Chapter 988
He knelt beside the central stone, laying his palm across its weathered face. Beneath his fingers, the surface was alive, warm despite the cold air, and humming faintly, like a heartbeat buried in the rock. He closed his eyes, focusing, letting his breathing match the rhythm. Then the vision came.
It wasn’t a clear one, just fragmented impressions: a row of stones glowing under starlight, a figure standing at the edge of the island’s cliff with arms raised high, smoke coiling from the mountain’s mouth in spirals. Then whispers in the watchers’ tongue. A phrase he couldn’t translate but felt like an invitation.
He opened his eyes. Grace was watching him closely. "You saw something."
He nodded. "An old ritual. Something tied to the mountain and the smoke."
Stella frowned. "You think it’s connected to what’s affecting the others?"
"I think it’s part of what’s trying to wake up," Jude said, standing again. "And the watchers want us to remember it."
They stayed in the hollow another hour, marking the stones with newer glyphs, documenting everything they could. By the time they returned to the orchard, the sun had risen high, and the children were playing under the watchful gaze of the wives. Susan met them first, her expression tense.
"Zoey had another blackout," she said without preamble. "Right after breakfast. One moment she was feeding Laurel, the next she was gone, like looking through you."
"Did she say anything?" Jude asked.