Journal Entry 82

05.10.2026

It feels as though an eternity has passed since I was last allowed to leave this castle. The King refuses to let me go. I feel trapped in some medieval hostage story, although my surroundings are far removed from the pain and suffering a dungeon inflicts upon its inhabitants.

Jonas and I spent the entire weekend within these stone walls. I feel guilty for complaining when so many people are less fortunate than I am. Yet I long for the simple pleasure of enjoying coffee or tea in a quaint café in Eberbach.

My confinement grew even stricter last Friday, when the King found a small hourglass on his office windowsill—its red sand frozen in the neck.

A minute? A day? A month? Neither of us knows how much time the hourglass is meant to represent.

Jonas immediately ordered the castle secured. Damien and his team searched the premises and questioned everyone who had access to the King’s private office.

There were no suspects.

No leads.

Not a damn clue.

The King berated himself for refusing to allow security cameras near his office. Jonas had always told me he felt safe there. It was where his father, his grandfather, and generations of Dorstenland’s kings before them had conducted the Kingdom’s official business.

Jonas had wanted to preserve that sense of normalcy after the failed assassination attempt that preceded Prime Minister Northcott’s attempted coup.

That changed over the weekend, when he ordered Damien to install high-tech security equipment.

My dearest journal, I must confide something else to you.

Since we returned from the King’s cabin, Jonas has acted strangely. His demeanor has changed. He has spent hours searching his royal suite and his office for something. I do not know what. When I asked, he replied, “It does not concern you.”

He is worried. I know my best friend.

Something is missing, and I have not the faintest idea what it is.