Salem, in the late 1960s was a town gripped by mass hysteria, where fear and suspicion festered in the hearts of the innocent and guilty alike. The air was thick with whispers and wrongful accusations of witchcraft, and in the midst of it stood Viola Artres. Young, beautiful, has a future ahead, and wrongfully accused. Her life was about to shatter, not by the weight of her own actions, but by the unfounded, terrible fears of others, others who fear the ones who move in the night, fearing that they will be next in the evil plans.
But, Viola had never cast a spell. Never once had she felt the pull of dark or even light and ordinary magic or made any covenant with any force beyond the ordinary. She had simply lived her life in peace, caring for the village children, helping her neighbors, selling her wares, keeping to herself in a world that suddenly turned cruel to cruel her and a host of others.
She was simply unlucky to have turned down the wrong man.
But now, it's all coming to an end and there seems to be no mercy for her.
Viola was dragged through the muddy roads of Salem's streets, her hands bound tightly behind her back, the ropes cutting into her skin with every jostle, every step she took sending jarring pains through her already battered body. The bitter cold of the morning air bit at her exposed skin, her clothes torn and left in threads hanging on her frame, but it was nothing compared to the coldness growing in her heart. The crowd surrounding her screamed and jeered, their faces twisted with anger and fear.
"Witch!"
"Sorceress!"
"Hell's maiden!" They yelled, their voices blending into a cruel monotone.
She wanted to scream back at them, crueler words, then, shout out the truth, about how she is completely innocent of the allegations brought against her, but her voice caught in her throat, a deep pit of despair swallowing any words she could muster. She had seen those who had been caught ahead of her and their fates, whether they had yelled their innocence or not. These were her friends and neighbors.
These were the people who once smiled at her. How had everything gone so wrong? In the painful beatings, she looks up and her eyes meets a cold pair of eyes, wicked eyes and deceiving lips.
It was him. He had lied against her and turned everyone against the woman they had all once called beloved.
He smirked evilly at her and disappeared in the large crowd that had gathered.
They brought her to the center of the square, a place now stained with the blood of innocence, just one had been brought by the same road yesterday, she would never have thought it would be her turn today. The elders of Salem stood, their faces grim and unyielding, their hands raised in judgment. Viola was to be judged, not on the life she had led, but on the accusations of the one who had lied against her for turning his proposal down.
At first, the pain was almost bearable. The ropes biting into her wrists were nothing compared to the way her heart ached as they pushed her onto her knees. But it was nothing compared to the horror that, she knew, awaited her.
They had already decided her fate. She was guilty, even before the trial. But the executioners had something even more cruel in store.
That night, in the dark, when Viola was locked away in the holding cell, five men arrived. They were familiar faces from her village, faces she had once trusted, including him. The accuser and his four friends. Their eyes were mocking her, their mouths twisted up in greed, and as they forced the door open, a new kind of terror filled her chest.
"What do you want here? Who let you in? HELP!" Viola yells, her voice cracking over and over again as she shifts into the corner of the cell.
He walked to her menacingly. Grabbing her fiercely by her long black hair, he draws her back out to the open where he is able to see her fearful face in the dim light. "You've been damned already, what is a little more fun?" She whimpers, her eyes darting as she yells over and over again. He raises his hand and slaps her across the face, her shouting comes to an immediate stop. "You didn't give me when I asked politely, now, ill take it from you forcefully, while my friends watch, and I'll watch as they participate too." He laughs cruelly, pinning her to the floor while his friends laugh and leer in the background.
One by one, they violated her, each of them taking what they wanted, leaving her body broken and scarred. Her screams were nothing but echoes in the cold stone walls, but no one came to save her.
No one heard her.
When they were finished, they stood over her with wicked smiles, as if they had claimed some victory over the woman they had deemed dangerous. They had left their mark, a mark that would never wash away, no matter how much she prayed, no matter how much she wept, there, unmoving on the hard, bloody floor.
The next day, they dragged her to the square once more, forcing her to her knees before the jeering crowd. The stones were ready, their jagged edges pointing her way. And those very men who had defiled her stood in front of her, their faces blank, pretending to be the just men they had never been.
The first stone struck her chest with a force that stole the breath from her body. Viola gasped for air, her ribs crushed beneath the weight of it. A second stone, larger and harder, hit her side, and she felt her body lurch forward. The pain was sharp, but it wasn't the worst of it.
No, it wasn't.
As each stone hit her in the body, and her life seeped slowly out of her, she kept her eyes level on theirs, unable to accept the fact that this is really going to be the end of it all. The worst was knowing that the men who had taken everything from her, looking at her with their smug faces, were among the crowd, watching her death, celebrating the twisted justice they had set in motion.
But Viola's mind didn't shut down. As the stones continued to rain down on her, as blood filled her mouth, her eyes stared down the men who had hurt her. She would not go quietly. No, not this time.
Through the cloud of her pain, Viola's voice cracked with a loud whisper. "With my blood... with my tears... I swear to you... I will return. I will make you all pay." Her words were a curse. A promise written in agony; a bond forged in the pain she suffered.
A ripple went through the crowd as they took in what she said and the stones came even faster.
With her final breath, Viola's body gave way. Darkness swallowed her, and the crowd was left with nothing but the remains of a woman's curse.
But death was not the end for Viola.
…
That night, as the wind howled and the storm raged across the sky, everyone in their homes, having fun with their families and enjoying dinner, the earth trembled beneath the weight of her return. She had been reborn. Voluptuous, impure, a creature of darkness, a daughter of the night. She came back as what they had called her. Her eyes glowed red with the anger of vengeance.
The city will remember her, and it will not be for anything good.
That very night, Viola hunted them, one by one, each man who had touched her, defiled her. She moved through the night, her being taking her revenge. From the fifth friend to the second, she tore through, leaving no room for life in them when she is done. Then, she arrived at the front door of that one man. Her eyes burned crimson, the thunder tore the skies and that night, she held his heart in her hands, his eyes wide, scared and dead.
Then she crushed it, dropping it right there beside his bloody mess.
With each death, the weight on her heart lightened, but the emptiness inside her remained. Vengeance had given her power, but it had stolen something more.
Her humanity. The purity she once had long gone now.
After her revenge was complete, Viola stood over the bodies of the men who had destroyed her, their blood staining her hands, her skin, her bright face. The satisfaction she had longed for never came.
She sighs, feeling empty.
It was then that she met him.
He was a shadow, a mystery. She could not see his face, for he moved in the dark, his presence a whisper against the wind. Yet, when he looked at her, his eyes saw beyond the darkness. He saw the woman beneath the demon, the part of her that still yearned for love, for peace… for light.
Their union was brief. She never asked for it, but it happened nonetheless. They created something new—a child, a daughter. Viola named her Anythe, for in that moment, she believed that perhaps this child could be her redemption. Perhaps through this new life, she could leave behind the darkness that had consumed her.
But redemption was a distant dream now. She had chosen her revenge, and this is what comes with it. Viola knew she couldn't stay. The world she had created in her anger would ruin her daughter, just as it had ruined her. She took Anythe to the convent, leaving her on the steps with nothing but a whispered prayer.
"Let her be better than me. Let her find the light I never could." Her heart heavy as the child gurgles happily, seeing her mother's beautiful face in the moonlight.
Viola turned away, her heart breaking as she vanished into the shadows. She would never know the life her daughter would lead. It was a sacrifice she had to make.
Many years later, a small baby with dark eyes and an otherworldly presence laughs around the convent. The nuns raised her as their own, never knowing the true origins of the child they had adopted. They kept the name that had arrived on a plain piece of paper, and though she would grow to become a woman of grace.
But, there was darkness inside her—a darkness that, one day, would awaken.
And when it did, the world would tremble.