Chapter 3 — A Town of Eternal Sunlight

Clarice

The golden light was relentless. It poured over Thornwood like a ceaseless tide, glittering through the leaves of trees, illuminating the streets, and casting a dreamlike glow on every surface. Clarice stepped out of Ashfield Manor, her silver-gray eyes narrowing instinctively against the brightness. She had prepared herself for this, trained her body and mind to endure the sensory overload, yet the sheer intensity of it still set her on edge. The light wasn’t just sunlight—it was alive, pulsing faintly in the air, brushing against her skin like static electricity. It sought to expose her, as though Thornwood’s magic was testing her already tenuous place here.

Cain walked a few steps ahead of her, his easy, measured gait a stark contrast to the tension simmering in her chest. He cast her a glance over his shoulder, the faintest shadow of a smile tugging at his lips. “You’ll get used to it,” he said, as though reading her discomfort.

Clarice doubted that. The light might not burn her as sunlight should, thanks to Thornwood’s magic, but it still felt oppressive. The hum of it, constant and cloying, scraped against her senses. She tightened her grip on the edges of her jacket, feeling the hidden weight of the Bloodstone Pendant against her sternum, its pulse grounding her in the midst of her disquiet. “It’s... brighter than I expected,” she replied evenly, careful to reveal nothing of the irritation gnawing at her.

Cain’s pale blue eyes lingered on her longer than necessary, as though searching for cracks in her calm. He didn’t press her further, instead gesturing toward the path winding down the hill from the manor. “The Sunlit Square isn’t far. It’ll give you a better sense of the town.”

Falling into step behind him, her boots crunched against the gravel path. From this vantage, Thornwood stretched out in gilded glory below. The Shimmering Woods formed a protective perimeter, their golden leaves swaying in the breeze, alive with an unnatural vitality. The town itself was a neatly ordered patchwork of stone and timber buildings, their rooftops glowing faintly under the eternal daylight. Streams of crystalline water snaked through the streets, their surfaces catching the light like liquid diamonds.

Thornwood was beautiful, almost disarmingly so. But Clarice wasn’t fooled. Danger often lurked beneath the most beguiling surfaces.

As they descended into the town, the faint hum of activity reached her ears. Werewolves moved with purpose: a man hefting a bundle of lumber over his shoulder, a woman tending to a cart laden with glowing flowers, children dashing through the streets, their laughter ringing out like chimes. It was a picture of harmony—but Clarice felt the sharp edge of vigilance beneath it. Eyes lingered on her as she passed, her otherness unmistakable. Suspicion clung to the air like a scent.

“Outsiders don’t come here often,” Cain said, his voice low but audible over the murmurs of the town. “You’ll have to forgive them if they seem... wary.”

She offered a faint smile, though it didn’t reach her eyes. “I’m getting used to it.”

A boy darted out from an alley, stopping abruptly when his wide, amber eyes met hers. He froze, his small frame taut, like a cornered animal. Clarice’s gaze flickered to the woman nearby—likely his mother—who quickly pulled the boy back, her wary look unmistakable. The boy whispered something, his voice too soft for Clarice to hear, but the way his mother’s eyes darkened with unease spoke volumes.

“They’ll warm up,” Cain said, though his tone carried a weight that made her glance at him. “Eventually.”

“Will they?” she asked, her voice soft yet edged. Her kind weren’t known for inspiring trust.

Cain didn’t answer. He merely nodded toward the steadily widening path ahead, which opened into a vast plaza. The hum in the air grew stronger as they approached, vibrating faintly in her bones. The Sunlit Square was the town’s heart, a sprawling expanse of smooth, sun-warmed cobblestones. Thornwood’s magic was strongest here, its presence so potent it felt like the air itself had weight.

At the plaza’s center stood the obelisk—a towering pillar of weathered stone inscribed with glowing runes. They pulsed faintly, their light ebbing and flowing like a heartbeat. The Bloodstone Pendant beneath her jacket responded instantly, its rhythm quickening. A faint warmth spread against her chest, growing stronger with every step she took toward the obelisk.

She stopped abruptly, her gaze locking onto the monolithic structure. The air around it was heavier, charged, as though the obelisk itself were alive and watching. The warmth of her pendant deepened, and her breath hitched at the sensation—a foreign heartbeat calling to her own. She clenched her fists to steady herself, her nails biting into her palms.

“Impressive, isn’t it?” Cain’s voice broke through her unease. He had stopped a few paces ahead, hands tucked casually into his pockets. “That’s the anchor for Thornwood’s barrier. It’s what keeps us safe.”

Clarice forced her expression into one of mild curiosity, though her mind raced. The connection between the obelisk and her pendant was undeniable. Did her clan’s magic share a root with Thornwood’s? The implications were staggering—and dangerous.

“How does it work?” she asked, her tone carefully neutral, though her thoughts surged like a storm.

Cain tilted his head, his gaze thoughtful. “The runes channel the magic of the sunlight, binding it to the land. It’s an ancient pact—one that requires sacrifices.”

“Sacrifices?” she repeated, letting just enough curiosity bleed into her voice.

His expression darkened slightly, his shoulders stiffening. “Nothing this powerful comes without a cost. We’ve learned that the hard way.”

She stepped closer to the obelisk, drawn despite herself. The runes on its surface seemed to shimmer and shift as she approached, their glow intensifying. Her pendant’s pulse mirrored the rhythm, the heat of it both soothing and unsettling. Clarice fought the instinct to press a hand over it, to shield it from Cain’s watchful gaze.

“You seem... drawn to it,” Cain remarked, his tone casual but his eyes sharp.

She met his gaze evenly. “It’s fascinating,” she said simply, deflecting. “I’ve never seen magic like this before.”

His lips quirked into a faint, knowing smile. “Few have.”

A burst of children’s laughter drew her attention to the edge of the square, where a small group played near one of the streams. Their joy was infectious, a brief reprieve from the sunlight’s oppressive weight. Clarice watched them longer than she intended, a pang of something bittersweet tugging at her chest. A memory surfaced unbidden: her brothers’ laughter echoing through the night, their faces lit by firelight, fleeting moments of innocence before the world demanded survival. The ache of their absence tightened her throat, but she pushed it down, locking the memory away.

“What are you thinking?” Cain’s voice was quiet, almost gentle.

She hesitated, the truth too dangerous to share. “Just... how different this place is from where I’ve been,” she said carefully.

Cain studied her for a moment, his expression unreadable. “Thornwood is far from perfect,” he said at last. “But it’s home. And for us, that’s enough.”

Home. The word lingered, foreign and tantalizing. She had no use for such a concept—hadn’t in years. Yet here, in this strange, sunlit town, it whispered to her like the obelisk’s runes: distant and unreachable but impossible to ignore.

The pendant’s pulse steadied as she stepped back from the obelisk, its warmth fading to a faint thrum. But the questions it raised remained. What was the connection between Thornwood’s magic and her clan’s? And why did the obelisk feel as though it knew her, its runes whispering secrets only she could hear?

Cain’s voice broke through her thoughts. “Come on. There’s more to see.”

They had barely turned to leave when sharp laughter cut through the square. Two young men loitered at the edge of the plaza, their postures tense and hostile. One of them, a wiry figure with dark hair, sneered. “You sure she’s not just here to spy on us, Alpha?”

Cain’s calm demeanor didn’t falter, though his voice carried a quiet authority as he responded. “She’s under my protection, Merrick. That should be enough.”

Merrick’s smirk faltered, but his defiance lingered. Clarice’s gaze met his, cold and unyielding. She watched for subtle tells—the twitch of his hands, the angle of his stance—assessing him as she might a predator. The tension hung like a blade in the air before Cain gestured for her to move on, guiding her away.

As they left the square, the weight of her mission pressed heavily against her chest. Thornwood’s beauty was a veneer, its light hiding shadows she had yet to uncover. Somewhere beneath it all, the truth waited, tangled in magic and sacrifice.

Clarice tightened her grip on her jacket, her steps steady despite the unease coiling in her gut. She would find the answers she needed. She had to. Survival demanded it.

But as her gaze flickered to Cain, to his calm, watchful presence beside her, another thought whispered at the edges of her mind. Could survival and trust coexist in a place like this?

The sunlight pressed down on her as they walked, unyielding and eternal. And yet, for the first time in a long while, she felt the faintest flicker of something she couldn’t quite name.

Hope? Or danger? Perhaps, in Thornwood, they were one and the same.