Ren had never considered herself particularly religious, but if there was a god of irony, she was certain they had a personal vendetta against her.
She slumped against the Bastion’s outer wall, arms crossed, glaring at the impenetrable fortress like it had personally wronged her.
Which, technically, it had.
Ozamas had called this place the most secure stronghold in the entire demon nation—an unbreachable fortress that had withstood sieges, assassins, and untold horrors for centuries.
And yet, Ren had managed to escape it in under an hour.
‘By jumping out of a window like a complete idiot,’ she reminded herself.
Unfortunately, getting back in was proving to be significantly harder.
She had circled the outer walls at least three times, searching for a conveniently unguarded entrance, a loose brick, a half-forgotten servant’s door—hell, she would have taken a rat-sized hole if it meant squeezing back inside.
But there was nothing.
Just the same unyielding stone, stretching high and endless in every direction.
Ren leaned her head back against the wall, exhaling sharply.
“Yeah definitely,” she muttered to no one in particular, “a marvel of modern security.”
She should have been impressed.
Really, she should have.
It was just a shame that she was currently experiencing its brilliance from the wrong side.
The sun was sinking fast now, dragging the sky down into deep, inky purples and bruised oranges.
With it came the wind—sharp and sudden, cutting through the thin fabric of her borrowed clothes.
Ren shivered, pulling her knees up to her chest.
Great.
Not only was she locked out of the safest place in the country, but now the weather had decided to turn against her, too.
“Spectacular. Amazing,” she muttered, rubbing at her arms.
Her breath curled into the air in front of her, ghostly white.
She closed her eyes, trying to push down the tightness coiling in her chest.
The Bastion had seemed unnervingly silent before, but now, as the last traces of sunlight slipped below the horizon, that silence became something heavier.
The kind that pressed into her skin, into her bones.
The kind that made her stomach twist.
For all that she had been training to survive in this body, she was still human—on the inside, at least.
And every instinct she had was screaming at her that she did not want to be outside when night fully settled over this place.
She sighed, pushing herself up to her feet.
“Okay. New plan.”
***
The city surrounding the Bastion was not at all what Ren had imagined.
In the hazy memories of her old life, the words “demon city” conjured up images of monstrous spires and twisted architecture—streets carved from obsidian, fire-lit alleyways, eerie red glows emanating from cracks in the earth.
Instead, she found herself walking through a city built from the same unfeeling stone as the fortress itself.
The buildings were sharp and angular, their structures blocky and utilitarian, as though constructed with efficiency and function in mind rather than aesthetics.
No ornamentation, no delicate carvings—just stark, looming structures cut from dark rock, lining the streets like silent sentinels.
The roads were made of thick stone bricks, worn smooth by countless footsteps, yet solid enough that they barely made a sound under her bare feet.
She should have felt completely out of place here.
And yet, no one seemed to notice her.
The few figures she passed didn’t spare her so much as a glance.
She saw demons wrapped in thick cloaks, their heads bowed against the rising wind.
Some had horns curling out from their temples, others had skin marked with strange patterns, glowing faintly in the dimming light.
Yet none of them moved with the kind of theatrical menace she might have expected.
No sneers, no sinister whispers, no eerie glares.
Instead, they just looked… tired.
Rushing to wherever they needed to be, moving with the weary kind of purpose that suggested they had done this routine a thousand times before.
Ren rubbed at her arms, trying to ignore the way her presence—or lack of presence—made her stomach twist.
She had spent so long trying to figure out what she was in this new life.
The Demon King had given her a name, a title, a purpose.
She had spent every day struggling to live up to it, to make sense of it.
But here, in the midst of these strangers, she felt like a ghost.
No one acknowledged her, no one questioned her.
She could have disappeared right there in the street, and she doubted anyone would have noticed.
Her train of thought was halted by a drop of water hitting her cheek.
Ren blinked, tilting her head up just as another drop landed against her forehead.
The wind howled through the streets, whipping her hair into her face, and above her, thick, angry clouds churned across the sky.
The first flash of lightning split the horizon in two.
Rain.
Of course.
Because why wouldn’t the universe throw a storm into the mix on top of everything else?
She closed her eyes, inhaling deeply as the first cold sheets of rain began to pelt down.
The wind roared, the city bracing against it.
She was alone.
Completely and utterly lost.
And for the first time since waking up in this strange, unwanted body, she had no idea what to do next.
***
Ren stood there, rainwater dripping from her hair, soaking into the already damp fabric of her clothes.
She should move.
She knew that.
She wanted to move.
But her body refused to listen.
The streets around her had erupted into frantic motion—doors swinging open, voices calling out, figures darting through the downpour with hurried urgency.
Homes, once silent and imposing, suddenly became beacons of warmth, their occupants ushering stragglers inside, pulling them in with firm hands and worried voices.
It was strange.
She had expected demons to be cold, to be the kind of people who would let the weak drown in the storm without a second thought.
But there they were, pulling in neighbors, beckoning over strangers with curt, no-nonsense gestures that spoke of hardened practicality rather than open kindness.
Ren should move.
She should find somewhere to hide from the storm.
She should—
Her fingers twitched at her sides.
But her legs stayed rooted in place.
The rain battered against her skin, cold and relentless.
It wasn’t the freezing rain that kept her frozen.
It was the way the world around her seemed to function without her.
No one called out.
No one pulled her inside.
She wasn’t part of their world.
She wasn’t part of any world.
The thought struck deep, curling into her chest like a fist clenched too tight around something fragile.
In her old life, no matter how difficult things got, no matter how lost she felt, she had always known where she stood.
There had been a path—even if she hated it, even if it wasn’t what she wanted.
But here?
There was nothing.
No home, no direction, no future.
Just a body that didn’t feel like hers, a role she didn’t understand, and a fortress that wouldn’t let her back in.
The wind howled, rattling through the streets, and she felt smaller than ever.
A shadow shifted beside her.
Then—
Something heavy draped over her shoulders.
Ren flinched, jolted from her thoughts, blinking rapidly as warmth pressed against her rain-slick skin.
It was—
A cloak.
Thick and heavy, the fabric rough but sturdy, shielding her from the relentless downpour.
She looked up, startled.
Someone had stopped for her.