Chapter 913
Grace stood nearby, stirring the embers in the fire pit, a book of names open in her lap. Lucy and Emma were already awake, crouched near the fish traps, fingers brushing the water’s surface as they watched for ripples. Sophie and Zoey moved through the garden to check on the new shoots. The world felt soft and fragile, like a memory that might slip from the edges of their fingers if they weren’t careful.
Jude crossed the circle slowly, aware of each heartbeat, each breath, each woman standing by him. Yesterday they had walked beyond the map’s edges, deeper into the caves, naming themselves at the carved stone guardians. They had spoken their names into dark water, into echoing halls. The watcher shape had fled them once more, scattering into mist. They had returned weary, but whole.
Now they stood at the edge of the next Chapter.
He knelt beside the book in Grace’s hands. She looked up at him, hopeful.
"It’s ready," she said. "The map nodes, the names, the dates. Tonight we’ll paint them on the trees, make them permanent."
He smiled and brushed a strand of her hair back. "Then let’s do it."
They rose together. Neil, a nickname he’d given himself under this foreign sky, felt strength in the routine they’d woven. They moved as one toward the garden, gathering bark, crushed pigments, brushes fashioned from twigs and feathers. Each wife picked a color from the horizon, Grace’s green, Lucy’s blue, Emma’s purple, Sophie’s yellow, and so on, to represent each vow strand.
They returned to the iron stake node where their first ritual had begun. Under its runes, they painted spirals and names on the bark of a nearby tree, circling petals to mark each wife’s presence. The color pulsed bold despite the thin sunlight. Memory anchored.
They moved then to the mushroom clearing, painting runes and names on stones at the circle’s edge. Each impact of brush on rock rang in Jude’s mind like a vow. He watched the others paint, their hands firm, faces pale with focus. Each stroke was a promise.