The Witch in the Woods

While some people used the first days of the year to focus on resolutions and healthy habits, Abigail had chosen a different path. For her, this was the ideal time to channel all her energy into uncovering the truth behind Lua’s mysterious origin story. She was certain there had to be some dirt buried in the past of the so-called “witch in the woods,” and she was determined to dig it up. If she found nothing? Well, she wasn’t above fabricating something convincing.

Standing in front of the tall window in her office at GallU’s campus, Abigail sipped her coffee slowly, eyes locked on the snow-covered forest in the distance. She stared intently into the woods, trying to pinpoint where Lua’s cabin might be hidden. For the briefest moment, she imagined what would happen if a fire swept through the entire area—how wonderfully convenient that would be. The thought was fleeting, quickly brushed aside, but not forgotten. She tucked it away in the back of her mind, a last resort, should things escalate.

A knock at the door broke her focus. She turned and called out, “Come in.”

Justin stepped into the office, shaking snow from his coat as he approached her with a smirk. “It’s completely empty out there—I’ve never seen the campus this deserted,” he said, leaning in to kiss her on the cheek.

“Close the door,” she snapped, gently pushing him back before striding over to do it herself. She locked it, then turned and pulled him in for a deep, urgent kiss. “God, I’ve missed this body,” she whispered, her voice sultry in his ear.

Justin began unbuttoning her blouse, his hands already greedy with anticipation, when Abigail abruptly stopped him.

“No, no, not right now,” she said, stepping back. “I have something to show you first—come here.”

She walked over to her desk and tapped her laptop awake. A Brazilian news site was open on the screen. She spun the laptop toward him.

“Here—look at this,” she said, clicking the translate button at the top of the browser window.

Justin leaned over, squinting at the translated headline. He skimmed the short article, his expression shifting from intrigue to doubt.

“So… you think this is her?” he asked, skeptical but clearly curious.

“I know it’s her,” Abigail replied with certainty, taking the laptop back. She stared at the screen, eyes glittering with anticipation. “And I’m going to prove it.”

She looked back at him with a sly smile. “Maybe once I do, you’ll finally tell me why you’re actually interested in this. Everyone knows why I have it out for Lua—but you? Weren’t you and your brother founding members of her little fan club?” She chuckled. “Or should I say ‘fan cult’?”

Justin rolled his eyes. “I’ve told you a dozen times, I’m just curious. I’ve always had a weird feeling about her. I want to know what she’s hiding—that’s all. No hidden agenda.”

He wasn’t fooling anyone. He was a terrible liar.

Still, he softened. “But hey, if this little investigation brought us closer, I’m not complaining.”

He reached for her again, and this time, the passion between them surged. Their mouths met in a rush of heat, all thoughts of articles and conspiracies fading into the background—until a knock at the door startled them.

“Hey! It’s me. Why is this locked? What the hell?” Hunter’s voice called out, sounding both irritated and suspicious.

“Shit,” Abigail muttered under her breath. She shoved Justin toward the bathroom. “Quick—hide in there.”

She hastily buttoned her blouse and ran her fingers through her hair, trying to appear composed. Once she was sure she looked decent, she unlocked and opened the door with a breathless smile.

“Ooh, someone was having a little naughty video call with her boyfriend in Italy,” Hunter teased as he stepped inside, entirely unaware.

“Yes!” Abby exclaimed, jumping on the excuse and closing the laptop in a single, smooth motion. “You caught me,” she said with an exaggerated grin, raising her hands like she was surrendering.

“Well, I am sorry to interrupt!” Hunter said with a giggle. “Just popped in to say hi! How’s Peter? Does he know how long he’s staying in Italy?”

He then lopped down onto the couch, making himself comfortable—clearly not planning on leaving anytime soon.

“He’s doing alright,” Abigail replied, returning to her desk while subtly checking to make sure the bathroom door was still firmly shut. “He’s staying with his aunt in Padova for a couple more weeks. They’re leaning on each other for support, which I think is great. I’m not exactly the best when it comes to mourning and emotional stuff…”

Abigail’s eyes then flicked toward him with curiosity. “What are you doing here today? I thought you and Collin were going away to his parents ski cabin or something?”

Hunter’s tone shifted—quietly upset, maybe even frustrated. “We’re leaving tomorrow… but yeah, it’s been weird. Collin’s been off lately. He’s been too worried about Justin. Says he thinks he’s gotten involved in something… dark.” He trailed off, not offering more, and Abigail gave him a look of mild confusion, as if unsure how seriously to take it.

Inside the bathroom, Justin stood motionless, listening to every word. He already knew his brother was suspicious of the hazing rituals he’d been participating in, but hearing Hunter say it so plainly made it feel worse—humiliating, even. Being stuck in Abigail’s bathroom while the two discussed his personal problems was not how he imagined his day going.

His situationship with Abigail had started as something casual. They were hanging out as a group at the Friday the 13th party—Hunter and Collin had disappeared into the crowd, and Justin found himself awkwardly standing beside Abigail. What started as uncomfortable silence turned into casual conversation, and somehow, it drifted to Lua. Justin never disclosed to Abby his connection to the hazing rituals or the confrontation he’d had with Lua about it earlier that same evening. He pretended his interest in the mysterious woman was simple curiosity.

Five shots later, with no sign of Collin and Hunter, they were laughing and conspiring to uncover Lua’s mysterious past. Their bond had been strictly platonic at the party, but when she invited him over “to start the investigation,” Justin hadn’t been sure if she meant research… or sex.

Turned out it was both.

—

Alinda felt a wave of relief wash over her as she returned to Lake Laura after spending the holidays back home with her family. The trip had been a whirlwind of emotions, heightened by introducing Evelyn to her parents and brothers—a rollercoaster that ended in a crash she hadn’t anticipated. The moment she noticed a subtle spark between Evelyn and her cousin Brett, something shifted. It forced Alinda to confront uncomfortable feelings she hadn’t even realized she harbored. Worse still, it made her question whether the intensity of her love for Evelyn was beginning to spill into and disrupt sacred corners of her life.

One of those sacred spaces was her work at Whispers, and the unique, almost maternal bond she shared with Mrs. Lynx. Ali had always held an impeccable reputation there—dedicated, punctual, and deeply committed. But lately, one particular transgression had started gnawing at her conscience: she had been using Mrs. Lynx’s secret room for her own magical practices.

It began innocently enough, pushed by Evelyn’s persistent nudging to “break the rules just a little,” but soon, the secret room had become Ali’s favorite place to retreat and explore her budding talents. Especially tarot reading—one of her biggest goals for the new year was to sharpen and deepen her intuitive skills with the cards. And for that, the sacred room offered unmatched inspiration.

Still, a sense of guilt clung to her like static. As she stood behind the counter at Whispers, watching the elegant older witch arrange new objects on the store shelves, Ali wondered if she should just confess. But the thought of disappointing someone she so deeply admired paralyzed her. It’s not that big of a deal, she reassured herself. Right?

“Feel free to jump in and help any time!” Mrs. Lynx called out, her voice steeped in its usual dry wit.

“Oh my god, Mrs. Lynx, I’m so sorry! I was totally lost in thought.” Ali rushed to her side, laughing nervously as they both giggled.

“Wow… What are these? They’re stunning!” Ali’s eyes widened as she examined the contents of the boxes—gorgeous glass vessels and mysterious vials glowing with vibrant colors, unlike anything she’d seen before.

“These,” Mrs. Lynx said proudly, “are part of a new line of chromotherapy products I ordered from Egypt.”

Ali lit up. She adored how Mrs. Lynx was always seeking new tools, practices, and traditions to enrich Whispers’ offerings. Her curiosity was endless, and Ali admired that deeply.

Mrs. Lynx went on to explain the roots of chromotherapy—an ancient holistic practice that uses the vibrational energy of color to promote healing and spiritual alignment. Each color, she said, vibrates at a unique frequency, interacting with the body’s energy centers and influencing emotional, mental, and physical states.

As a graphic designer and passionate visual artist, Ali had always revered color. She had an intuitive understanding of palettes, a knack for color theory, and a fearless way of mixing bold tones in her outfits. But hearing about color from this new mystical perspective stirred something unexpected in her. It was thrilling—another magical layer added to a language she already spoke fluently.

“These candles are incredible,” she said, picking up a rich cobalt-blue one. “I’ve never seen a deeper shade of blue in wax.”

“And these…” she leaned in, squinting to read a label. “Aura mists? This purple one looks like it has an entire constellation inside the bottle!”

She knelt to examine the open box at her feet. “There are crystals too? Oh my god, I need all of these.”

“Those are reading crystals,” Mrs. Lynx explained, coming to her side. “They attune to your aura and reveal truths based on color. You ask a question—any question—and the colors respond. They don’t just reflect your energy, they speak through it.”

“That might be the coolest thing I’ve ever heard,” Ali whispered, practically bouncing with excitement.

With a warm smile, Mrs. Lynx picked up a beautiful canvas pouch from the box and gestured for Ali to follow her to the back desk. Ali sat down, her curiosity bubbling over.

The older woman poured the contents of the pouch into a large wooden bowl—an array of breathtaking crystals in luminous, almost otherworldly shades. Ali’s eyes sparkled.

“Close your eyes,” Mrs. Lynx instructed gently. “Set your intentions. And then choose the crystals that call to you.”

Ali took a deep breath, grounding herself. Her fingers moved carefully through the cool, smooth stones, and she selected four. One by one, she placed them in a neat line across the desk.

“Would you like me to tell you what I see?” Mrs. Lynx asked, her voice now hushed, serious. “I won’t sugarcoat it—it can be rough.”

Ali nodded.

Mrs. Lynx picked up the first—a red crystal—and turned it slowly in her hand.

“This one… carries pain. Betrayal. Not something light, I’m afraid.”

Ali exhaled, her jaw tightening.

“The blue one next,” Mrs. Lynx continued, “speaks of danger. But it also holds transformation. There’s growth here—if you’re brave enough to pursue it.”

She reached for the brown crystal and smiled. “Ah. This one is strong. There’s love here. Certainty. A grounding force.”

Ali’s eyes softened. She knew exactly who, or what, that one was about.

Then came the final crystal. Jet black, glimmering faintly in the low light.

Mrs. Lynx stared at it silently for longer than the others, rotating it in her palm, holding it up to the light, then setting it back down.

“This one… I can’t read. Nothing’s coming through. The teachings say that when a crystal gives no message, it’s not meant to be understood—at least not yet. So for now, we leave it.”

Ali looked at the four crystals, her heart heavy and racing all at once. The reading had been brief, but deeply stirring.

From behind her, Mrs. Lynx’s voice broke the silence. “Should I make us some tea?”

—

Crouched in Abigail’s office bathroom, staring out the tiny window and wondering whether he could physically fit through it, Justin was seriously considering escape. Fifth floor. Not ideal, he thought. But maybe better than listening to her talk about Peter Gallanti.

Meanwhile, Hunter had made himself at home, casually preparing a coffee from Abigail’s bright red Nespresso machine.

“Anyway,” he continued, “I figured I’d come in and get some work done today. Didn’t feel like sitting at home overthinking things the day before the trip. Do you wanna finally go watch Wicked with me later? Collin hates musicals.”

Abigail agreed, then studied him for a second, and—on impulse—decided to share a glimpse of what she’d uncovered about Lua. She left out the part about how she’d gotten the info. Naturally, she made no mention of Justin being involved or the fact that she was currently sneaking around with her friend’s boyfriend’s brother.

“Wow, Abby,” Hunter said, eyes wide. “This is huge. I have to tell the others—Collin, Tori—everyone’s always hanging out at the cabin. They deserve to know!”

He paused, frowning slightly. “But wait… why are you spending so much time on this? Does this have something to do with Peter?”

Abigail scoffed. “Oh God, Hunter—no. Peter couldn’t care less about that woodland freak. He and I are solid. We love each other. End of story. We’ll be together forever. The end. Full stop.”

That was Justin’s breaking point.

It wasn’t that he expected anything romantic with Abigail—he was perfectly satisfied with the strictly physical, no-strings-attached arrangement they had going. But hearing her wax poetic about Peter from the other side of the door while he sat there like some dirty secret… that was too much.

Without thinking twice, he climbed up toward the narrow bathroom window. Fifth floor or not, I’m getting the hell out of here.

Hunter and Abigail went on chatting, blissfully unaware of the minor escape mission unfolding behind the locked door.

A few minutes later, the office door swung open and Tori stepped in, brushing snow off her coat.

“Hey!” she greeted them casually. “I could’ve sworn I just saw one of the twins scaling the outside wall of this building a minute ago. Totally bizarre…”