After an exhausting day at Ashford University, Selwyn trudged back home, his bag slung over his shoulder and his thoughts heavier than usual. The shift from the vibrant buzz of the campus to the quiet streets of his neighborhood gave him a moment to reflect, though the unease in his mind lingered. The whispers he kept hearing had unsettled him, but there was no one he could confide in—not even his family. Home was a modest apartment in the quieter part of the city. He lived with his mother, Emily, and his elder sister, Clara. Their father had passed away in a tragic road accident when Selwyn was just five years old. He couldn't recall much about the incident, and his mother always avoided discussing it, brushing away his questions with a faint smile and a change of subject.
At dinner, Selwyn shared a few anecdotes about Jason's antics and spoke warmly of how his friends always had his back. Yet beneath the surface of this lighthearted exchange, a deeper turmoil brewed, hidden behind his careful smiles and deflections. The contrast between these moments of warmth and the weight of his unspoken struggles felt stark, almost unbearable. He never mentioned Ethan's bullying or the strange whispers that had haunted him over the past few days. What could his mother even do? They were a family barely making ends meet. His sister, Clara, worked tirelessly as a consultant at a corporate firm, her income the only thing keeping the household afloat. Selwyn had resolved not to add to her burdens. His scholarship at Ashford was the result of years of hard work and part-time jobs, a way to ease the financial strain on his family.
His mother often spoke of their father, painting a picture of a brave, virtuous man who had dedicated his life to helping others. A firefighter, she had said—a hero in every sense. But Selwyn had no memories to corroborate her words. All he had were her stories, a few faded photographs, and a lingering emptiness.
After finishing his coursework, Selwyn retreated to his room and opened a video streaming site, seeking a familiar escape in historical weaponry videos. For Selwyn, learning about these weapons, especially katanas, was more than a hobby; it was a source of solace—a way to connect with a time when honour and purpose seemed clearer. Immersing himself in these stories of warriors and their battles, he found a semblance of strength to confront his own struggles. Historical weapons fascinated him, particularly katanas. His mother liked to tease him about how he had wanted to be a samurai when he was a child, dreaming of protecting the weak and upholding justice. Those dreams felt so distant now, almost laughable. "At least I'm not alone," he murmured to himself, staring at the ceiling. A solitary tear slid down his cheek as he reflected on the struggles that had shaped his life. Despite the cracks in his spirit, he reminded himself of his achievements and whispered, "Get yourself together."
As he drifted off to sleep, the whispers returned, but this time they were accompanied by vivid, unsettling visions. At exactly 3:00 a.m., Selwyn found himself dreaming of a strange scene: people in tribal masks dancing around a roaring fire, their movements wild and frenzied. The vision shifted, and he saw a battlefield—chaos and carnage unfolding before his eyes. He woke with a start, drenched in sweat. The clock read 6:00 a.m. already. Shaking off the unease, he got ready for college, sharing a quick breakfast of eggs and peanut butter toast with his mother while Clara rushed to catch her bus to the neighboring city for work.
Outside, a car horn blared. "WYN, GET HERE!" Jason's voice rang out from down the street. Selwyn smiled faintly. Jason's second-hand car was a lifeline for him, a stark contrast to his own inability to afford such luxuries. Jason always had a boisterous energy, an infectious sort of charm that hid the vulnerabilities he rarely let slip. His impulsive nature often led him into trouble, but Selwyn could always count on him to lighten the mood.
Jason pulled up with his usual enthusiasm. "You coming, or should I start without you?"
"I'm coming," Selwyn replied, grabbing his bag.
As they drove to college, they picked up Raven, who lived nearby and preferred walking. Raven's wit and dry humor were what kept their group grounded. She had this calm yet intense presence, a stark contrast to Jason's hyperactive nature, but she balanced him out perfectly. As they got into the car, Selwyn noticed how her eyes glinted with a mischievous spark whenever she spoke. Raven had always been the first to stand up for him when Ethan tried to pick on him, and Selwyn had always appreciated that more than she knew. Despite their teasing back and forth, there was something about Raven's unwavering support that had made him develop a growing affection for her over the past months.
"Did you see Ethan today?" Raven asked, her tone laced with an undercurrent of annoyance. "He looked like he was trying to prove something again."
Jason snorted. "What else is new? Guy's a joke."
Ethan's bullying never really bothered Jason; the guy was always too afraid of Sofia to pick on anyone openly. But with Selwyn, it was different. Selwyn's quiet nature made him an easy target for Ethan, and he had never quite known how to stand up to him—until recently. Still, his lack of confrontation didn't stop Ethan from picking at him relentlessly.
At the campus gates, Sofia arrived in her chauffeured car, exuding effortless charm despite her wealthy background. Even Ethan rolled in, his motorcycle roaring as he skidded to a stop nearby. He shot a glance at Sofia, lingering for a brief moment before turning his attention away, and retreating into his typical sulking demeanor.
Sofia Mitchell, with her unassuming kindness, had always been one to look past superficiality. Despite her wealthy background, she was known for being genuinely compassionate and considerate. She never let her status dictate how she treated others. She had a way of making everyone feel seen, understood, and valued, whether it was Selwyn, Jason, or even the most anonymous students. Her quiet strength contrasted with her father's high-profile position, and even though Sofia was often the target of jealousy from other students, she stayed humble and grounded. She didn't let her wealth define her—she cared deeply for her friends, especially Selwyn, though he didn't always know how to interpret it.
"Morning, Selwyn," Sofia greeted him with a soft smile as she walked past, the elegance of her demeanor hiding the genuine warmth she exuded.
Selwyn returned the smile, appreciating Sofia's friendly demeanour. Despite knowing her for months, he had always admired her kindness and the way she treated everyone equally, no matter their background. Sofia had a way of making people feel at ease, and her attention always made Selwyn feel welcome. It was a simple gesture, but it carried a warmth that he wasn't used to.
Classes began as usual, with Ms. Howitzer delving into data types in programming. Selwyn struggled to stay awake, prompting the inevitable rebuke. "Mr. Carter, where's your attention?" she snapped, and the class chuckled. Selwyn barely heard them, his mind wandering as he stared out the window. Suddenly, he noticed a figure in white, standing motionless across the campus.
Jolted upright, Selwyn asked to leave the room for a moment, claiming he needed a break. Instead of heading to the restroom, he made his way to the rooftop— a restricted area. He was tired of the weight of everyone's expectations; a break seemed necessary, and this secluded spot was the one place where he could escape for a few minutes.
There, on the rooftop, the figure in white stood with its back to him. Selwyn hesitated for a moment before speaking. "Who are you? Why are you here?"
The figure remained silent for a moment before responding, "Yes, I can hear you, Selwyn Carter."
Shock gripped him. "How do you know my name?"
"I know everything about you. Your mother, your sister… and your father."
Selwyn's breath hitched. "What do you know about my dad?"
"Your father was a murderer."
"No!" Selwyn shouted, voice cracking with anger. "He would never do that!"
The figure turned slightly, revealing a mask that concealed its face. "He killed his best friend and abandoned us all."
"Enough!" Selwyn shouted, tears stinging his eyes. "My father was a good man—a hero!"
"You know nothing of him," the figure retorted. "He was one of us—a Rogue."
Selwyn's confusion deepened. "Rogue? What does that even mean?"
"Rogues are warriors who protect humanity from the unseen forces that threaten it. Your father was one of us, fighting battles you can't even imagine."
"If that's true, why come to me now?"
The figure stepped closer. "Because we need you, Selwyn. Only you can finish what your father started."
The words hung in the air, leaving Selwyn reeling. Who was this masked figure? What were these Rogues? And could it be true that his father had killed someone? The answers lay ahead, waiting to upend everything Selwyn thought he knew.