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              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.”

Lucas and Freya walked back across the courtyard, side by side, but not saying much. The tension between them wasn’t loud—but it was there. Just something sitting in the air.

Valeria was lounging on a low brick ledge, phone in hand, legs crossed, while Andres was pacing in a circle like he was rehearsing for a one-man comedy show.

“We’re all gonna die,” he muttered dramatically. “One by one. It starts with jocks, but it won’t end there—watch. I’m next. I just know it.”

“Shut up,” Freya said without looking at him.

Lucas stopped in front of them.

“We’re heading out. Need to check on something.”

Valeria glanced up. “What something? Who?”

Lucas looked down for a second, then muttered, “We’re looking for Diego. He’ll be near the lake.”

Freya looked at him. “How do you know?”

Lucas’s gaze drifted off for a moment. “It’s the kind of place you go when you want to be alone. He’s been going there lately... but it used to be my spot.”

Freya raised an eyebrow.

Lucas shrugged slightly. “It’s where I used to go… to lie back. Think. It’s peaceful.”

That was all he said. But something in his voice told Freya there was more he wasn’t saying.

He paused. “That’s where he’ll be. Smoking, probably. It’s what he does when something messes with him.”

Freya nodded, more thoughtful now.

Andres, meanwhile, was pretending to dramatically write a goodbye letter to “the future generations of Duskwater.”

Valeria rolled her eyes. “God, you’re such a drama queen.”

“I prefer legend,” Andres corrected, pointing at her with exaggerated flair.

Lucas looked at Freya, then at the trees past the edge of campus. “Let’s go.”

Freya stepped beside him, her expression unreadable. “Lead the way.”

Lucas and Andres walked side by side, heading toward the college gate, boots crunching softly on the gravel path. A few steps behind, Freya and Valeria followed, their conversation low and unreadable under the hum of campus chatter.

Just as they reached the main sidewalk, a voice crackled over the campus loudspeakers—loud, sharp, and unexpected.

“All students, please report to the basketball court immediately. Faculty will be addressing the incident shortly.”

Everyone paused. Heads turned. Whispers buzzed.

Lucas stopped walking, his eyes flicking up toward one of the mounted speakers, then to Freya.

“We don’t have time to split up,” she said quietly, already knowing what was coming.

Lucas shook his head. “We need to.”

He looked at her, steady. “You and Andres go. See what they’re telling the students. I’ll go with Valeria—check in with Diego.”

Freya hesitated. “You sure?”

Lucas glanced toward the trees beyond campus. “Yeah. He’s already seen something. I need to know what.”

Freya nodded once, then turned to Andres, who had already begun dramatically preparing a speech about “courtroom testimonies.”

Valeria, brushing her hair off her shoulder, looked at Lucas with a raised brow. “So... we're skipping class now?”

Lucas gave a dry smirk. “Guess so.”

Without another word, the group split—two heading toward answers, two chasing questions.

And somewhere beyond the trees, the lake waited quietly.

Freya and Andres moved through the crowd toward the basketball court, already filled with murmurs and scattered confusion. Most of the student body had shown up—some talking in hushed circles, others just standing and waiting. Only a few faculty members were present, pacing slowly and checking their watches.

Andres whispered, “Bet they’re about to pull a 'we value your mental health' speech while hiding half the truth.”

Freya didn’t answer. She scanned the crowd, her arms crossed, eyes sharp.

Within minutes, the court filled completely. The loudspeakers gave a low screech, followed by the sound of a mic being tapped.

The principal stepped forward, adjusting his glasses. “Good morning.”

The crowd quieted.

He cleared his throat. “It is with deep sadness that we inform you of the passing of one of our students—Liam Scott, a member of our college basketball team.”

A wave of hushed gasps spread across the students.

“Liam was a dedicated athlete, a kind soul, and a friend to many. We understand this news may be difficult to process. Counseling will be available for any student in need. Please know, we are doing everything we can to support the investigation and ensure the safety and well-being of our campus.”

The speech continued—formal, respectful, and safe.

---

Meanwhile…

A few miles away, a soft rumble echoed through the quiet roads winding out of town. Lucas gripped the handles of his old-school cruiser—an American-style vintage motorcycle, somewhere between a Harley and an old Indian Chief. It wasn’t loud, but it growled low and steady as it moved, the kind of bike that made heads turn without trying.

Valeria held on behind him, her arms wrapped tight around his waist. Her blonde hair whipped gently in the wind, her cheek brushing the back of his shoulder.

“Liam Scott…” she said above the sound of the wind. “You think it was just an accident?”

Lucas didn’t answer at first, eyes locked on the winding road.

“What if it wasn’t?” Valeria asked. “I mean, what if someone did it? Who’d wanna kill Liam?”

Lucas stayed silent for another second before replying, low. “Don’t know. That’s what we’re gonna figure out.”

Valeria leaned her head forward a little, resting her chin against his back. “Creepy as hell thinking someone could’ve done it... in a place like Duskwater.”

Lucas’s jaw clenched slightly. He didn’t say anything more.

The road narrowed. Trees started to gather tighter around them as the sunlight broke through in golden shafts between the leaves. The air was thick with the scent of moss and wildflowers.

The bike came to a stop just off the dirt path that led through the woods.

They climbed off.

Birds chirped somewhere deep in the trees, and a distant splash echoed from the direction of the lake.

Still walking through the woods, they weren’t there yet—but the air had already changed.

Back on the basketball court, the principal’s voice continued over the mic, steady and rehearsed. “Liam Scott was a valuable member of our student body. His presence will be greatly missed...”

But then, one of the basketball jocks—Daniel, broad-shouldered and red in the face—stepped forward from the side of the crowd and cut him off.

“Stop,” he said, loud enough to hush the back row.

The principal blinked, startled.

“Stop buttering it up,” Daniel snapped. “Tell us what happened. Tell us what we’re supposed to do. He was our friend. And we had to find out through whispers and chaos. We deserve the truth.”

A thick silence followed. The crowd tensed.

The principal adjusted his mic. Cleared his throat. His face tightened.

“You’re right,” he said softly. “You’re right. And I apologize for holding it back.”

A long pause. The breeze barely moved.

“It… was a murder.”

The silence that followed wasn’t just quiet. It dropped over the court like a curtain.

Even Andres—mid-thought—froze.

The principal continued, quieter now. “He was choked. No weapons involved. No noise. Time of death is estimated between 10 PM and 12 AM last night.”

He looked down at his notes and then back up, voice cracking just slightly. “That’s all I can confirm at the moment.”

Another pause.

“To give everyone space, today is declared a full day off. Tomorrow—Saturday—will be a half day. Campus will remain open, but optional. Anyone who needs counseling support, please don’t hesitate. It’s available for everyone.”

His tone hardened a bit near the end. “And if any of you know anything—no matter how small—it’s your responsibility to come forward.”

With one final throat clear, he stepped back. “That’s all. You may leave.”

The mic cut out.

Freya turned to Andres, eyes wide. “Murder?” she whispered. “He was choked?”

Andres blinked fast. “Bro. BRO. I thought he slipped in the shower or like—ate expired cafeteria food—murder was not in my bingo card!”

Freya didn’t respond. Her mind was somewhere else.

---

Meanwhile...

The wind had softened as Lucas and Valeria reached the lake clearing. The trees opened up to reveal a wide stretch of water, still and glowing under the late morning sun.

Patches of lotus floated lazily near the edges. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and wild grass. It was quiet—almost too quiet.

But there was no one there.

Valeria looked around, frowning. “So… this the secret hideout?” she asked.

Lucas’s eyes swept the lakeside slowly. “Yeah.”

She crossed her arms. “You sure he’d be here?”

Lucas exhaled through his nose, jaw tightening. “He usually is.”

Valeria turned a slow circle, scanning the treeline. “Well… he’s not now.”

They stood in the silence for a second, just the wind, the trees, and the water.

Something about it didn’t feel right.

Lucas stepped ahead of Valeria, his boots sinking slightly into the soft earth as he neared the lake’s edge. Something was wrong. The silence wasn’t peaceful—it was hollow.

His eyes scanned the grass.

There—half-buried in the dirt near the water—was a half-smoked cigarette, still warm. Just beside it, the grass was bent, disturbed. A set of drag marks etched into the soil, wild and messy. As if someone had fought. Struggled.

“Val,” he called, his voice lower than before. “Something happened here.”

Valeria moved up beside him, her expression shifting quickly from confusion to alarm.

Lucas followed the drag marks, crouching down. He spotted blood. Faint at first. Then more.

They both stood now, moving slowly—like the air itself had thickened.

And then they saw it.

A few yards deeper into the woods, just off the path—Diego.

His body was nailed upside down to a tree, limbs bent unnaturally, skin bruised, gashed, torn. His head hung low, twisted slightly to one side.

One half of his skull was smashed in, the inside of it spilling down the bark like red paint. The other half was untouched, just drenched in blood. His eyes were wide open. Still.

Valeria froze mid-step and gasped so loud it cracked through the woods.

“No—oh my god—Lucas—” she backed away, clutching her mouth before stumbling into his chest. Her breathing turned ragged as she buried her face in him, hands trembling.

Lucas held her, locking eyes with the body in front of them. His throat was tight.

“We need to go,” he muttered. “We’re calling this in.”

Just before he turned away, something caught his eye.

A small note, weathered and torn, lay crumpled on the dirt beneath Diego’s body. Lucas stared at it… but didn’t pick it up.

Not now.

He turned, arm around Valeria as he led her out from the trees and back toward the roadside.

She sat on the back of his bike, still trying to steady her breath. Her mascara had smudged under her eyes. Lucas reached into the side pouch and handed her a bottle of water, unscrewed and cold.

Lucas pulled out his phone, his fingers tightening slightly as he dialed. The ringing barely lasted.

“Duskwater PD. Officer Frank speaking.”

“Uncle Frank,” Lucas said, voice tense. “It’s me.”

There was a pause on the line. “Lucas?”

“Yeah. I’m at the lake… the old spot.”

Another beat of silence.

“There’s a body,” Lucas continued. “It’s Diego Alvarez. He’s dead. Brutally murdered. You need to come now.”

The other end went quiet, but Lucas could almost hear the shift in Frank’s tone—like a switch flipping.

“Is anyone else with you?”

“Valeria’s here.”

“Listen to me carefully,” Frank said, firm now. “Don’t go near the body. Don’t touch a damn thing. Stay by the road, and wait for me.”

Lucas nodded, jaw clenched. “Got it.”

Frank’s voice dropped just a notch lower. “I’m on my way. And Lucas—don’t do anything stupid.”

The call ended with a hard click.

Then he pulled up Freya’s contact. Pressed call.

She answered fast. “Lucas?”

His voice was flat, low.

“Something happened near the lake... it’s bad.”