Zafron walked through the streets of the Undercity, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts and strategies.
The weight of his recent victory against Draco and the Butcher felt hollow compared to the looming challenge of acquiring Raxus's staff. He clenched his fists, frustration etching deep lines across his forehead.
"There has to be a way," he muttered under his breath. "Something we haven't considered yet."
[Oh, my dear lord, still hung up on your little moral quandary?] Calista's voice dripped with sarcasm in his mind. [Perhaps we should make a list of all the things you're not willing to do. It might be shorter than listing what you are willing to do.]
Zafron gritted his teeth, Calista's words stoking the fire of his irritation. "Not now, Calista," he hissed.
