KAIROS | PROLOGUE

"WHO WERE YOU,
BEFORE THEY
BROKE YOUR
HEART?"

August 19th, 1685

     Thackery Binx found himself seated in the middle of a golden wheat field alongside his friend, Elijah. The stalks swayed gently in the soft breeze, their rustling harmonizing with the distant hum of the forest. Both boys waited for their fathers to return from the hunt, occupying themselves with a wooden ball Thackery's father had lovingly whittled. They tossed it back and forth near the mouth of the well-trodden trail, their laughter mingling with the evening air.

     Elijah's attention drifted past his friend's shoulder, his focus settling on the distant village. His expression shifted, and he frowned as he caught sight of his mother, who stood near their home, waving him over and pointing toward the horizon. The sun, a burning orange orb, had begun its descent, painting the sky in streaks of pink and purple.

     He sighed and glanced at Thackery. "I must go. The sun's setting—it's time for supper. I'll see you tomorrow, Thackery."

     "Bye, Elijah," the blond replied, standing and waving as his friend trudged toward the village. His shoulders slumped once his friend disappeared from sight, leaving him alone in the growing twilight. For a moment, he considered heading home himself, but something caught his eye.

     Near the edge of the woods stood a little girl, about his age, her silhouette illuminated by the last rays of the sun. Her fiery curls glowed like embers, and freckles dotted her pale face. She seemed utterly still, her gaze fixed on the sky with an expression of quiet wonder.

     Curiosity tugged at him, and he began to walk toward her, his footsteps soft against the ground. She didn't flinch, didn't even acknowledge his approach, as though she were in another world.

     "Hello," he said, his voice breaking the tranquil silence.

     The girl jumped at the sound, spinning around to face him. Her green eyes, as vivid as new leaves, widened in surprise.

     "Sorry if I startled you," Thackery said quickly, his tone apologetic. "My name is Thackery."

     The girl relaxed slightly, her shoulders lowering as she studied him. "Mine is Violetta," she replied softly.

...

April 15th, 1692

     The spring sun cast its golden warmth over the fields as they ran through the tall grass, their laughter echoing across the open land. The air smelled of fresh earth and blooming wildflowers, and the occasional chirp of a bird punctuated their joyful chase.

     "I'm going to catch you!" Thackery called out, his grin wide as he sprinted after her.

     "You can try!" Violetta teased, her voice bright with mirth. She ducked into the grass, her curls disappearing among the stalks.

     The boy slowed, scanning for the telltale glint of her hair. Suddenly, he felt a tug at his ankle, and with a startled yelp, he toppled to the ground.

     "Gotcha!" She declared triumphantly, her laughter ringing out as she sat up.

     Thackery groaned, rolling onto his back as a wry smile spread across his face. "You cheated."

     "No," she said, shrugging with a mischievous glint in her eye, "I just used our surroundings to my advantage."

     They lay side by side in the grass, watching clouds drift lazily across the sky. A comfortable silence settled between them, broken only by the rustling of the breeze. After a while, Thackery turned his head to look at her, his heart thumping nervously in his chest.

     "Have you ever been in love?" He asked, his voice tentative. "I know we're young, but my parents fell in love when they were younger than us."

     She didn't answer immediately, her lips pressing together as she picked at her cuticles. Her heart thundered with nerves as she carefully thought about how to word her response without giving away the identity of who she was going to speak about. Finally, she spoke, her tone careful and measured. "Yes, I have. But he didn't feel the same. I've given up on it."

     Thackery's chest tightened, but he nodded. "Well, to hell with him, then."

     Little did she know, he loved her more than anything.

...

October 31st, 1693

     The moon hung high and bright in the autumn sky, casting long shadows over the forest. Violetta crouched at the edge of the treeline, the hood of her black cloak pulled low over her face. Purple smoke coiled ominously above the village, an unnatural beacon that made her stomach churn.

     She had heard the witches' song, but unlike the others, it had no hold over her. It was a spell for the powerless, and she was anything but.

     From her hiding spot, she spotted a boy, about her age, shouting frantically for someone named Emily. His desperation was palpable, and though another boy quickly darted off, likely to summon help, the first didn't wait.

     Thackery Binx bolted toward the forest, and Violetta's breath hitched. She recognized him as he grew closer, though his frantic expression and determined pace were unlike the calm, playful boy she'd known. Instinct told her to stay hidden, to avoid entanglement in the madness that was unfolding, but something compelled her to follow.

     She moved silently, weaving through the trees and dodging obstacles with practiced precision. When Thackery stumbled and rolled painfully down a steep hill, she winced but stayed back, watching as he pulled himself up and continued toward the witches' cottage.

     The sight of Sarah Sanderson skipping into the house, a single little girl blissfully following behind her, made her blood run cold. Thackery crouched low, hiding behind a small cluster of trees, his eyes darting between the figures until the little girl disappeared inside. Fury and fear contorted his features as he crept closer, his every step filled with an urgency to save his sister.

     Violetta was nearby, her fiery red hair peeking slightly from underneath her cloaks hood. She swore under her breath as she took a shortcut across the creek, her worn shoes splashing through the water without hesitation.

     Thackery pressed himself against the wall next to the waterwheel, peering cautiously through the small window. When his eyes locked onto Emily's, he whispered her name, barely audible. But it was enough. The witches heard him. He ducked down, panic setting in as he crept along the edge of the cottage.

     The front door creaked open, and Winifred Sanderson emerged, her sisters spilling out behind her like shadows cast into the daylight.

     Violetta clenched her fists and growled under her breath, stepping out from the treeline to announce her presence. "My apologies if I have disturbed you, Mother. I've returned with the ingredients you requested."

     She held out a worn wicker basket brimming with herbs, roots, and small animal parts. Winifred's lips curled into a sinister smile as she snatched the basket from her daughter's hands. "You've done well, child. Perhaps, one day, you'll prove useful enough to join the rituals. Until then, off with you. We'll summon you when you're needed."

     The words stung, but Violetta bowed her head in silent obedience, slowly turning and retreating to the treeline. Not far enough to lose sight of the cottage, but far enough to be out of the sisters' view.

     Once the door slammed shut and Winifred called her sisters back inside, she released a shaky breath. Her face hardened with resolve as she sprinted through the trees, slipping silently to Thackery's hiding spot.

     "What are you doing?" she hissed, crouching beside him. "You're going to get yourself killed, Thackery!"

     The boy flinched at her sudden appearance, his shock giving way to disbelief. "Y-You're one of them?"

     "No!" Violetta gasped, her bottle green eyes wide with hurt. "I am nothing like them. How could you think that?" Her voice cracked, the accusation cutting deeper than she expected. She'd spent years distancing herself from her mother's malevolence, but she knew how thin that line could seem to an outsider. "You have to leave. Now."

     "I can't leave," he shot back, his voice trembling. "They have Emily!"

     "There's no helping her," Violetta whispered, her tone laced with anguish. Her gaze dropped as she fought to suppress the haunting memories of screams, laughter, and empty, lifeless eyes. "Believe me, I've tried. I've tried to save them all, but..." Her voice broke.

     Inside, Winifred's triumphant cackle echoed. "'Tis time!"

     Thackery didn't wait. He pushed past his friend, scaling the waterwheel with the desperate determination of a brother unwilling to surrender. She froze, watching helplessly as he climbed through an upstairs window.

     Inside, Mary's voice rang out. "I—I smell a child!"

     "What do you call that?" Winifred snapped, gesturing toward Emily.

     "...a child," Mary said dumbly.

     Violetta's heart twisted painfully. She couldn't bear to witness what came next. Her eyes met Thackery's through the window one last time before she turned and disappeared into the forest.

     She trudged back to her dilapidated shack, her mind swirling with Thackery's harmful words. One of them. She wasn't like her mother. Winifred had given birth to her, yes, but that was where their bond ended. Love? Care? Those were foreign concepts in the Sanderson household. Winifred had raised her not as a daughter but as an apprentice, her worth only measured by how well she served.

     The one-room shack she called home stood as a stark reminder of her place. No comforts, no warmth—just a creaking bed and a rusting cauldron. It was her cage, her punishment for daring to call herself a Sanderson.

...

     From the safety of the shadows, Violetta watched the Sanderson sisters' hanging. Their bodies swung like grotesque wind chimes, the sight filling her with a sickly satisfaction. She felt no grief for Winifred; the woman had never truly been a mother to her. Her thoughts turned to the Binx siblings, wondering what had become of them. A pang of guilt pierced her chest until something soft brushed her ankle. She looked down, her eyes meeting the glowing green ones of a black cat.

     "Oh no..." she muttered, crouching to meet its gaze. "Did she finally use that spell? Thackery, if that's you, tap my hand with your paw." She extended her palm, holding her breath. When the cat obediently tapped it, her shoulders slumped. "I tried to warn you. I really did. I'm so sorry."

     Her eyes flicked toward the grieving parents in the distance before she sighed. "Come with me. You'll be safer in my shack than wandering these woods. I must leave Salem before the witch hunt begins."

     Thackery followed her silently, his heart heavy with the weight of his fate. Their journey through the trees felt endless, the silence between them broken only by the crunch of dead leaves. Finally, they arrived at a clearing where charred trees stood like sentinels, remnants of an old forest fire.

     In the center of the desolation stood Violetta's shack—small, weathered, and unwelcoming. Thackery tilted his head as he looked to her, his feline expression questioning. He would've questioned her, if he knew he could talk.

     "It's not much," she admitted with a sad smile, "but to a cat, it'll be like a castle."

     If Thackery could have rolled his eyes, he would have.