Rain clung to the orchard leaves like whispered warnings, tiny droplets slipping down into the soil as if the island itself had begun to weep.
Jude stood motionless at the edge of the clearing, staring at the lingering mist still curling in the trees where the watchers had vanished into the sky the night before. The ritual had ended. The light had faded. But sothing remained, a pressure, a hush that wasn’t natural. He glanced over his shoulder.
The wives were gathered under the sheltering awning of the central longhouse, their voices low, eyes flicking often toward him. The children, still drowsy from sleep, played near the hearth, too young to understand the tension laced in the adults’ silence. Jude felt it like a noose around his ribs. Grace approached, her shawl damp at the edges. She didn’t speak until she was beside him.
"They’re watching us again,"
she whispered.
"Not the watchers. Sothing else."
He didn’t need to ask who. He’d felt it too, beginning soti just before dawn. A subtle shift in the air, like a breath being held too long. The mory of the cavern was still fresh in his blood, the glyphs glowing beneath his hands, the pillar’s pulse like a heartbeat synced to his own. But now the light felt like it had withdrawn, retreated sowhere deep within the stone or within the island’s flesh.
"The watchers haven’t co back,"
Jude said, frowning.
"They’ve never stayed away this long."
Grace followed his gaze toward the treetops. Nothing shimred. No floating forms. No pulses of warm light or drifting glyphs. Just the wind teasing the branches.
"Maybe they can’t,"
she murmured.
Jude looked at her sharply.
"Can’t?"
She nodded slowly, wrapping the shawl tighter around her shoulders.
"That place... the cavern. The light that ca out of it, it didn’t feel like sothing ant for this world. It felt... final."
Her voice was low.
"A blessing, maybe. Or a farewell."
Jude didn’t like the way her words settled over the orchard like fog. He turned away from the trees.
"We should call the wives together."
The fire was still low when they gathered, the longhouse dim and intimate. They sat in a circle, close but not touching, each woman wrapped in her own thoughts. Grace sat beside him, silent. Serena held Laurel in her lap, absently combing the girl’s hair with her fingers. Raven slept curled in Rose’s arms. Lucy and Natalie whispered between themselves, eyes flickering toward the fire.
"Sothing’s changed,"
Jude said, not wasting ti.
"You all feel it."
Heads nodded. Layla rubbed her arms.
"The watchers are gone. It feels... empty without them."
"Not empty,"
Zoey said.
"Wrong. Like a room where soone was just here and now they’re gone, but their scent is still in the air."
"They guided us,"
Susan murmured.
"Protected us. But now... there’s no guidance."
Jude hesitated.
"Then we’ll guide each other."
He looked around at the faces, each one beloved, each one shadowed.
"We’re not helpless. We’ve built this life together. We’ve survived worse."
"Yes," Sophie said,
"but we weren’t alone before."
"We’re not alone now,"
Jude said, but even as he spoke the words, sothing inside him tugged. A mory. A dream. No, sothing more than a dream. A voice whispering through the cavern’s air: You belong. You are ho. But what if it wasn’t just a benediction? What if it was a warning? He stood abruptly.
"We need to check the boundary. If sothing’s changed in the watchers, it might have changed elsewhere."
"The volcano," Emma whispered.
The room fell still. Jude’s eyes t hers across the firelight. Her voice trembled slightly.
"That place... the monsters never ca past the ridge. But if the watchers aren’t holding them back anymore, "
"Then the border’s broken," Grace finished.
Jude didn’t wait. He kissed Laurel’s head, then handed her gently to Serena.
"I’m going now. Just a scout."
"I’m coming with you,"
Grace said before he could object.
"So am I," said Rose.
" too," added Layla.
"No," Jude said gently, holding up his hand.
"If I don’t co back by nightfall, then follow with everyone. Bring weapons. Bring fire. But not until then."
There was silence. Then Stella rose and handed him a carved stone from her belt.
"Keep this. One of the glyphs from the cavern. It might... help."
Jude took it and slipped it into his pouch.
"I’ll be back before dark."
The jungle swallowed him fast. Mist curled low over the forest floor, muffling his steps. The watchers used to light his way, floating ahead like fireflies. Now he walked alone. But the stone in his pouch pulsed faintly with warmth, like a heartbeat. He followed the familiar trail toward the base of the volcano, every sense alert. Birds called distantly. Sothing rustled in the canopy, but when he paused, it fled. He continued. Hours passed.
The sky turned a pale silver-gray, sunlight struggling through the clouds. When he reached the ridge that marked the boundary, the place where monsters had never crossed, he stopped. The air was wrong. The silence was wrong. No birds. No insects. No wind. And then he saw it. A body. Not human.
Twisted, half-devoured, sothing that used to resemble a boar but now had too many legs and translucent flesh. It lay sprawled across the path, steaming gently. Its eyes were empty sockets. Jude crouched beside it. It wasn’t one of the monsters from the other side. This was sothing new. Sothing born on this side.
He stood quickly, scanning the ridge. Movent. To the east. A shifting shadow. He unsheathed his knife and pressed against a tree, listening. The sound of breathing, low, rasping. Then a shape stepped out of the mist. It wasn’t a monster. It was a person.
A woman.
She walked barefoot, hair hanging in tangled coils, wearing a dress stitched from leaves and moss. Her eyes were wide, unblinking. Jude stepped forward cautiously. "Are you alright?" Her head twitched, like a bird hearing sothing far away.
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