The Holy Son in Marvel

Cotton Mather skipped over the male suspects, instead questioning each woman individually. He would ask if they were witches and if they had practiced witchcraft. If they admitted to it, Mather promised leniency in court, claiming that God would also show them mercy.

He would then demand that each girl recount the vile acts she had committed in Satan's name, no matter how atrocious—the speaking animals, witches' gatherings, the dark man from hell carrying a flaming staff, and anything else. Mather took these tales as indisputable proof of guilt. After each confession, a witch hunter would hand the girl a written record of her confession and order her to sign it. She would then be sent back to her cell, and the next girl would be brought in.

If Mather found the confession unsatisfactory, felt it lacked detail, or suspected that the girl was trying to shift blame to someone else, he would begin a thorough interrogation. Those unwilling to confess were also interrogated harshly, following the methods outlined in the 1486 book Malleus Maleficarum. To Cotton Mather and the inquisitor Matthew Hopkins, none of the accused were innocent; they were all witches, because:

If the accused lived an immoral life, it obviously indicated dealings with the devil. If, on the other hand, she was devout and virtuous, she was clearly hiding her true nature, attempting to divert suspicion from her involvement with the devil and her nighttime witch gatherings.

If the accused showed fear during interrogation, it was proof of guilt, as her conscience betrayed her. If she remained calm, believing in her innocence, that too was proof of guilt—witches were notorious for lying shamelessly.

If she defended herself against the charges, that indicated guilt. If she fell into silence, despairing in the face of the horrendous accusations, her silence was seen as direct evidence of guilt.

If the unfortunate woman rolled her eyes in agony under torture, it meant she was searching with her eyes for her demon. If she stared blankly, it meant she had seen her demon and was watching him.

If she managed to endure torture, it was because the devil gave her strength, so harsher punishment was warranted. If she perished under torture, it meant the devil killed her to keep her from confessing and exposing secrets.

Outside the courtroom, Agent Coulson paced anxiously. He had no idea how many of those arrested had genuine ties to witchcraft or how many were truly innocent. Yet the one who could give him the answer—the mystic—wasn't there. Coulson felt desperate; he wanted to save the innocent but also feared setting free a real witch. As the royal soldiers escorted the prisoners to the courtroom, Solomon appeared outside—he had been at the private farm of the accused, John and Mary Price, when the royal soldiers apprehended them.

"Most of the people in there are likely innocent," Solomon remarked to Coulson amid the noisy crowd. "They've never caught a real witch, though I could be wrong. I have human weaknesses too. Either way, you should know, they can't keep this many people hidden for long." Reading Coulson's thoughts, he continued, "And before identifying the innocent, I don't want you to act recklessly. I've already found the real suspects and tracked down some leads, but until then, we need to avoid suspicion as outsiders. Haven't you noticed I've tried to stay out of sight? That Matthew Hopkins is from London, after all. Natasha's lie was too big—I'm no 'Sir.' If that lie unravels, we'll be suspected as allies of the witches no matter how we defend ourselves."

Coulson looked at Solomon without replying, prompting the mystic to keep talking. "Fine, but I suggest you get rid of Cotton Mather and Matthew Hopkins outright. I told you, in this twisted reality, there's no grandfather paradox to worry about. There's nothing wrong with taking out two irredeemable men. The USA hasn't even gained independence yet." Solomon lowered his voice. "There's no law on this land, Coulson. If you want to be the enforcer, you first have to be the lawmaker. If you want, you could play Thomas Jefferson. Cotton Mather and Matthew Hopkins are the perfect targets, and I'm sure you learned about them in history."

"You've convinced me, Solomon," Coulson murmured. "If things go that far, I'll do it."

"Good. Now we need to split up and cooperate," Solomon said, glancing toward the crowd outside the courtroom. "You free the innocent; I'll track down the real witch. But I need you to gather information for me. Remember these names: Bridget Bishop, Susannah Martin, Alice Parker, and Margaret Scott."

"Got it," Coulson said, pulling a pencil from his pocket to jot down the names. "Mind explaining what this is about?"

"Just listen and understand," Solomon sighed, pulling Coulson into a secluded corner to continue. The mystic recounted what happened after he left the forest. After emerging from the woods, he took out a crystal orb from his dimensional pouch and made his way toward one of the sources of strange magic—the Price farm. He wasn't afraid of the fanatic Puritans noticing his magic or worried about their weak firearms. Since these people had given their souls to God, Solomon didn't mind sending them to meet Him.

John Price, a nearly sixty-year-old tall, slender man, had a rough exterior despite his mild temperament, leading to a somewhat poor reputation among his workers over the years. He had suffered many losses, including his first wife's death ten years earlier and the loss of all his children the previous winter.

Mary Price, John's second wife, was a rather stout but not overly plump woman in her forties, a genuinely kind farmer's wife.

When Solomon appeared, the couple immediately stopped working to welcome him. Though they didn't know Solomon, Mary Price saw him as an outsider in need of help. When Solomon asked if they knew anything about the strange occurrences in Salem, John Price responded with frustration. This wasn't only because of legal disputes between Salem Village and Salem Town but also because, to these farmers, town folk were clumsy and inept.

"They're always late," John Price complained. "They can't do anything. I paid them half a penny each, and still, they're useless."

"They?" Solomon asked. "Who?"

"Ah, distant relatives of the Putnams—Alice Parker, that girl, along with Margaret Scott from town, Susannah Martin, and Bridget Bishop… My wife even prepared a thick stew and black bread for them, but today they didn't show up!" Though John Price complained, he had not mistreated his workers. In fact, he was quite worried that they hadn't come to work that day. He asked Solomon to check on the girls and find out if they still intended to work for him.

Solomon took note of the names and promised to help. But he hadn't gone far when the royal soldiers arrived at the farm, and Solomon witnessed them forcing the Prices from their home. Freshly milked milk was spilled on the ground, and unfed poultry scattered in panic. After the soldiers finished ransacking the farm, Solomon used his crystal orb to inspect the place again. There was indeed strange magic lingering here, but it was fading. In a few days, it would disappear entirely—the Prices had no ties to magic. The real connection lay with the girls working for them.

"Alright, I'll do my best," Coulson nodded. "I think I can seek help from Randolph Carter; he's a local…"

But Solomon shook his head vigorously. "No. Randolph Carter may be on our side, but he's not human. He's something beyond human understanding. He won't care about a few innocent lives. His actions are only aligned with his goals. Don't seek his help; he may betray us."

Solomon warned Coulson not to investigate the girls himself, as the magic at play was far darker and stranger than any he had studied—pure black magic. Those subjected to it could be left in horrific conditions that would test the limits of human resilience. Coulson promised, but the mystic remained concerned that he might act impulsively—a trait common to S.H.I.E.L.D. agents, especially those close to Nick Fury, the most reckless of all. As one of Fury's most trusted agents, Coulson was nearly as daring as his superior.

"We need to rescue them before they're hanged. Numbers aren't going to stop me." Coulson raised an eyebrow. "Executions here are brutal. I read that hangings in this era are drawn-out and painful. You at least need to tell me who's innocent."

"John Price and his wife, Mary, certainly are. As for the others…" Solomon took a breath. "I'll observe them tonight. Act under cover of darkness. Tonight, I'm heading to the forest again. I have a feeling our shadowy adversary will show up there."

At that moment, the king's soldiers returned from the forest with a body in tow.

It was the body of a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent.

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