The Erymanthian Boar was trapped in an endless dream. Memories of when it was a small piglet wrap around its mind and senses. The feeling of being next to its mother in tall grass while they bask in the sun kept the boar still and docile. The darkness of the tarp allowed the spell to continue seamlessly. Sunlight did not unweave Gaerra’s spell, but the auras of the humanoids it saw do. Years of magic being slung at groups of boars to breed the perfect weapon against human spellcasters have allowed later generations to see the auras of the blessed. Figures of various blues, greens, reds, yellows disrupted its peaceful dream earlier. The creature's instincts were kicking in. A taste for blood and flesh filled its mouth and mind. Then the white aura imprisoned it again back to infancy. The boar now sat in the dark, dreaming of the warm sun and its mother.

The boar felt something close to it. Something that made its fur stand, and a chill ran through its spine. Gaerra’s spell was strong enough to hold on to the simple-minded boar but not enough to override its self-preservation. The illusion cracked, and the boar began to growl aggressively. A force lifted the tarp, revealing a humanoid figure obscuring the image of the creature's mother. Instead of a colored aura, the figure was the embodiment of nothingness. A void that twisted space as it moved.

The void stood in front of the boar’s cage. The thing whispered something to the boar like the white aura had when it made the creature dream. The boar could feel a new dream replacing the presence of the boar’s mother. The boar was still a piglet, but it's alone. It saw a large butterfly with glowing blue wings floating around it. Its wings were mesmerizing, the spell in its mind that told the boar to “Remain calm little piglet. Your mother is with you.” shifted to “Be free, be happy, chase the pretty thing.”

The boar’s cage opened as if on its own, and the boar was free to live its dream.

****

It was when everyone stared at Minthea’s tiara that Denlo had snuck off. He didn’t care about the Mage or the adventurers that traveled to the village. Unlike his sister. Meisla didn’t even acknowledge him when Elder Canno and Elder Famma brought him back home.

Was she still angry with me? Denlo thought.

Meisla always got wrapped up in the moment. He remembered Meisla's insincerity when their mother had forced her to apologize for what she said about wishing Varlo was alive instead of him. The thing was, he agreed with her. Meisla’s words cut Denlo deep, but he couldn’t blame her. He didn’t want to.

Denlo leaned against the front door with his eyes closed. There wasn’t anybody outside. The villagers went home or went to finish whatever fieldwork needed to be done. He’d prefer the quiet of his room, but that would be the first place they would look when someone noticed his absence.

He could already imagine his father yelling at him, telling him to be a “leader” and to “stand tall” when what Denlo truly wanted was to break down. His father was at least kind enough not to compare him to Varlo. At least not to Denlo’s face. He could see the look of disappointment and pity whenever his father looked at him. He probably wished that Varlo had survived the war and not his pathetic other son.

If they knew why I survived and Varlo didn’t… they’d hate me even more. Tears started welling up in his eyes. Before despair could grip its claws into the young man, a strange cackle could be heard from a few feet away. Denlo looked up as he quickly wiped his eyes.

He thought he was alone.

He could see a figure in a black robe hunched low to the ground in front of the Erymanthian Boar’s cage in the short distance. Denlo could see the tarp over the cage had been removed, and the beast growled ferociously. The figure held out a gloved hand to the creature, light swirling above their hand.

“Who is that?” Denlo whispered.

He saw a butterfly take shape and fly around the boar. Yoviene’s beast stared at the thing above it, moving its head back and forth as it watched the butterfly.

Denlo’s legs moved on their own, his eyes glued to the construct as well. He failed to notice that the stranger twisted their gloved hand in front of the cage—the lock opening with a loud Click.

Hearing the sound, Denlo snapped out of his trance as he saw the figure back up as the boar stepped out of the cage and followed the butterfly. He heard the figure laugh impishly again as it controlled their creation, moving it in random patterns as the boar followed it.

“Hey!” Denlo shouted to the figure. “What are you doing!?”

The figure looked Denlo, but the young man could not make out the stranger’s face except for the glowing bright blue lights emitting where a person’s eyes are.

“The Mage,” Denlo said quietly, his heart sank in his chest, and his whole body surged with fear.

Before Denlo had a chance to discern the villain's appearance further, the Mage quickly dashed away. Losing the control of its master, the butterfly construct whizzed around the air wildly as the boar followed it mindlessly. It landed on the side of one of the houses, and the boar charged and slammed its body into a wall. A blood-curdling scream can be heard as the beast continued to chase the butterfly all over the village.