We spent the rest of the night huddled around the campfire, discussing and debating possible strategies. The air was thick with tension, our exhaustion palpable. Baelgor kept a watchful eye on the entrance to the Goblin Queen's chamber, his shield resting by his side but never far from his reach. Morgana, her eyes thoughtful and intense, seemed lost in a world of ancient texts and arcane knowledge, searching for a solution buried in the recesses of her mind.
"We need to find her weak spot," I said, breaking the silence. "There must be something that fuels her regeneration."
"Agreed," Arawn said, his voice steady but tinged with frustration. "But how do we find it? We barely made it out alive last time."
Lilith, ever the pragmatist, spoke up. "Every creature has a weakness, even one as monstrous as her. We just need to figure out what it is."