Ezgar stood at the shattered doorway, hunched over and seething, one clawed hand on his spine like a three-hundred-year-old chiropractor just told him "it's arthritis again."
But then—
The silhouette behind him grew.
Ezgar's eyes widened.
Finn's mind completely flatlined.
Because flying above, wings flapping with divine majesty, was…
a pig.
Not a monster pig. Not a demon pig.
A normal-ass farm pig—except with pure white, feathery angel wings.
It glowed softly, radiating holiness like a bacon-scented angel.
"Oh my spells… it's a Porkthriel!" one of the wizards cried, dropping to his knees.
'WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON?!' Finn screamed internally, eyes darting between everyone like they were all in on a joke he'd never get.
The pig latched onto Ezgar with shocking force.
"Get off me, you disgusting sky-rat!" Ezgar shrieked, flailing as the pig hurled him into the air like a squealing sack of demonic laundry. "HELP! SOMEONE—AAAGHHHHHH—"
And just like that, he was gone.
