Chapter 5
Roxana
The steady creak of wheels over uneven ground filled the carriage, a repetitive sound that did nothing to ease the knot twisting in my stomach.
I sat by the window, arms crossed, eyes fixed on the blurred scenery rushing past—trees, hills, open fields. They all melted together, forgotten before I could even register them.
Across from me, Zero sat motionless. The space between us felt suffocating.
He hadn't spoken in days. Not since the night my world shattered—the night he tore it apart.
I could feel his eyes on me from time to time, sharp and watchful, but I refused to meet his gaze. I didn't care how calm he looked, sitting there with his hands on his knees, black hair falling over his face like always.
I remembered the blood. I remembered my parents' screams. And I remembered him—standing in the wreckage with that same detached expression.
He never explained. Never apologized.
He simply followed orders, the perfect little soldier. And now here he was, sitting across from me as if none of it mattered. As if my entire life hadn't been ripped to pieces.
The carriage jolted over a bump. I pressed my hand to the cold glass, focusing on its chill instead of the person across from me.
The silence wasn't comfortable. It wasn't companionable. It was the kind of silence that cracked under its own weight, fragile and brittle.
The creaking wheels filled the space. I kept my eyes on the window, ignoring him.
Zero shifted, boots scuffing the floor. After days without a word, I could feel him gathering the courage—or maybe the obligation—to break the quiet.
Finally, his voice came. "We'll reach the Capital in a few days."
I didn't turn to look. Didn't blink.
There it was—his calm, detached voice, like everything between us was fine.
I scoffed quietly, eyes glued to the glass. "I didn't ask."
Silence swallowed us again, heavier than before.
For a moment, I thought he might respond, argue, explain—anything. But he stayed silent, his expression locked behind that same guarded wall.
The carriage rocked gently onward. Yet the space between us remained an uncrossable void.
The sun had barely begun its slow descent when the carriage came to a halt beside a village I'd never seen before. Another place I wasn't told about… or warned to avoid.
Mother always said the world beyond Horix was dangerous. That it was safest to stay close to home.
In one way, she was right. The world was dangerous. But she never told me how beautiful it could be.
We didn't stop long. Just enough time for a few soldiers to exchange curt words and resupply goods with villagers at the edge of the dusty road, their faces wary and unfamiliar.
I pressed my forehead to the window, watching life unfold beyond the glass. Children chased stray dogs. Market stalls overflowed with fruits and fabrics in colors I didn't even have names for. The village was alive—messy, imperfect, but real.
A bitter laugh slipped from my lips. It was all so much bigger than Horix. Bigger than the cage I'd been trapped in my entire life.
Anger still coiled beneath my ribs, but I couldn't deny the awe creeping through me. I was a prisoner of a forgotten corner of the world, sheltered beneath lies and silence. And out here—out there—life went on without me. Unfettered.
The world was vast. Too vast to understand all at once.
Zero remained silent beside me, eyes locked on the road ahead. Maybe he saw this world differently. Maybe he'd walked farther and seen more.
But for the first time since this nightmare began, I felt a crack in my armor—an ache that wasn't just grief or rage. It was longing. Longing for a life I didn't know I wanted.
The carriage rumbled onward, dust curling behind the wheels, the village shrinking into the distance.
***
Night fell quickly.
When the horses were finally unharnessed and the soldiers pitched camp beneath a bruised sky, I wandered toward a patch of grass, desperate to escape the weight pressing on my chest.
I stretched out beneath the velvet canopy of stars, pulling my cloak tight around me.
That's when I noticed him.
Zero stood a few paces away, silent, unmoving, his eyes fixed on me.
I didn't care enough to ask what he was thinking.
But the shadows beneath his eyes had deepened since the last time I looked. His features were taut with exhaustion.
It was like weariness had seeped into his skin, dragging him down, but somehow… he stayed upright.
Through this entire journey, he hadn't once truly rested.
When I drifted off to sleep, his eyes were still open—watchful. And when I woke, they hadn't looked away.
It was like sleep had abandoned him. Just like he refused to abandon his guard. Not even for a moment.
"You know," I muttered, stretching out my aching limbs with a yawn, "I get that your job is to protect me, but don't you think you're taking things a little too far?"
Across the clearing, Zero didn't move, but his lips curved into a smirk "Ah. She speaks at last," he quipped, voice dry but quick.
I rolled my eyes, pushing to my feet and crossing my arms tight across my chest. "Don't flatter yourself. I'm only talking because you're creeping me out." I gestured toward him. "You've been hovering like some weird stalker! Don't you have anything better to do than stick to me like glue?"
Zero tilted his head slightly, the faintest trace of a smirk ghosting across his face. "I could," he replied smoothly, "but trouble has a habit of finding you. Easier to stay close than clean up another mess."
Heat prickled beneath my skin. "I'm not helpless," I snapped. "I can handle myself."
His eyes flicked over to me, sharp and unreadable. "You handled yourself real well back at the village," he said, his words heavy.
I clenched my jaw, forcing the ache down. "That wasn't—" I stopped myself, breathing hard. "You think staying awake all night makes you better than me? You look awful, by the way. Like death warmed over."
Zero's gaze softened a fraction. "I've looked worse," he muttered, brushing nonexistent dust from his coat. "Besides, I don't sleep much. Don't have the luxury."
I narrowed my eyes, studying him. The shadows under his eyes weren't just from lack of rest—they were years deep, carved into his bones like something permanent. There was more to him. More I wasn't seeing yet.
But I was still angry. Betrayed. So, I turned away.
"Suit yourself," I mumbled, lying back down. "Just… try blinking once in a while. You're creeping me out."
For a second, I thought he might snap back with one of his usual cold, clipped remarks—but instead, to my surprise, he chuckled.
It was quiet, almost undetectable, but I still heard it.
"Suit yourself, princess," he said, amusement curling at the edge of his words. "You want me gone? Fine. I've got better things to do than babysit a brat."
I opened my mouth to argue, but he was already turning away, the faint smirk still lingering on his face as he stalked off toward the other soldiers—no doubt to bark more orders like the commanding asshole he was.
I huffed, flopping back against the grass. "What the hell is his problem…"
***
Later, I picked at a plate of food beside the fire. One of the soldiers approached, a lopsided smile on his face.
"Captain's like that with everyone," the soldier said as he sat to eat beside me. "Cold, blunt, bit of a pain. But honestly…" He laughed softly, eyes flicking in the direction Zero had disappeared. "Seeing him banter? It's refreshing."
"Bantering?" I scoffed. "He acts like he hates everyone."
The soldier chuckled. "Maybe. But seeing him banter with you? Makes him seem… normal. We forget sometimes that he's just a kid too."
I glanced toward where Zero stood, stiff-backed among the soldiers, his voice sharp and commanding as he handed out orders. The others moved around him like clockwork, following his lead without question.
Just a kid…
I tore a piece of bread apart, chewing slowly, eyes still trailing after Zero's retreating form. He moved through the soldiers like a shadow, barking orders, correcting formations—every step calculated. Sharp. Like he didn't know how to exist without being in control.
I glanced at the soldier still lingering nearby, his easy smile unwavering as he watched me pick at my food.
"So…" I started, nudging a berry across the plate, "what's the deal with him?"
"The Captain?" The soldier titled his head.
"No, the other brooding teenager who has ice cubes for eyes," I deadpanned.
He snorted. "Yeah, fair enough."
"So?" I pressed. "What's a kid like him doing commanding a squad of the Empire's soldiers? Isn't there… I dunno… an age requirement or something?"
The soldier scratched at his cheek, eyes flicking toward Zero before settling back on me. "Truth is, no one really knows much. Not the whole story, anyway." His voice dropped slightly, as if wary of who might be listening. "What I do know is he's a Dusker."
I frowned. "A what?"
"Highest rank among vampire hunters," he explained, his tone low but steady. "Means he technically answers to the Empire, but his jurisdiction? It's wider than ours. Duskers have authority to command soldiers when needed, but most of the time," he shrugged, "they work alone."
My brows knitted together, confusion still gnawing at me. "You're telling me that guy is some kind of… one-man army?"
The soldier chuckled under his breath. "Yeah. Pretty much."
"That's insane."
"Welcome to the Empire," he said with a half-smile. "It's been that way for years. From what I've heard, the Captain's been hunting vampires since he could barely lift a blade. Prodigy, they call him."
I followed his gaze back to Zero, watching the way he moved with unshakable precision, soldiers twice his age falling in line without question.
Prodigy. Dusker. One-man army.
But all I saw was a teenager buried in shadows, with eyes too tired for someone his age and a laugh that felt like it shouldn't exist on his lips.
I wasn't sure if that made him more terrifying… or more human.
"A Dusker," I repeated under my breath, tasting the word like something foreign. "Why would anyone—especially a kid—waste their life fighting monsters?"
The soldier shrugged, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "You'd have to ask him that."
I raised an eyebrow. "And what, he just… never tells anyone?"
A lopsided grin crept onto the soldier's face. "Captain Zero isn't exactly known for heart-to-hearts, if you haven't noticed."
I snorted softly. "Yeah. Picked up on that."
He watched me for a moment, the easy humor in his eyes dimming just a little. "Look, I've only worked with him a handful of times. Most soldiers don't get the privilege." His voice dropped lower, careful. "But from what little I've seen? He's been through a lot. More than most grown men. And… well, sometimes people don't choose this life."
I tilted my head. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means," the soldier said finally, voice quiet, "sometimes this life chooses them."
I didn't like what that implied… but I also couldn't look away.
I finished picking at my breakfast, but the knot in my stomach didn't budge.
The soldier wandered off to join the others, leaving me with nothing but my thoughts—and the sound of orders being barked in the distance.
***
Zero's voice cut through the morning haze, sharp and precise as he directed the soldiers. "Double-check the locks. I want the cargo secured tighter than last night. No room for mistakes." His eyes scanned the scene with practiced detachment, but the exhaustion carved into his face was impossible to miss.
I crossed the grass, weaving between soldiers and wagons, until I came to where Zero stood, his back turned as he oversaw the last of the preparations.
"Captain Prodigy," I called, folding my arms across my chest.
He stiffened, shoulders tightening before he turned. His eyes landed on me, unreadable as always. "What?"
"So… how does someone our age end up leading squads of grown men and hunting vampires for a living?" My voice was light, but the question wasn't.
Zero's jaw tightened. For a moment, his eyes darkened—cold and sharp, but there was something else buried beneath it. Pain. Deep and raw.
"You don't need to say anything for me to know you resent me," he said quietly. "But do you honestly think you're the only one who's lost what's important to them?"
I blinked, caught off guard by the vulnerability in his words.
He glanced away, staring at the secured carriages, then back at me with eyes like frozen steel—but I could see past that, glimpse at the weight he carried.
"What you experienced when your village burned down? Imagine my pain. But it's something I've had to carry for the last ten years. That's your answer."
His voice was flat, exhausted. "I didn't end up here," he said. "I was made for this."
I swallowed hard, words caught somewhere between anger and pity. His pain was real and it echoed something dark inside me I wasn't ready to face.
"So, you think that makes it okay? That just because you were 'made' for this, you get to walk around like you're untouchable?" My voice cracked with frustration, but there was a tremor beneath it I couldn't hide.
Zero's face flushed suddenly, a sharp contrast to his usual cool demeanor. His eyes narrowed, and his voice snapped back.
"I don't think I'm anything! I'm as killable as the men walking around us. I don't pretend to act like I know you, so don't do the same thing to me."
He turned on his heel and started walking away but paused just long enough to throw a final glance over his shoulder.
"I just refuse to let those monsters win. I'll do anything in my power to ensure that all those beasts are destroyed."
For a long moment, we just stood there in silence. The soldiers moved around us, preparing for the day ahead, but it felt like the world had shrunk to just the two of us—and all the unspoken things between us.
Finally, I turned away, biting back the ache twisting in my chest. The road stretched ahead, uncertain and endless, and so was this journey—one I didn't know how to navigate.
But one thing was clear: I wasn't the only one haunted by loss, and maybe, just maybe, understanding that was the first step toward something new.
I took a deep breath, the morning air cool against my skin. The sun climbed higher, casting long shadows behind us as the camp stirred to life.
And for the first time in days, I let the silence between us feel a little less suffocating.