No one expected the angel to set the world on fire.
Everyone had though the wedding between Evras Thanasi and Zanon to be one that was a love match, despite how sudden it had happened. It appeared to have been a whirlwind romance, and within a few months of them getting to know each other, Evras and Zanon were getting married in the House of Seven Gables, where most weddings were performed in Salem. Weddings in the year 1693 were few and far in between, as the community recovered from the most recent series of hearings and prosecutions of people accused of witchcraft, so many heralded the wedding of the two as a step in a new era, as many wanted to forget the dark executions and times for the little province in colonial Massachusetts.
But no one expected to find the body of the husband just a few months later, and no proper explanation as to his death.
What shocked the community the most however, was the disappearance of the wife. While a few suspected in horror that Evras had been abducted, and her abductor was the one who had killed her husband, the findings that turned up a few days later was what terrified the small county - the left forefinger of the husband had been sliced off, and found without its fingernail. Candles and preserved dead animals of many sorts were found in the basement of the house the newly married couple had shared, and their neighbors whispered of a cloaked figure disappearing from the house the evening before the body had been found.
Before long, Evras Thanasi was accused of being a witch, and it was as if the Salem witch hunt was revived, as everyone was placed on high alert.
The woods had become her refuge, a place she could run as she tried to escape the lights, police, and angry people of Salem. She had not meant it afterall. Her sisters had taught her to dabble in herbology and mix them to find the proper concotion - and she did so want a child. After months of not getting one despite trying, she thought that perhaps she could aid things along, that maybe if she had her husband imbibe a concoction, his seed would grow strong within her womb, and they would be blessed with a child.
Blame it on her own ignorance, or maybe she was simply careless, but the next thing she knew, Zanon would not respond to her calls, and his skin felt cold to the touch. Panicked and terrified, with none of her siblings in town (for she had moved to stay with her husband, who had wanted to remain close to his family in Salem), Evras had did the next best thing she could think of - she had fled. Even back at home, the people of her hometown had whispered on her and her sister's, of how they kept suspiciously to themselves, and that their pale skin and unnatural beauty could not be simply a result of good genes.
She could only hope no one had returned to Connecticut to find out the rumors from there.
But that did not mean she was safe. She had spent the last few weeks in the woods, surviving on whatever meagre herbs and roots she could dig up, taking shelter in a small bridge she had found deeper in. Her velvet cape, once upon a time a rich emerald color, was now water logged and smelt horrific on closer examination, and Evras could feel her stomach churn on a daily basis from the lack of food. Her dark hair was permanently tied in a ponytail, slick and oily from days of being unwashed... and she was honestly at the end of the road.
Did she intend to kill her husband? No. But what's done was done, and she doubted anyone would listen to what she had to say, fresh on the heels of the executions which had taken place. Should she give in to death anyhow then?
Everyone had though the wedding between Evras Thanasi and Zanon to be one that was a love match, despite how sudden it had happened. It appeared to have been a whirlwind romance, and within a few months of them getting to know each other, Evras and Zanon were getting married in the House of Seven Gables, where most weddings were performed in Salem. Weddings in the year 1693 were few and far in between, as the community recovered from the most recent series of hearings and prosecutions of people accused of witchcraft, so many heralded the wedding of the two as a step in a new era, as many wanted to forget the dark executions and times for the little province in colonial Massachusetts.
But no one expected to find the body of the husband just a few months later, and no proper explanation as to his death.
What shocked the community the most however, was the disappearance of the wife. While a few suspected in horror that Evras had been abducted, and her abductor was the one who had killed her husband, the findings that turned up a few days later was what terrified the small county - the left forefinger of the husband had been sliced off, and found without its fingernail. Candles and preserved dead animals of many sorts were found in the basement of the house the newly married couple had shared, and their neighbors whispered of a cloaked figure disappearing from the house the evening before the body had been found.
Before long, Evras Thanasi was accused of being a witch, and it was as if the Salem witch hunt was revived, as everyone was placed on high alert.
The woods had become her refuge, a place she could run as she tried to escape the lights, police, and angry people of Salem. She had not meant it afterall. Her sisters had taught her to dabble in herbology and mix them to find the proper concotion - and she did so want a child. After months of not getting one despite trying, she thought that perhaps she could aid things along, that maybe if she had her husband imbibe a concoction, his seed would grow strong within her womb, and they would be blessed with a child.
Blame it on her own ignorance, or maybe she was simply careless, but the next thing she knew, Zanon would not respond to her calls, and his skin felt cold to the touch. Panicked and terrified, with none of her siblings in town (for she had moved to stay with her husband, who had wanted to remain close to his family in Salem), Evras had did the next best thing she could think of - she had fled. Even back at home, the people of her hometown had whispered on her and her sister's, of how they kept suspiciously to themselves, and that their pale skin and unnatural beauty could not be simply a result of good genes.
She could only hope no one had returned to Connecticut to find out the rumors from there.
But that did not mean she was safe. She had spent the last few weeks in the woods, surviving on whatever meagre herbs and roots she could dig up, taking shelter in a small bridge she had found deeper in. Her velvet cape, once upon a time a rich emerald color, was now water logged and smelt horrific on closer examination, and Evras could feel her stomach churn on a daily basis from the lack of food. Her dark hair was permanently tied in a ponytail, slick and oily from days of being unwashed... and she was honestly at the end of the road.
Did she intend to kill her husband? No. But what's done was done, and she doubted anyone would listen to what she had to say, fresh on the heels of the executions which had taken place. Should she give in to death anyhow then?