The fruit was warm against his palm, its skin pulsing faintly like a heart wrapped in golden light. It weighed more than it should have - dense with meaning, with consequence. Around him, the women held their breath, their eyes trained on the way his fingers curled around it, how his chest rose and fell in rhythm with the valley's hush. The tiny silver creature on his shoulder sang no longer. It simply watched.
Jude looked at each of them, one by one. Lucy, radiant and wide-eyed, her lips parted with a hunger that wasn't just desire - it was longing. Emma, fierce and alert, as if already preparing for what would come next. Zoey, arms crossed, but her posture softening, vulnerable. Grace, calm and open. Stella, trembling slightly. Susan, clutching her child and whispering prayers to a god she no longer believed in. Natalie, her hands folded, lips set. Scarlet, leaning forward like she already saw the future. Sophie, rigid. And Rose, always Rose - knowing, steady, waiting.