Chapter Ninety-Six
The Will
The country house. One week after the funeral. Afternoon.
The lawyer was a surprise.
His name was Mr. Ashworth. He was old—older than anyone in the room, except perhaps Lilith. His suit was wrinkled. His hands were steady. His eyes were kind.
"I've been Katerina's lawyer for fifty years," he said. "She was... an unusual client."
"That's one way to put it," Lilith said.
"She asked me to read her will today. In front of all of you."
He pulled out a piece of paper.
Old. Yellowed. Covered in handwriting that was elegant and shaky at the same time.
"Are you ready?"
"Yes," the younger Katerina said.
"Then let's begin."
---
The will – Introduction.
"To my family," Mr. Ashworth read. "If you're reading this, I'm dead. I know you're sad. Don't be. I was tired. I was ready. I was hungry for peace."
"I've made a lot of mistakes. I've hurt a lot of people. I've consumed a lot of things that should have been loved instead of eaten."
"But I've also learned. I've changed. I've grown. And I have all of you to thank for that."
"So thank you. For seeing me. For staying. For loving me."
The room was quiet.
The younger Katerina was crying.
Sam held her hand.
---
The will – Lilith.
"To Lilith," Mr. Ashworth read. "My first. My greatest. My mistake."
"I made you hungry. I made you a monster. I made you suffer for ten thousand years. And I am sorry."
"But you changed. You became something I never could. You became human. You became loved. You became free."
"I leave you the garden. The one you helped me plant. The one we watched grow. The one where I scattered my ashes."
"Tend it. Love it. Let it remind you that even the hungriest things can bloom."
Lilith's eyes filled with tears.
David took her hand.
---
The will – The younger Katerina.
"To my daughter," Mr. Ashworth read. "Not by blood. By hunger. By pain. By love."
"I made you a hunter. I made you a weapon. I made you empty. And I am sorry."
"But you changed. You became something I never could. You became loved. You became whole. You became free."
"I leave you the cottage. The one where I spent my last days. The one where I learned to live."
"Live in it. Love in it. Let it remind you that even the emptiest things can be filled."
The younger Katerina wept.
Sam held her.
---
The will – Marcus and Eleanor.
"To Marcus and Eleanor," Mr. Ashworth read. "The ones who survived. The ones who chose each other. The ones who remember."
"You taught me that love is not about consumption. It's about choice. Every day. Every hour. Every time you wake up and decide to stay."
"I leave you my books. All of them. The ones I read. The ones I wrote. The ones I stole."
"Read them. Share them. Let them remind you that even the hungriest minds can be fed."
Marcus and Eleanor looked at each other.
Smiled.
Held hands.
---
The will – David.
"To David," Mr. Ashworth read. "The man who saw her. The man who stayed. The man who loved her."
"You taught me that love is not about fixing someone. It's about being with them. In the dark. In the light. In the hunger."
"I leave you my watch. The one my father gave me. Before the hunger. Before the hunt. Before the emptiness."
"Wear it. Remember that time is precious. That every moment is a gift. That even the hungriest hearts can be healed."
David looked at the watch.
Gold. Old. Ticking.
"Thank you," he whispered.
---
The will – Sam.
"To Sam," Mr. Ashworth read. "The one who loved her. The one who saw her. The one who accepted her."
"You taught me that love is not about the past. It's about the present. About showing up. About staying."
"I leave you my jewelry. The rings. The necklaces. The bracelets. The ones I wore when I was still human."
"Wear them. Remember that beauty is not about perfection. It's about survival. That even the most broken things can be beautiful."
Sam touched the box of jewelry.
Her eyes were wet.
"I will," she said.
---
The will – Maya.
"To Maya," Mr. Ashworth read. "The youngest. The one who carries the hunger. The one who remembers."
"You are not a monster. You are not a curse. You are not empty."
"You are a woman. A woman with a hunger. A woman who can choose."
"I leave you my journals. The ones I kept. The ones I hid. The ones that tell the truth."
"Read them. Learn from them. Let them remind you that even the hungriest daughters can become mothers."
Maya hugged the journals to her chest.
"Thank you," she whispered.
---
The will – Everyone else.
"To everyone else," Mr. Ashworth read. "The ones I hurt. The ones I loved. The ones I forgot."
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry."
"I leave you my forgiveness. Take it. Use it. Share it."
"Forgive yourselves. Forgive each other. Forgive me."
"And remember: the hunger is not a curse. It's a test. A test of who you are. A test of who you want to be. A test of who you can become."
"I love you. I love you. I love you."
"Goodbye."
---
The living room – After.
The room was quiet.
Everyone was crying.
"She wrote that?" the younger Katerina asked.
"Yes," Mr. Ashworth said. "She wrote it in her last week. She made me promise to read it exactly as she wrote it. No edits. No changes. No softening."
"She was always stubborn."
"Yes. She was."
Mr. Ashworth packed his briefcase.
"If there's nothing else, I'll be going."
"Thank you," Lilith said.
"Don't thank me. Thank her."
He left.
The door closed.
And the family sat in silence, holding each other, grieving and loving.
---
The garden – Evening.
Lilith walked among the flowers.
The roses were blooming. The lavender was fragrant. The honeysuckle was climbing the trellis.
David walked beside her.
"How do you feel?" he asked.
"Different."
"Different how?"
"Different because she's gone. Different because she's still here. Different because she left us something."
"What did she leave you?"
"The garden. And a reminder that even the hungriest things can bloom."
"That's beautiful."
"It's true."
He kissed her.
"I love you."
"I know."
"Say it back."
"I love you, David. I love you. I love you. I love you."
"Again."
"I love you."
"Again."
She kissed him.
"I love you too."
The sun set.
The stars came out.
And Lilith—the former goddess, the former hunger, the former monster—walked through the garden, held by the man she loved, and felt something she had never felt before.
Gratitude.
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End of Chapter Ninety-Six