Bonus Chapter B1
The Healer's Hands
Before the hunger. A village at the edge of the world. 3,000 years before Lilith.
Her name was Katerina.
Not the hunter. Not the monster. Not the hunger. Just Katerina—daughter of a midwife, mother of a girl named Sofia, wife of a man who loved her and died before she could learn to love him back.
She was beautiful in the way that healers are beautiful—not with the beauty of youth or symmetry, but with the beauty of presence. Her hands were strong. Her eyes were soft. Her voice was calm, even when the world was not.
"Mama, come see!"
Sofia's voice rang across the village green.
Katerina looked up from her work—a poultice for old Manus's aching joints—and smiled.
"What is it, little one?"
"The flowers! They're blooming!"
Katerina walked to her daughter.
Knelt beside her.
The flowers were small and blue—forget-me-nots, pushing through the soil after a long winter.
"They're beautiful," Katerina said.
"What are they called?"
"Forget-me-nots. They remind us to remember. Even when the ones we love are gone, they are not forgotten."
"Like Papa?"
"Yes. Like Papa."
Sofia touched the petal.
"I love you, Mama."
"I love you too, little one."
---
The healing – The same day.
Old Manus sat on the edge of his bed.
His knees were swollen. His hands were bent. His eyes were clouded with age and pain.
"Katerina, I don't know how much longer I can go on."
"You can go on for a long time yet, Manus. Your heart is strong. Your spirit is strong. Your body just needs a little help."
She spread the poultice over his knees.
The herbs were warm. The scent was sharp and sweet.
"What is that?"
"Comfrey. Rosemary. A little honey. It will draw out the inflammation. Help the joints heal."
"You have a gift."
"I have training. And practice. And love."
"That's the same thing, isn't it?"
She smiled.
"Yes. I think it is."
---
The market – Afternoon.
Katerina walked through the stalls.
Vegetables. Grains. Cloth. Pottery. The smells of cooking and animals and human life.
"Katerina!"
A woman called to her.
Her name was Miriam. She was pregnant—heavy with her first child, her face flushed with heat and worry.
"What is it?"
"The baby. I felt it move. But then it stopped. It's been hours. I'm scared."
Katerina took her hands.
"Breathe."
Miriam breathed.
"Now close your eyes. Feel the baby. Not with your ears. With your heart."
Miriam closed her eyes.
"I feel... something. A flutter. A kick."
"The baby is fine. It was just sleeping. They do that, you know. Sleep when we want them to move. Move when we want them to sleep."
Miriam laughed.
"You're a gift, Katerina."
"No. I'm a healer. And healers listen."
---
The evening – Home.
Sofia was asleep.
Katerina sat by the fire, her hands idle for the first time all day. She looked at them—her hands. The hands that had delivered babies, set bones, soothed fevers, held the dying as they passed.
"You have a gift," Manus had said.
"You're a gift," Miriam had said.
But Katerina did not feel like a gift.
She felt tired.
She felt empty.
She felt hungry in a way that had nothing to do with food.
"Mama?"
Sofia's voice. Small. Sleepy.
"What is it, little one?"
"I had a dream. A woman was in the garden. She had white hair and black eyes. She said she was coming for us."
"It was just a dream, Sofia. Go back to sleep."
"Will you stay with me?"
"Always."
Katerina climbed into the bed.
Held her daughter.
And tried not to think about the woman with the black eyes.
---
The arrival – The next morning.
The priests came at dawn.
They rode horses—black horses, with black saddles and black cloaks. Their faces were hidden behind iron masks. Their hands were covered in scars.
"Katerina, daughter of the midwife, mother of Sofia, wife of the dead."
"Who are you?"
"We are the Inquisition. We have come to cleanse this village of sin."
"There is no sin here. Only life. Only love. Only healing."
"Healing is sin. Healing is hunger. Healing is the work of the demon."
"There is no demon here."
"There is. And we have come to carve it out."
---
The fire – The same day.
They burned the village.
Huts. Fields. Livestock. People.
Katerina watched from the ground, her hands bound, her mouth gagged. Sofia was beside her, crying, her small body shaking.
"Mama," she sobbed. "Mama, I'm scared."
"Shh, little one. I'm here. I'm not going anywhere."
"The fire—"
"Look at me. Don't look at the fire. Look at me."
Sofia looked at her.
"I love you, Mama."
"I love you too, little one."
The priests came for them.
"Katerina, you have been chosen. You will become the hunter. You will find the goddess. You will destroy her. You will feed."
"I don't want to feed."
"You don't have a choice."
They took Sofia.
"No—"
"She will be returned to you. When the hunger is carved. When the hunt is complete. When you have proven yourself."
"Please—"
"The hunger does not beg. The hunger takes."
They carved the symbols into her flesh.
Her shoulders. Her breasts. Her stomach. Her thighs.
She screamed.
And the hunger entered her.
---
The after – The same night.
The village was ash.
The people were dead.
Sofia was gone.
Katerina lay on the ground, her body covered in wounds, her hands covered in blood.
"Sofia," she whispered. "Sofia, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
The hunger stirred.
"Feed," it whispered. "Take. Consume. It's easier. It's simpler. It's safer than loving."
"No."
"Yes."
"I won't."
"You will. Because the hunger is who you are now. Because the hunger is all you are."
Katerina wept.
And somewhere, in the darkness, a child cried for her mother.
And Katerina—the healer, the mother, the woman who had loved—ceased to exist.
In her place was something else.
A hunter.
A weapon.
A hunger.
---
End of Bonus Chapter B1