Stuck in an Island with Twelve Beautiful Women
Chapter 980

Chapter 980: Chapter 980

Then Scarlet spoke. "If they flow, we can carry too."

Jude smiled. "Ribbon bundles. Tokens. Stories. We float them downstream. And see what arrives."

They planned. At sunset, they gathered memories mixed with petals into bark floats. Words scratched into wood: names, vows, messages of peace. The orchard wives, children, even watchers of mist watched as bundles were set on the river.

The lanterns cast orange halos on water. The current took each float, carrying them eastward.

Jude and Grace held hands and watched the lanterns dim into night.

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By dawn, watchers reappeared, some at the tree line, others drifting over wreaths of flowers that Ruth had placed at the riverbank. The watchers carried bouquet ribbons on their forms, colors mirroring the floats.

Jude and Grace stood beneath the fig–glyph tree as watchers stood by saplings. The watchers drifted.

Then one watcher stepped forward, pausing with stalk of wildflower in misty hand. It crouched, placing flower at the tree’s base. They bowed and retreated. The watchers pulsed through orchard, forming a ring of mist-light around the sapling circle.

Jude’s voice caught. "They remembered what we sent."

Grace nodded, eyes shining. "They wait to receive."

He reached for ribbons in his belt. "Then we honor it."

That day, they harvested more petals, braided more ribbons, painted new tokens. The ritual continued like dawn itself, predictable, but sacred.

At dusk, they launched another set of floats. But this time, watchers followed them along the bank, forms moving with light steps beside the water.

And beyond them, where land crest dipped into river, a new island silhouette lay, a sliver unseen before.

Jude saw it then.

He looked at Grace.

She nodded.

Together they stepped into the water, sweetness and purpose in their breath. The rural future of memory lay beyond the bank, where watchers and tokens were carried in pulse.

Mist wove through the mornings like a secret not yet told, and Jude stepped into the orchard under its pale veil, listening to dew drip from leaves. Grace followed, bare feet whispering on soft grass, and together they paused beneath the watchers’ rings surrounding the saplings. The ribbons that had floated down into the river still fluttered here, tied now in new knots, memory entwined in blue and silver. Grace lifted one to her lips and spoke. "They remember because we dared." His heart squeezed at her certainty.

They walked in silence to the riverbank edge where another watcher stood, a solitary silhouette in the gauzy dawn, holding petals gathered from the orchard itself. The watcher bent, laying flowers upon the stones, each petal undisturbed by wind or water. Jude closed his eyes, feeling the weight of the offering on his breath: reciprocity. He did not rush forward, but Grace stepped ahead and brushed her hand near the petals. Her fingers trembled slightly, but she did not withdraw. That small act anchored him.

"We follow," Jude said softly, guiding her hand into his. Together they stepped into the cool shallows, water climbing over ankles, then knees. The watcher faded back into mist, not fleeing but observing, as if encouraging them onward. The wider river opened beyond, a slow current that held both promise and unknown.

They exited the river onto a worn path, a lower trail carved along the bank long ago by hunters or travelers. Moss claimed wood-framed signs that pointed inland and east. Jude’s finger traced the eroded letters. "Ostia" hit his memory, an old name from tales Grace had told of the island’s original keepers. "River mouth," she translated. There was no hesitation between them this time. Their feet carried them forward.

Back in camp, the others waited. Scarlet paced the edge of the firepit, eyes scanning the forest. Susan hovered by the drying racks. Rose held Raven in her arms while Laurel curled around Zoey’s waist. The moment they stepped into view, tension eased like a held breath released. Grace returned the watcher petals to a clay bowl.

"We follow," Jude repeated. "To Ostia. We carry their memory with us."

Grace looked to each wife. In their eyes he saw trust balanced with resolve.

They set out in teams. Jude and Grace led; Scarlet and Serena flanked; Susan and Rose carried provisions; Lucy and Zoey followed with children; Layla and Emma brought record scrolls; Stella brought tools and flares. Sophie walked behind with Natalie, gathering herbs. The watchers remained at orchard edge, visible for now but receding as they headed east.

The trail passed through ancient groves of alder and poplar, leaves pale and dripping. The air smelled of river mud and fern. They reached an old stone bridge, collapsed in center, half fallen but passageable. Beneath its broken span the waters rushed, deep and cool. Jude knelt and touched the current; Grace watched him from a slit of light above.

"This is old work," he murmured. "Civilization once crossed here."

Grace knelt beside him and whispered, "And maybe it still does."

They crossed carefully, stepping on stones laid with intention centuries before. Scarlet carried Raven across on her shoulder; Serena helped Laurel on the opposite side. The others followed in quiet reverence. No one laughed, but fear was not present either. Advent of memory called for solemnity.

Beyond the bridge lay fields long reclaimed by weeds. Terraced banks sloped toward the river, and alongside, faint tracks suggested passage, footprints in stone, worn smooth by countless steps. Jude found a glyph carved in concrete, a spiral nestle inside a circle. Grace pressed her palm to it. It pulsed warm.

"Sister glyph," she breathed. "Like watchers’ symbols."

Jude nodded. "These were their markers. Builders. Recorders."

They walked down the slope into a curvature of land that embraced the river mouth. There, foundations surfaced, masonry walls severed at waist height, columns broken and wrapped in ivy, stones etched with watchers’ marks half weathered. Water lapped against worn steps that led underground, into darkness.

"This is Ostia," Jude said softly. "They anchored memory right here."

Grace drew in a breath. "Let’s bring them truth."