The Collector's eyes lit up, their pinprick red becoming a bloodlit glow. A wave of one hand, and two chairs appeared behind him. The first--a black lacquered chair with silver filigree and black leather cushion--he set behind him. The second, he lifted, bringing to Heathen. He turned it to face his own.
This one was not a mere chair, but a throne: ancient oak wood, inscribed with scrawls of dark runes, its broad seat one of rich royal purple--perfectly fit for a cat slightly smaller than Heathen, leaving him just the tinest bit oversized for it (but didn't that enhance the effect?).
He took a seat in his own chair, then, and another wave of his hand brought forth a small table covered in snacks. A silver platter of bloodied bits of meat; a bowl of warm milk barely touched with black tea. It was clearly intended for Heathen, though he himself took a tiny bit between two fingers, considering.
"Let--at least, its surface--is beyond all of us here," the Collector began, even while waving that away, "unless you wish to be taken there, but I know no path, and it is a path that once trodden is erased forever." He tilted his head to one side. "But there, we are little more than monsters, irritations to be swept away. Here-? Here, I can grant you the mantle of a god. Not a god's powers, not truly, but does that matter? -You are one who speaks my language," he added, voice becoming a crooning purr. "You understand the value of power, and the meaning of it... yes?"
The Collector leaned back, studying Heathen. "There are three such boons I could grant you, off the top of my head..." and his tone held musing.
"The first, and weakest, but the best to sway weaker minds: a series of spells that are powerful enough... but grant an appearance of divinity." He waved this away, too, before dropping the meat piece into his mouth. He chewed, swallowed, and continued. "The ability to wreath yourself in light or shadows, to create visions from nothing, to vanish seemingly into thin air."
That, then, was 'offer number one.'
"The second possibility requires willing followers. An item, worn by you, linked to items worn by those followers. The more followers, the more their power funnels into you; and in return they gain some knowledge of your own magic. You grant them... let us say, access to a spell that you own. And their very lifeforce funnels into you, strengthening you."
The third, then... "Or the third. I know of an abandoned minor god, perched upon his altar. It would be a minor thing, to usurp him and his power, to become a shadowed god capable of immense power. The cost would be to free him... but that would weaken him substantially, and empower you to take his place."
The Collector sat back, dipping bloodied claws into his hood, eyes trained upon the leopard. "If any of those appeal... we can discuss details, and of course, the price."
@Heathen