Stuck in an Island with Twelve Beautiful Women
Chapter 964

Chapter 964: Chapter 964

The next morning’s light was pale gold across silver dew. Jude woke before dawn and walked through the orchard, unlatching watchers with his eyes, finding dozens drawn to the ritual words from last night. He touched each ribbon on every sapling, breathing thanks. Moonlight faded and sunlight took its place.

By midday, the six chosen wives departed. Jude led them east through mist that shied away. Each wife carried a small pouch with their offering: Grace held a carved wooden heart; Scarlet a polished river stone; Serena a runner’s feather tied to vine; Emma a small collection of scrolls; Layla a handful of silver petals; Jude himself carried the watcher glyph shard and a fresh loaf of bread from the camp.

The procession moved up the mountain path, watchers following like echo floaters. The dais remained untouched, passive. The carved watcher–figure lay dormant. The wives laid the gifts gently at its chest. Jude stepped forward and placed the bread. They stood silent.

Jude began with a voice steady and open: "We come as your heirs, watchers and keepers of this place. We carry memory and promise. We release intention: that this land will hold all who walk her with respect, and that watchers continue their vigilant kindness. We speak apology for mistakes and ask forgiveness. We ask not for power, but for partnership."

Grace added: "We vow to speak this vow again and again as long as this island lasts."

Scarlet’s voice joined: "In voice and action."

Serena: "In harvest and rest."

Emma: "In laughter and mourning."

Layla: "In birth and death."

They circled the dais. The watchers drifted around, shimmering closer, inside the mountain’s quiet trembling. Jude stepped back and called upon the watchers by names he’d been given: Curiosity–Mist, Observer–Shade, Memory–Wind, Sentinel–Root. He named each wife with the watchers: Layla, Gentle–Petal, etc. He named himself, Rememberer–Heart.

He felt earth tremble. A rock shifted. The watcher–figure’s heart–pool glowed with pale blue. Ribbons on their wrists and belts glowed faint as watchers bowed their mist forms. A wind carried a hymn–sound, ancient and forming words in no language, but felt in memory. The dais stone warmed beneath their feet.

When Jude spoke the final vow, "We stand with land, watchers, and mountain," the watcher–figure opened again. Its stone carved body slid apart, revealing water and light. The watchers rushed in, merging with the glow. It poured upward, out of pool, into sky; the watchers below moved upward in mist, their shapes harmonized, then rose as one and vanished into mountain’s dark mouth.

The earth stilled. The mountain exhaled.

Jude knelt. Grace and the other wives knelt too. No one spoke. When voices rose again, it was harmony: they had honored memory. They had been accepted.

They returned down the mountain by early evening, watchers absent but their presence imprinted in marked rune flashes across tree bark. The wives descended with light steps and shared glances of quiet triumph.

The camp received them with warmth and surprise. As dusk fell over the orchard, the watchers returned, not in crowds, but singly. One stood at each sapling, pale and silent. Birds called. Firelight greeted them.

They held a feast that night, roasted fish, root stew, fresh bread, fruit, cheese. Shadows flickered. They laughed and cried, holding each other. The watchers remained, perched across the orchard line, calm observers.

Jude and Grace sat close to the fire’s edge. He brushed strands of hair from her face. "We did it."

She nodded, eyes shining. "We did."

He held her hand, quiet as the slow return of breath in the world.

After the celebration, he walked alone beneath the fig–glyph tree. A watcher drifted beside him, form calm, eyes like pale glass. Jude held out his palm. The watcher placed a ribbon there, a new glyph, faint and complex. Then it bowed and vanished.

Jude understood: They had sealed something. Not an end, but a bond. A repeating spiral. The watchers would remain but not lurk. The mountain’s interior opened but safe. The island remembered itself.

He returned and slept at Peace, midnight before him, dawn ahead. The wives nestled around him, Grace beside, Scar led arm on his ribs, Susan at his feet, others alongside.

Birdsong woke them all.

Morning glowed soft.

They rose together.

The watchers drifted outwards, past watchers’ line. The island breathed again, awake. Hussein? No, the watchers. The wives.

And Jude, holding memory like a weight or blessing, smiled at the world carrying them onward.

The morning was crisp and clear, sunlight dancing on dew as Jude stepped outside. For the first time in weeks, the orchard felt truly at peace. The watchers stood quietly beyond the saplings’ reach, not lurking but observing, like guardians who’d held vigil through an unspoken night. He inhaled deeply, the scent of fruit and moist earth centering him, and walked toward a gathering crowd at the firepit.

Grace was already there, her hair caught in golden light, smiling slightly as she handed each person a cup of warm tea. From this angle he could see the wives, Lucy and Serena whispering conspiratorially; Zoey twirling a ribbon around her finger; Layla brushing soil from her palms; Scarlet standing strong and silent, sunlight glinting off her dagger’s hilt, each one carrying herself with quiet confidence, eyeing the watchers and the orchard as though she recognized every inch of it.

He slipped into place beside Grace, taking the cup and nodding. She pressed his arm briefly in silent support. They were about to head toward the mountain again, deeper than ever. They’d opened the dais chamber, spoken vows, felt the mountain exhale. Now they would build beyond that, not with structures, but with presence and ritual.

Jude looked up at the wives. "Today, we go back to the mountain, but not as seekers of answers. We go as partners. We go to listen more than speak."

A murmur of assent rippled through the group. They’d learned so much from the watchers’ silence. They’d felt the island speak in leaves, stones, glyphs. Now they would let the island speak back.