Chapter 1010
He made his way to the river, where Grace already stood, crouched at the bank. Her hair, dark and damp, framed her face, and her cloak, woven from vine fiber, shivered with droplets. Spotting him, she smiled softly, pushing damp strands behind her ear. "Morning feels different today," she said, voice light.
Jude knelt beside her and cupped the river’s clear water. As he lifted it to his lips, he noticed blue sparkles reflected beneath the surface, tiny fragments of watcher light. Grace dipped a bowl, offering it. Their fingers brushed in water, the contact sending warmth through both.
They drank in silence, eyes on the water. Underneath them, ripples pulsed gently, more than mere current. The river seemed alive with soft memory. Grace traced patterns with her finger and whispered, "They left something..."
Jude watched watchers drifting just above the water, bending and straightening like reeds. "Not just passing through," he mused. "They’re leaving pulses... paths." He tipped the bowl into the river. "They opened a channel. We need to follow it."
Grace nodded. "And record it." She glanced at him, love warm in her gaze. "Like everything else."
They rose and walked back to the orchard, where the wives began to stir. By the hearth, Susan stirred grain porridge, Rose stacked fresh fruit, Rebecca arranged wildflowers. The children laughed outside as Emma and Stella taught them watcher gestures, hands raised in greeting, bows expressing thanks.
Jude called them to gather in the clearing. "Today," he began, "we follow the watchers’ pulse through water, earth, stone." He traced their plan in the air, names of places to visit and symbols to record. Lucy stepped forward, carrying blank slates and pigment pots; Natalie brought soft brushes and water; Zoey held ribbon spools for markers.
Soon they assembled, Jude, Grace, and ten wives, each with a task. They moved through orchard, watchers drifting overhead, their pulses lighting up glyph ribbon markers. They followed the glowing ribbon trails into wild spaces, past saplings and stone shrines until they reached the river’s deeper pools, where hidden channels burrowed into the forest.
They trod carefully as the river widened into a shallow stream lined with mossy rock. The watchers hovered low here, beams of light dancing across water. Jude knelt by a swirl of currents and held out a finger. Blue pulse slipped over his skin, traveling up his arm. Voices hummed in his mind, picturesome memories of rain, roots drinking deep, fish slip-streaming around him. He touched again, urging the signal forward. Grace pressed her palm next, and images warmed her mind: seed pods bursting, new growth, children laughing in dance.
They continued upstream, placing ribbon markers at each significant twist, river bends, submerged stones, small waterfalls that caught watcher light in arcing spray. Each ribbon tied with a glyph symbol representing what they sensed: growth, rebirth, connection.
The wives looked on with reverence. Rebecca found a pool so clear she could see stones beneath, etched by centuries of flow. She placed a candle near the bank, lit it with care, and watched watcher light reflect on water.