The moment the light exploded from Jude's body, it raced through the roots of the tree like wildfire - golden tendrils spiraling through stone, bark, and earth, rushing outward in every direction across the island. The tree shook with the force of it, branches groaning like ancient timbers in a storm. And far below, in a place none of them had touched, a deep, guttural sound echoed upward - an answering cry, low and female, like a breathless gasp rising from the island's core.
Jude lay beneath Rose, his chest still heaving, the heat of their union shimmering in waves around them. Her body was soft against his, her breath trembling where it kissed the hollow of his neck. Around them, his wives pressed in, limbs tangled, skin slick, golden light still flickering where it pulsed in their chests. None of them moved at first. They were too spent, too overwhelmed, too full of the raw power they had stirred.