As the pitiful flame was extinguished and the wax that had held the burning wick in place splattered over the damp, lichen-encrusted cobblestone floor, the room was plunged into total darkness. The two master thieves were acolytes of the shadows, bound to it not only by trade but by sinister preference, mirroring the void within their own selves. This, of course, was only figurative; while they operated in the night and the alleys, preying on any unfortunate enough to come into their paths, they were far from actual beings of darkness.

And yet, when the gloom settled over them, it felt strangely unnatural. The hairs on the backs of their hands and necks rose like the shackles of dogs on the alert. Though they knew themselves to be alone -such professionals would never have allowed themselves to be followed and certainly never retreated to a lair where there was any chance of intrusion- neither could shake the feeling that there was something in there, something aside from their victims bound helplessly to the wooden column. With the only source of heart gone and this cellar inaccessible to sunlight, the air should have been cold and still, no different than a tomb. Instead, the air felt strangely warm, and moved every so slightly, tickling those raised hairs and thoroughly setting them on edge. When the candlelight vanished, so to did the thieves' sense of security, despite their years of experience and confidence in their abilities. It just didn't feel right—and the feeling persisted until one of the men, Rigby's more intellectually gifted companion, made a sort of connection.

The darkness felt alive.

“No,” came a voice, louder than a whisper and full of smugness. Instantly both men were on alert, each scrabbling to arm themselves with the nearest available item (the grappling hook for Rigby and Felicia's longsword for Mordecai). With no light available, their eyes were useless, so each retreated until the found a wall. From their they had one less angle that needed defense from, and both put all their effort into hearing so as to identify the location of the interloper. For a moment there was no sound whatsoever except for the faint moaning of Felicia and the Rain Spider.

“You both are.”

A sense of helplessness, strangely ironic for those who had just moments ago abused the helpless, pervaded the thieves' minds as they realized that the voice sounded from all around them and it would be impossible to pinpoint the intruder's location. Though a sense of rising fear couldn't be avoided, neither shouted out into the darkness, opting instead to wait for the owner of the voice to come to them.

They didn't have long to wait. Without any warning the room was suddenly illuminated by harsh orange light. The thieves' darkness-adjusted eyes were agonized by the sudden glare and were unable to act before a huge, sun-colored fist smashed Rigby against the wall his back was against, dazing him. Mordecai, recovering from the blindness, managed to make out a dark figure silhouetted by the light his own hair was giving off. Silently, the man lunged forward, and plunged the stolen blade through his nebulous enemy's chest. To his dismay the steel passed right through Cain's body. “What!?” he cried, beginning to lose his control.

The shadowy figure turned and regarded the man with red eyes. He seemed to be smiling. “Really isn't fair, is it?” Mordecai, growing desperate, unleashed a wide slash with the longsword, which severed a few glowing hairs. Before the thief could exploit the knowledge that he could actually do damage to Cain, the Twili brought the hairhand crushing down onto the forearm of his sword arm. The blade clattered to the floor and, Mordecai, holding his injured arm, retreated back to his original position. He said nothing, only glaring into Cain's eyes, green on red. By this time Rigby was on his feet again, and -having apparently not learned from his first attemp- fired his grappling hook at Cain's exposed back. The tool shot straight through him and instead clattered against the wall near Mordecai's head. Thinking quickly, Cain grabbed the chain and pulled, causing Rigby to stumble forward. The fist smashed against the back of his head, rendering him unconscious, before scooping up Felicia's blade. Before Mordecai could move, Cain buried the weapon into his leg. The man screeched in pain and fell to the floor, unable to stand up. In a few moment, Cain judged, the loss of blood would make him pass out.

Leaving him to do so, Cain floated to where Jira and Felicia were bound. It looked like they were just regaining their senses. The Twili ripped off their restraints and then left to search for the trapdoor by which they had entered. In a few moments he had both located and destroyed it, allowing the sunlight to pour in. He was satisfied with himself; he hadn't needed to kill either of the men or use his full-bodied form to do so. With an air of satisfaction he returned to the others and melted into Felicia's shadow in preparation for travel. “Get up,” he said, irritable, “I've saved you. All is well. Come come, get up, grab your things. You need to get to the graveyard before their friends arrive.”