The Witch in the Woods

The following week was a whirlwind of activity for Kelly, and Alinda. Their days were consumed by planning and brainstorming sessions for their ambitious LINAFEST project, hoping that with enough focus, they could get ahead and allow themselves a weekend off to rest, and maybe even start planning their much-anticipated Halloween party.

They gathered at the cabin on a rainy Thursday afternoon, intent on finally getting their ideas from paper to reality. Kelly, ever the practical one, suggested they focus on turning Lua’s homestead garden into a legitimate business. “We have everything we need right here,” she proposed. “Why not make it into something real?”

Alinda nodded immediately, catching Kelly’s vision. “Exactly! It makes perfect sense.”

But Lua hesitated, a flicker of doubt in her eyes. The garden, her sacred space, had been a refuge—a private escape from the pain and struggles of her past. The idea of transforming this sanctuary into a public-facing venture, to be shared with others, felt overwhelming. But the more she reflected on it, the more she understood the potential in the proposal. Maybe it was time for her little world to expand again.

While Kelly and Alinda sat at the kitchen table surrounded by papers, computers, and books, Lua continued working with some freshly cut herbs by the sink. “Do you have a name in mind?” Alinda asked, her eyes sparkling with the excitement of building something meaningful. “You know, for your… well, for you business, I guess?”

Lua thought for a moment, her mind wandering through the memories that had shaped her journey. “Cura,” she finally said. “In Portuguese, it means cure or ‘it heals.’”

Both Kelly and Alinda were captivated, their eyes never leaving Lua as she spoke. Her voice was soft, yet carried an unmistakable weight, a quiet reverence for what she was about to share.

“During the darkest moments of my life, when everything felt unbearable, the only thing that gave me peace was this connection—to the universe, to nature. It was my reminder that we’re not separate from the world around us; we are nature, and it’s part of us. ‘It heals’ became my mantra.”

Lua’s gaze shifted slightly, her thoughts clearly drifting to a time of deep pain. “When depression hits, especially the kind that claws at your very existence, it feels like nothing can fix it. You think there’s no cure, no escape. But when I started imagining myself as part of something larger, like the Earth itself, that’s when everything changed. I saw the universe as something beautiful, something I didn’t have to be afraid of. I realized that while I’m alive, I can choose to connect to it intentionally.”

Her voice softened further as she continued, “I would imagine myself digging into the soil, my body merging with the ground, feeling the Earth’s energy flow through me. That’s where I found my healing. Not in medicine, not in escape—just in that connection. I know it might sound a little… out there, but it’s the truth. This garden, this place… it’s healed me in ways I can’t even begin to explain.”

The room fell silent, the weight of her words settling over them like a gentle breeze.

Kelly leaned back in her chair, a slow smile spreading across her face. “That’s perfect. It’s not just a name—it’s your story. And it fits everything we’re trying to build here.”

Alinda immediately agreed, her hands clapping together in delight. “10/10, no notes. It’s exactly what we need to call it. CURA. This project has a soul now.” She had literal tears in her eyes.

As Lua watched her friends rally around her idea, she tried to shake off an unsettling feeling, a déjà vu that transported her back to a time and place she’d fought so hard to leave behind. There’s still time to back out, a voice echoed in her mind. You know you shouldn’t do this. But her impulse to connect and lead was far too powerful to ignore now. I’ll adjust the plan, she convinced herself, stubbornly denying the dangerous territory she was stepping into. It’ll be different this time. I’ll make it work.

Then Kelly asked, “Lua, what exactly do you grow here?” Lua’s eyes lit up, clearly eager to share and to take her mind off her past. “A little bit of everything, really,” she began, her voice warm. “I’ve focused on plants that support well-being, healing, and a sense of connection to the natural world. For example, I grow mugwort for intuition and dreamwork, and rosemary—that’s a classic, used for memory and protection. It’s great for teas or burning as a way to cleanse the space. I also grow lavender for its calming effects. Also perfect for teas, oils, and even just to have around to promote peace.”

Lua paused, taking a sip of her tea before continuing. “I’ve also got yarrow and elderflower—those two are really special. Yarrow’s amazing for healing wounds and giving courage, while elderflower symbolizes renewal, which I think we all need right now. I use both in tinctures and balms too. Then there’s skullcap for stress relief, and valerian root to help with sleep. Both are perfect for soothing the mind after a long, hard day.”

As Lua spoke, her passion for her plants became even more evident. “And for the more mystical side of things, I’ve got hyssop and fennel. Hyssop is great for purification rituals, and fennel is said to ward off negative energy. These are more than just plants to me—they each have a role, a purpose, and together they create something powerful. It’s not just a garden, it’s a space of healing and intention.

Kelly jumped up from her seat, excitement lighting up her face. “Okay, picture this,” she said, launching into her vision. “A small-scale farm that focuses on special herbs, vegetables, fruits, and grains—everything tailored for holistic practices.” She suddenly changed the tone to add data that backed up her enthusiasm. “According to Bloomberg Business, the global wellness industry is now worth $6.3 trillion, by the way. So we should market it as a space for self-care, well-being, and healing. And of course, we’ll sprinkle in just the right amount of mysticism to keep it intriguing.”

Alinda raised an eyebrow, a grin spreading across her face. “Wait a minute… is this Kelly, the no-nonsense scientist, actually suggesting we go with a mystical marketing angle?”

“That’s right.” Kelly shot back with a grin. “This is Kelly the Money-Maker. We’re talking about what sells. And mysticism? It sells.”

“CURA is going to be a huge success!” Ali predicted. “You’ll be a billionaire, Lua. And I can’t wait for Zendaya to play me in the Netflix limited series about your life,” she daydreamed.

“Really? I’d think you would want to play yourself, you’re so artistic!” Kelly questioned.

“Alright, then she can play you. And her and I will become super close friends after.”

Lua chuckled at their banter, but she couldn’t help feeling a twinge of unease. “But… should money really be the focus?” she asked, her voice tinged with concern. She had never been motivated by profit.

Kelly softened, placing a reassuring hand on Lua’s arm. “Don’t worry about that. We just need to present the idea in a way that’ll get us noticed at LINAFEST. After that, we can shape CURA however we want. The important thing is getting the idea out there.”

Despite Kelly’s assurances, Lua still felt a little uncertain. There was a new spark in Kelly’s eyes when she talked about business and profit, something Lua hadn’t seen before. But for now, she chose not to argue. There was a lot about the idea that she loved. Her gaze drifted toward the window, where the trees outside danced in the breeze. This place had been her haven, and maybe, just maybe, it was time to share it with others.

The cabin, tucked away in the woods on Gallanti University’s sprawling property, had become her personal oasis. Little was known about when the university had built it—GallU owned nearly 900 acres of land, and the cabin was just a tiny piece of it. It had likely gone unnoticed for years. Despite its somewhat remote location, the cabin was solid and spacious, with two stories, a large kitchen, and a living room. Upstairs were three small but cozy bedrooms. Outside, there was a barn, and next to it, a separate room that Lua had never found much use for. Since moving in, she had turned the house into her little sanctuary, adding her personal touch to make it feel warm and welcoming.

Lua was pulled back into the moment when she noticed Ali picking up her phone. Brett was calling. Ali smiled as she answered, her voice warm. “Yeah, we’re just wrapping up here,” she said, glancing over at Lua, who nodded with a welcoming smile. “Sure, you can come over,” Ali added, the invitation now official. “Oh, and see if Gael and Tori are free. They should come too. And don’t forget to bring wine!” she said, her eyes sparkling as she hung up.

As she set the phone down, Ali turned to Kelly, a playful grin tugging at her lips. “It’s cool, right?” she asked. “You and Brett? You guys okay? With your situationship and all?”

Kelly waved her hand dismissively, though her cheeks flushed a little. “Of course! We’re friends! I mean, we’re just friends—really great friends.” The words rushed out of her mouth a little too quickly.

Ali raised an eyebrow, her grin widening. “Yep,” she teased. “I’m sure we’ll see tonight just how great those friends are.”

Kelly rolled her eyes, but the faint smile on her lips betrayed her. Despite herself, she couldn’t help but feel a flicker of something—whether it was excitement or nerves, she couldn’t quite tell.

—

Meanwhile, at Gallanti University, the atmosphere was far from celebratory. Inside the stately dean’s office, Dean Joseph Gallanti sat behind his desk, his face drawn and tired. Peter sat across from him, equally worn out. They had spent the entire week running from one meeting to another, solving problems and navigating the never-ending challenges of university life. The tension in the air was thick, and both men felt its weight.

Joseph rubbed his temples, his voice heavy with frustration. “Look, Peter, I have no choice,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “I’m going to have to cut down on some of these scholarships by the end of the year. Believe me, I wouldn’t do it if I had any other option. But I need to get it done so I can focus on more pressing matters.”

Peter furrowed his brow, his concern evident. “Like what?” he asked, his tone edging on irritation. “You’ve been saying for months that you’re stressed and worried, but you never let me help. You won’t even tell me what’s really going on. What exactly are you so anxious about?”

His father opened his mouth to answer, but just stopped and sighed. Then Peter continued, “We’ve supposedly gathered a substantial amount of new investments thanks to the Cultivator exhibition and everything I’ve planned and executed around it.” He stared at his father, desperately seeking more clarity on the issue. “How can GallU still be having money problems? There has to be something going on that I’m not aware of!”

Joseph’s expression hardened, his impatience rising. “Just keep working on your own responsibilities and let me deal with mine, alright?” he snapped.

Peter opened his mouth to protest but thought better of it. He could sense that pushing further wouldn’t get him anywhere. His father had never been the type to keep things close to the chest, especially when it came to university matters. The feeling that something bigger was brewing lingered in the back of Peter’s mind.

“Now go!” Joseph barked, clearly eager to end the conversation. “Don’t you have a life? You’re still young—go to a bar, go on a date, I don’t care. Just get out of here!”

Peter, taken aback by the abrupt dismissal, hesitated before replying. “Dad, I have a girlfriend.”

Joseph barely looked up from his computer screen. “Oh, right. That’s still happening? Mayor Armstrong’s girl, yeah.” he muttered absentmindedly, his eyes scanning an email that had just popped up.

Peter’s jaw tightened as he stood up, ignoring his father’s comment. Without another word, he walked out of the office, feeling the unfamiliar weight of his father’s dismissal press down on him. As he made his way down the hall, his thoughts spun in circles. His father’s cryptic stress, the looming scholarship cuts, and the underlying tension—it all felt interconnected.