My mind was an erupting volcano of vitriol and anger. Dozens of curses and wishes for pain and death upon that bastard Zabraxas ricocheted around inside of me, pleading with me to be given a voice. It took so, so much of my willpower to not give in to those desires, in no small part thanks to the ever-present energy sword of his Gift, still laid across my back. As much as I hate the situation I find myself pulled into, and the one who pulled me into it even more, my will to survive prevails. Even if only by a thread.