Oliver places his hands against the jackets that hang before him, and gently pushes them to the side to reveal a void unlike one he had ever seen before. The stuttered breaths he desperately tries to draw in finds themselves caught somewhere within his throat as if some invisible hand has gripped him tightly enough to cut off the supply of air to his lungs. His eyes widen with a visibly strained desperation as he frantically tries to persuade his throat to open, tearing at the unseen presence as if it were physically there. His gasps become more animated, and he starts striking his chest in panicked fear, still asserting no change. As his face changes to a shade of blue he drops to his knees then falls to the ground on his side as a doorway opens up from within the void and she walks through, dressed in the finest furs he had ever seen.
She comes to a stop several steps from him and looks down at Oliver with a sneer across her lips. “How pathetic you are son of Adam. How pathetic and squishy you are,” she snarls as she raises a hoofed foot from the ground and stomps it down upon his head.