“We’re going to get you,” said the voices in his head, causing Oliver to grimace. Thinking back loudly he railed at them “let me handle this damn it. I need to focus.” Cernunnos was already standing, his skin reforming over the bullet holes in his head. The dark god was laughing, giddy with bloodlust, that sinister smile pulling his thin lips back into an unholy sneer. A hint of madness in his voice he almost whispered “did you think mere bullets could banish me little mouse? You brought me into this plane, you aught to know what it will take to be rid of me.” Oliver has little time to come up with a rebuttal, for his plan to work he would need to act fast. He stood straighter extending his right arm and closing his hand into a fist, carefully enunciating “pneuma heed my call, and be free of your prison. Pneuma heed my call, and let us join as one.” It was an incantation of his own devising, and clunky as it was it served its purpose. Working in tandem with the special bullets he had crafted in his alchemy lab, any being with the cursed metal imbedded in them would have their soul devoured. Cernunnos screamed in pain, and the voices in his head roared in anticipation of the power soon to be coursing through him. He had consumed many weaker beings but never a god, and there was a chance the wave of energy would destroy him. The voices were imploring for him to share the power lest it be his end, begging him to give them more strength. Oliver’s skin grew hot against the cold night air, and he could feel the new strength bubbling up inside of him. Cernunnos was rapidly diminishing, flesh falling off his bones, blood pouring from every orifice. Tears were streaming freely down Oliver’s face, and soon he would be overwhelmed. Cernunnos wasn’t some minor deity, but an old god with many aspects, and Oliver’s mortal frame could only take on one for himself. With his iron will, Oliver began to direct some of the excessive energy into each of the voices, trying to keep it as minimal as possible for fear they may break free. A primal howl emanated from his throat, straining his vocal chords, a blinding light burst from his brow. Then all went black.

When he rose from the ground, all the remained from Cernunnos was a pile of ash, but Oliver was not alone. Standing in a semicircle around him was the council of gods. They were resplendent, even as mere other worldly apparitions, and the high king spoke in a low rumbling voice with an air of authority only a king could muster. “Oliver Gray you are not as you once were. Before you were one of the many, and are now one of the few. Step forth and be welcomed as our kin.” The leaves rustled, as the winds of change blew by.