Chapter 932

Mist clung low to the forest floor, thick and humming with dew as Jude led the quiet procession down the northward slope. The orchard faded behind them like a memory, warm, golden, gently watched. In its place came the hush of old trees and dense canopies, the smell of bark and growing moss, and something deeper: the pulse of the island shifting. Jude had woken before sunrise, stirring from dreams he couldn't fully remember, only the sensation of being followed by something just outside the light. But Grace had been curled beside him, her breath warm against his neck, one hand resting over his heart like a shield, and the darkness had passed without echo.