Stuck in an Island with Twelve Beautiful Women

They followed the pulse - not just beneath the earth but now resonating in their own blood. It led them deeper than they had ever gone, through a new part of the island where the trees were darker, the air cooler, the golden light fainter but more concentrated in pockets - mossy stones, fungi that pulsed like breath, flowers that swayed without wind.

Hours passed in silence, broken only by soft gasps as new beauty revealed itself.

Then they reached it.

A clearing unlike any other, so round and perfect it seemed unnatural. At its center stood a stone pillar, covered in vines, its base ringed by twelve small carved seats. The pulse they'd followed radiated strongest from this place.

Emma stepped forward first, her hand brushing the stone. "This feels like the tree. Before it bloomed."

"Or the heartstone," Lucy murmured. "But not awake yet."

Jude approached the pillar and placed his palm against it.

The response was immediate.

A low hum filled the air, and the stone beneath their feet glowed, lighting up veins of gold that connected the seats around the pillar. The vines on the pillar writhed gently, withdrawing to reveal carvings - figures entwined in love, in union, in birth. Scenes that mirrored their own journey.

Sophie inhaled sharply. "It's a record. Of what we are. Of what we've done."

Rose moved beside Jude and placed her hand on the pillar beside his.

The humming intensified.

Then the seats began to glow, each one pulsing in turn.

Twelve.

For each of them.

Jude understood.

"We're supposed to sit."

They did - one by one, each taking a seat as if drawn to it. The moment they were all settled, the ground beneath them vibrated. Not violently. Like breath. Like anticipation.

And the pillar began to shift.

It rose, slowly, grinding upward with a sound like distant thunder. Beneath it, a spiral staircase appeared, descending into the earth. The opening was surrounded by the same golden moss that had followed them since the pool. Warm air drifted up - thick, heady, rich with jasmine and heat.

Without words, they stood.

Sophie looked at Jude. "You first."

He nodded, heart pounding, and stepped onto the spiral stair.

The descent was quiet. Deeper than he expected. The walls were smooth stone, glowing faintly, and beneath his feet, each step resonated like a drumbeat. The pulse. The root. The rhythm.

When he reached the bottom, the chamber opened around him.

It was vast - bigger than anything they had yet seen on the island. The ceiling shimmered like liquid gold, and the floor was soft moss, glittering with specks of light. In the center was a circular basin, filled with a fluid that looked like molten starlight.

They all descended, slowly, reverently. No one spoke.

Emma knelt beside the basin. "Is it the same as the pool?"

"No," Rose said softly, kneeling beside her. "It's more."

Grace touched the surface.

It rippled.

And a vision bloomed above the basin.

Not a vision of the past.

Of the future.

Children.

Running through the valley they'd found. Laughing. Glowing. Some with Lucy's eyes. Others with Zoey's wild grin. One with Emma's careful grace. All of them familiar. All of them loved.

Jude fell to his knees.

Sophie gasped, her hand flying to her mouth.

"It's not just showing us what might be," Rose whispered, voice thick. "It's showing us what will be."

The basin rippled again.

Now the children were older. Climbing trees. Sleeping beneath the stars. Singing songs in languages they hadn't yet learned. And behind them - Jude and the twelve. Still glowing. Still together.

Still leading.

Still loving.

The vision faded.

No one moved.

Lucy's hand found his.

"We're not the end of something," she whispered. "We're the beginning."

The chamber pulsed with warmth.

And they knew.

This was their temple.

Their cradle.

Their root.

They emerged later into a night painted gold, their hearts heavy and full. They returned to the valley and lay together again, not with hunger, but with devotion. Lips met softly. Bodies curled in shared promise. And beneath the stars that now danced with memory, they whispered truths into each other's skin.

Jude kissed Lucy's wrist, where her pulse beat strong. "We're going to have children."

She smiled, eyes shimmering. "We already do. We just haven't held them yet."

And somewhere deep beneath the soil, the island pulsed in agreement.

The air was velvet with heat as Jude stirred in the middle of the night, stars above him bright enough to etch their pattern into his memory. The others were still curled in sleep, tangled together beneath the flowering canopy of the valley. But something pulled at him - gently, insistently, like fingers tugging a thread from deep inside his chest. He sat up slowly, careful not to wake Lucy, whose breath whispered across his thigh where she lay curled around him. Her body was warm, soft, trusting, and every inch of her carried the scent of skin and sun.

But he couldn't stay still.

He rose and dressed only in a wrap of woven vinecloth, letting it fall low across his hips as he moved. The path to the temple had closed behind them hours ago, hidden again beneath the moss and memory. Yet Jude didn't head for the stone pillar. Instead, he moved east, toward the cliffside and the call of the sea. The wind grew cooler there, laced with salt and the hush of waves brushing rock, as if the island itself was whispering.

And then he saw her.

Sophie.

Standing at the edge of the world.

Her back was to him, the wind tossing her dark curls around her bare shoulders. She wore nothing but a wrap of palm leaves across her chest, her legs long and bare, skin painted silver beneath the moonlight. She didn't turn when he approached, but he knew she had heard him. She always did.

"I couldn't sleep," he said, stopping just beside her.

"Neither could I," she replied softly. Looked at him.