Chapter 943

The rain came without thunder, without warning, just a hush across the treetops, like the island sighing. Jude stood beneath the awning of the half-finished watchtower, arms crossed, eyes tracking the path that wound through the eastern woods. The structure creaked faintly behind him, still a skeleton of what it would become, just logs, rope, and rough carvings for now, but it stood tall enough to see the sea on a clear day. Today wasn't one of those days.

The rain had a scent to it. Not the sharpness of storms or the metallic tinge of ozone. It smelled like dust turning to clay, like something waking underground. Ashra had said this might happen, after the mirror, after the flesh throne, after Jude refused the story the island tried to write for him. Things wouldn't return to normal. The island wasn't a creature that sulked. It adapted.

Behind him, soft footfalls approached, and he knew it was Sophie before she spoke.

"You haven't come in for food."