Rose watched from a distance, her fingers weaving new patterns in the dirt, etching symbols that pulsed faintly with light.
It was no longer about resistance or fear.
It was about becoming.
And tomorrow, they would go back to the cave. Back to the tree. Back to the black roots that had whispered the first verse of the song.
Because now, they were ready to sing back.
They returned to the cave as the sun hovered high, the sky above so blue it hurt to look at. The light poured through the trees in thick golden shafts, and the island seemed to pulse in time with their steps. Jude walked at the front, his hand linked with Sophie's. Behind them, Lucy, Emma, Zoey, and Grace followed in silence, all of them wrapped in light garments made from the island's offerings - woven palm leaves, braided reeds, and stitched flowers. Stella walked barefoot, her eyes slightly unfocused, humming the same tune that had haunted them for days.