"Excellent," Demise said with a grin.
A horde of bokoblins were before them, cheering, shouting, hungry for flesh and thirsty for blood. Flocks of keese took to the air and other gruesome creatures joined in the howling. With one clawed hand, Demise dismissed them. One group to Province Faron, another to Province Lanayru, still another to the mountains of Eldin. The last group - which included defiled dead - stalfos and other creatures made of the bones of Demise's victims, stayed 'round about them.
Instead of calling for his Loftwing, Demise made the shadows dance until an enormous black creature stood before him. The beast was something of a cross between a wolf and a boar. Its tusk dribbled with saliva and his eyes shone like polished rubies. Demise boarded the saddle on the great hulk. He looked down to Girahim.
"Before you assume your bladed form," he said, "You must know that this war will eventually lead us to your counterpart. You shall clash with Fi. Will you be able to do that?"