They climbed in silence, the golden mist parting gently around their bodies like a veil of breath, a living curtain that shimmered as if infused with the same light that pulsed beneath their skin.
The steps were wide and smooth, carved not from stone but from dense woven roots, each one supporting their weight without a sound, like the island itself was lifting them with every stride.
Jude led, his body warm with the memory of the joining, the taste of Rose still on his lips, the scent of Lucy's hair lingering in his senses. Behind him, the others moved like a single breathtwelve hearts beating in time with his, twelve bodies bound to his own not through chains but through choice, through passion, through something deeper than even the island could name.
