Chapter 9: The Snowflake Mark
The morning sun filtered through the thin curtains of Quinn's dorm room, casting a soft glow on the walls. He rubbed his eyes and stretched, but as he sat up, something immediately caught his attention—a faint, shimmering shape on the back of his left hand.
Quinn froze. He turned his hand over and stared.
It was a mark. A delicate, intricate pattern that resembled a snowflake, etched into his skin like frost on a winter window. The mark pulsed faintly, the same subtle energy he had felt in the journal's runes now imprinted on his hand. The sensation was not painful, but it was unnerving. He could feel the power flowing beneath it, waiting to be tapped.
"What the hell…?" he muttered.
His thoughts raced. The journal. This had to be connected to the journal's power, but why now? Had the rituals he'd been performing each night triggered this mark? Was it a sign that the power was growing inside him, or was it some kind of warning?
Quinn didn't know. But one thing was certain—he couldn't afford for anyone to see it.
He quickly rummaged through his locker, pulling out a pair of black leather gloves. They had belonged to his father, an old relic of another life, but now they would serve to conceal the mark. As he tugged them on, he couldn't help but notice how perfectly they fit—like they were meant to be worn now, at this moment, for this purpose.
With the mark hidden, Quinn glanced at the journal tucked under his bed. He couldn't risk studying it now, not with so many questions swirling in his mind. He needed more information. But for now, there was something else that needed his attention—Rhea.
He had decided last night, after going over the events of the day, that Rhea was someone worth reaching out to. She might be isolated and dangerous, but that was exactly what made her valuable. If he could earn her trust, she could become a powerful ally in his fight against the system.
With one last glance at the mirror, ensuring his gloves covered the mark entirely, Quinn left his room and made his way through the Institute's bustling halls.
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The training yard was alive with the sounds of sparring, the clash of weapons, and the grunts of exertion. Quinn spotted Rhea almost immediately. She was standing alone in a corner, wiping sweat from her brow after finishing another intense session with a training dummy. Even at a distance, her presence was magnetic—focused, unyielding, and completely in control.
Quinn took a deep breath and approached her.
"Rhea," he called, keeping his tone casual but firm.
She didn't turn at first, continuing to pack her gear without acknowledging him. But just as Quinn was about to speak again, she glanced up from the corner of her eye, her sharp gaze landing on him like a blade.
"What do you want?" she asked, her voice cool and disinterested.
Quinn held her gaze, refusing to back down. "To talk."
Rhea raised an eyebrow, her expression unreadable. "Talk? About what?"
He stepped closer, lowering his voice so that only she could hear. "About power. About the system. And about fighting back."
That caught her attention. Rhea straightened, slinging her bag over her shoulder as she studied him more intently. There was a flicker of curiosity in her eyes now, though it was buried beneath layers of suspicion.
"You're new here," she said, her voice still guarded. "What makes you think I'm interested in any of that?"
Quinn shrugged. "You don't strike me as someone who follows orders blindly. And from what I've seen, you're not exactly part of the crowd here. That tells me you've got your own way of thinking. Maybe you don't care about the system, maybe you do—but you definitely don't play by their rules."
Rhea crossed her arms, her gaze narrowing. "And you think you know me after watching me fight for five minutes?"
"No," Quinn admitted, "but I'm willing to find out."
For a long moment, Rhea just stared at him, her expression unreadable. Quinn could feel the tension between them, the unspoken challenge in her eyes. She was testing him, weighing his words carefully.
Finally, she let out a short, almost amused breath. "You've got guts, I'll give you that. But if you're looking for a fight, you're going to need more than just a few good lines."
Quinn nodded, sensing he was close to breaking through her walls. "I'm not here to fight you. I'm here because I think we both know the system isn't as unbreakable as they want us to believe. I don't know how yet, but I think together, we could figure out a way to make real change."
Rhea tilted her head slightly, her eyes flicking over him with renewed interest. "You're not like the others here, are you?"
Quinn smiled, though it didn't reach his eyes. "No. I'm not."
There was another pause, longer this time. Then, to his surprise, Rhea smirked. "Alright, 'Finn.' Let's see what you've got. Meet me here tomorrow at dawn. Don't be late."
Before Quinn could respond, Rhea turned on her heel and walked away, her silver hair catching the light as she disappeared into the crowd.
Quinn stood there for a moment, watching her leave. He had passed the first test. But he knew that this was only the beginning—Rhea was still cautious, still guarded. Earning her full trust would take time, and perhaps more than words.
As he headed back to his dorm, Quinn flexed his gloved hand, feeling the faint pulse of the snowflake mark beneath the leather. Whatever power the journal held, whatever its connection to the system, it was growing. And he would need that power soon, if he was to survive what was coming.
For now, he had made the first move. The game had begun. And as he prepared for his next meeting with Rhea, Quinn knew one thing for certain: he was getting closer to uncovering the secrets of the system—and to finding the allies he needed to bring it down.