Chapter 1663

Near the river, Lucy found the perfect clearing. Sunlight danced through wide leaves. The earth was soft, fertile, damp with potential.

They began building with their hands, their arms, their bodies. No tools. No blueprints. The wood shaped itself beneath their palms, bending without splintering. Branches joined where fingers pressed. Moss crawled upward to pad each surface. Vines wrapped pillars like ribbons, weaving windows and walls.

By dusk, the structure stood.

Not a house.

A sanctuary.

Circular like the spiral, open to the sky, with wide sleeping platforms and a single raised center of polished stone where the golden glow still flickered faintly. They gathered there - dirty, laughing, tired, glowing - and sat in a circle once more.

Jude stood in the center, arms open.

"I don't have the right words," he said. "Only the truth."

He looked at each of them.