Chapter 10: A Surge of Frostfire
Quinn's boots echoed through the marble hallways as he made his way back to the dorms, his mind still turning over the conversation with Rhea. He had finally made contact, a small but significant step. But just as he rounded a corner, a sharp, searing pain shot through his left hand.
He stumbled, gasping as he clutched his gloved hand. The snowflake mark, once faint and barely noticeable, now flared to life with an intensity that almost blinded him through the leather. Beneath the gloves, the mark burned hotter than anything he had ever felt before—scorching and freezing all at once, like fire laced with ice.
"What is this?" Quinn hissed through clenched teeth. He tried to shake it off, but the pain only deepened, spreading from his hand to his entire arm. His knees buckled, and he leaned against the wall, desperately trying to catch his breath.
His heartbeat quickened as panic set in. The burning wasn't just in his hand anymore—it was everywhere. He could feel it coursing through his veins, a wild, uncontrollable energy. His vision blurred for a moment, and when it cleared, something was terribly wrong.
Quinn's reflection in a nearby window caught his attention, and his breath hitched in shock.
His eyes. They weren't their usual dark brown anymore. His pupils had turned a vibrant, molten yellow, glowing like embers beneath snow. And his hair, once a deep chestnut, was now bone-white, falling over his face like fresh snowfall.
"What the hell…?" he whispered, staggering backward.
The journal. This had to be connected to the journal. Whatever power had been awakened in him was accelerating—too fast, too violently. He needed to calm down, to hide before someone saw what was happening to him.
The bathroom. It was nearby.
Quinn pushed through the pain, forcing himself to move. He half-ran, half-limped toward the boys' bathroom, stumbling into the door and shutting it behind him. The moment he was inside, he rushed to the sinks, gripping the cold porcelain as he stared into the mirror.
The transformation was complete. His eyes gleamed with unnatural brightness, his hair almost glowing white. His breath came out in ragged gasps, each exhale leaving behind faint trails of mist in the air, like frozen breath on a winter's day. He yanked off the glove on his left hand, revealing the snowflake mark, which now blazed with radiant, icy light.
The pain was unbearable. It felt as though his skin were both burning and freezing simultaneously, a fusion of conflicting elements raging inside him. Quinn squeezed his eyes shut, trying to focus, to make it stop. But nothing he did seemed to work.
"Why now? Why is this happening?" Quinn's mind raced as he tried to make sense of the sudden transformation. Was it because of the journal? Had he triggered something by using the runes, by channeling the energy without fully understanding it?
He heard the door to the bathroom creak open. Footsteps.
Quinn's heart skipped a beat, his body tensing as he glanced toward the entrance.
Darian.
He would recognize that voice anywhere. Darian and his entourage of followers were entering the bathroom, laughing loudly, their arrogant voices echoing against the tiled walls.
Quinn's pulse skyrocketed. There was no way he could let Darian see him like this. He quickly dove into one of the stalls, slamming the door shut just as the group entered.
He held his breath, crouched in the stall, the cold metal door pressing against his back. He could hear Darian's voice, clear and taunting, as he joked with his friends.
"Did you see Rhea out there today? Still pretending she's tough. Pathetic. And that new kid... Quinn? What a joke. He won't last a week here," Darian sneered.
Quinn's jaw tightened. He gritted his teeth, the burning sensation in his hand intensifying as Darian's words grated against him. His entire body was pulsing with energy, the power inside him threatening to burst free.
Calm down. Stay in control.
But it was getting harder to think, harder to breathe. His vision flickered, the world around him blurring as the pressure built within him. The snowflake mark on his hand flared again, brighter than before. If he wasn't careful, the power would explode out of him, and Darian would know exactly what he was hiding.
Outside the stall, Darian's voice grew louder as he moved toward the sinks. Quinn could hear the running water, the clinking of soap dispensers. They were taking their time, talking, laughing, oblivious to the storm brewing just a few feet away.
Quinn pressed his gloved hand against his chest, trying to contain the energy, to stop the power from spilling over. But as he did, his pulse quickened, and the snowflake mark burned hotter. He clenched his fists, focusing every ounce of his willpower on suppressing the transformation.
Just hold on. Just a little longer.
He squeezed his eyes shut, willing the power to subside. Slowly, agonizingly, the burning began to fade, the pain in his hand easing as the snowflake mark dimmed. His breath came out in shallow gasps, but the intensity of the energy was finally receding.
Quinn remained frozen, barely daring to breathe as Darian and his friends finished up. After what felt like an eternity, they finally left the bathroom, their voices fading as the door swung shut behind them.
Only then did Quinn let out a shaky breath, slumping back against the stall. His heart pounded in his chest, his body trembling from the strain of holding the power at bay.
He was losing control. Whatever the journal had unlocked inside him, it was far more dangerous than he had realized. If he couldn't find a way to control it, he would be exposed—and worse, he might destroy everything around him.
Quinn pulled himself up slowly, staring at his reflection in the mirror once more. His pupils were still yellow, his hair still snow-white, but the glow had dimmed. The snowflake mark was no longer blazing, though it still shimmered faintly on his hand.
"I need answers," he whispered to himself. "I need to figure out what this power is... before it destroys me."
Quinn knew what he had to do. Tonight, he would dive deeper into the journal than ever before. The power was growing, and it wouldn't wait. If he didn't master it soon, it would consume him.
And next time, there might not be anywhere to hide.