KAIROS | CHAPTER ONE

"I DON'T PAY ATTENTION
TO THE WORLD ENDING.
IT HAS ENDED FOR ME
MANY TIMES AND BEGAN
AGAIN IN THE MORNING."

October 31st, 1993

     Time is a fascinating concept, a paradox of simplicity and complexity. People study it, measure it, and live by it, yet few truly understand it. Even fewer entertain the notion that time is malleable, flexible, capable of being bent or broken. In most places, someone espousing such ideas would be laughed out of the room. Salem, Massachusetts, was no exception.

     Ah, Salem—a town deeply rooted in its identity as a haven for ghost stories, witch legends, and historical infamy. Here, belief in witches and spirits was not only accepted but celebrated, though often for the sake of tourism rather than truth. And yet, the same town that prided itself on its supernatural history rejected the notion that someone could tamper with time itself.

     Violetta Sanderson knew better.

     For centuries, she had navigated time's fragile boundaries, altering her name and appearance every fifty years to escape suspicion. As the last surviving Sanderson witch, she had learned to blend in, to disappear into the fabric of the ever-changing world. Her current alias was Violet Greene, a name as ordinary as her carefully curated life in Salem.

     At the moment, Violet was seated in the back corner of her history classroom, absently flipping through a book while the teacher droned on about the Sanderson sisters' demise. She'd heard this tale more times than she cared to count, and though she tried to tune it out, the story always managed to worm its way into her thoughts.

     Then, a new voice broke through the monotony.

     "Gimme a break," the boy muttered, cutting through the classroom's collective laughter at the teacher's theatrical retelling.

     All eyes turned toward the newcomer.

     "Aha!" Ms. Olin exclaimed, clearly delighted by the interruption. "We seem to have a skeptic in our midst. Mr. Dennison, would you care to share your California, laid-back, tie-dye point of view?"

     The class erupted into laughter, but Violet remained silent, her bottle green eyes fixed on the boy. Max Dennison, the new kid in town, had only been in Salem for a week and had already made his disdain for its folklore clear. His skepticism infuriated Violet, yet she couldn't entirely blame him. After all, if she hadn't lived through the events herself, she might have dismissed them as nonsense, too.

     Max leaned back in his chair, a smirk playing on his lips. "Okay," he began, meeting Ms. Olin's gaze. "Granted that, uh, you guys here in Salem are all into these, uh, black cats and witches and stuff."

     "Stuff?" The teacher echoed, placing her hands on her hips in mock offense.

     The students groaned in unison as he continued, undeterred. "Fine. But everyone here knows that Halloween was invented by the candy companies. It's a conspiracy!"

     Allison, a confident blonde seated near the front, wasn't having it. "It just so happens that Halloween is based on an ancient feast called All Hallows' Eve. It's the one night of the year when spirits of the dead can return to Earth."

     The class erupted into cheers, and Max sank back into his seat, clearly outmatched.

     Violet sighed and closed her book with a snap. "Max," she said, her voice cutting through the noise. All eyes turned to her now. "Another thing... It's extremely obvious that you think everything Ms. Olin just said is made up, but the Salem Witch Trials actually happened. Here and in Salem, Oregon. Pick up a history book, dude."

     "Well said, girls!" Ms. Olin beamed, clearly enjoying the moment.

     The brunette stood abruptly, pulling a slip of paper from his pocket and handing it to Allison. "Well, in case Jimi Hendrix shows up, here's my number."

     The bell rang, cutting through the laughter and whistles from their classmates. Violet slung her bag over her shoulder and approached Max and Allison, a small smile on her lips.

     "Welcome to Salem, Max," she said. "Where your fiction is our reality."

     He gave her a tight-lipped smile before turning his attention back to Allison. The blonde stood, grabbing her bag and heading for the door with Violet by her side.

     "I cannot believe that kid," the redhead chuckled once they were outside. "If he wanted to give you his number, fine, but doing it in front of the whole class? What a—"

     "Californian?" Her friend quipped, cutting her off with a laugh.

     The girls shared a grin as they stepped into the crisp autumn air outside Jacob Bailey High School.

     "I gotta go," Allison said, waving as she walked toward the street. "See you tonight!"

     Violet nodded, returning the wave with a smile. Her gaze lingered on her friend until she caught sight of Max pedaling after Allison on his bike. She chuckled softly, shaking her head. "Good luck, Dennison," she murmured, amused by his persistence.

     With that, she turned and headed down the cobblestone street, her thoughts already drifting toward the evening ahead.

...

     The late afternoon sun cast long, golden shadows over the weathered tombstones as Violet made her way through the main cemetery. A bouquet of fresh sunflowers rested in the crook of her arm, their bright petals a stark contrast to the muted grays of the surrounding gravestones. Her destination was the old graveyard a couple of blocks away, where Emily Binx's forgotten grave stood, untouched by time and visitors.

     As she rounded a bend in the path, Violet's bottle green irises locked onto a small group of boys a few yards ahead. She recognized Max immediately, his tousled brown hair catching the sunlight as he stood awkwardly by his bike. The other two were harder to miss—Jay with his unruly blond hair and Ernie, who insisted everyone call him "Ice," even having the name shaved into the back of his head. Their laughter carried on the wind, sharp and mocking. She sighed, already unimpressed.

     She quickened her pace, her boots crunching against the gravel path, as the scene ahead unfolded.

     "You got any cash?" Jay asked, his grin smug as the wind blew his hair from his face. "Hollywood?"

     "No," Max replied flatly, his voice tinged with annoyance as he tried to maneuver around them.

     Before he could get far, Ernie's hand clamped onto his shoulder, stopping him in his tracks. Jay stepped in front of Max's bike, blocking his path entirely.

     "Gee. We don't get any smokes from you, we don't get any cash. What am I supposed to do with my afternoon?" The blond sneered, clearly enjoying himself.

     Violet rolled her eyes, her lips curling into a frown. "How about getting the fuck out of here?" She called, her tone sharp enough to cut through the tension.

     The two bullies turned toward her, surprised by her sudden appearance. Ernie's expression soured as recognition dawned. "Greene, get outta here. This ain't none of your business."

     "First off," Violet said, crossing her arms, "that's a double negative. Secondly, leave him alone. Have you heard of the Cecil Hotel?" She cast a glance at Max, who immediately caught on and smirked.

     Jay furrowed his brows. "No. What the hell is that?"

     Violet chuckled darkly, stepping closer. "It's a hotel in L.A. where people have been murdered, raped, and, well... let's just say it's not a vacation spot. And our boy Max here lived right next to it."

     The boy leaned casually against his bike, playing along as Violet continued.

     "It's also near one of the most dangerous places in L.A. called Skid Row. People get stabbed there every day," she said, her voice steady but dripping with menace.

     Jay and Ernie exchanged uneasy glances, their bravado faltering.

     Violet reached into her bag and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. She tossed it at Jay with a flick of her wrist. "Here. Now bounce. Oh, and by the way Ernie, your hair looks like shit."

     The boys hesitated for a moment before scurrying off, their tough-guy act crumbling under Violet's steely glare.

     Once they were gone, Max turned to Violet, a small smile on his lips. "Have you ever even been to L.A.?"

     The girl grinned, her curls bouncing as she nodded. "Actually, yes. Now, do I know where you lived? No. Probably some suburb far away from Skid Row, but hey, it worked, didn't it?"

     Max laughed softly. "Yeah, it did. Thanks."

     "No problem, Dennison," she replied, her gaze dropping to his shoes. "Oh, boy. You're lucky I showed up when I did, or you'd be riding home barefoot."

     He chuckled, looking down at his sneakers. "Yeah, well, thanks again. Can I ask you something?"

     "You just did."

     "Ha-ha," he said, rolling his eyes playfully. "But seriously, I wanna know—where in L.A. did you go?"

     Violet hesitated briefly before answering. "I actually lived on Skid Row for, like, two years. Hopped a train, needed to get out of Salem for a bit." She technically wasn't lying—she had lived there, though it had been thirty years ago.

     She sighed, holding up the bouquet of sunflowers. "I gotta go. Gotta visit an old friend."

     Max nodded. "Alright. See you tomorrow."

     "Later," she called over her shoulder, already walking away.

     As she approached the old cemetery, a familiar wave of guilt washed over her. Every year, on this day, she made this pilgrimage to Emily's grave. It was her way of paying respect to Thackery and his sister, and a way to atone for what she saw as her failure. She had always believed that if she'd been stronger, if she'd defied the sisters more boldly, maybe the Binx siblings would have been spared their tragic fate.

     Finally, she reached the small, untouched grave at the far edge of the cemetery. Violet sat cross-legged at its foot, placing the sunflowers gently on the ground.

     "Hey, Emily," she greeted softly, her voice tinged with melancholy. "It's been three hundred years. I hope you're at peace. Thackery missed you, and if he's somehow still out there, I know he still misses you greatly." She paused, her eyes misting over. "I'm sorry that I couldn't save you guys. It's All Hallows' Eve, so I'm going to be alert. I'm gonna make sure this never happens again."

     The wind rustled through the trees as Violet sat in silence, lost in her thoughts. She knew she couldn't undo the past, but she could honor the memory of the Binx siblings—and vow to protect others from meeting the same fate.