Stuck in an Island with Twelve Beautiful Women
Chapter 977

Chapter 977: Chapter 977

The orchard was still wrapped in bluish mist, soft as gauze and cool against his skin. Dew glittered on every leaf and ribbon, the glyph trees seeming half-dreamt in the haze. Susan stood near the cooking ring, sleeves rolled, hair already tied back, her presence solid and grounding as ever. Layla knelt beside her, blowing on a small flame as it caught under dry bark.

"Morning," Jude murmured as he approached.

"Morning," Susan replied, sparing him a glance as she stirred chopped roots in a pot. "You slept in."

"Grace needed the warmth." He said it with a small grin, and Layla smirked without looking up.

"Whole camp could catch fire and that woman wouldn’t notice as long as you were wrapped around her."

"That’s not true," came Grace’s sleepy voice behind him. She stood wrapped in a shawl, hair tousled from sleep, but her eyes were awake and soft with affection. "He’s the one who never hears the firewood splitting."

Jude turned to take her hand and kissed her fingers gently. "We balance each other."

"You’d better, considering how the island keeps shifting." Layla straightened, brushing ash from her knees. "Scarlet said she saw watchers again last night. Close, closer than before. By the riverbank."

"That’s the third night in a row," Susan said. "First the orchard’s edge, then near the well, now the river. They’re circling."

Grace moved closer to the pot, reaching in for a ladle. "They’re curious. That’s not the same as threatening."

"No," Jude agreed. "But it means we’re on the edge of something. A turning. Either they come in peace... or they’re testing our borders."

Behind them, others emerged gradually from the shelters: Emma carrying Laurel, sleepy-eyed and thumb-sucking; Zoey and Serena carrying slings of fishing nets; Sophie laughing with Stella, who had twisted a vine crown for one of the children. Natalie walked past with a pot of herbs, her skirt soaked with morning dew.

They gathered near the central tree as they always did, breakfast passed in circles, flatbread, root stew, fresh berries. The children squabbled briefly over a purple fruit until Serena split it evenly with a swift knife and no-nonsense look.

Jude watched them all, chest full with that strange ache of love and vigilance. This island had teeth. And the more they flourished, the more the watchers watched.

After breakfast, he gathered his wives together by the glyph circle, the children playing within eyesight. A breeze moved the ribbons gently, casting slow shadows across the worn earth.

"We’ve seen watchers every night now," Jude began. "They’re getting closer."

Scarlet folded her arms, expression unreadable. "You think they’re trying to scare us?"

"No. I think they’re trying to understand what we are now. A village. A family. Magic and memory stitched together." He met their eyes one by one. "So we show them."

Rose tilted her head. "Show them what?"

"Show them how we live. Not just rituals or offerings, our intimacy, our connection, our peace. If they’re learning us, then let them see the truth."

A silence settled, contemplative and strange. Lucy spoke next, voice thoughtful. "So we let them see us not just planting trees or singing glyphs, but being who we are. Laughing. Loving."

"Exactly," Jude said. "We go about our day as usual, but without the secrecy. No fear, no hiding."

It wasn’t a command but an invitation. And slowly, one by one, they agreed.

The day unfolded with that quiet awareness. The orchard bustled as usual, fishing parties headed to the lake, Grace and Sophie stayed to record soil glyph growth, Scarlet sharpened tools, and Emma taught Laurel and Raven to tie knots in vine-ropes for the hammocks. Jude spent the first part of the morning with Zoey and Lucy inspecting the glyph stones buried along the orchard’s perimeter. They’d begun glowing faintly, soft pulses in response to the watchers.

"They’re responding to each other," Lucy murmured, brushing moss from one. "The watchers and the stones. Like breath, like conversation."

"It’s becoming language," Jude said. "A mirror of our own."

By midday, the sun cut through the mist, drying the orchard paths and sending golden streaks through the trees. Natalie and Stella returned with baskets of wild fruits, their cheeks flushed. Susan brought venison back from a hunting trip with Rose and Serena, and the firepit came alive with scent and sizzle.

Jude stood beside Grace as she chopped herbs, both of them watching the shimmer at the far trees, faint ripples in the air, a slight bend to light. Watchers. Watching.

"Let’s not hide tonight," Grace said suddenly. "Let them see who we are when the moon rises."

Jude took her hand. "I was thinking the same."

That evening, after the fire crackled to life and everyone had eaten, the group didn’t retreat to their usual quiet routines. Instead, they gathered near the long table Susan had built last summer. Flatbread still warm, sweet root pudding, the fire’s glow spilling onto the soil. Someone began to hum, a lazy, winding tune. Zoey pulled out a carved flute and followed. Music bloomed.

Jude kissed Grace beneath the fig tree, arms around her waist, their foreheads resting together. In the flickering light, her eyes shimmered. "If they’re learning love," she whispered, "then let them learn it from us."

From across the orchard, the air shimmered. Not menacing, simply present. The watchers stood still, like mist given shape, watching from the veil’s edge.

One by one, his wives joined him beneath the tree. Layla leaned against him first, her fingers brushing down his arm. Then Serena, quiet but steady, curled into his side. Rose kissed his temple, her lips tasting of smoke and sweetness. They didn’t speak, but in that wordless gathering, a message was carried.

Jude took his time moving through them, not out of obligation, but something deeper, gratitude, desire, and the binding thread of memory. He kissed Lucy’s ink-stained fingers, tracing the curve of her wrist. He pressed his forehead to Emma’s as Laurel nestled beside them, blinking sleepily. Stella caught his hand and placed it over her heart. Susan leaned against his back, arms folded around him tightly, a quiet pillar of strength. Zoey laughed softly as he tickled behind her ear, and Natalie pulled him down by the collar to steal a long, slow kiss. Sophie lit a string of flower candles near the path and kissed the light into his mouth.