The Witch in the Woods

Three days after the storm, the GallU campus reopened, and students tried to return to their routines. The sky was still overcast, but the worst seemed to have passed. Lua, Alinda, and Kelly met on the outdoor patio of the Central Campus, their breath visible in the crisp air. The historical building’s grand stone archways loomed over them as they began walking, the cool breeze stirring the last of the autumn leaves scattered across the pathway.

“So, did Ryder call you? When are you guys going out?” Ali asked, her eyes twinkling with curiosity as they made their way toward the library, where Kelly planned to show them the secret section she had discovered.

Lua sighed softly before answering, “Yeah, we chatted for a while… but I don’t think I’ll go out with him.” She hesitated, her thoughts swirling like the wind around them. “He’s super sweet, but I’m just not in that place right now where romance is something I even think about.”

As soon as she said the words, Peter’s face flashed uninvited in her mind. Why is he always there? She tried to push him away, tried to resist the pull he seemed to have on her thoughts, but it was like he had been living in the back of her mind, waiting to sneak in when she let her guard down. The moment at the pier on Halloween played again in her memory, over and over, and no matter how much she tried to dismiss it as absurd—he was the man trying to evict her, after all—the feelings lingered.

Kelly, oblivious to Lua’s inner turmoil, raised an eyebrow and shook her head. “I think you’re crazy for not wanting to go out with Ryder. He is, like, the hottest man alive.”

Lua looked at her, surprised by Kelly’s boldness. “I’m not even exaggerating,” Kelly added with a dramatic flourish, then took a sip of her Diet Coke.

Lua couldn’t help but laugh. “Then you date him!” she teased, shaking off the strange feelings about Peter, at least for now.

Kelly smirked, flipping her hair and batting her eyelashes with mock drama. “Alright, enough about Ryder, then—tell me literally everything about this new girl you met, during the storm,” Kelly said turning to Alinda, who seemed joyfully lost in her own thoughts.

Ali’s smile grew even bigger, and she playfully hid her face behind the book she was holding, peeking out shyly. “Her name is Evelyn. And she is a-mazing!”

Lua and Kelly exchanged amused glances, and Ali continued, unable to contain her excitement. She shared every detail—their serendipitous meeting at Whispers during the storm, how they’d already gone out for coffee the next day, and that they were going to dinner tonight. Ali’s enthusiasm was infectious, and the girls hung on her every word as they made their way toward the library entrance.

When they reached the grand doors of the library, Lua and Ali found a spot at one of the long tables and began organizing the materials they’d brought. Meanwhile, Kelly headed to the librarian’s desk to ask for the key to the secret section she had explored just days ago.

As Lua and Ali quietly chatted, flipping through designs for CURA’s next collection, Peter and Abigail appeared, walking through the hallways just beyond them. Lua’s heart skipped a beat the moment she saw him. She quickly looked down, pretending to be engrossed in the book in front of her, but the pounding in her chest was undeniable. Peter glanced at her briefly, a fleeting moment that felt like it stretched on forever, before he continued down the hall with Abigail by his side.

Ali, noticing the tension, tilted her head, ready to comment, her gaze lingering on Lua.

Before Ali could speak, Lua quickly interrupted, “Hey, can you text Ryder for me?” Her words came out faster than she intended, but she needed the distraction. “Tell him I’ll go out with him this weekend, if he’s still interested. And… tell him to call me tonight.”

Ali’s face brightened with excitement, doing a little celebratory dance with her hands. “Now that’s what I’m talking about!” she said with a grin, quickly typing out the message.

A few minutes later, Kelly returned, but her face was pale, her expression a mix of confusion and unease. She stood at the edge of the table, gripping the back of a chair for support. Lua and Ali looked up, noticing her strange demeanor.

“What’s wrong?” Lua asked, sensing the tension in Kelly’s posture.

Kelly took a deep breath before speaking, her voice wavering. “They’re telling me… there’s no secret room. And that the area I went to last Friday? It hasn’t been accessible for years.”

Ali looked at her, bewildered. “What? Just talk to Miss Atkins!”

Kelly swallowed hard, her eyes wide with disbelief. “They said Miss Atkins doesn’t work here anymore.”

—

The tension between Peter and Abigail was palpable as they walked out of GallU’s main campus toward the parking lot. Abigail’s voice was sharp, laced with irritation. “Just you and your dad having dinner alone is ridiculous. Why would you choose that over a fabulous party with my family?” She glanced at him, expecting him to waver.

Peter, however, had no intention of arguing with her. Lately, he rarely did. It no longer felt worth the effort. Most days, he’d just agree to whatever she wanted, more out of a desire to keep the peace than genuine interest. It baffled him. He wasn’t weak, and he certainly wasn’t a pushover. But somehow, this relationship had evolved into something he merely tolerated, a far cry from something he cherished. And yet, it wasn’t easy to untangle from. So for now, he rolled with it.

But even with his growing tendency to concede, this was a line he refused to cross. His Thanksgiving tradition with his father was sacred. That was one thing he wasn’t willing to compromise on.

Abigail had no idea why Peter and Joseph Gallanti guarded their Thanksgiving tradition so fiercely. It wasn’t about the dinner; it was about a bond that had formed in the aftermath of tragedy. The first Thanksgiving after Eleanor Gallanti’s death had been unbearable for both of them. Joseph, desperate to keep his son from drowning in grief, had sat Peter down. Peter had been 15, quiet and heartbroken, still reeling from the loss of his mother.

“We can do anything you want, son,” Joseph had said, his voice thick with emotion. “We have the means. I can fly us anywhere, throw the biggest dinner with the finest food. Hell, I can even bring your favorite football player to spend the holiday with us. Whatever you want, just say the word.”

Peter had thought for a moment, then quietly replied, “Can it just be the two of us in pajamas, eating McDonald’s in the living room, and watching spooky movies?”

Joseph had hugged his boy tightly and promised they’d have the best time ever. And they had—every single year since.

Peter had never told Abigail the full story. All she knew was that he and his father spent Thanksgiving together, alone. To her, it seemed like an eccentric tradition at best. He didn’t bother explaining, because deep down, he knew she wouldn’t understand or care.

As they reached his car, Abigail continued to press him, her voice taking on that familiar whine. “You could at least bring your dad along to our dinner. Why not make it a bigger event? I’m sure he’d love it.”

But Peter remained firm, gripping the steering wheel as they drove. “That’s not up for debate. End of discussion.”

By the time they pulled up to her family’s sprawling mansion, Abigail was fuming. She slammed the car door and stormed up the grand steps, disappearing behind the towering entrance doors without a backward glance.

Peter sat in the car for a few moments, staring at the opulent mansion. He thought back to the first time he’d picked her up for a date five years ago. She had looked stunning, and back then, he had genuinely believed they were rekindling something special.

They had known each other since childhood, but romance had never been part of the equation until they reconnected years later. Abigail had started working in GallU’s marketing department, and with Hunter as a mutual friend, they found themselves in each other’s company often. His father had been encouraging him to settle down, reminding Peter that he was in his thirties and should be thinking about a family. Abigail was smart, ambitious, and beautiful. It made sense, even if Peter wasn’t head-over-heels in love with her. So he went with it.

But now, as he drove away from her family’s estate, his thoughts drifted elsewhere.

He pictured Lua sitting by the pier on Halloween night, her wind-tousled hair framing her face as she smiled at him. He could still hear her soft laugh, teasing him about her costume, and the way she spoke about his family’s land.

A surge of something electric coursed through him, something he hadn’t felt in years. The mere thought of Lua made his heart race, his skin prickle. It was as if he were under a spell, drawn to her in a way he couldn’t explain.

—

It was completely dark when Lua arrived back at the cabin.

The thick woods around her seemed to press closer, as if the night itself were alive, breathing against the windows. She dropped her keys on the counter with a heavy sigh, determined to shake off the unsettling feeling clinging to her skin. A warm, grounding bath — that would help, while she waited for Ryder’s call. That was the plan. She needed to stay calm. She needed to stay focused.

Padding across the wooden floor, she reached for the familiar bottle of bath salts, nestled on the shelf among her small collection of potions and herbs. But just as her fingers brushed the glass, a sudden, sharp ringing cut through the silence. It wasn’t the landline. It was coming from upstairs.

Lua’s heart lurched.

Without thinking, she bolted toward the sound, the cabin’s creaking floorboards groaning under her hurried steps. She threw open the door to her bedroom, dropped to her knees beside the bed, and reached blindly beneath it, her hands fumbling until they found the heavy, worn edges of the big brown wooden box.

The ringing grew louder, insistent, as she dragged the box out into the open. With trembling hands, she lifted the key pendant from around her neck and fit it into the tiny lock. A soft click echoed in the dark room.

Inside the box, bathed in an eerie glow, was a shiny iPhone — the source of the relentless ringing. Lua stared at it, her breath catching in her throat. Her fingers hovered, reluctant to touch it. On the screen, a number flashed: a +55 area code. Brazil.

Lua’s heart was racing now, pounding so fiercely it made her hands shake. She had no intention of answering — none — but seeing that number tore through her like a blade.

How did she get this number? Why now?

She sat frozen, paralyzed by the deafening roar of her own thoughts. Then, finally, the ringing stopped, swallowed by a thick, suffocating silence.

Lua exhaled shakily and began to lower the phone back into the box, her entire body buzzing with nerves, when a sudden ping shattered the silence once more.

The phone’s screen lit up with a flash so bright it made her flinch. A message. Her hands felt numb, useless, but she forced herself to glance down.

A WhatsApp notification.

Someone had sent her a link.

Before she could talk herself out of it, she tapped it.

The TikTok app opened to a video — one she immediately recognized.

Her blood ran cold.

It was footage taken inside the cabin. She saw herself, descending the stairs dressed in her traditional witch costume, her long dark hair flowing like a river of ink.

Ali’s voice rang out behind the camera, laughing, teasing:

“Hey Lua, aren’t you gonna get dressed? It’s a costume party, you know!”

The memory hit Lua hard. That night — the Halloween party — felt like a lifetime ago.

The moment stretched unbearably as she watched herself in the video, a strange hollow feeling blooming inside her.

Another ping.

A new message popped up, written in Portuguese, as if whispered directly into her ear.

“Achei a bruxa!”

— Found the witch.