Book 18: An Arrival

Zayn

It’s a clear night, not a single cloud in the heavens. The moon is nearly full, lighting up the sky as a waxing gibbous. It mocks me while I stand at the end of the dock, watching six of the two dozen or so ships creep into the cove. 

Father stands beside me, dressed in his gray wizarding robes. I chose black for the occasion, which I find fitting. Black as the night sky without the stars to light my uncle’s way out of my territory if he so much as steps out of line. 

It took nearly a week to come to some sort of agreement with Uncle Bartholomew and his forces, which are meager in comparison to the packs at the ready to jump into action the second I give the command. Still, Bartholomew is… powerful. One of the most powerful wizards to have ever lived.

He’s just not the Principate, which I think is hi