On the other side the forest grew wilder, darker. The path rotted underfoot. Light scattered. They pressed on. The island tested.
Night fell as they reached the tree-lined ridge where a crater's edge dipped unseen. No moon. They lit torches and formed a circle. Flames flickered wildly in their hands. Jude held Lucy's and Grace's. Another wife held each torch, circled around. Eleven flames linked, no third party between them.
They turned inward.
Jude spoke softly: "Tonight we stay present. We speak each other's stories. We awaken each other if memory falters. We watch until dawn."
Silence, then pledges came in low voices: I will name you. I will hold you. We remain.
They shared stories. Each wife told of their first arrival, their first love, their reasons to stay. They named fears: loss, despair, forgetting. They spoke of hope: memory, unity, freedom.
Around them the forest listened. Leaves rustled in soft applause. The fire breathed.
