Stuck in an Island with Twelve Beautiful Women
Chapter 982

Chapter 982: Chapter 982

The watchers responded with light, flowing through arches, pooling in floor square stones. Then one watcher stepped toward Grace, handing a single petal wrapped in silver ribbon. Grace took it with a soft gasp. Its color deep as dusk. It glowed.

She placed petal in her pocket. The watcher bowed and stepped back.

When all tokens given and received, watchers melted into the mist. And the old church became still.

The next dawn, they returned to orchard. The watchers appeared at the circle. Each wife waited by her sapling. Grace stepped first, pocket at chest. She released the glowing petal onto the ground. It sprouted instantly, new sapling, tiny and luminous. Next layla planted her petal and it grew likewise.

One by one each wife planted petals. Each sprouted. The watchers hovered, forms elongated with delight. Light flickered across leaves.

Jude watched tears shine on women’s cheeks. They had become memory’s bloom. Story’s bloom. Life’s bloom.

With that, watchers stood around him, wrist-length ribbons tied across wrists of each watcher. Soft light ribboned their mist-forms. A covenant.

Jude placed watcher shard in earth at the center. Then he took Grace’s hand. "They reached for us." She smiled, love unspooling in her gaze.

"And now we stand together," she answered.

They fell into quiet peace.

The watchers remained until dusk, drifting into orchard, then past river, then into mountain trails, leaving memory in their wake.

The wives slept beneath watchers’ glow. Children dreamed of rivers.

Morning came with new saplings across river bank, orchard edge, and ruin gardens.

And the watchers remained.

Flowing, remembering, caring.

Mist hung low over the new saplings by the riverbank, tracing their first slender spikes into dawn. Jude emerged barefoot between them, grass cold and damp underfoot, and found Grace kneeling before one of the glowing shoots, fingers just brushing its tender stem. She looked up as he approached, eyes bright with the unspoken promise that yesterday’s bloom carried. He settled beside her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

"They’re thriving," she said softly. "Faster than I expected."

He nodded, pressing a kiss to her temple. "Hope does that."

They lingered there in quiet, limbs tangled, watching morning dew collect on the glowing leaves. From the orchard behind them drifted sounds of his wives preparing the day: Natalie humming as she repaired fishing nets, Layla calling to Laurel as the child chased dragonflies, Serena sharpening a blade, Lucy and Emma deep in conversation near the writing scrolls. Even Scarlet’s footsteps sounded gentle as she gathered wood.

These days they moved as a single organism, each part connected. Memory sprouted new life.

When the others arrived, the riverbank ritual commenced again. This time, Jude led them in the Order of Remembrance: each wife brought a handful of soil from home, a ribbon, and a word of meaning.

Susan knelt first, offering soil wrapped in woven ribbon. "Home," she said, voice low.

Layla followed with "Love," Emma with "Grace," Serena with "Trust," Rose with "Family," Zoey with "Hope," Lucy with "Story," Scarlet with "Courage," Stella with "Unity," Natalie with "Peace," Sophie with "Fate," and Grace with "Memory." Jude offered "Promise."

As each soil bundle touched the earth, the saplings shimmered brighter, leaves cupped toward the sky, each petal a reflection of their vow. The watchers, dozens of them, drifted near the edges, leaning into the ritual as though breath itself.

Afterwards, they broke bread on the riverbank. The river flowed softly, carrying ribbons downstream. Soon the waters carried their hopes past Ostia and out into the sea.

Jude watched the ribbons drift, carried like songs on the wind.

Back in the orchard, they resumed their tasks with renewed ease. Harvest moved into full swing, berries, edible roots, fish. The watchers drifted among them now, hovering so close that sometimes water beads formed on glossed leaves near the saplings, a sign that watchers walked just behind.

Jude and Grace spent midday teaching the children watch-learning: Rene counted watchers at first sight, naming them in a simple chant; Rosa traced glyphs in sand and watched ribbons twitch in response. Watching them was like watching memory pass from seed to sprout.

By afternoon, Jude walked the boundary with Scarlet and Serena. They paused at the broken bridge site, the place watchers had first guided them across. The glyph stones now glowed softly, but one had faded, a pale blotch in the slate.

Scarlet touched it. "Was it a warning or message?"

Jude strummed his fingers across the glyph line. "Maybe both. Times change. Message changes."

Serena knelt to reapply dye made from berries. "We restore it."

They left the glyph renewed, and within moments, the watchers drifted into view, hovering over the stone. One leaned forward, light flickering across it, as if nodding.

Scarlet inhaled. "They approve."

Jude looked to the east, where sunlight bleeding into mist promised more days ahead. Time moved forward; promises layered like sediment.

At sunset, they gathered again at the riverbank, this time for a new ceremony. In the still air, the watchers gathered in greater numbers than before, forming twin rows to create a tunnel of mist and light. At the river mouth they waited silently. Jude stepped forward first, carrying a large woven basket filled with seeds, river willow, mountain wildflowers, even sugar cane cuttings. Grace held the child, Raven, who clutched a tiny plant root in her hand.

He spoke: "This is the harvest of our memory. These are the seeds grown from our vows. We place them here, in the mouth of memory, that they may carry our story into land, water, mountain, beyond watchers’ sight."

One by one, they placed seeds into flowing water. Each drop shining silver in lamplight. Laurel helped by letting seeds trickle in, wide-eyed wonder coursing through her expression. The watchers followed each offering, drifted near then retreated in alignment with circling ribbons.

When the last seed touched water, watchers rose several at once, gliding above shimmering surface like constellations in motion. Chaucer of them formed a circle, rotating, pulsing. Then they streamed upward, as if carried by unseen wind, and dispersed into the sky along the north winds.