Stuck in an Island with Twelve Beautiful Women
Chapter 996

Chapter 996: Chapter 996

"You are the key," it said. "You broke the watchers. You opened the cavern. You offered blood to the stone. You wear their names." Jude’s breath caught. "The wives?" "They are not your chains. They are your gates . Each one a doorway. Each one a mirror. Through them, you became what I needed. Through you , I will return." Jude stood slowly. "You want a vessel." The mist around the figure thickened. "Not just a vessel. A home ." "You can’t have me." "I already do." The words struck deep, reverberating through Jude’s bones. The cavern. The pillar. The light. He had taken it in. But had it taken him ? He clenched his jaw. "I’m not your puppet." "Then prove it," the voice whispered. "Choose. Your soul, or theirs." The mist surged forward. Jude spun and ran. But not back to the orchard. Not to the wives. He ran toward the mountain. Toward the place they’d always avoided. The border of the island where the watchers never dared. His legs burned. The jungle twisted around him, trees bending and folding as if to block his path. But he dodged, leapt, and pushed forward. Behind him, the mist followed, slower now. Hesitant. Almost afraid. When he crested the first ridge, the world changed. The trees thinned. The sky grew darker. The wind here tasted of ash and copper. The mountain loomed ahead like the broken tooth of a dead god. At its base: silence. The earth was dry, cracked. No vines grew here. No birds sang. It was a place without life. He took his first step past the invisible line they’d marked years ago. The soil crumbled underfoot. The air thickened. His ears rang. The mountain pulsed once, like a sleeping beast. Jude kept walking. The mist had stopped following. The watchers had never crossed this place. But he wasn’t a watcher. He was something else now . At the base of the volcano, there was a cave. He didn’t remember it being there. But it was now. Wide. Black. Waiting. The stone in his pouch went cold. He stepped inside. The air was heavy. The walls shimmered faintly, reflecting light that didn’t exist. He walked until the light from the entrance vanished. Then the floor dipped downward. A spiral path, carved smooth as bone. Jude descended. Step by step. Breath by breath. Until the path ended. And before him stood another altar. This one older than the others. Carved from obsidian. Covered in dust. At its center, embedded in the stone, was a heart. Not metaphorically. A literal, pulsing, living heart. As he approached, it beat faster. "You found it," the voice whispered. It no longer echoed around him. It came from inside his skull. "This is your inheritance." "This is a curse," Jude said. "It’s why the island’s alive. Why it breathes. Why it dreams." "Yes," the voice said. "Because you dream." "Then I’ll end it," Jude growled. He drew his knife. Raised it high. But the heart laughed. A sound like bones cracking. "You can’t kill what you’ve become." And Jude remembered. The moment in the cavern. The light. The fire. The glyphs on his skin. The way the pillar accepted him. It wasn’t just acceptance. It was union. He hadn’t just opened the gate. He was the gate. And the twelve wives... the mirrors... they weren’t just survivors. They were fragments. Pieces. He looked down at his knife. Then at the heart. Slowly, he lowered the blade. "You need me to finish waking," he said. "That’s why you’ve waited. That’s why you haven’t taken the others yet." "They are protected," the voice said. "By love. But love fades. And when it does, they will open like doors." "Then I’ll give them more," Jude said. "More than love. Devotion. Fire. Sacrifice. I’ll bind them. Not to you. To me ." The heart slowed. One beat. Then two. "You would challenge a god?" "No," Jude said, stepping back from the altar. "I am becoming one." And with that, he turned and ran. Up the spiral. Through the cave. Back into the ash-wind. He didn’t stop until he was past the ridge, back into the forest. The mist had receded. The orchard came into view. Smoke still drifted from the longhouse chimneys. When he crossed the clearing, Grace ran to him. "Jude! What happened?" "We don’t have much time," he said. "There’s a heart in the mountain. It’s alive. It’s waiting. But I can stop it." "How?" Susan asked. The wives had gathered again. Fear on their faces. Hope too. "I need all of you," Jude said. "Not just as partners. As pillars . You were chosen too, each of you. I’ve felt it for years. You ground me. Protect me. And if I’m going to fight this thing, if I’m going to stop it from rising, I need to bind myself to you. Not just in love. In power." "You’re talking about a ritual," Stella said. "Something deep. Deeper than the watchers." "Yes," Jude said. "Twelve bindings. One for each of you. A circle. A net to trap the god inside me." "Will it hurt?" Scarlet asked softly. "Not as much as losing everything," he replied. Silence fell. Then Grace stepped forward. "What do we do?" Jude looked around. "We gather herbs. Stones. The glyphs from the cavern. The silk of watchers. We prepare a space. Tonight, we draw the circle. And when the moon rises, we begin." That night, under a red moon, the wives stood in a perfect ring. Jude knelt in the center, stripped to the waist, glyphs glowing faintly along his spine and arms. Each wife held an object: a token of their bond. Rose held a carved figurine from their first winter. Layla held a necklace he’d made from shell and bone. Lucy, a scrap of cloth stained with his blood from a hunt gone wrong. Twelve tokens. Twelve women. Twelve doors. As they chanted, the glyphs began to glow brighter. The mist rolled in, drawn by the power.