Time, they say, waits for no one, yet sometimes its passage can feel so slow that it seems like a person is left waiting for time itself.
That's precisely how Jack felt as he stared at the worn pages of his journal. Ten years. A decade had crawled by. What was supposed to be a temporary stay had stretched on far beyond what he'd been promised.
'I was told I'd be here for two years,' Jack thought with bitter frustration, flipping through his notes. 'Two! How did that become ten?!'
The memory was still vivid—how Urek, his personal butler, had appeared out of nowhere that fateful day. He'd arrived with a look of unease and a message that Jack had dreaded.
"My prince," Urek had begun, voice laced with regret, "Lord Aldermond has decided to extend your stay here until the conventional school is prepared."
Jack's heart had sunk. "And how long will that take?" he demanded, trying to mask his impatience.
