Chapter 896 - 898
Once night fell, they dined without words. Root caps and fish steamed. Their bodies felt hungry, their minds full. The forest sang around them: life renewed after rain.
After eating, they formed the circle. No torches, only prisms of firelight reflecting from wet leaves.
Jude raised his head. "Tonight," he said, "we speak again, freely. Without fear."
Lucy leaned forward. "We speak to our watchers."
Grace unwrapped her burned knife. "We speak to the island."
They shared bits of story, each wife spoke of fears, dreams, hopes reborn. Jude recounting his first glimpse of the shell beneath the island’s crust. They spoke laughter with tears and tears with laughter. They confessed a dozen small memories regained. The forest around them listened.
Afterward, they walked together into the tented platform, where their beds nestled beside broad trunks. They spoke quietly as they dressed for sleep, brushes of intimacy without shame. Jude and Lucy lay side by side; Grace and Emma lay with Sophie; Nefertari held Serena, awaiting the vigil.
At midnight all were asleep except Jude. He sat outside, rain-cooled blanket around him, watching watchers carved in driftwood near the platform. Their forms stood bathed in moonlight.
He looked back toward the arch, silver gray, silent sentinel. Beyond it the forest slept.