Chapter 12: The Unexpected Detour
Quinn sat in the silence of his dorm room, his thoughts a whirlwind after Lazarus's warning. The system was onto him, and the walls were closing in faster than he could keep up. He couldn't afford to waste another moment.
The journal. It was the key to everything. The more he understood it, the better chance he had of mastering whatever power had been awakened within him. But he couldn't do it with the system breathing down his neck.
"I need to find answers," Quinn muttered under his breath, his eyes darting to the corner where the journal lay hidden beneath his mattress. The journal's secrets were his only chance, but there was no guarantee that diving deeper into it wouldn't push him closer to exposure.
He had barely made it out of the bathroom earlier. That pain, that uncontrollable energy, was only going to get worse if he didn't get a grip on it. And the system? They wouldn't hesitate to lock him away if they figured out what he was capable of.
The room was cold, and Quinn couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. He looked at the window again, half-expecting to see Lazarus reappear. But there was nothing.
He had just decided to dive back into the journal when a sharp knock came at the door.
Quinn froze. No one ever knocked on his door, especially not this late. His heart pounded as he cautiously approached the door, his thoughts racing.
He opened it a crack, only to have his ear yanked by a firm hand.
"Ouch! What the—" Quinn gasped.
Before he could react, a woman's voice, sharp and commanding, filled the space.
"Finn O'Reilly, you've been skipping my class. Do you have a reason for that?"
Quinn's eyes widened as he found himself being dragged into the hallway.
"What are you—?"
"Enough," the teacher snapped. She was tall, with sharp features, her cold eyes locking onto his with a dangerous intensity. Her grip tightened on his ear, her fingers digging in as she moved him down the corridor. "No excuses. You're coming with me. You've already missed too much."
Quinn's mind was spinning. The system was closing in, and now he was being dragged to class? Of all the things that could happen right now. He tried to pull away, but her hold was unyielding.
"Please," he said, his voice tense with both frustration and anxiety. "I don't have time for this. Something's happening—I'm not supposed to be here. I need to—"
"Shut up," she snapped, her voice cold and unrelenting. "You'll go to class, and you'll make up for your absence. Then we'll see if you have an excuse for all the trouble you've caused around here."
"Trouble?" Quinn muttered, bewildered. He hadn't caused any trouble—at least, not in the way she meant. The real trouble was the system closing in on him, but there was no way to explain that to her.
She marched him to one of the classrooms, the door swinging open with a resounding creak. Inside, the students were already settled, murmuring to one another. Their eyes turned toward Quinn, a mix of curiosity and surprise on their faces. He didn't need to look back to know that his appearance was drawing attention. His white hair. His yellow eyes. It was becoming harder and harder to hide the transformation.
With a final shove, the teacher pushed him toward an empty desk. "Sit," she ordered, and before Quinn could protest, she turned away, starting the lesson as if nothing was wrong.
Quinn sank into the seat, his pulse still hammering in his ears. His thoughts were spinning. He could barely focus on the teacher's words. His mind was still reeling from everything Lazarus had said, everything that had happened earlier with the snowflake mark.
The journal. He needed to figure it out. Fast.
But how was he supposed to concentrate with the system looking for him, with the teacher treating him like a delinquent, and with the power inside him threatening to spiral out of control at any moment?
Quinn's fingers itched to reach into his bag, to pull out the journal, but doing that in the middle of class would only draw more attention. He couldn't afford that. Not now.
Instead, he forced himself to breathe deeply, focusing on calming the storm inside him. The last thing he needed was to draw more attention to his strange abilities. He had to keep it under control—at least for now.
But as the lesson dragged on, Quinn couldn't shake the feeling that the system was already closing in on him. He had to be smarter, faster, and more careful. The truth about the journal, the transformation, and everything he was uncovering—it was too much for him to handle alone.
He needed allies, and he needed them soon. Lazarus's warning echoed in his mind: if the system suspected him, he was done for. But who could he trust? Who could he turn to for help?
The answer was simple: Rhea.
Quinn knew it wasn't safe, that he couldn't afford to make any more mistakes. But the journal and the strange powers he was uncovering were bigger than him. Rhea had been there from the start, and though she was tough to read, he knew she had her own secrets. Maybe they could help each other.
His thoughts were interrupted as the teacher's voice grew louder.
"Mr. O'Reilly," she called, her eyes locking onto him. "Care to join us?"
Quinn snapped back to reality, his heart racing again. He'd been zoning out. Damn it, he was losing focus.
"Yeah, sorry," he muttered, rubbing his forehead, trying to mask his anxiety.
But as he tried to regain his composure, something inside him seemed to snap. The sensation in his hand, the tingling from the snowflake mark—it was coming back again, hot and cold, sharp and painful. Quinn clenched his fists, doing his best to keep his composure.
He couldn't afford to lose control here.
Not when the clock was ticking.