Page 46 -- VI.

Chapter Six: ‘Of iron promise...’
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Hector never had such a deeply consuming sleep. The second Garovel’s hand left his forehead, he was out, as if his exhaustion were a dammed river that had finally broken.

He awoke slowly. His eyes only opened halfway as he regained consciousness. He could already remember everything that had happened, but he wasn’t ready to think about it. He hid in the warmth of his bed a bit longer, the lulling tug behind his eyes telling him that nothing mattered just yet. It was all okay for a few more moments.

He took a long breath and sat up. It was still dark outside. No. That couldn’t be right. He looked at his clock. It was dark again. He must’ve slept the whole day.

‘Garovel?’ He waited for an answer but received none.

He could sense the dreadful thoughts there, the familiar, anguished throes. But he ignored them. It was strangely easy--uncomfortably so, even. But at the moment, he much preferred a vaguely unsettled feeling to whatever those pangs would bring. At the very least, he wanted to wait until Garovel returned.

Hunger drove him downstairs, despite how sore he still was. He found his mother in front of the refrigerator.

When she noticed him, she frowned. “Your school called,” she said. “Why did you miss class today?”

He lowered his eyes. “I... wasn’t feeling well... I stayed home and slept.”

“Are you being bullied again?”

“I’ve never been bullied...”

“You’re too quiet, sweetie. If you were a bit more outgoing, I’m sure they’d stop bothering you.”

“I’m not being bullied, Mom...” As difficult as it was to talk to her, he couldn’t help being a bit glad, still. She was showing concern for him. That was rare enough on its own.