CHAPTER 4: BEFORE THE STORM
1203 Words
Isla's POV
The c***k in the fountain was gone by morning.
Isla stopped walking and stared.
She knew what she had seen the night before. The ice had split the stone, the cold had swept through the courtyard, and the whisper had spoken to her again. Yet the fountain stood untouched beneath the pale morning light, as though nothing had ever happened.
Students passed without a second glance, laughing on their way to breakfast and talking about classes like it was any other day. Watching them made Isla feel strangely alone. It was as if she had stepped into a mystery that only she could see.
"You're staring."
She looked up.
Poppy was watching her over a stack of pancakes.
"At the fountain."
"So?"
"You've been staring at it for three minutes."
"That's not true."
"It absolutely is."
Poppy took another bite of her pancakes before pointing her fork at Isla.
"You know, most people spend breakfast thinking about food."
"I am thinking about food."
"No, you're thinking about murder."
Isla frowned.
"What?"
"You've got your murder face on."
"I have a murder face?"
"Everybody has a murder face."
"That doesn't sound true."
"Trust me."
Isla decided not to ask how she had reached that conclusion.
The rest of the day wasn't much better.
The Frost Kickoff was tonight, and apparently the entire campus had decided it was the most important event of the year.
Students wore Frosthawk jerseys everywhere she looked. Blue banners hung from nearly every building, enchanted speakers blasted music across the courtyards, and someone had somehow transformed one of the academy statues into a giant hockey player.
She wasn't sure why.
Nobody else seemed interested in asking.
Silvercrest loved hockey.
The Frosthawks loved attention.
It was probably the perfect relationship.
By lunchtime, Isla had heard the words Frost Kickoff so many times she was considering transferring schools.
Or countries.
Or, if possible, planets.
"You're being dramatic."
Poppy looked up from the book she'd been pretending to read.
"Am not."
"You absolutely are."
"Am not."
Poppy smirked.
"You sound five."
Isla kicked her gently beneath the table.
Poppy let out an exaggerated scream.
Several students looked over.
Neither of them cared.
The library had quickly become Isla's favourite place on campus.
It was quiet, peaceful, and most importantly, it usually contained very few hockey players.
Usually.
Today, apparently, was the exception.
"That's cheating."
The familiar voice carried through the aisle before she even looked up.
Cas.
Of course.
He stood beside one of the study tables with two teammates. One was tall and blond, while the other looked like he found absolutely everything amusing.
"It's strategy," the blond argued.
"It's cheating."
"It literally isn't."
"It literally is."
The third guy laughed.
"You've had this argument seven times."
"Eight," Cas corrected.
"Right. Eight."
They started walking again.
Then Cas looked up.
His steps slowed for the briefest moment when he noticed Isla.
It was such a small reaction that most people would've missed it.
She didn't.
Their eyes met.
Again.
He gave her a small nod.
She returned it almost automatically.
It should have been an ordinary exchange.
Instead, she found herself watching him until he disappeared around the shelves.
She frowned at herself.
That was becoming a habit.
She wasn't sure she liked it.
The afternoon disappeared faster than she expected.
Before she knew it, Poppy was standing in the middle of their dorm room holding up three different outfits.
"You have to wear one."
"No."
"Yes."
"No."
"Yes."
"No."
Poppy threw a sweater at her.
It landed squarely on Isla's face.
"Rude."
"The Frost Kickoff is a big deal."
"So I've heard."
"You can't show up looking like you're attending a funeral."
"I'm wearing black."
"Exactly."
Isla laughed quietly as she pulled the sweater off her face.
Living with Poppy sometimes felt like living with an overly enthusiastic life coach who refused to accept defeat.
An hour later, they joined the steady stream of students making their way toward the ballroom.
The building looked beautiful beneath the evening sky. Snowflakes drifted through the air without melting, blue lights glowed behind the tall windows, and music spilled outside long before they reached the entrance.
The closer they got, the more uneasy Isla became.
At first, she blamed the crowd.
Then the noise.
Then the simple fact that she had willingly agreed to attend a party.
But none of those explanations felt right.
The air itself seemed different.
Heavier.
A strange chill settled over her skin, carrying the same quiet warning she'd felt near the fountain.
She stopped walking.
Poppy turned.
"Isla?"
"Do you feel that?"
"Feel what?"
"The cold."
Poppy looked around before shrugging.
"I don't feel anything."
Of course she didn't.
Isla forced herself to keep walking, though the uneasy feeling stayed with her every step of the way.
The ballroom was breathtaking.
Floating lights drifted across the ceiling like tiny stars while enchanted snowflakes dissolved into glitter before touching the floor. Music echoed through the room, laughter filled every corner, and students danced beneath shimmering chandeliers.
For a few minutes, Isla almost convinced herself she had imagined everything.
Then she noticed the mirrors.
They lined the ballroom walls in elegant silver frames, reflecting every smiling face and every burst of magic.
Every mirror looked normal.
Except one.
Near the far end of the room, a girl walked past a mirror.
Her reflection moved a second later.
Isla frowned.
She blinked.
The mirror looked perfectly ordinary again.
A knot tightened in her stomach.
Had she imagined it?
She hoped so.
Across the room, the Frosthawks entered.
Cheers erupted almost instantly.
Poppy practically bounced where she stood.
"Oh my gosh."
Isla rolled her eyes.
Despite herself, her gaze drifted toward Cas.
He was laughing with one of his teammates, looking completely relaxed.
Then his smile disappeared.
His attention shifted across the ballroom until his eyes met hers. He wasn't simply looking at her. He looked as though he'd sensed the same thing she had.
A cold shiver slipped down Isla's spine.
The temperature dropped just enough for her breath to fog.
The music continued. Students kept dancing. No one seemed to notice.
No one except Isla… and Cas.
For the briefest moment, fear crossed his face.
Isla looked back toward the mirror.
A thin layer of frost was creeping across the glass.
Slowly.
Silently.
Like ice spreading across the surface of a frozen lake.
Her heartbeat quickened.
Something was wrong.
The reflection flickered.
For a split second, the ballroom disappeared.
Something dark moved behind the glass.
Then it was gone.
Isla stared, her pulse pounding.
Every instinct told her to leave. She turned, searching the crowd for Poppy. Maybe they could slip out before…
A sharp c***k split the ballroom.
The music stopped.
Conversations died instantly as students looked around in confusion.
Every mirror in the room began to shake.
Not violently.
Just enough for the glass to rattle inside its frame.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
Uneasy whispers spread through the crowd.
Some students laughed nervously, convincing themselves it had to be part of the celebration.
Then a thin line of frost spread across the largest mirror at the far end of the ballroom.
And something moved behind the glass.
- Writer
