Stuck in an Island with Twelve Beautiful Women

The streets were quieter than usual, the usual hum of activity replaced by an eerie stillness that clung to the air. Jude walked with his hands tucked into the pockets of his cloak, his boots scuffing against the uneven cobblestone. Lyara walked beside him, her own steps light and measured. They had spent so much time moving through the city that they knew its rhythms instinctively, the rise and fall of voices, the shifts in energy. Tonight felt different.

Jude glanced up at the sky, where the faint golden shimmer of residual energy still pulsed along the edges of the rooftops. It was weaker now, but not gone. Nothing ever truly disappeared, not when it had woven itself into the very fabric of the world. The people had begun rebuilding, piecing together what had been broken. It was slow, but it was happening.

Lyara broke the silence. "Something's off."

Jude nodded. "I feel it too."

They turned down a narrow alley, cutting through the heart of the city toward the main plaza. The streets should have been busier, merchants setting up their late-night stalls, performers gathering small crowds, but instead, there was only a handful of people hurrying past, their faces tight with unease.

Jude reached out, lightly grabbing the arm of an older man who was passing by. "What's going on?"

The man flinched but didn't pull away immediately. His eyes darted between them before he leaned in slightly. "Something's happening near the east gate. People are saying it's not safe to be out."

Jude released him, exchanging a look with Lyara. They didn't need words to understand what the other was thinking. Without hesitation, they changed course, moving swiftly through the side streets toward the eastern side of the city.

As they neared the gate, the tension in the air thickened. The guards stood at attention, hands on their weapons, but they weren't drawing them, yet. Beyond them, just past the threshold where the city ended and the open roads began, a figure stood alone.

Jude slowed his steps, narrowing his eyes as he took in the sight. The figure was cloaked in dark fabric, their face obscured beneath the hood. They weren't moving, just standing still, as if waiting.

Lyara whispered, "They're alone."

"For now."

One of the guards took a cautious step forward. "State your business."

The figure tilted their head slightly, then spoke in a voice that was calm, almost too calm. "I've come to deliver a message."

Jude frowned, his hand instinctively resting on the hilt of his weapon. Something about the way they spoke sent a chill through him.

The guard straightened. "From whom?"

The figure slowly lifted their head, revealing a glimpse of sharp, silver eyes beneath the hood. "You already know."

There was a shift in the air. A ripple of energy, subtle but unmistakable. Jude's muscles tensed as he recognized it.

Magic.

Not the golden energy that still clung to the city, but something else. Something colder.

The guards must have felt it too because they immediately moved into a defensive stance. The lead guard took another step forward, his voice hardening. "If you have a message, deliver it and leave."

The figure's lips curved into a small, almost amused smile. "Very well."

They reached into their cloak, and the guards tensed, hands tightening on their weapons. But instead of drawing a blade, they pulled out a small, sealed scroll and held it up for all to see.

"This is for the one who stands between order and chaos," the figure said. Their gaze flicked briefly toward Jude before they extended the scroll.

Jude hesitated, but Lyara stepped forward, taking it from their grasp. She unrolled it carefully, her eyes scanning the contents. Her face gave nothing away, but Jude could see the tension in her shoulders.

After a moment, she handed it to him. He took it, reading the words written in precise, elegant script.

The message was simple.

"The storm has not passed. It has only begun. The choice remains yours."

No name. No further explanation. Just those words.

Jude clenched his jaw, rolling the scroll back up. He turned his gaze to the figure, but before he could speak, they stepped backward.

"Deliver the message," they said. Then, with a sudden shift in the air, they were gone.

Not a single movement, not a sound. Just an absence where they had been standing.

The guards muttered among themselves, but Jude and Lyara remained silent. They knew better than to ignore a warning, especially one as clear as this.

Lyara exhaled slowly. "This isn't over."

Jude nodded. "No. It's not."

The night air felt colder than before. The golden energy above them flickered, dimming slightly, as if the city itself could sense what was coming.

The wind carried the scent of rain, thick and heavy, but the storm had not yet begun. Jude and Lyara moved swiftly through the city streets, their footsteps barely making a sound against the worn cobblestones. The message weighed heavily in Jude's hand, the parchment rough beneath his fingers. It was only a few words, yet it carried an undeniable weight.

They didn't speak as they walked, both lost in thought. The figure at the gate had vanished like mist, but their presence lingered. It wasn't just the way they had disappeared, it was the certainty in their voice, the knowledge behind their eyes. Whoever had sent them wasn't simply issuing a warning. They were giving a promise.

The storm has not passed. It has only begun.

Jude exhaled sharply through his nose. They needed answers.

The streets leading to the council hall were quieter than they should have been. It wasn't that the city was asleep, there was always life in the capital, no matter the hour. But people lingered in doorways, their voices hushed. There was a feeling in the air, an unease settling over the city like a thick fog. They knew something was coming. They just didn't know what.