The Beginning....

              The morning sun filtered softly through a thin layer of mist, casting a golden shimmer over the quiet streets of Duskwater—a town wrapped in green and silence. Known for its dense forests, foggy dawns, and sprawling coffee plantations, Duskwater was the kind of place where time seemed to move slower. Wildlife was part of everyday life—deer often crossed the roads, streams ran beneath thick canopies, and early risers were used to spotting wild rabbits or even the occasional buffalo near the plantations.

It was a town untouched by chaos, where the wild was free and the people lived in peace. The most exciting thing to ever happen here was someone running a stop sign.

The gates of Duskwater Community College creaked open as the day began. Four friends stepped onto campus together, their laughter breaking the soft silence of the morning.

Lucas Hartwell led the group. Tall, red-haired, and broad-shouldered at 6’3”, he wore his signature old varsity jacket over the college’s required white shirt and tie. His expression was calm but sharp, a quiet storm behind that half-serious face. People saw muscle and trouble—but those who really knew him saw the dry wit, the loyalty, and the way his mind never stopped working. He lived nearby with his mom and dad—his mom a housewife, his dad the quiet owner of a small furniture company. He was their only kid, but he always walked like he carried way more than just his own weight.

Right next to him, practically bouncing with energy, was Andrés Reyes. Black hair slicked back just enough to still look messy, he wore a plain blazer over his uniform like he forgot he had it on. He had that chaotic best friend aura—never on time, always loud, and somehow, everyone loved him for it. He wasn’t book-smart, but there was something sharp under the surface. He lived with his dad, a construction leader, and had lost his mom when he was five. The guy didn’t have a serious bone in his body… unless you hit a nerve.

A step behind them walked Freya Langford. Black hair tied up in a neat high ponytail, her long brown coat gave her uniform an almost model-like edge. Tall, poised, beautiful—her British roots showed in the way she carried herself: bold, smart, no time for nonsense. Her father owned half the town’s plantations and held quiet power in Duskwater. Her mom? A designer with an eye for elegance. Freya wasn’t just money or attitude though—she had depth, control, and a spark that didn’t dim, no matter what.

And then there was Valeria Monroe. Blonde, with soft curls falling perfectly around her face, her cozy yellow sweater pulled over the uniform shirt like she’d styled it for a magazine shoot. Her skirt swayed with each step, deliberate. She was effortlessly stylish, flirty with a voice that could melt tension—and often did. Her mom ran a successful salon and worked as a costume designer, her older sister a local vet. Valeria had confidence and charm, and sometimes… a habit of pretending she didn’t care even when she did.

They were all twenty-one, twenty-two—grown enough to see the world clearly, young enough to think they could still outsmart it.

And as they walked into campus that morning, wearing their layered uniforms like armor against boredom, they didn’t know today would be different. The same gate, the same fog, the same breeze... but a shift was coming.

Mornings like this were routine. Same path. Same jokes. Same group.

“I swear to god,” Andres muttered, completely serious, “if I ever meet the guy who thought pineapple belongs in a breakfast burrito, I’m throwing hands.”

Freya burst out laughing. “Oh come on, it’s not that bad!”

Valeria raised a brow, flipping her hair. “No, he’s right. Fruit doesn’t belong with eggs. That’s a crime. Like—actual jail.”

Lucas didn’t say a word. He just glanced around the campus slowly, sensing something... off.

Lucas, hands in his pockets, had that usual mix of calm and mischief in his eyes. Andres, all energy and no brakes, was mid-rant about his breakfast burrito being a "crime against Mexican culture." Freya rolled her eyes while Valeria tried to flirt with the guy handing out flyers—unsuccessfully, as usual.

“Bro, they put pineapple in it,” Andres groaned. “I’m offended personally, spiritually, and culturally.”

“Maybe your stomach just needs therapy,” Lucas muttered with a smirk.

They reached the main courtyard—and that’s when the shift happened.

The usual buzz of campus life had gone quiet. Students stood grouped together near the notice board. No casual chatter. Just silence, broken by low whispers and uneasy glances. It wasn’t just curiosity in their eyes—there was something heavier.

Lucas slowed down, his expression tightening. “Yo… something’s not right.”

Freya’s arms crossed, her tone suddenly serious. “I’ve never seen this place this quiet… ever.”

Andres, still chewing gum, frowned for once. “Whatever it is... it’s not good.”

Valeria stopped smiling.

And just like that, the morning felt colder.

Lucas glanced around, the sunlight still warm—but the atmosphere had turned cold. The usual laughter, gossip, and music playing from someone's Bluetooth speaker had all vanished. Instead, there was a heavy silence pressing down over the crowd like a thick blanket.

The four friends stood just outside the circle of students, watching. No one spoke. Even Valeria, for once, didn’t crack a joke.

Lucas raised a brow at Freya, who met his gaze with a frown.

Andres broke the silence. “Okay, I’m going in.”

Without waiting, he stepped toward the crowd, slipping between students while the rest stayed behind.

Freya watched him go. “This doesn’t feel like gossip... it feels real.”

Lucas nodded, jaw tight. “Yeah. Something happened.”

It didn’t take long before Andres returned, his usual grin gone—replaced by an oddly serious expression… and just as quickly, his signature flair.

He stopped dramatically in front of them, took a deep breath, and said in a low voice, “Guys…”

Valeria leaned in. “What? You look like you just saw a ghost.”

Andres nodded solemnly, then added with full drama,

“A basketball guy… found in the locker room washroom. Dead. Gone. Body just chillin’ next to the showers like a cancelled Netflix show.”

Freya froze. “What? How?”

Andres flailed his hands. “No one knows! Students are clueless. Staff knows something, but they’re tighter than your jeans after Thanksgiving dinner.”

Lucas’s voice dropped. “So we’re just left guessing.”

Andres shrugged. “Pretty much.”

Valeria clicked her tongue. “Well… if I die, someone better put mascara on my corpse.”

Freya didn’t laugh. “This isn’t a joke, Val.”

Lucas looked back toward the crowd. “Something’s off. And I don’t like being left in the dark.”

Lucas shifted his weight, eyes still locked on the crowd. Without saying a word, he glanced sideways at Freya—just a small look, subtle but clear.

She caught it instantly and gave the slightest nod. No words needed.

The two of them stepped away from Andres and Valeria, slipping quietly toward the edges of the group. The chatter was low, like people didn’t want to be overheard—or didn’t even know how to talk about what they’d heard.

Lucas leaned toward her. “Check with the girls. See what they’re saying.”

Freya’s eyes scanned the cluster of whispering students. “And you?”

“I’ll talk to the guys,” he said simply, already peeling off in another direction.

Freya gave a small smirk. “Try not to punch anyone if they act stupid.”

Lucas didn’t even turn back. “No promises.”

Freya weaved through the crowd, her tone light, casual—like she was just catching up with classmates. A small group of girls stood near the edge of the courtyard, wide-eyed and speaking in half-whispers.

“So awful,” one girl said, shaking her head. “I mean, a dead body? In the locker room?”

Another leaned in. “They said he wasn’t even injured or anything. Just... lying there.”

A third girl whispered, “Someone said it might’ve been suicide... or maybe an accident. No one’s saying for sure.”

Freya nodded along, not pushing, just listening. Her face stayed composed, but something in her eyes flickered.

On the other side of the crowd, Lucas moved through with more focus. He spotted James, one of the basketball guys, standing stiff with his hands in his pockets.

“James,” Lucas called quietly. “You heard what happened?”

James turned, his face a mix of confusion and unease. “Yeah, man... it was rough. Alvarez was the one who found him.”

“Diego?” Lucas asked, surprised.

James nodded. “Yeah. He was pale as hell when he came out. Didn’t even say much—just told Coach something was wrong and walked out. Fast.”

Lucas raised an eyebrow. “Walked out?”

“Yeah,” James said, looking down. “Like... left campus. Coach didn’t stop him. No one did. He looked scared.”

Lucas gave a small nod. “Thanks, man.”

He stepped back from the crowd, eyes scanning until he spotted Freya standing with her arms crossed near a bench. She was already watching him, waiting.

He walked over, her expression unreadable. “Find anything?” she asked.

Lucas glanced once more toward the locker rooms. “Yeah. I think we need to talk to Diego.”

Freya tilted her head. “Why talk to Diego?”

Lucas kept his eyes ahead. “He’s the one who found the body.”

Something in his voice had shifted—lower, tighter. Not panicked, but focused. Freya noticed it right away.

“So, where is he?” she asked.

Lucas didn’t answer immediately. His jaw tensed slightly before he looked at her.

“I don’t know. But I know where to find him.”

Freya studied him for a second longer, but didn’t press.

Lucas turned back toward the courtyard. “Come on. Let’s get back to Andres and Valeria.”

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