Chapter 1786

The afternoon sun settled warmly over the village, filling the clearing with golden light.

Breakfast had long since turned into a busy morning, and now everyone had fallen into the familiar rhythm they had developed over the years.

Jude walked toward the workshop beside his cabin, where pieces of cedar, bamboo-like stalks, and polished stone were stacked neatly against the walls. The workshop had grown from a simple shelter into a proper woodworking shed filled with hand-carved tools, shelves, and unfinished furniture.

He picked up a wooden mallet and examined a half-finished rocking chair.

"I still think it leans too much," Rose said, appearing beside him with folded arms.

Jude looked at the chair.

"It doesn’t."

Rose pushed it gently.

The chair rocked once...

Twice...

Then tipped completely backward.

Rose raised an eyebrow.

Jude sighed.

"I was testing gravity."

She laughed so hard she had to hold onto the workbench.

Nearby, Scarlet, Zoey, and Natalie were repairing one of the chicken coops.

Or at least that had been the plan.

Instead, they were arguing over the best way to keep the curious island birds from stealing grain.

"They’re too smart," Natalie said.

Scarlet pointed toward one of the birds perched on the fence.

"It opened the storage basket yesterday."

Zoey blinked.

"It... what?"

"It lifted the lid."

The three women stared at the bird.

The bird stared back.

Then, almost proudly, it hopped over to another basket, nudged the wooden latch with its beak, lifted it open, grabbed a handful of grain, and flew away.

Zoey sighed.

"I don’t even know if I’m impressed or offended."

Emma and Susan spent the afternoon inside the food storehouse.

Bundles of dried herbs hung from the ceiling.

Clay jars lined every wall.

Shelves overflowed with preserved fruits, smoked vegetables, nuts, seeds, and homemade jams.

Emma smiled proudly.

"Remember when all we had was coconuts?"

Susan laughed.

"And burnt fish."

"And roots we weren’t even sure were edible."

"We’ve come a long way."

She reached for a jar filled with bright orange fruit slices preserved in honey.

"I still can’t believe these last an entire year."

Across the stream, Grace and Stella worked in the fields.

The unknown vegetables continued to surprise them every season.

One plant produced fruit underground but flowers in the treetops.

Another changed color depending on the weather.

Some vines seemed to grow faster whenever someone sang nearby.

Grace hummed absentmindedly while pulling weeds.

Stella noticed one vine immediately began stretching toward her.

"You see that?"

Grace stopped singing.

The vine stopped growing.

She hummed again.

The leaves opened wider.

Stella laughed.

"I think it likes your voice."

Grace smiled.

"Or it wants me to keep working."

Meanwhile, Lucy climbed into one of the tallest tree houses.

It overlooked nearly the entire valley.

From here she could see their cabins nestled among the trees, the smoke rising from the cooking fires, the silver orchard shimmering in the distance, and beyond that, endless forest reaching toward the mountains.

Layla joined her carrying two wooden mugs filled with chilled berry juice.

"Your favorite spot."

Lucy nodded.

"It reminds me how lucky we are."

Layla leaned against the railing.

"Do you ever think about the world outside?"

Lucy was quiet for a moment.

"Sometimes."

"And?"

"I can’t remember it clearly anymore."

Neither could Layla.

Faces had faded.

Cities had become dreams.

Even the sound of engines and crowds felt strangely unreal now.

The island had become more real than the memories they once carried.

As the afternoon cooled, everyone gathered near the river.

Some washed vegetables.

Others cleaned tools.

Jude repaired fishing nets while Sophie sat beside him weaving new rope from strong island fibers.

"You missed a knot," she teased.

"I left it for decoration."

"There are no decorative knots."

"There are now."

She smiled and quietly fixed it anyway.

Before sunset, Rose called everyone together.

"Dinner in half an hour!"

Immediately Scarlet appeared beside the cooking pot.

"I’m taste-testing."

Rose gently smacked her hand away with a wooden spoon.

"You’ve been taste-testing since breakfast."

"It’s an important responsibility."

"It is not."

Zoey walked over.

"I volunteer as assistant taste-tester."

Rose pointed the spoon at both of them.

"Out."

The two exchanged exaggerated looks of disappointment before wandering off toward the fire, laughing the entire way.

As darkness slowly settled over the island, thirteen bowls of steaming vegetable stew were passed around the fire.

Fresh bread rested in woven baskets.

Slices of roasted fruit filled wooden plates.

Someone passed around sweet berry juice chilled in the nearby stream.

Nobody hurried.

Nobody worried.

Stories replaced conversation.

Scarlet retold the tale of the clever bird that had stolen grain.

Natalie insisted the bird had bowed afterward.

"It did."

"It absolutely did not."

"It respected my intelligence."

"It robbed you."

Laughter echoed through the village until even the birds nesting above seemed to chirp along.

Jude looked around the circle.

Their wooden cabins glowed softly in the firelight.

The rope bridges swayed gently overhead.

Beyond them, the farms stretched peacefully beneath the stars.

The silver orchard shimmered in the moonlight.

For just one evening, there were no prophecies.

No ancient chambers.

No mysterious voices beneath the mountains.

Only home.

Only family.

Only another ordinary day on the island they had once feared... and now loved with all their hearts.

The night settled gently over the valley.

Above the village, countless stars shimmered between the gaps in the towering trees. The moon bathed the wooden cabins in soft silver light, while the campfire crackled peacefully at the center of the clearing.

Dinner had ended, but no one was in a hurry to sleep.

Emma leaned back against a log, cradling a wooden mug filled with warm herbal tea.

"I’ve been thinking," she said.

Scarlet smiled knowingly.

"That’s dangerous."

Emma picked up a small pinecone and tossed it at her.

It bounced harmlessly off Scarlet’s shoulder.

"You say that every time."

"Because every time you start with ’I’ve been thinking,’ we end up rebuilding something."

Everyone laughed.