Stuck in an Island with Twelve Beautiful Women
Chapter 986

Chapter 986: Chapter 986

Scarlet helped Raven across; Susan lifted Laurel. Serena offered steady hands to the wives. One by one, they crossed, watchers echoing each step with light pulses in mist. On the far bank, the forest breathed differently, looser, older, wilder.

Grace let out a small breath. "We’ve left safety behind."

"And found trust," Jude answered.

They moved on, deeper. Hummingbird flashes lit blossoms. Ferns arched overhead. The watchers floated through branches, as though expecting each step, making way. They reached a massive root fallen across the path, wide as their home’s arch. A watcher stood before it. It bent, extending mist to cradle the root’s weight. Jude and wives stepped over. Grace followed, touching the bowed root. "Thank you," she whispered.

They pressed on, climbing slight rise until brushing into the smell of smoke and spices. Voices echoed. Children hushed; wives faltered. Ahead, through trees, they saw smoke curling upward from a stone cairn, carved with glyphs similar to watchers’. Figures stood around it, humans in weathered robes, shapes faint but alive. More watchers drifted among them unfazed, merging as if part of the tradition.

The wives drew close without speaking; Jude raised hand in greeting. A figure turned, skin pale, hair gray beneath hood. It inclined its head slowly. The meeting was without words, echoing deeper understanding.

Grace stepped forward, cheeks flushed. She held up a ribbon and offering bowl. The robed figure responded by placing a stone at feet, etched with watchers’ glyph, and drinking from the bowl.

Another figure knelt, pressing head to ground, bowing. Then it rose, and the group understood: they were welcomed.

Jude exhaled, voice catching. "They still come," he said. "Memory seekers."

The figures extinguished their fire slowly, then joined watchers in turning toward him. A fluid gesture invited them forward. Hearts hammered. Ministers of moonlight and mist stood in quiet acceptance.

They passed through the gathering and stood before the cairn, stones stacked in spiral. On its face, glyphs told a story: watchers and humans standing together around a bright star. Jude traced the glyph; watched tears sting his throat.

Grace touched his hand. "We belong in this story."

A figure stepped forward and handed her a clay bowl. She drank wine-dark liquid offered. Others took rice and bread. Jude drank; something sweet and pungent filled him with clarity. The watchers pulsed around them, forms moving in arcs of welcome.

Robed figures produced small tablets inscribed with glyphs. They pressed similar ones into Jude’s palm, repeating across wives. Each token sealed trust. Children gasped at watchers that turned to them like kindly beings. The circle filled with warmth as dusk deepened.

They sat by the cairn, sharing food. Words fell into place without translation, gestures, repeated glyphs, laughter from children. The watchers glowed brighter. Then a figure produced ancient scroll of bark, unrolling to show images: watchers teaching humans. Humans teaching watchers. Places across island marked by glyphs, river, shrine, orchard.

Grace traced her finger along one image, bridge, river, orchard, grove. "Our path, their history."

The robed elder nodded and pressed its palm to hers, forming glyph pulse under her skin. She gasped at connection. Others followed, wider circle of memory. Ribbons flowed with renewed color in the twilight. The watchers pulsed again, echo of unity.

When they finally stood to leave, each received a stone from the cairn, pressed with watchers’ spiral from the altar. The robed ones tied ribbons around wrists. A vow unspoken but sacred.

Jude folded Grace into his arms; wives embraced their new kin. The children clutched stones, eyes bright with wonder.

By the time they retraced the path toward orchard, watchers stood guard along the trail and cairn guardians turned mist on behind them.

Walking beside Grace, Jude heard the hush of forest caretakers: mountain trees breathing, creek running clear, watchers drifting as guardians. Memory had woven community across past and present.

They returned at nightfall, exhausted and full. Orchard candles still burned. Watchers drifted silently above sleeping saplings. The wives unrolled tablets and pressed stones near glyph trees. Over the fire, they shared food and whispered stories. Each token from cairn pressed into earth; glyphs carved into bark. Children fell asleep in laps.

Jude and Grace sat close beneath the fig tree. The watchers floated down, bowing their misty heads. In that circle of silent communion, night sang with belonging.

Morning sun flooded orchard next day. Wives awoke to find watchers woven into new roles, some near drying racks, some beside glyph stones, some entering underhouses as cold guards. The watchers now lived across the arc: orchard, river, bridge, stone cairn. And cairn pieces woven into homes.

Late morning, Jude convened council beneath the ribbons. "We’ve walked with watchers beyond home and mosaic. We accepted memory traditions of old. Now we steward both worlds. We protect this island, cultivate its story, invite life beyond. But there’s another task: teach them our children’s future."

Grace added, "We raise next generation to carry this covenant. They must learn watchers’ language, the glyphs, and hearth memory, not fear."

Susan took scroll and drew symbols. Layla taught the children with pigment. Serena set a watch schedule. Scarlet worked on boundary reinforcements. Harper cut wood tablets.

The group set into practice. Over the next days, lessons unfolded: children chanting glyph verses, wives inscribing offerings into hearth stones, watchers pulsing in time with learning. Harmony grew.

One dawn as ladders in orchard marked care, Jude found watchers had hung ribbons strung between saplings spelling shapes, glyphs spelling Family in watchers’ tongue. Grace gasped. He choked on each breath: "They speak."

Grace pressed her lips to his ear. "They always did."

They laughed softly, tears glinting in morning sun.

That afternoon, Grace and Jude walked hand in hand to river shrine. Each step echoed new life, watched and sheltered. They released ribbons carrying children’s laughter into water. A watcher next to bridge dipped mist into the arc, catching sound, carrying it along.

Back at orchard, wives had built a platform between saplings, crafted stage for watchers and humans alike.