Ifrit felt rage boil in his bones. How dare this... Whatever it was... insinuate that he could spare the life of Ifrit. Before he could spurt out rage and fire, he managed to stop himself. Sheer fear held his tongue, as he knew that there was great power beneath this shadowy cloak. So, rather than aggravate the man of such magical prowess, he complied with his requests, not wishing to be left in this land, to perish at the ghostly claws of those denizens residing in this realm. Having such limited vision, he did not experience the true fear that a human could, but he was more than capable of sniffing the danger that hung in the air. 

[b]"I am Ifrit. I am the great danger that scarred the earth, so many years ago. I am the smoke that suffocated generations of the weak. I am the fire that burned down dynasties of elder kings. I am fear incarnate. I AM IFRIT, THE SCION OF THE INFERNAL KING."[/b] He said, the words more of a rehearsed script, rather than actual pride. Those words had filled the ears of thousands of dying souls, it was rather odd that in this case, Ifrit was reciting this at the mercy of another soul.

Though the darkness that surrounded the two certainly did not help Ifrit's eyesight, his sense of smell easily penetrated the illusion. Though he was used to the scent of death, this was different- this was off, somehow. When Ifrit killed things, the scent of death that lingered was... still. But these spirits refused to rest, stirring up odors the like of which Ifrit had rarely smelt. Ifrit was glad for the Keepers deep magical scent, as it masked the unnerving scent of those restless dead roaming about- waiting to feast upon those careless enough to linger in their realm.