Stuck in an Island with Twelve Beautiful Women

We can be more, Jude. More than just survivors." Jude stepped closer. "This... thing you worship. What is it?"

Rose stood slowly, her wet fingers leaving glistening trails across his chest. "It’s not about what it is. It’s about what we become in its light."

Emma pulled him back gently, and Rose just laughed, twirling away toward the trees. "Don’t fight it forever, Jude," she called. "You’ll see. We all will."

That night, Stella cried in her sleep. When Jude tried to comfort her, she pushed him away, muttering, "It’s calling me."

They moved her bedroll to the center of the room, surrounding her with the unconverted, Jude, Sophie, and Emma.

In the morning, she was gone.

Panic overtook them. They searched the house. The nearby woods. Called her name. But there was no sign of her.

Then Sophie saw it.

A trail of petals, soft and blue, leading into the trees.

Jude didn’t hesitate. They followed the trail deeper than before, until the trees thinned into a sunlit glade. And there, at the center, standing hand in hand with Rose and Zoey, was Stella.