue, shifting into hundreds more mist–figures that hovered until the wives finished speaking.

Jude closed the meeting. "Tomorrow we cross the boundary, together."

Grace added: "They will part. Let us through. We have walked their markers. They know we carry memory."

The wives exchanged quiet glances, fear and expectancy trembling beside trust.

That night, everyone slept near the glyph-well, drawn close by its faint glow and slow pulse.