Stuck in an Island with Twelve Beautiful Women
Chapter 966

Chapter 966: Chapter 966

"We’ve woven watchers into our life," Jude said. "We’ve carved memories into mountains, ground, and saplings."

Grace kissed his chest. "This land becomes our story."

He stroked her hair, breathing slow. The watchers drifted just beyond. Light mist carried inward.

They slept with arms threaded. In the night, watchers drawn near rearranged stones around the house, gentle wind hammering nothing but the ground.

---

Morning came warm. Jude woke to the sound of saws, soft, rhythmic. He followed to find Emma, Serena, Zoey, and Scarlet building something: a lofty wooden frame between two trees, planks and beams topped with woven branches and glyph-carved stones.

Grace joined him. "They’re building a watch tower, for us and watchers."

He nodded. A structure born of cooperation, not separation. Human and watcher in shared purpose.

By midday, the tower was nearly complete. Women climbed up, steadying beams. Children handed tools. They painted watchers’ glyphs on planks. A spiral from the mountain. A root rune from the altar.

At dusk, they held a ceremony at the base of the tower. Jude chanted the mountain ritual again, this time including watchers’ names. Each wife offered a ribbon they’d woven to the tower’s rafters. The children laid stones of gratitude on the steps.

Top of the tower, Serena lit a lantern of oil and petals. It glowed like a lantern in mist. Watchers drifted in, clustering close.

For the first time, watchers came inside the central orchard.

They remained at edges of planks, gathering in shapes like silent birds.

And then the watchers pulsed each night, now gentled by the presence of the tower.

---

Over the next week, equilibrium settled. The watchers became daily collaborators. They appeared during harvest to protect from pests. They circled when the wives planted herbs or fish nets. They reflected in the river like ghost lanterns. They guided children through the orchard at dusk with faint light.

The mountain, too, became companion. Paths shortened in one another’s presence; fog no longer loomed at base for long. Mons guardians–rocks polished from footsteps, ferns blooming up the trail. The mountain’s tension felt eased.

One evening Jude walked with Grace to the hill that overlooked the orchard and tower. They watched watchers dancing in the falling light. The families passed, laughter, children squealing.

Jude leaned into Grace. "We built a home here."

She kissed him. "Not built. grown ."

He nodded, voice soft. "Let memory live in our lives."

She placed her hand over his heart. "And in hearts."

Jude closed his eyes. He heard watchers singing, silent notes that resonated in bones. The mountain hum joined. The orchard breathed around them.

He stood taller, holding Grace’s hand. They would walk beyond again. They had direction, trust, story.

The watchers pulsed with them.

Memory glowed in stones, river, leaves.

And they, twelve wives, two children, one man, carried it all forward, step by step, day by day.

The spiral continued.

And this new Chapter had truly begun.

The sunlight came earlier than usual, filtering through the thinned leaves like golden lace. Jude stirred awake beneath the light sheet, his body warm and pressed against Susan’s back. Her breathing was steady, her skin flushed with the soft heat of shared sleep. For a moment he let the stillness hold him, her presence a quiet anchor. The scents of crushed herbs from the corner shelf, morning dew, and the lingering traces of last night’s fire wove together in the room like a silent memory. Then Susan shifted, eyes fluttering open.

"Already morning?" she murmured, voice low and husky.

He kissed her shoulder. "Feels like it."

Her hand moved to cover his where it lay across her waist, fingers lacing. "Did the watchers stay through the night?"

He nodded, cheek brushing her skin. "I checked before dawn. They didn’t come closer, but they watched."

"Curious things," she whispered. "Do you trust them?"

"I don’t think it’s about trust," he said. "I think it’s about understanding. And maybe giving them something to understand in us."

Susan turned to face him fully. Her eyes held that calm edge she always carried, even during chaos. "Then let them see what we are."

She leaned in and kissed him. It was slow, thoughtful, the kind of kiss that belonged to morning and warm sheets, not urgency or heat, but presence. Jude let it carry them for a few minutes more before the camp stirred outside.

By the time they stepped from their hut, most of the wives were already up. Scarlet and Rose were preparing a breakfast stew over the coals, while Emma checked on the water filters near the creek. Zoey and Layla stood at the edge of the orchard, watching the mist, curiously thicker than yesterday, curl in strange spirals near the eastern border. Stella joined Jude and Susan at the firepit, passing him a cup of tea sweetened with wild honey.

"There’s something odd in the fog this morning," she said. "Grace saw shadows moving before sunrise. Not just watchers. Something else."

Jude’s gaze narrowed. "Did it get close?"

"No," Stella said, "but she said she heard something. Breathing."

They ate quickly, and after conferring with Grace and Sophie, Jude decided to split into three groups again. One to harvest more roots and herbs from the deeper woods, one to maintain the perimeter glyphs, and one to accompany him and Lucy toward the east border to investigate the strange movement.

Susan stayed behind to watch the children with Rose and Natalie, while Serena insisted on joining Jude, armed with her spear and that unshakable calm. Lucy packed pigment pots and her journal, and together with Jude and Serena, they set out.

The mist deepened as they walked, its edges dancing unnaturally against the sunlight. Jude felt something in the air, pressure, like held breath. They moved in silence, alert. Watchers occasionally drifted into view, shimmering with blue and gold hues, but they didn’t approach. It wasn’t fear. It was something more deliberate.

Lucy bent near a tree whose roots coiled in tight spirals. "These marks are new," she said. "I swear they weren’t here yesterday."