[i]You imbecile[/i] Cain groaned internally as Magus made his 'demands'. He was personally ashamed that a Twili, particularly a learned one as he seemed to be, could be so blind. Once more he felt forced to contain his sentiments, both out of his learned sense of propriety and the necessity of keeping his ill intentions to himself. [i]To demand apology of these wretched Goddesses is no wiser than an ant demanding mercy from a boot.[/i] He wanted to growl, to unveil a hint of the wrath that smoldered in the shadows. Lethe's response only furthered his point. [i]To them we are not people, not changeable, not redeemable. They see us as no more than monsters fit for the darkness. The fairy just said herself that she's only considering us 'Twilight Folk' for her mission because we are suitable pawns for her to use at this moment.[/i] The only justice either Magus nor Cain could hope to have would be to swat down those who mindlessly followed their cruel Goddesses like the sheep they were. Slaying their emissary was a new and inviting purpose, far more attainable than finding either Midna or a way back to the Twilight Realm.

That, however, would have to wait. And he could wait. As long as needed to he could be Lethe's pawn.

Summoned by Veitaru, Frore tentatively took a few steps in her direction before breaking out into a full walk. Given his impressive stature, a single stride for the Chilfos surpassed two of an average Hylian's. In no time he was standing at the cliff face. An hour from this moment the wall of stone would have cast him in its shade, but as it was nearly noon everything remained awash in sunlight. Frore let go of his spear, which promptly fell like the trunk of a young tree and, bereft of his cold aura, snapped into two pieces on the ground. The Chilfos didn't seem to notice; he had gripped the chest with both hands. A single tug was all it took -and more- to rip the box from its resting place in the packed soil and send it tumbling onto the ground. Mercifully, the aged, dirt-stained wood weathered the impact. Frore knelt ponderously and stiffly, a vast, icy manikin, and pried at the box's edges. His long, clumsy fingers proved unable to find enough purchase to seamlessly part lid from container, so he predictably resorted to brute strength. With a brief, protesting creak, container and lid parted company, and the latter was hurled sideways. Though he meant to throw it away from anyone, it was always possible that he missed somebody had carelessly projected the thin oaken slab in his or her direction.

With the top off, Frore could clearly see the clothes within. He picked up a length of cloth, possibly a cowl or scarf, and watched as his aura spread frost over the fabric. Before the frost grew too extensively, he let the scarf slip through his grasp and land without sound among the other clothes. Before long the warm sun would reduce the shimmering specks of ice to a mere spot of dampness. Next, Frore looked expectantly at the ring on his finger, as if it were going to cast its magic on its own.

Cain, as always, was focused on the mission. "It doesn't need to be said, then, that sooner is better." With that, he exited the shadow of his kneeling glacial companion and bounced between those of various objects around the graveyard until he was on his way down the trail. Equally lost in thought and dedicated to returning the the crowds in town to search for six others, he didn't notice a hooded man just beginning to ascend the graveyard path until he happened to enter his shadow, intending no more than to use him as another stepping stone. Like a poke from a needle, however, something quickly and painfully caught his attention. Cain stopped, sensing something, and attempted to pinpoint it as the walking Sheikah carried him back the way he came. This sensation was familiar, but also unique, much like the one that had emanated from Magus but much weaker. He quickly determined that the individual in whose shadow he rested was no Twili -that would have been far, far too much coincidence for one day- but nevertheless he seemed to host an inkling of dark magic. On another note, he moved quickly, with purpose and utter self-assurance. Clearly there was something in the graveyard that concerned him. Thinking quickly, Cain whispered, "Hurry," before going quiet, simply along for the ride. If this fellow was one of the six, Cain was in luck.