The clearing was still thick with the scent of sweet pollen and smoke from the ritual fire, its flas now reduced to curling trails of embers that hissed as dew-laced leaves fell into it. Jude stood still, breath ragged, heart pounding. Around him, Sophie and Emma watched in tense silence, eyes fixed on the spot where the earth had opened, where sothing had begun to rise. The corrupted wives stood in a semicircle, Rose at the center, flanked by Layla and Zoey, their hands linked and bare feet pressed into the mossy ground. Susan, Grace, Lucy, and Natalie had ford the outer ring, heads tilted back, hair loose and catching the moonlight. Their smiles were beatific, possessed, beautiful in a way that made Jude’s skin crawl.
The thing that rose from the ground was not shaped like any creature he knew. It was bone and shadow, sinew and mist, its form ever-shifting, never whole, as though it flickered between monts and realities. A long tendril reached out, not to grab, but to beckon. Rose’s smile widened, her body almost swaying to a rhythm none of them could hear, and then, she knelt. The others followed. One by one, they knelt before the creature, and its light pulsed faintly, once, like acknowledgnt.
Jude whispered to Emma and Sophie. "We have to get out of here."
Emma nodded, her face pale, but it was Sophie who tugged at his arm. "Wait. Where’s Stella?"
Jude’s heart dropped. He scanned the dark trees fringing the ritual site. She had run. They had seen her flee. But now, the woods were silent again.
Just as they turned to slip away, a whisper caught in the breeze. It wasn’t a word, more like a feeling, like dread woven into a breath. Jude felt it coil around his spine as he backed away. They moved slowly, carefully, slipping behind thick underbrush until the glowing form of the creature and the kneeling won faded from view.
Back at the treehouse, they collapsed into silence. Sophie held her arms tight around herself, and Emma sat by the window, eyes wide, watching the woods. Jude paced, running his fingers through his hair.
"This isn’t just possession," Sophie said at last. "It’s... worship."
"And it’s spreading," Emma murmured. "Every ti one of them goes into the woods with Rose, they co back changed."
Jude sat heavily. "Stella’s still unconverted. We need to find her before they do."
They left before sunrise, sticking to the less-used trails, calling softly. Stella didn’t answer. They found signs, broken branches, trampled leaves, a shawl snagged on a thorn, but nothing solid. As noon passed, they reached the waterfall again. The rocks were still wet from the misting spray, and Jude stood at the edge, looking down. His mind raced through possibilities, through the ritual, through Rose’s changed behavior, through the way Layla’s gaze had seed empty even when her lips were pressed to his days ago.
Suddenly, Sophie pointed. "There, near that ledge."
They scrambled across slippery stone. Huddled behind a crag, damp and shivering, was Stella.
"Stella!" Emma gasped, rushing to her.
The woman raised her head, her eyes filled with tears. "I saw it," she whispered. "It looked at ."
"Did it touch you?" Jude asked urgently.
She shook her head. "No. I ran before it could. But Rose... she called my na."
They brought her back carefully, and for hours, kept her close, feeding her, holding her hands, trying to warm her up. She barely spoke. Her eyes followed the shadows on the walls, flinching when any of the others ca near.
That night, they took turns staying awake, keeping watch. Stella lay between Emma and Sophie, her breathing light and shallow. Jude watched the firelight flicker and thought of the thing in the ground, of the way Rose had smiled up at it, not in fear, but in reverence.
In the morning, there was laughter outside.
Jude jolted awake and stepped out of the treehouse to see Rose and Natalie dancing through the trees, hair adorned with fresh flowers. They looked radiant. Susan and Grace followed, carrying bowls of fruit. Lucy and Zoey trailed behind, humming that sa strange lody he’d first heard during the ritual.
They waved at him, cheerful, too cheerful, and sothing in Jude’s chest tightened. "Good morning, Jude," Rose called, voice like honey. "You should join us."
Before he could answer, she reached out and stroked his jaw with the back of her fingers. "You look tense. Let us take care of you."
He pulled away gently. "Maybe later."
Her smile didn’t waver, but her eyes flickered, just for a second.
As the day went on, the corrupted wives kept close to each other, always touching, always leaning in too close when they spoke. Their laughter ca in perfect synchrony, like it had been rehearsed. And when they touched Jude, it wasn’t just affectionate, it was deliberate, like a test. But he didn’t give in. Not this ti.
That night, Emma approached him under the full moon. "We can’t wait any longer."
He looked up from the fire. "What do you an?"
"We have to stop it. Before they take Stella."
Sophie appeared at his side. "They’re already trying. Did you see how Lucy was sitting with her today? Stroking her arm, whispering in her ear."
"She’s scared," Jude said. "We’ll keep her with us."
But they all knew that wasn’t enough.
The next day, they decided to confront Rose. They didn’t make a plan, they just found her alone by the river, brushing her fingers through the water like a cat playing with its reflection.
She didn’t look surprised when they arrived.
"Ah," she said, turning. "So it’s finally ti."
"What did you do to them?" Jude asked.
Rose smiled softly. "I didn’t do anything. I offered them sothing better. And they accepted."
"Better than what?" Sophie snapped.
"Better than fear. Better than loneliness. The island chose us. It showed what we are ant to be.
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