Flo learned how to disappear before she learned how to belong.
Village to village. City to city. Names changed. Ears hidden. Mana suppressed until it ached like holding breath underwater. She learned which places smiled at strangers and which sharpened knives behind their backs.
She stayed where she could. She left when she had to.
Everywhere was the same in the end.
Demons were monsters. Demons were enemies. Demons were hunted.
So Flo smiled softly, kept her head down, and never stayed long enough for questions to turn sharp.
She worked kitchens, caravans, guard outposts. Slept in barns, inns, alleyways when she had no coin. When danger pressed too close, she ran. When kindness appeared, she doubted it.
Strength came whether she wanted it or not.
Her blood demanded it.
Mana gathered around her naturally, dense and heavy, refusing to disperse. At first, she tried to push it away. Later, she learned to compress it, to lock it behind layers of control so no one would sense what she truly was.
But control did not mean satisfaction.
The hunger came quietly.
Mana was life. Mana was warmth. Mana was connection. Flo could feel it in others—flowing, cycling, fragile. She learned how to drink from ambient sources, from crystals, from pouches she bought or stole when desperate.
It was never enough.
She told herself it was fine. That she didn't need more. That this was normal.
Then she met Jake.
She sensed him before she saw him. Not like a beacon—but like gravity. His mana wasn't explosive or refined. It was steady. Self-sustaining. Alive in a way that made her chest ache.
She told herself she wouldn't touch it.
She lied.
The first time it happened, it was accidental. Stress. Proximity. His guard lowered for just a moment, and her instincts reached out.
The rush nearly brought her to her knees.
His mana didn't resist. It didn't fracture. It flowed willingly, replenishing itself even as she drew from it. A closed loop. Impossible.
Addictive.
She pulled back immediately, horrified with herself. She used her pouch instead. Forced distance. Built walls.
They didn't hold.
Jake's mana felt safe. Reliable. Like something that wouldn't vanish overnight. Like something she could rest against without fearing it would collapse.
She hated herself for wanting it.
That was why Kale unsettled her.
Kale's presence felt wrong—not hostile, not dangerous, but closed. Her mana didn't respond. It didn't resonate. Flo couldn't touch it, couldn't read it, couldn't even sense depth.
It made her uneasy.
Secrets recognized secrets.
By the time they started tracking the Demon General's movements, Flo already knew what they would find. Ancient markers. Command sigils. Signs only demons used—and only royalty could issue.
Every trace pointed north.
Every trace pointed home.
Flo said nothing.
Some truths didn't need hiding.
They just needed time.