Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Prologue

“…they’re getting closer!”

BANG!

The rough wooden wagon hit a rock, causing the inhabitants inside to jostle harshly. Some screamed, but quickly had their mouths covered by their friends. This terrain wasn’t meant to be traveled by cart, it was to rough and unpredictable. But the girl holding the reigns didn’t know what else to do. Her heart was beating so fast and hard against the interior of her ribs as they made their escape. The children she had rescued were under her care now, even if she wasn’t yet an adult herself. Soot from blazing fire covered every inch of them, but no one cared.

“Mira!” Pablos yelped, gasping in fear as figures also riding on horseback rounded the corner, thundering towards them with machetes and angry expressions.

“Más rápido, mi amigo,” she insisted to the old horse, one who had gotten them through so much hardship in the past, “please, vamos! Vamos!”

The horse did try to go faster, but it was difficult. And as they approached an embankment, the sound of rushing water made the driver gasp.

“Hold onto something!” She cried to her passengers, unable to stop the animal as it plowed right up the hill and into the rocky bank of a river. It was shallow and slow moving, but the cart couldn’t handle the pressure. The wheels cracked dangerously and the horses knees gave way with a horrible whine of pain. There were screams as the children were forced to abandoned ship, scattering in every possible direction and splashing down in the water.

Mira wasn’t quite so lucky.

She had to make sure everyone got out of the cart, but was forced to riverbed as something heavy landed on top of her. She screamed in pain, grasping at the pinned leg as the cart continued its roll, one of the support bars striking her in the head as her world went fuzzy for a second.

“…ira? Mira!”

Someone was shaking her shoulders, pulling at her blouse, trying to get her up again. Everything was a blur, and Mira had to blink away the confusion. The children were all gathered around her in the river, terrified out of their minds, crying and bleeding and shaking out of fear. Fighting back to her feet, Mira winced hard at the pain in her leg. She couldn’t put weight on it; was it broken?

“…what do we do?”

Huddled in the shallow river, Mira honestly had no idea. Whipping her head around, there were only vast mountains behind them in every direction, like a great, impenetrable wall. And ahead of them? The three horsemen had finally caught up.

“Run!” Mira told the kids, pushing them away from her and down the river, “run! Run now!”

The group knew better then to question their oldests orders. So they ran, tripping through the river and down the embankment. Where they would go now, Mira didn’t know. Exhaling, she limped towards their attackers. The ones who had murdered their caretakers, the ones who had burned their village and pillaged everything.

“They’re just children!” Mira cried, cringing with each hard step, “let them go! Take me instead!”

The horseman in the front sniffed under his brimmed hat, his horse whinnying and hopping on it’s back legs from stress, “take my life for theirs!”

Mira knew this was the end of the line. Fifteen years of life only to die in a river in the middle of nowhere. They would probably still go after the children after she was dead. But what else could she do? Falling to her knees in the river, the water swelled around her waist as the man urged his horse forward, raising his machete. Lifting her arms up over her head, Mira closed her eyes and waited for the pain.

And it came.

The blade sliced through the skin, deep and burning. But there was a ripple like an earthquake as she screamed, golden light piercing even the darkness her eyelids brought. Cracking one open, she could barely see through the blurry haze. The three horseman were struck backwards by some raw force, and the foliage creaked and groaned as it closed around the place they had just been. Was it magic? Some sort of trick of the light? Mira didn’t know. All she knew was that she wasn’t dead.

Clasping at one arm with her hand, warm blood from the gash gurgled up through her fingers as she swallowed a gasp of pain, hearing many pairs of feet splashing through the water towards her.

“Mira,” Bianca insisted, pulling at her shoulder to try and force her into standing, “you have to get up!”

“We have to go before they come back,” Pablos insisted as well, “we can’t stay here,” The other children, all of them, were safe. Pablos the second oldest, Bianca, Adrianne, Juan, Hernandez, and little Elena, the youngest. All a bit banged up from the crash, all a bit winded, but alive and extremely scared.

“I know,” Mira managed, fighting back her own discomfort. The effort to get back to her feet was tremendous, and Pablos (being the tallest) had to stand right beside her to act as a crutch.

“Where do we do now, Mira?” Adrianne asked, holding Elena close to her as the children waited for some kind of plan. Mira was about to admit that she didn’t know when something caught her eye. There was a huge crack in one of the mountains, the one closest to them, right on the other bank. It certainly hadn’t been there before, they would’ve seen it, “through there,” she said, nodding to the seemingly magic canyon, “it’s to narrow for horses, but we can get through on foot,”

“What about Cujo?” Hernandez wondered, glancing over his shoulder where the horse lay very still. Mira knew the animal was already dead but wouldn’t say. The children had nearly seen her slaughtered; they didn’t need to know their horse had probably died of a broken neck, or drowned in the shallow water.

“We leave him here; it’s peaceful enough. He can rest,”

And so the children all huddled close as they made their way across the river and towards the very narrow mountain passage. It was long, and the rocks on either side cast deep indigo shadows. But Mira merely grabbed the hands closest to her as Pablos helped her navigate the rocky terrain. It was horrible, and she was aching, but the kids came first. The kids always came first.

“I can see light,” Juan, Hernandez’s brother in all but blood, whispered, as though talking any louder might make the mountain come crumbling down on them, “Mira there’s light!”

“Then there’s something on the other side,” she agreed wearily, hoping they weren’t walking straight off a cliff into a pit of nothingness. But she wouldn’t voice this worry to her brood; they had enough things to think about right now. For a little while longer they navigated, dragging scratched up hands along the walls, and drinking water which trickled from craggy outcrops. The soot on their skin turned to blackish mud from the moisture in the air, sticky and warm. Mira couldn’t decide if what she felt dripping down the side of her face was grit or blood.

As they neared the end of their little journey, Mira felt something odd twist in the pit of her stomach.

“Get behind me,” she ordered, “I’ll go first,”

“But you’re hurt…”

“I’m fine. Just do as I say,”

And so they did, the children keeping close to both her legs and each other as they slowly emerged into the light. Lifting a hand to shield her eyes, Mira felt a bit like throwing up. Her body was finally out of adrenaline, and reacting badly to her injuries. But she fought to stay standing, keeping the kids behind her as they walked through lush grasses.

“…un paraíso,” Elena whispered by her leg, looking over the beautiful, sprawling valley before them. Elena was right. The grass was green and a wind was blowing. It tossed Mira’s dark curls as she exhaled deeply in relief. Unfortunately, that relief didn’t last long.

“Watch out,” Pablos said suddenly, grabbing Bianca and Juan to keep them close. Many heads were bobbing towards them, probably to investigate the mysterious crack in the mountain. Turning to look at it, Mira was surprised to find only solid rock. The passage they had just traversed was gone. She hadn’t imagined it…no, that was impossible.

“Mira…?” Pablos whined, cowering in fear as many faces stopped a few feet away to stare at them. For a moment, the many eyes felt…familiar, like Mira knew them from some kind of far away dream. But she shook that feeling away quickly as she lifted her hands in surrender and as a symbol of peace. They were coated entirely with blood, and more dripped down her arms in a grizzly display, but she raised them none the less.

“P-Please,” she croaked though a chest shuttering with withheld tears, “please don’t hurt them, t-they’re just children. We don’t…d-don’t mean any harm,”

Mira felt her chest heave as her world suddenly spun out. Everything went sideways as she thudded to the grass in a wounded heap, gasping harshly as the wind was knocked out of her.

“Mirabel!” Adrianne shrieked, along with many other childish voices, “Mira! Mirabel!” 

Mira could feel her body being shaken by pairs of small hands and, and heard voices begging her to keep her eyes open, but the haze in her blood and mind was warm, and she soon was fully engulfed in sleep.

Chapter Text

Julieta

No one in the Encanto was prepared for the mountain to crack. It was a bright and beautiful day, just like every other before it. The townspeople were going about their business, and at the house of the Madrigal family, all was routine. For Julieta Madrigal, her place was in the kitchen. Antonio’s gift ceremony was in two days, and that wasn’t much time to prepare the amount of food Abuela wanted for the ceremony. Everyone would be eating well for days. She was just removing a fresh batch of Empanadas from the fire when the rattling started.

Casita’s tiles clinked and the roof shook as the ground below them rumbled, like the very earth itself was angry. Dropping what she was doing in surprise, Julieta turned to the open window to see for herself what was going on. The sky was still bright, and the day was still beautiful, but a a shockwave of something familiar raced across the landscape and passed straight though her chest. The woman then watched in awestruck horror as one of the mountains which protected their Encanto cracked in half. It was a noise that reverberated through the whole valley, like a thousand fireworks going off at once. Julieta hoped Dolores was in her soundproof room, or at least had enough mind to cover her ears.

“…Julieta!”

Pepa’s scream broke through the chaos as Julieta turned and ran out into the courtyard where the family was already gathering. In the topmost window, Abuela was tending to the family candle, watching with severe eyes as it’s flame warped dangerously.

“Mama, what’s going on?” Isabela asked, running to her mother who embraced her quickly as the house continued to rattle.

“I don’t know, mija,”

“Mama!”

Antonio ran fearfully to Pepa, who was already thundering from stress. And soon the rest of the family had all gathered together, holding each other and waiting for the danger to cease. It did eventually, the tremors quieting down, but it felt like the whole valley had been picked up and shaken just to stir things up.

“I hear something,” Dolores said, peeking out from under her fathers arm where she had been knelt down, both hands clapped over her ears.

“How can you after all that?” Camilo complained, only to get a hard slap to the head from Félix, “ow, what?”

“It’s coming from…that way,” she insisted, pointing in the direction of the mountain which had only just split apart, “someone’s coming,”

“Find out who, and quickly;” Abuela said from the top window, sighing as the candle finally steadied out and continued burning as usual, “we cannot have any dangers coming into our home. Especially not so close to Antonio’s ceremony.”

“Stay here, mama,” Luisa said, releasing her father who had taken shelter under her great size, “I’ll check it out,”

“Absolutely not,” Julieta said firmly, “it’s safety in numbers,”

“I can lead us there,” Dolores whispered, “they’re getting closer,”

“And I can change into someone with a bit more…muscle,” shifting into Luisa, the girl nodded in approval as Julieta exhaled softly and rolled her eyes.

“Ok, here’s what we do. Isabela, Pepa and Fèlix stay here with Antonio and Abuela. Make sure if anyone comes to the house for help we do what we can,”

“Sí, Julieta,” Pepa agreed, pulling Antonio closer to her, who was now getting rained on as the woman wept over his safety.

“I will accompany the children…”

“My love what can I do?”

“Agustín, amore, stay here and help Isabela calm the town down. I trust you to do your very best,”

“Ok,” the man agreed without argument, kissing the woman’s forehead, “Be safe,”

And so Julieta, Luisa, and Camilo were guided away from the Casita by Dolores, who charged forward at an impressive speed. The closer they got to the mountain though, the more confused her expression became as she slowed her pace.

“Dolores?” Julieta asked, catching up to the girl and placing a hand on her shoulder, “what’s wrong?”

“I’m not…sure,” she admitted, “but they are right up ahead,”

“I’ll crush ‘em,” Luisa said, pounding her fist against her open palm as Camilo (still looking like his cousin), mimicked the motion.

“We will do no such thing,” Julieta chided them, “let’s see what’s going on first. Camilo, stop being your cousin for a moment,”

“But it could be dangerous, Mama,” Luisa complained, only to get a motherly wave of silence as Julieta began her final steps up the side of the ridge. She wanted to see who had come through the cracks in the mountain for herself, before any pummeling could happen.

“…watch out,”

The voice was that of a young boy, and Julieta glanced up with a huff of exertion just as he pulled two others behind him. For a moment, the world was entirely still. The crack in the mountain had sealed itself in the second between one blink and another, leaving only a ragged group of young ones cowering in the grass. But it wasn’t the abnormality of the situation that caught Julieta off guard. It was the eldest of them all, protecting the others with her body and staring right at her.

Mirabel?

“Mira…?” The boy whispered in panic, hiding behind the elders hip as she struggled to speak up.

“P-please,” she croaked finally, lifting her hands as they shook violently, “please don’t hurt them. T-they’re just children,”

She was coated to her elbows in a thick layer of blood, still dripping fresh from a slash mark which crossed both forearms. Her eyes were bleary and unfocused, and more drips of red curled down from a gash at her hairline. She was struggling to stand, only doing so to protect the many small, haggard, bleeding faces hiding behind her legs, “we don’t…d-don’t mean any harm…”

And then she collapsed, thudding hard to the ground as the children shrieked in panic and surrounded her instantly.

“Mirabel!” One of the girls cried, desperately shaking the elder as blood smeared off onto her tiny hands, “Mira! Mirabel! Wake up! Please, wake up!”

Forced out of her stupor at seeing her…her daughter, again…Julieta moved to step closer only for the boy — the second eldest it seemed — to block her. He glared, baring his teeth and lifting bloodied knuckles into a fighting pose.

“Stay away from her!” He growled, letting his eyes fall on all of them in turn, “y-you all stay away from my sister! Go away!”

“We just want to help…” Julieta said softly, backing up half a step as the boy snarled angrily and drew a tiny fishing knife from his hip.

“No! Go away! Strangers are mean, they are dangerous and they hurt us. Leave us alone or I’ll-I’ll cut you!”

Julieta didn’t have anything to say, but her heart leapt in panic as the girl closest to Mirabel grabbed her face.

“P-Pablos! Pablos she’s not…I can’t…” pressing her ear to Mirabel’s chest, the girl blanched and became very pale, “she’s not breathing! Mira, wake up!”

“Pablos,” Julieta said, drawing the boys attention as her heart shattered for him. He was clearly trying to be strong, but his eyes were glistening with tears. He was still just a child, “my name is Julieta. I can help her, but you have to let me,”

“How? It was…it was a miracle that she wasn’t killed b-before…she saved us, she should’ve…she’s dying…”

“Pablos, I can heal her. I promise I can. But we have to go, and you have to trust us to keep you safe,”

The boy glanced down at his companions, teary eyed and afraid. They were waiting on his decision, clutching onto Mirabel’s clothing like a security blanket. Sniffling, he nodded, and that was all the permission Julieta needed.

“Luisa…!”

“On it,” she said without needing any extra explanation, hurrying forward as the kids stared up at her with gigantic eyes, “watch out, kids,” she said, using all of her gentleness to scoop Mirabel’s limp form from the grass.

“We have to go quickly,”

And so it was that each member of the party grabbed a few little ones. Dolores picked up the youngest into her arms, who immediately tucked her face into her blouse and cried, while the other girls followed at her side, clinging to her available hand. The boys watched in wonder as Camilo transformed into a stronger man before their eyes, plucking the two up from the ground before hurrying down the hill. Pablos kept to Julieta’s heels, all of them sprinting back towards the house.

“Casita!” She yelled as they got closer, “Casita I need ingredients! Broth, vegetables, anything! We have an emergency!”

The rooftop shingles rattled slightly in recognition of the request as the house flew open the doors, allowing the group of refugees entry. There were no explanations given to anyone still in the house as Julieta hurried into the kitchen where Luisa swiped everything from the table onto the floor, and gently laid Mirabel down onto it. As Julieta had asked, Casita provided ingredients for a hot soup, even going as far as to start the water boiling.

Working on memory and adrenaline alone, Julieta made the fastest soup she could, chopping the veggies into very small slivers and throwing them and some flavor powder into the boiling pot.

“Mama…” Luisa called.

“I know, I know, mi vida, just a minute more,” giving the broth a single stir, Julieta deemed it good enough as she dunked a cup into the water, uncaring of the heat which scorched her hand at the action. Dripping across the kitchen, Julieta felt Mirabel’s pulse and sighed in relief. She was still breathing, if only just barely, “lean her up a bit, Luisa,”

Doing as her mother asked, Julieta swirled the broth and blew on it just for an extra motherly touch as she carefully let it slip between the unconscious girls lips. For a moment, she worried her remedy came to late. She couldn’t bring someone back from the dead. But her heart gave a great sigh as deep wounds began to slowly stitch back together. She was healing.

“She’ll be ok,” Julieta managed, watching the girls leg snap back into place where it belonged. It would take a bit of time for her to fully recover and wake up, her injuries were numerous and severe, but she would live. Wiping sweat from her her forehead, Julieta smiled and turned slightly towards the entryway. It was filled with very small, keen observers. The children had all gathered around Dolores, a few hiding in her skirt, while the youngest stared from between her arms. They all looked…mystified.

“Dolores, could you help get them cleaned up?” Julieta asked, “I’ll finish here, then we can make a proper meal,”

“Ok, tía,” she whispered, tugging on the little hands she held as many eyes looked up at her, “come, niñitos. We’ll leave tía Julieta to her work,”

Watching the group get gently herded out, only Pablos and Luisa remained.

“You should go with them,” Julieta said to the little boy, who still looked deeply perturbed, “she’ll still be here when you get back,”

Pablos looked ready to argue, but Luisa’s shift of position nearby made him rethink. Hesitantly, he turned and left to follow the others, leaving only two in the kitchen. The silence was thick, and the question between mother and daughter was obvious.

“Mama…is that really…?”

“I don’t know yet, Luisa,” Julieta answered immediately, frowning, “I don’t know how this could be. It’s been so long. But we’ll know when she wakes up,”

Seeing Casita roll a basin of water and cloth across the tiles, Julieta nodded quietly in thanks as she exhaled and rubbed her hands together. She hadn’t been ready to pull her own…daughter…from death today. Noticing Luisa pick at the bloodstains on her blouse, the elder woman nodded towards the door.

“Go get cleaned up Luisa, then I want you to watch the house. Make sure whatever…or whoever did this didn’t make it into Encanto. These kids are obviously petrified; they are our responsibility now,”

“Yes mama,”

“And Luisa,” Julieta spoke up as her middle child approached the doorway, “I love you,” 

Luisa smiled and nodded, quietly leaving the kitchen to get changed. This left Julieta alone with her thoughts as she gently grabbed the water basin and began to clean Mirabel of her wounds. It was a long and tedious process, and the mother couldn’t help but wonder how this could be happening.

Mirabel had vanished when she was just five years old, right after her ceremony. They had all been distraught at her lack of gift, but no one expected Bruno to…Julieta paused her hands. The thought of her brother made her queasy. He had stolen her daughter away that night, Abuela had seen him do it. The man had never returned, Mirabel remained missing, and Julieta feared the worst. She still mourned under candlelight every single night, wishing things had been different. She wasn’t as happy anymore, and though she used her gift for the good of the town, it never seemed as effective as it used to be.

But here Mirabel was, laid out before her in a crumbled, wounded heap. Her dark hair was the same as it was when she was a girl, just longer and unkempt. And though she had only a brief look into her warm brown eyes on the ridge, Julieta knew the truth right away. Her lost daughter - her Mirabel -  had returned to the Encanto against all odds.

But with each swipe of the washcloth, the elder woman revealed more and more old scars. Some were small and barely noticeable, others were large and white against her warm skin. With each she uncovered, Julieta felt more and more angry. Had Mirabel been home she could’ve healed all these wounds; she could’ve protected her daughter, gift or no. It worried her how much damage there was on her skin; where had she come from to be so worn in at only 15 years old? And the children she was fighting so hard to protect, who were they? What had happened for all of them to end up like this?

By the time Julieta was done, she had gone through two bowls of water, each having turned a horrible murky brown. Mirabel still hadn’t stirred, but her wounds were almost entirely healed, with only small bits of magic still tending to exterior cuts and scrapes. With Luisa no longer present, Julieta took it upon herself to get her daughter into a proper bed. Casita was kind enough to make an entirely new staircase so she didn’t have to walk quite so far back to her own room.

“Gracias, Casita,” she mumbled, slipping both arms under the girls back and hoisting her up against her chest. She expected Mirabel to be heavier at 15, but was surprised and worried all over again about how light she was. Julieta was sure there was no meat on her bones at all. Heading up the stairs, Casita carefully rearranged the house as to avoid as many people as possible. Like it knew this moment was somehow sacred. At the top of the steps, Julieta was surprised to find a door she hadn’t ever seen.

“Casita?” She asked, “what’s this?”

The door swung open to reveal a brand new room, long and open like the cathedral in town. There were beds set up for all the new children in the house, and the windows let in plenty of natural light. Casita had stolen many old toys from the elder kids rooms and the nursery, placing them in various spots around the dormitory. The biggest bed of them all was draped in a floral blanket, already pulled aside and ready to be slept in. Julieta smiled warmly, “how thoughtful. I’m sure the little ones will appreciate a room for themselves,”

Casita squeaked it’s hinges as Julieta very gently laid Mirabel down, tucking a dark curl away from her exhaustion bruised eyelids. Even with her magical healing, the teen still looked drawn out and sickly. All of the children did. They were small and dirty, skittish and (in Pablos case) protective. Frowning wearily, Julieta leaned down and gave Mirabel a light kiss on the forehead, just as she had the night her little girl disappeared. Pulling the blanket over her and smoothing the creases, Julieta began worrying all over again.

How had any of this happened?

Chapter Text

Dolores

Dolores Madrigal was used to hearing everything. She heard what people said even if she didn’t mean to; heard them as they suddenly remembered to whisper even though she could hear that just as well. Sometimes it felt like her gift was more of a curse, hearing everything all the time whether she wanted to or not. Dolores was used to children being the noisiest of the lot; noisy walkers, noisy eaters, noisy talkers. Just noisy all around. She didn’t particularly like children. But these kids?

These kids were silent.

Their breaths were so shallow Dolores could hear their heartbeats better, and they walked with a light-footedness she had only ever heard from Camilo while sneaking a midnight snack, or the rats moving about in the walls. The youngest girl of them all, Elena, refused to let go of her blouse, still clinging to her like a baby monkey on its mother’s back. She had placed a thumb in her mouth, and was now sleeping lightly in her arms. Dolores didn’t necessarily consider herself a maternal type, she wasn’t very good at connecting to kids like tía Julieta, but this group had attached to her the minute they saw her.

Why?

Feeling a light tug on her skirt, Dolores glanced down from where she stood supervising the fountain used for washing in their Casita. One of the older girls was staring up at her, Bianca, Dolores recalled overhearing as the children mumbled to each other.

“I can take her if you want,” she whispered, “she’s missing her mami. She’s still so little,”

“Oh, no it’s ok,” Dolores admitted, swaying back and forth as the little one slept on, “I don’t mind. Is everything ok?”

“Yeah. My hands hurt, but we fell out of a wagon and hit a bunch of rocks,” Bianca shrugged, holding out her palms to reveal the deep gashes from sharp stones. Dolores winced, remembering her own unfortunate experiences with deceptive river beds and roadways.

“Tía Julieta can fix that,” she said quietly, “do the others have scratches too?”

“Some. Pablos has a big one on his elbow, and Hernandez and Juan are comparing to see who will have the coolest scar,” Bianca said, rolling her eyes, “boys are weird,”

Dolores chuckled lightly at the comment and the girl quieted, shuffling her feet and pursing her lips. It appeared as though she wanted to say something else, but either didn’t know how, or was debating whether she should, “um…Señorita Estrella?” She said finally, “Does everyone in this house have…magic?”

Blinking at being addressed by a name that was not her own, Dolores glanced at the other children sitting by the fountain. They were finished washing, looking better without the black soot covering their arms and faces. But their eyes were…oddly intense for children. They were obviously curious, wondering about what they saw but unwilling to ask. Either Bianca had volunteered to do the deed, or was coerced into it.

“Um…everyone but my Abuela, and my Cousin Antonio who isn’t old enough yet,” she answered, surprised that the girl had caught on so quickly to their magical gifts. But she supposed seeing someone shapeshift, and watching soup bring someone back from near death might clue one in. Bianca’s eyes widened in wonder, sparking like a bright summer night.

“That means you’re magic too?” she asked, her tone still very low despite it being a casual conversation, “what can you do?”

“Oh…I hear things,” Dolores admitted with a small shrug, “it’s not all that noticeable like Luisa, who is strong, or Camilo who can turn into something else,”

“Can you tell if Juan and Hernandez are talking about me?” She whispered in awe, “they’re always talking,”

In all honesty, Dolores couldn’t hear a thing from these kids beyond what Bianca was saying. How or why they were so quiet, she wasn’t entirely sure. It made something akin to unease writhe in her gut, but she batted it down. Now wasn’t the time for that.

“Bianca,” the middle girl called softly, Adrianne if Dolores remembered correctly, “can you come braid my hair? I’m still no good at it.”

“Coming,”

“Bianca, hold on,” Dolores spoke up, causing the girl to pause and turn. Hesitating, the Madrigal tilted her head in question, “why did you…call me Estrella?”

“Oh, that’s easy,” the girl said, smiling lightly, “you’re pretty like one,”

And that was it. The arrow through her heart. Dolores felt her fondness grow for the small group of strays now occupying their house. Watching Juan and Hernandez splash in the water, and the girls braid each other’s hair, it almost seemed like nothing was wrong at all. Pablos, the eldest for now, looked worried and was leaning over his knees, bouncing a foot while keeping an eye on the others. He was worried about his hermana, that wasn’t hard to see.

Feeling Elena shift slightly in her arms, Dolores sighed as she stroked the girls dark braid, pursing her lips. Of course she heard what Luisa and tía were saying in the kitchen, but it was a bit hard to believe. Mirabel Madrigal was…gone, she had been since she was five. Dolores had only been 12 when it happened, but she remembered how loud everyone was, how angry and sad. She heard tía and tío crying every night since then. Even Isabela and Luisa couldn’t seem to lift their spirits anymore.

Dolores of course hadn’t ever said anything, but she knew something weird had gone on that night. She wasn’t sure what, as her power wasn’t fully developed yet. But something felt off about the whole situation. Of course no one ever actually listened nor cared what Dolores had to say regarding anything, so it was being labeled as a gossip. So she kept her mouth shut and just…never spoke of it again. But now, Mirabel was back, and something still felt off.

Quirking her head, Dolores blinked as she heard the front door open and voices speaking. Isabela and her father had returned, as had her own family from wherever they had been. Frowning, Dolores felt a protective urge well up inside of her. These kids were obviously pretty spooked still, currently without their protector and in a house filled with magic and strangers. And though she loved her family deeply, they were still…a lot, sometimes.

“Hey, niñitos,” she spoke, drawing their attention, “come with me,”

Dolores expected more questions to be asked, or even a bit of resistance, but they all tottered up to her quietly, holding their scratches with bare hands and picking at scabs, “let’s go into the kitchen, maybe I can find you a snack while we wait for tía to come back,”

The idea of food was obviously something exciting, as the children flocked around her waist as Dolores quickly herded them across the courtyard, away from her family who drew ever nearer with each passing step. Upon entering the kitchen, the kids watched in awe as the mess from earlier was cleaned up, and the day table was extended to sit all of them comfortably.

“You didn’t say the house was magic, to,” Adrianne hissed to Hernandez, who just shrugged in a ‘how was I supposed to know’ sort of way.

“Everyone sit down, let me see what I can find in here,”

The kids quickly did as they were told, easily the most obedient little ones Dolores had ever seen. That or they were simply all anxious to be fed (and or see the magic work on themselves). The only thing in the kitchen was Julieta’s leftover broth, and Delores frowned at it. Would they like it? She wasn’t a very good cook herself. Shrugging, Casita helped her out with the bowls as she held Elena with one arm, using the other to scoop ladles of soup into each. “Alright, niñitos, it’s not much, but this should help with those cuts,”

Handing a bowl to each child, Dolores expected them to automatically start eating. But they didn’t, merely blinked up at her expectantly.

“You’re supposed to eat to,” Adrianne whispered her direction. Once again, Dolores felt befuddled. Family meals in their house were in the mornings for breakfast, and that was more of a ‘daily meeting’ for Abuela. Meals were scattered usually, some being home and some being not, doing chores, done with chores, in the middle of a chore. These kids had obviously been taught to sit and eat…together.

“If you all insist,” Dolores agreed weakly, ladling up her own soup as Casita added another chair to the bunch. The minute she sat down, the kids got right to it. It was…honestly adorable to watch as their eyes grew wide as their cuts and bruises mended themselves.

“It’s magic, real magic just like in Mira’s stories,” Juan said, “I guess no cool scar though,”

“You have plenty already, Juan,” Pablos complained, “I thought you liked the one in your eyebrow?”

“I do,” the boy complained, finishing his portion without a single qualm, “but I wanted another big one, like Mira has,”

“Mira doesn’t like hers, Donkey-Face,” Adrianne said hotly, “she thinks it’s ugly,”

“Well I think it’s cool,” Juan announced, “and Hernandez does to,”

The boys practically twin nodded vigorously, and soon the children were dissolved into conversation so nonsensical it made Dolores struggle not to smile. She was so distracted she didn’t hear tía Julieta return to the kitchen.

“Dolores?”

“Oh, tía,” she greeted, “sorry, I…didn’t hear you,”

That was a first.

“I see you fed our guests,” the woman said with a smile, “they ate the broth I made?”

“No problems here,” the younger woman admitted, “seemed good enough to open them up a bit a least. I don’t know about the little one, she doesn’t seem interested in anything but sleeping,”

“Señora Corazón?”

Tía blinked down the table at Pedros, and Dolores made a curious ‘hm’ in her throat. She supposed this was how the children chose to communicate with elder people they didn’t know well, by using nicknames. She was Estrella - star - because they thought she was pretty. And now tía was Corazón - heart - because she had healed their wounds.

“Yes, pequeño? What is it?”

“Is hermana ok? Will she get better soon?”

Tía sighed deeply and nodded, mindlessly tidying up the kitchen even though it didn’t really need to be tidied as Casita had taken care of it.

“She’ll be fine, just needs to rest in quiet for a bit. And everyone here is fine? All healed up?”

The children held out their hands to expose unblemished palms, and Pablos held up his cleared elbow. Tía nodded in acceptance as Dolores smiled, still bouncing a leg slightly for Elena who hadn’t even stirred. Dolores could hear her snoring, so she wasn’t worried. Just didn’t know how tired the little one had been upon arriving. They were probably all tired. Tilting her head, Dolores frowned at the unhappy things Abuela was saying upstairs. She wasn’t pleased about strangers in the Casita.

“Abuela wants to meet them,” she said out loud to tía, who paused what she was doing an cringed, as thrilled about that idea as Dolores was.

“I suppose it would be best,” Julieta agreed, wiping her hands on her apron mindlessly. Her thoughts were obviously elsewhere, not that Dolores could really blame her. And so the children were loosely tidied up, and Dolores allowed Bianca to take Elena off her chest (she automatically missed the little one), as they brought them out from the kitchen. Waiting in the courtyard for a moment, Dolores could feel the unease in the children’s young minds. They knew already there were other people living in the house, but they had only met a few of them.

“Julieta,” Abuela asked sternly, coming down the steps from her room looking deeply concerned, “strangers in our Casita? In our Encanto? Why have you brought them here?”

“Mama, they are just children,” Julieta complained lightly, “they needed healing, and a place to feel safe,”

“They came through the crack in the mountain on their own?” Abuela asked incredulously. Tía rolled her eyes in annoyance, and Dolores felt hands grasping  at her skirt. The kids were huddled behind her, obviously intimidated by Abuela’s stern presence. How to explain to them that she wasn’t really a mean lady? Just…looked like it sometimes.

“They were brought here by their hermana,” Tía explained, “she was wounded severely, and is resting upstairs,”

“We must protect our home first, mi vida,” Abuela complained, “it was reckless to bring them here,”

“But Mama…”

Abuela held up a silencing hand as she approached the kids, looking down on them with a sculpted brow. Pablos and Bianca were pushed out from Dolores’s protection, no doubt the delegated speakers being the two oldest of the group.

“We we’re being chased, Matrona, away from our village,” Pablos explained softly, not looking Abuela in the eyes but rather at the bottom hem of her dress, “they would kill us if we stopped,”

“And how did you come across our Encanto?” She puzzled, “it’s our home and safe place,”

“It was like magic,” Bianca spoke up, “Mira wanted to protect us, give us time to run. But we didn’t want to leave. They were going to k-kill her…”

“There was this light, and it shook everything,” Pablos continued, “it chased the evil men away. It opened a passage in the rocks that led us here,”

Abuela stared at the children for a long moment, glancing up at the family candle. The flame danced on its wick, glowing as it had been for years. Dolores wished she could hear the thoughts going on in her head.

“I suppose there is no other option for now,” she said finally, sighing a bit as her shoulders relaxed, “but you will not get in the way of mi familias duties to this community, do you understand?”

“Yea Matrona,” all of them chorused at once.

“Well. I suppose that’s it then,” she mused, “you will be introduced properly to the familia at dinnertime,”

The kids nodded in acceptance as Abuela swept by them, glancing at Julieta.

“Is there…anything else you wish to tell me, mija?”

Julieta opened her mouth to speak, but Dolores (bravely) spoke up, having heard something from upstairs.

“Tía,” she whispered, drawing the other woman’s attention.

“Yes sobrina, what is it?”

“I think she’s awake,”

Chapter Text

Mirabel

The first thing Mira felt was warmth. All encompassing warmth that spread from her chest down into her toes. Normally the room they slept in was chilly; it’s why she had sewn so many blankets. Shifting, Mira winced a bit and exhaled. Her entire body was sore, not painfully so, it was hardly excruciating, but enough to be noticeable.

What happened?

It took a second for her to start remembering. They had been escaping from…the horseman, the kids. Oh god, had they made it? Mirabel’s eyes snapped open suddenly as she jerked into a sitting position. She had no idea where she was, the kids weren’t with her, they weren’t in the room. Mira’s heart was thundering in her chest as she blearily kicked out from under the blanket and stumbled to her feet, which ended with her on her knees. The girls eyesight had never been great; always like looking through foggy glass, but she couldn’t let that stop her. She had to find them…stand up!

Hearing the tell tale creak of a door opening, Mirabel forced her legs to work. They felt like wooden stilts at the moment, and her world was in a dizzying, panicky haze. Find the kids, get them out of here. Find the kids, make sure they’re all safe.

“…Mirabel?” Someone said nearby, a voice she didn’t recognize right away, “stop, amor, stop, it’s okay. Calm down,”

“Where…where are they?” She managed, “the kids, my hermanos, where…”

“The children are safe, they are all here with me. Please, just take a breath,”

Mirabel didn’t know the voice, didn’t know the dark blur of a person standing before her with both hands on her shoulders, but she felt…comforted, and slowly inhaled and exhaled shakily.

“That’s it, mija,” she urged, “it’s alright. Everything’s fine, you’re safe here,”

Feeling able to breathe again, Mirabel nodded and swallowed thickly.

“I’m ok,” she managed, “I’m ok now,”

“Good. You shouldn’t be up so suddenly, your body is tired,”

“But…”

“Please rest. I’ll let the children in to see you, but not like this,”

Mirabel wanted to argue, but the strangers words were true. Her body felt heavy and she was exhausted. And last she checked, she was in no state to be standing at all. Nodding hesitantly in agreement, hands assisted her back into the bed as the blanket was pulled up over her legs. Once again settled down, Mirabel could see the woman smile though her haze, “I’ll let them in now,”

For a second there was only sounds of shuffling feet, the click of a door, and soft talking just outside. Then, in a cacophony of noise, there was a wash of relief.

“Mirabel!”

A weight landed right on her chest, arms snaking tightly around her waist. More came to follow it, each colored blob tearful and happy to see her. The kids were all safe. All fine.

“I was so worried,” Mira breathed, touching the face closest to her, “who is that? Is that…that’s Hernandez,”

“You can see my colors, Mira,” the boy laughed, “you know it’s me,”

“We thought you were dead,” Pedros said, being the one who had jump tackled her first, “there was so much blood…”

“I’m ok. Were you a tough guy while I was gone?”

“He threatened strangers with his knife!” Adrianne said, causing Mira to snort and Pablos to whine.

“I was protecting the family,”

“What were you going to do, fillet them to death?” Mira chortled, reaching out to each kid and caressing their faces. She didn’t feel any scratches or wounds on any of them, and couldn’t see anything through her usual head fog that stood out, “is everyone ok?”

“Señora Corazón healed us with soup,” Adrianne whispered next to her ear, “she brought you back with magic, Mira. Real magic,”

“Magic?” Lifting a brow, the girl frowned. She couldn’t remember much after everything went dark, just that warmth which still pulsed through her. Did she take what the little ones said at face value? Was it truly magic? Hearing the door open again, Mira glanced up curiously. The woman was back; the one who had helped her earlier. She couldn’t make out any details, just that she seemed kinda familiar now. Her dress was a cool tone, with a big splotch on the skirt which was probably an apron, and her skin was warm like hers.

“I brought something,” she said, “I think you might need these,”

Feeling the gift as it was placed into her hands, Mira squinted at the object. Though it was a blur, they looked like wire frames. Rolling them over in her hands and exploring their shape, Bianca took them from her lap and very gently slipped them onto her nose. She had to blink. Once. Then twice.

“Woah,”

Her head fog was gone, leaving the world crisp like she’d never seen. Blobs of color became more defined, faces became obvious, her surroundings felt smaller and less threatening. She could see.

“You look funny with glasses,” Juan said, grunting as Bianca elbowed him hard in the rubs, “ow, what?”

“Shut up, stupid head. She looks perfect,”

“Huh, talk about magic,” lifting the frames up and down to watch the world go blurry then clear, Mirabel frowned. Did she just need a pair of glasses all this time?

“Niñitos, I’d like to speak with Mirabel alone for a moment,”

There was a chorus of ‘awe’s’ from the brood, but they scrambled from her lap anyway, excitedly pulling one another out into the hall. Pablos, as expected, was the last to leave. As the door shut behind them, the room became quiet again. With her glasses on and the world cleared up, the woman standing nearby looked really, really familiar. Mira couldn’t quite place her finger on it though. After all she had been at the orphanage since she was 5. And how much did 5 year olds remember about all the people they met?

“Thank you for taking care of them, Señora,” Mira said finally, still playing with the frames on her face. Hopefully it didn’t become a habit, “I do my best to protect them, but the world is…cruel, sometimes,”

Fussing with her hands, Mirabel sighed heavily. They had lost their village and their home, and had nearly lost her, all in a single night. And though it wasn’t the best home ever (it was actually kind of awful), they didn’t have anywhere else to go. What were they going to do?

“Mirabel,” the woman said, softly, warmly, as she sat at the edge of the bed. Her eyes were all shiny, and she looked tired, “do you…know who I am?”

Mira stared for a long time. She studied the woman’s face, traced the curve of her lips and the curls of her hair. She knew who this woman was. She stared at a similar face in the mirror every day. But her brain was in denial…it wasn’t true. It was a lie.

“I was told all my life…that my true familia didn’t want me,” Mirabel said finally, clenching the sheets in her hands as she looked away from the face so full of gentleness before her, “I was told I was a mistake, a burden, something simply not good enough to care for. That I should just ‘stop dreaming they’d come back and be useful, Mirabel,’” she said in a tone so reminiscent of Matrona, wagging a finger in the air just like she used to do, “so I did. I stopped trying, and hoping, and wasting my days waiting for something to change. And things got easier, and I could just…” tracing the lines in her palms, the girl reached under her glasses to rub her eyes, “why didn’t you want me anymore?”

“Oh…Mirabel,”

Mira felt the arms around her, warm and loving and she melted. Her eyes stung and her lips wobbled and she felt five all over again, “we always wanted you, mi amor. We looked; we looked every day and have never stopped looking. But you were…gone, and we couldn’t…I thought…” feeling the embrace tighten, the woman inhaled and exhaled as she pressed a kiss to Mirabel’s head, her voice so filled with anguish that it made her heart constrict painfully, “you were taken from us. You were stolen. And I haven’t stopped loving you a single moment since then. I’m so sorry.”

“Mama,”

The hug was long and desperately needed for both. There were a lot of tears, and many minutes just spent in one another’s arms. Mirabel remembered spending more then her share of cold nights with the younger children in the orphanage, holding them just like this, promising things would get better when she knew it was a lie. Was this a lie, to? Was she lying to herself?

“…you know…” she said after a while, wiping at her wet eyes with an arm and the heel of her palm, “my siblings might start calling you Abuela when they find out about this. Are you ready for that?”

Mama laughed, running a hand through Mirabel’s dark curls.

“I think I can learn to live with it. They were ready to fight for you, you know. Pablos pointed a knife at me. Did you teach him that?”

“Who me? Never,” Mirabel chuckled, “the kids all have their own…issues; it’s a rough time not being wanted. But we get through it ok. I’d do anything for them…”

And you almost did. Sitting up from her mothers lap, Mirabel lifted her arms and turned them around wearily. There was nothing there, not even a scar. Machete wounds didn’t normally just vanish. “Adrianne said it was magic soup,” she mused, glancing at her Mama who was still fighting with tears.

“You don’t remember?”

“Well…I feel like I should remember something as bonkers as magic soup. But then, there’s a lot of things I don’t really remember from back then,” she admitted with a weak shrug, “like these,” tapping the edge of her glasses, “I’ve been walking around blind for my whole life. And something like magic? Feels like a thing I should remember,”

“It does,” Mama said, though it was slow and quiet like she was debating something in her mind, “Mirabel, our family has always been…different. I’m not sure how much you remember or at all, but a long time ago…”

And so came the story. The story about Abuela Madrigal and the candle, about the Encanto’s miracle and the children’s magical gifts. Her lack of one.

“…we don’t know why you weren’t given a gift. But then you were taken away and suddenly it didn’t even matter. You weren’t in my arms, and I felt so empty.”

“I’m sorry, mama…”

“No. No apologies from you,” the woman insisted, sitting up and inhaling deeply as though swallowing her tears, “this wasn’t your fault, corazón. None of it is your fault. You’re here now, and that’s all that matters,”

Mirabel felt like there was something her Mama wasn’t saying, but didn’t push the subject anymore as she stood and smoothed out her dress, “now, you deserve a bit of rest. Abuela expects us all downstairs for proper introductions. And I expect your return will be…a bit of a shock,”

“A bit, huh?”

“More then a bit. But I’m sure it’s nothing we can’t handle,” Mama sighed, leaning in to kiss her forehead, “get some rest, I need to go save Dolores. Your siblings seem to like her a lot for some reason,”

And off Mama went, exiting the room as the door softly closed behind her. Mirabel stared at the ceiling for a second, thinking. She couldn’t just lay here after what she just learned. Kicking off the blanket, she adjusted the new glasses on her face and tested her legs. They felt sturdier and ready to walk. Her clothing was basically ruined, the once pale blouse now dark and stained from the journey. But she straightened herself out anyway, fussing with her dark curls so they weren’t in her face.

“Alright,” she mumbled, “so..magic family. I have a magic family,” running a hand across the back of her neck, Mirabel shook her head, “that’s so crazy. That’s…ugh, why does it make so much sense though?”

Pacing back and forth by the bed, Mirabel blinked as something rattled nearby her. Glancing towards the noise, the floorboards were rolling as a door appeared where there hadn’t previously been one, “uh…okay?” Taking a few steps closer, the door was turquoise in color with a worn brass knob. Nothing particularly special about that, “magic door. Magic family. Magic…house?”

Glancing at the ceiling, Mirabel jumped as the window shutters moved on their own, back and forth as though waving at her. Right then. So, everything was magic here. That was normal. Totally.

“O-kay. I’ll take that as a yes,” she mumbled, placing a hand against the door which had appeared.

She hesitated.

Mirabel had always hesitated going through doorways ever since she was a kid. She didn’t like them, just seeing one made her gut twist in a funny way. At least now she knew where the habit came from, “stop being stupid, it’s just a door,”  Mirabel chided herself, grabbing the knob firmly and twisting it, “just…go…”

The door opened, as most do, leading her into a very small sleeping area. The walls were pale green and painted with animals and letters. A crib with tall walls was pushed into one corner, piled with things that weren’t currently needed. There were two beds in this room, pushed against each unoccupied wall. One of them (the furthest away) looked recently laid in, the blankets messed up and toys scattered about it. The other…it was pristine, and had gathered a fine layer of dust. It was as though no one had touched this spot in years.

Approaching, Mirabel felt that familiar tug in her belly. The same she had gotten when they first stepped into the valley. The same she had gotten when she felt her mother’s hands soothe her worries. It was that hazy sense of belonging, except now it was right in front of her. Running a finger across the blanket, it was woven in rainbow colors and embroidered with butterflies. A little pale dress was laid out across the pillow, and small trinkets sat on the bedside table, surrounding a candle which was on its last life.

This was a memorial. Her own, if she wasn’t mistaken.

Glancing down as the floorboards clattered at her feet, something was brought out from under the bed. Kneeling down for it, Mirabel grabbed the cloth strap and held it out in front of her for a better look. It was a bag, one that appeared to be hand made by someone and seemingly forgotten about. Running her thumb across the front, her name had been lovingly sewn into the fabric. Had this been a gift?

Jerking to alertness as she suddenly heard voices outside the door, Mirabel dropped to her stomach and maneuvered under the bed to hide, still clutching the bag to her chest.

“…this is not a good time for strange visitors in our valley,” someone complained, an older woman it seemed. She held the hand of a smaller boy, while a woman in a yellowish dress walked beside them.

“Mama, they’re just kids. One of them no older then my baby Antonio…”

“Mama…” the boy complained, stepping out of the way as…was that…was that a rainbow over his head?

“I’m just saying they’re harmless,”

“Pepa, mija, our Encanto is hidden for a reason. That reason is to keep up safe from harm. I don’t want anything going wrong this time,”

This time. Mirabel knew automatically the woman was speaking about her, “Antonio will bring a new wonderful blessing to our family; strengthen our home and our community,”

“Yes mama, I know. But…”

“I will hear nothing more,” the woman insisted, sweeping herself from the room elegantly as the woman in yellow, Pepa, sighed heavily.

“Get ready for dinner, mijo,” she told her son, mumbling something about ‘mother’ as she stepped out, the sound of thunder following after her. The room was quiet, and Mirabel rested her forehead against the floor. She was stuck.

“Hello…?”

“Ah!” Jumping in fright, Mirabel smacked her head on the underside of the bed and winced, “ow,”

“Are you hiding from Abuela?” He whispered curiously, seemingly not at all perturbed by a stranger under the bed in his room, “she’s cranky today,”

“Kinda,” Mirabel mumbled, “who are you?”

“I’m Antonio,”

“Mirabel,” she said, extending her hand, “help me?”

Antonio nodded and took her palm, grunting as he pulled her out from under the bed, “ugh, I’m not as small as I used to be,” she groaned, laying back first on the floor as Antonio leaned over her curiously, “how old are you?”

“I’m four,” he said, “almost five,”

“Almost?”

“Two days,” he mumbled, “I’m supposed to get my gift,”

“Oh,” furrowing her brows, Mama hadn’t really elaborated on the how the gift ceremony actually worked. Just that her ‘door’ had vanished when she touched the knob, “that’s exciting,” she shrugged, seeing the downcast expression on the boys face and backpedaling, “or…not? Isn’t getting magic a super cool thing?”

“What if it doesn’t work?”

“Well, then you’d just have to get along without one,” sitting up, Mirabel blew a curl from her nose and chuckled, “like boring old me, and all of my boring old siblings. We get on just fine, no magic necessary,”

“Really?”

“Sure! You don’t need magic to…oh, climb trees, or swim in the river, or eat way to many snacks when you’re not supposed to,”

Antonio giggled at that as Mirabel folded her legs up, “you don’t need magic to use the wind for a sailboat, or to help a horse pull a cart, or to kick a ball as far as it’ll possibly go. Well…unless you’re my hermano Hernandez, who always seems to lose things. That would be a cool power,”

“Losing things?” Antonio laughed, only for Mirabel to roll her eyes.

“Har, har no. To find lost things. Now that would be cool magic,”

Rising to her feet, Mirabel straightened herself out. Antonio had gone downcast again, frowning.

“What’s on your mind, niñito?”

“I wonder if my power will be any good,” he mused, “like Luisa, or Camilo,”

Tilting her head at the boy, Mirabel nodded in understanding.

“I get that, you don’t want to let your family down. Well, I may not know you well Antonio but I can already tell your gift is going to be just as amazing as you,”

Antonio smiled at this, looking a bit more comfortable with the idea of his gift, “speaking of gifts, do you know who made this?”

Lifting the bag for the little boy to see, he shook his head.

“No. Isabela could’ve made it, but she’s bad at sewing, and Luisa’s hands are to big for the tiny needles,” Antonio admitted, “sorry,”

“That’s ok, I’ll figure it out,” she mumbled, leaping in surprise as the door was practically kicked down. A huge woman entered the room, her eyes wide and actively scanning the inhabitants.

“Hermana!” She cried upon finding Mirabel, scooping the smaller girl into a tight embrace as she was lifted from the floor, “I found you! I thought you were…I thought…”

“…can’t…breathe,” Mirabel managed, gasping for air as she was quickly let go.

“Sorry! Sorry. Don’t know my own strength sometimes. I came to find you because I found some stuff you might want to wear to dinner, but you weren’t in your room, and I got worried cause mama said you needed rest, and then I thought maybe you’d run off and we’d never see you and…”

“Woah, woah, just…time out,” Mirabel said, glancing at Antonio who was giggling at her, “you must be Luisa,”

“Yep! Your strong big sis,”

Flexing her muscles, Mirabel already knew she didn’t want to be on the wrong side of this woman.

“I can see that-woah, what are you doing!” 

Feeling herself being suddenly lifted off the floor, Mirabel scrambled to catch her glasses as she was hoisted up in Luisa’s arm like a sack of potato’s, “what’s happening?”

“Mama told me to help you get ready for dinner,”

“I can walk you know!”

“Not on my watch!”

Fully weirded out by the situation, Mira struggled a bit, but knew it was totally futile. Luisa had the gift of strength and it showed. And so it was that Mirabel hung limp in her grip, dodging doorways and banisters they almost ran into on their way. 

“This is a hazardous way to get around,” Mirabel mumbled, more to herself then Luisa as they made it back to the original room where she’d started.

“I found some stuff from when I was 12 that you could wear,” Luisa announced, setting Mirabel down as she picked up some folded items on the nearby side table, “they might be…a little bit big still, but Isabela said I wasn’t ever allowed to touch her closet again,”

“Thanks Luisa,” Mira admitted, opening the butterfly patterned blouse and tilting her head at it. A little large, but certainly far nicer then what she had at home. She wasn’t expecting girly from Luisa, who seemed so strong, but then again she wasn’t one to judge all that harshly.

“This is the only skirt I could find that had flowers instead of weights printed on it,” the elder girl admitted guiltily, holding up the turquoise and blue shaded clothing with some faint flowers in the bottom hem. Mirabel ran a hand across the fabric experimentally. It was perfect for embroidery, “I hope they’re ok? I didn’t want to get smacked in the face by some roses again if I tried raiding Isa’s room,”

“These are great Luisa,” Mirabel said, her sincerity true as she smiled, “thank you,”

“Mama said she’d come get you for introductions, or…er…reintroductions, since is kinda been a secret but not since we’ve been dealing with the earthquake,” Luisa rambled, “anyway, I’ll see you at dinner. Welcome back, little sis.”

Receiving a fond hair ruffle rather then a hug this time, Mirabel blew a curl from her face. She really needed to do something about her hair at some point. Shaking her head, the girl began to work on making Luisa’s clothing fit her. It wasn’t all that hard, just a bit of extra fabric to be tucked into the elastic band of the skirt, which she rolled at the waist so it didn’t drag. In all honesty it wasn’t a bad combo, just needed some color. And it was certainly nicer then the sad pile of rags the house was busy trying to swallow.

“Knock, knock,”

Poking her head in, Mami smiled, “you look better. Hopefully Luisa was…gentle?”

“As she could be,” Mirabel said, brushing out her skirt and turning to look at herself, “am I uneven anywhere?”

“You look perfect, mi vida,”

“Almost,” the girl mumbled, once again batting at a curl, “I swear I just want to cut it all off,”

“Here, mija, let me help.”

Patting a stool at the end of the bed, Mirabel did as she was told. Mama disappeared out the door for a second, only to return with two items. One pair of pink shoes with flowers on the toes, and a pair of scissors, “Dolores noticed you wore the same size, so she offered these,” Mama said, placing them on the floor, “now, let’s see what we can’t do about this,”

“Aren’t we going to dinner? Sounded like Abuela Madrigal wanted everyone prompt,” Mirabel admitted, closing her eyes as Mama ran a hand through her curls.

“We have time for dinner,” she mused, making a first snip of hair somewhere in the back, “I’ve been waiting for ten years, they all can wait a bit longer.”

Chapter Text

Isabela

Isabela Madrigal was a lot of things. Perfect, beautiful, charmed, gifted? Yes to all of the above. Currently? The eldest Madrigal grandchild was annoyed. She had worked years perfecting her — well, her perfection — and it did wonders at keeping Abuela and the family happy. After all, so long as she continued to be perfect, their dear grandmother had one less thing to worry about when it came to the welfare of the Encanto. But despite everything going on around her, Isabela was still entirely human, if not with a bit of extra magic thrown in. And she knew when their practiced routines were…off. 

Isabela was surprised Abuela wanted to call a family meal after the earthquake. Though it hadn’t affected the town that badly, people were still nervous. She was expecting a long night of being out in the community, checking to make sure nothing would collapse in on itself. She wasn’t expecting to hear that strangers had come into their valley through the crack in the mountain; which was now gone, like it never happened. Isabela expected her familia to be forthright with the information, after all Madrigals didn’t usually keep secrets. But they were not, a few even being as clueless as her. 

The few who did seem to know what was going on — those who had gone to the mountain themselves — were tight lipped. Luisa would only grunt when Isabela asked what had happened, and Camilo would transform into the body of an old woman to feign hearing loss. Isa couldn’t even find her Mama anywhere. The only clue as to what happened was the image of Dolores in the kitchen, urging a little girl no older then three into eating spoonfuls of soup. She naturally just assumed the child belonged to a mother in the village, and was being watched temporarily. 

It was a little odd that Dolores of all Madrigals had been chosen for this task —Isa knew children grated badly on sensitive ears — but her usually soft spoken prima seemed quite content to play babysitter for a little while. And then there was the new door…or at least, Isa thought she had seen a new door. It wasn’t anything special, not magical like her own. But she only saw it for a second before it seemed to disappear from her view. Even Casita was hiding things now, and Isabel hated every second of it. Sure she wasn’t that gossipy, but the elder Madrigal hated not knowing what was going on. 

This is the reason why she plopped rather ungracefully down into her assigned seat at dinner, fighting back the urge to sprout flowers at her feet. Six extra chairs had been set up at the other end of the table, meaning they had company. But why? 

“You’re lucky Abuela wasn’t here to see you sit like that, Señorita Perfecta,” Camilo said, still wearing the form as an old woman with greying braids, his face hidden behind a newspaper, “young ones these days,” 

Isabela scoffed, but still continued to slouch. She just wanted someone to tell her what the heck was going on! She despised being kept out of the loop, even if it was only till dinner. Carefully, she watched the rest of the Madrigals filter in, taking mental notes about each. Luisa looked exceptionally proud of herself upon coming through the door. She was practically glowing with happiness, sitting on Isa’s left side but not looking at her. Tía Pepa and Tío Félix were next, swinging little Antonio between them as he laughed each time his feet left the ground. Félix hoisted him up into his regular seat, then the two took their own spots as usual. So far nothing seemed out of place. Her Papi was next, not accompanied by Mama which was a little odd. But she easily could’ve been making last minute preparations in the kitchen. 

Only when the kids entered did Isabela find herself curious. 

Dolores came with them, the little girl from earlier held at her hip, while another fair haired girl was clinging on her back. Those too old to be carried followed in various positions around her skirt. Two younger boys ran ahead, an elder walked behind, and the oldest girl held Dolores’s hand. None of them appeared to be related to one another. Were these the strangers who had come through the crack in the mountain? Children? 

Dolores helped the younger kids get settled, while the others chose various places in the chairs that were vacant. Glancing back around the table, Tía, Tío and Papi seemed a bit puzzled. Antonio was busy waving at the two younger boys, probably excited to have playmates about his same age. Luisa and Camilo said nothing, suspiciously occupying themselves — Luisa with her napkin, and old woman Camilo with his newspaper. Dolores sat in her usual empty place, the little girl with abnormally bright eyes now sitting in her lap and blinking bug eyed around at all the new faces. There were still three empty chairs; Abuela, Mama, and someone else at the very far end. 

“Papi?” Isa whispered, leaning slightly over the table to speak to her father who was directly across from her, “where’s Mama?” 

The man shrugged clueless as Isa sat back, resisting the urge to snort childishly and fold her arms.

“Buenas noches, familia,” Abuela said as she elegantly strode into the room, standing at the head of the table as per family custom. Everyone went quiet, all eyes on her. Even the newcomers had gone very still, staring up the table curiously, “today has been an interesting day,” she admitted, rubbing her hands together slowly, “as you can already see, we have many new guests in our Casita. They came to us from outside the Encanto, allowed into our home by the magic which blessed us with our gifts,” 

Isa’s brows rose. Is that what cracked the mountain? The magic which protected them allowing these raggedly looking kids safe passage from the outside? They seemed a bit young to be traveling, or running around in the jungles beyond the mountains. Her own mama would’ve had a fit if her or Luisa went to the edge of town alone at their age.  

“Please, let us welcome Pablos, Bianca, Juan, Hernandez, Adrianne, and little Elena into our beloved home,” 

The kids looked…really uncomfortable. They nodded and smiled, doing their best to be polite, but Isa didn’t miss the glances the two elders shot at each other. 

“Did you come all on your own, pequeños?” Tía Pepa fretted, no doubt thinking of what might happen to Antonio should he be out so far on his own. Grunting as he was nudged in the ribs, Pablos licked his lips. 

“No Señora, we came with our hermana. She takes care of us. There were some evil men who hurt her when we got here, but Señora Cora-I mean, Señora Julieta, healed her. She’s been resting.” 

Ah. That explained where her Mama had been all day, and the room Casita was hiding as well. No doubt this is where the sister had been while the others were out tending to the village. Mama had probably been busy getting the girl back up to full strength. 

“My mija’s cooking is quite a gift, indeed,” Abuela nodded with a proud smile, “I had hoped to meet your hermana here tonight…and where is Julieta? She’s normally so punctual,” 

“We’re here,” 

Mama had finally arrived, “come on, Mija. No need to be shy,” she mumbled to someone just out of sight, tugging at their hand. Isabela noticed that both Luisa and Camilo had gone very still, and even Dolores was keeping herself distracted with little Elena’s dark braid. What was going on? 

“It…it can’t be,” Abuela whispered, holding  a hand to her chest as someone new was finally coerced into the dining room for everyone to see. Isabela felt her heart skip a beat once, then twice, then plummet fully into the bottom of her gut. 

“…hermanita?” 

Isabela hadn’t seen Mirabel since the night she was stolen. They had all grieved over the loss. Mama still cried every day over her baby girl, and no one in the family could do anything to heal the ache. Isabela had spent more then her fair share of sleepless nights walking the forests around the Encanto, searching for any clue that could lead them back to her missing sister. But Mirabel was simply gone; the family betrayed by one of their own who they hadn’t seen — nor cared to see — since that night. But here she was, all grown up (practically a woman) and standing before them looking…awkward. 

“…dios mío,” Abuela whispered, Casita having to move a chair for her to quickly sit in. 

“Amor? Is…is it true?” Her Papi asked, standing from his seat and taking a few small steps towards the pair. Mirabel stared up at him through her glasses, searching his face. Isabela thought she almost looked…worried. But as the man caressed her cheek, staring at the child he thought was gone forever, she smiled at him. 

“Papi,” 

“Mi amada,” the man cried, capturing her in his arms as he freely wept against her head, “my darling, Mirabel,” 

Watching as the two reunited, Isabela was in shock herself until someone came and placed a hand on her shoulder. Glancing up, Mama was standing behind her chair. No words needed to be exchanged as Isa rose, allowing the woman to take her hand and guide her around the table. 

“Agustín,” the woman whispered, “amor,” 

Tugging the back of his shirt, he seemed unwilling to let go of his youngest daughter. But at Mami’s insistence he eventually did, practically falling into her arms and weeping some more as Isabela stood a few feet from her baby sister. As her brain did, she made mental notes about the other girls appearance. Mirabel was not the little girl Isabela remembered; not the same carefree, kind child she had woven flower crowns for. She was rougher, more worn down and tired. Mirabel’s skin was nicked and scarred, she was bony thin, and her eyes were…searching, and openly quizzical. 

“…Isabela?” She said, though it was phrased more like a question then a greeting. Glancing over her shoulder, Mami nodded slightly — assuring Mirabel she was indeed correct — and the elder Madrigal grandchild understood just a bit better. 

“You…probably don’t remember me,” Isa managed, swallowing the rock which was basically sitting in her throat, “you were so little,” 

“I…” Mirabel didn’t seem to have a good answer, cringing slightly with guilt. 

Extending a hand, Isabela paused for a second, caught between one action and the next. Then, just as she did when she was girl, Isa wove a flower crown in mid-air. It wasn’t the wreath of blooms she used to impress the people in town, nor the flood of petals conjured to coat their village in color. This crown was simple, grown with the same types of wildflowers Isa remembered picking on the hillsides around the Casita. She had to focus; her hand was trembling. But eventually the ring was complete and fell into her open palms. Silently, Isa extended the gift and gently placed it on Mirabel’s curls. 

“You look beautiful,” she managed out, struggling to keep her tears in as she brushed her knuckles against Mirabel’s cheek, “welcome home, hermanita,” 

“…thank you,” Mirabel practically whispered, giving Isa a very tight smile. It was still a sincere smile despite its obvious discomfort; Isabela could feel it in her heart and see it in her sisters eyes. The weight that had settled on her shoulders lessened just a bit, and she sighed and nodded back. Her gift had been accepted graciously, and that was enough for now. 

“Mi nieta,” Abuela said from behind them, finally seeming to have collected herself to stand and approach carefully. Stepping aside for the eldest Madrigal to stare down upon Mirabel, Isa saw a shift in her sisters demeanor. The girls bright hazel eyes darkened, her awkwardness turned to something…else, something sharper. Even the kids at the other end of the table had gone very quiet. Did something about Abuela make them all nervous? “I can’t believe it. You’ve returned to us,” 

Mirabel said nothing. She pursed her lips and nodded stiffly, allowing Abuela to very gently touch her cheek. But it wasn’t received like Isa was expecting. Mirabel remained very still, though Isa could see the curl of her fists by her side. Was she scared? Anxious? Isa couldn’t pinpoint the emotion flashing someplace her Abuela couldn’t see. 

“…stop it, Pablos,” 

Glancing over her shoulder, the children at the table had shifted around while everyone else was distracted. Bianca had a firm hand on her older brother's chest, grounding him firmly in place. He looked furious, nose huffing deep, angry breaths as the other girl struggled to push his hand away from his waist, “it’s not her,” she whispered desperately, “calm down or we’ll get in trouble…” 

“This is a joyous day,” Abuela announced, stepping away from Mirabel to address the room as the younger girl gave a visible sigh of relief and dropped her shoulders, “let us eat, familia. And celebrate this miracle,” 

And so dinner continued on as it usually did. Except it wasn’t usual at all. Isabela returned to her seat and sank down into it, watching her sister closely. Mirabel gladly accepted hugs from Tío and Tía, both of which she returned somewhat awkwardly, but generally kindly. Isa didn’t see the mystery expression in full force again, only glimpses of some deeply imbued weariness hidden in her face. 

“You look so pretty, Mira,” Adrianne said as the girl moved through the room to sit in the only empty chair left, “will you embroider it?” 

“Maybe,” Mirabel said as she plopped without qualm into the chair and adjusted her glasses with a finger, “what patterns should I use?” 

“Rainbows and butterflies!” Adrianne said instantly. 

“You could make it look like when the wind picks petals from the flowers,” Bianca added in, “but I agree with ‘anne. Butterflies. Lots and lots of butterflies,” 

“Hm, I think I could do butterflies,” Mirabel mused thoughtfully, any worry now chased from her person by the presence of the kids. Before any more conversation could be had, the food was brought out by Mama and placed about the table. Isabela watched as inconspicuous as possible as the kids eyes went large like pairs of multi-colored moons. 

“Look at all this stuff,” Hernandez whispered in awe, his mouth practically watering over at the sight, “I’ve never seen so much before,” 

“I wish we had meals like this back home,” Juan agreed, reaching for a steaming empanada only to have his hand batted away by Adrianne. 

“Stop it,” she chided, wagging a finger, “we haven’t done blessing,” 

“Oops,” Juan mumbled, looking instantly guilty, “sorry Mira,” 

“That’s ok Juanito,” she forgave easily, picking up her empty plate and resting it’s edge against her forehead. To everyone’s bewilderment, the other children did the same, even little Elena made a motion similar to the others despite not having a plate, “so,” Mira asked after a second, “who’s turn is it? I forgot,”

“I think it’s your turn,” Pablos admitted slowly, “isn’t it?” 

The other children nodded in agreement as Mirabel rolled her eyes in exasperation, but smiled nonetheless. 

“Fine, I’ll say one. Ok. How about…hoy nosotros comemos,” 

“Hoy nosotros comemos,” the children responded in turn, putting their plates down in unison before immediately setting to work. For a while it was just eating, focusing on the delicious meal Mama had somehow prepared between everything else that had happened. The Madrigal family groaned as their aches and pains from the day melted off their bones like a warm bath. While the family was entirely distracted, Isa glanced towards the end of the table again. She couldn’t really help it, she was entirely too curious. 

Mirabel was swiping something into a bag in her lap. 

She was doing it in a very subtle way, one which may not have been noticed had Isa not been watching. Her plate was very nearly empty, but it hardly looked as though she had eaten in comparison to her little companions, who were snarfing down portions like their lives depended on it. Isa froze. 

Oh. 

Her hands paused, eyes watching more and more disappear into the bag Mirabel had with her. She was saving food for later. It’s what her blessing had meant. ‘Today we eat’, but tomorrow is not guaranteed. Isa had to catch herself before her silverware clattered against the plate. 

“Are you ok, mija?” Mama asked worriedly, brows furrowed. 

“Yes, fine, just lost my grip,” she fibbed, “sorry,” 

Mama didn’t seem all that convinced, but Abuela’s voice cut the conversation short. 

“Isabela,” she asked, “have you talked to young Mariano recently?” 

Isa felt her chest constrict. Right, yes…Mariano. 

“I…haven’t really had time, Abuela, after all that’s happened,” she admitted lightly, pushing some hair over her shoulder. 

“Was he in the village today?” 

“Yes of course, but he was helping his Mama check their house for any damage caused by the earthquake,” 

“What a good boy,” Abuela nodded fondly, buying the lie without a second thought, “Señora Guzmán must be very proud,” 

Isa nodded tightly, fighting the urge to rub the back of her neck or pull her hair. Glancing down the table again, she was startled to find Mirabel watching her. Upon making eye contact though the younger girl quickly set upon looking anywhere else, and that happened to be Pablos, who was trying to gut an Arepa with a small fishing knife he had. 

“Mirabel, amor, I heard mention of embroidery,” Mama spoke aloud, bringing the newly arrived youngest granddaughter into the fold, “do you sew?” 

“Oh…yeah, I do,” Mirabel closed the bag in her lap, holding it tightly with both hands under the table, “I learned my way around a needle when I was really young, just to help patch up clothing. But I started doing design work later on to keep myself busy,” 

“She embroiders everything she can get her hands on,” Pablos whined, “it’s so girly,” 

“You liked the bull I stitched on your jacket pocket last year,” Mirabel complained right back, “you’re just jealous about not getting a dress like your hermanas,” 

“I am not,” 

The bickering probably would’ve continued on if not for the wide yawn given by the youngest at the table. 

“Is it that late already?” Mirabel mumbled, glancing at the sky outside the Casita over her shoulder. Rising to her feet, Isa saw the food bag vanish into Bianca’s hands as the elder girl walked to Dolores’s chair and whispered something. She nodded slightly in agreement and stood as well, passing Elena off into Mirabel’s arms, “I think it’s bedtime for this little one,” Mirabel admitted, running the flat of her index finger down the girls shallow nose before tapping the end lightly, “it’s been a long day,” 

“It’s been a long day for all of you,” Mama agreed, “are you tired as well, amor?” 

“A bit. A…Abuela Madrigal? Thank you so much for the gracious dinner. It was wonderful,” 

“Of course, mi nieta. It’s so good to have you home with us again,” Abuela nodded, waving a hand and giving her permission to leave.

“Vamos, niñitos,” Mirabel said to her brood, “thank the table before you go,” 

One by one the table gave their thanks and hurried out the door. Isa noticed the bag of leftovers had been passed from Bianca to Pablos, hidden behind their backs as they gave their thanks before exiting with Mirabel. Isabela couldn’t help but wonder if that was on purpose.

“You saw it to, right?” 

Glancing beside her, Camilo was frowning deeply, sunk down in his chair, “the pass and grab? You saw it?” 

“The what?” Luisa asked, drawn into the conversation now as the adults were chatting with Abuela and were currently not listening. 

“I do it all the time with mi amigos when we’re pulling a big prank. Pass the evidence around so it’s harder to catch,” 

Isabela frowned instantly, glancing at Dolores across the table who had heard all of what was being said. She too looked deeply unhappy. For the rest of the meal the grandchildren were quiet, stewing in their own thoughts. By the time Isabela was headed back to her room, the moon was bright in the sky above the Encanto. It was a beautiful night, warm and comfortable. But there wasn’t any way she could sleep right now; not with all that had happened. 

Nearly tripping over something, Isa blinked from her musings as she glanced down. Casita had lifted one of the floor tiles, trying to get her attention. 

“Sorry, Casita. I was…somewhere else,” 

The house rattled, accepting the apology. But it groaned as well, shifting around as one of the railings unhinged and fell up against the side of the roof. Isa wasn’t understanding at first until the shingles clinked, and a few of them lifted, pointing up towards the sky, “you want me to go up to the roof?” 

Casita jingled it’s approval as Isabela sighed. Of course she had spent more then her fair share of time on the roof, thinking about…everything. Her perfect perfection and how utterly not perfect she was. About Abuela and her expectations. About the expectations of the Encanto regarding her future. Oh yes, she was no stranger to the roof. It was the thinking place of all the Madrigal children. This was the first time though that Casita had urged her up there on its own. Carefully, Isa clambered up the created ladder, cautious not to trip on the edge of her skirt or wake anyone up who didn’t need to be. Balancing on the red terracotta surface, she took a quick look around to see what Casita had wanted her up here for. 

Mirabel was sitting a little ways down the rooftop, illuminated by a mix of moonlight, and a single candle she had somehow managed to bring up with her. The girl was preoccupied with what appeared to be a pair of pants in her lap, working a needle and thread through the fabric. In her mouth was an Empanada, hanging limply there despite them just having had dinner. This proved to Isabela what she had suspected earlier. Mirabel hadn’t actually eaten anything, just made it appear as though she had. Why? 

Feeling Casita move a shingle under her heels, Isa frowned. Obviously the house wanted her to approach, but they had only just reunited. What was she supposed to say? Staring at the girl, she was still wearing the flower crown Isa had made earlier, but had her glasses beside her on the rooftop. Exhaling the breath she’d been holding, Isabela folded to Casita’s desires and began the slow and careful journey across the roof. Only when she was a few feet away did she clear her throat to get her hermanas attention. Mirabel jumped a bit and turned, pastry still between her lips but her eyes a tad bleary. She squinted for a minute, her world no doubt unclear since the glasses still lay next to her hand. 

“Isabela?” She decided finally, tilting her head slightly to the side, “what are you doing up here?” 

“I could ask you the same thing. Mind if I join you?”

“Plenty of rooftop,” Mirabel chuckled, releasing the tension held in her shoulders from getting caught. Nodding (though Mirabel probably didn’t see it), Isa carefully sat down, pulling her knees up to her chest. She watched in silence for a bit as Mirabel worked her needle, using her fingers to feel the stitching as she went along. The technique was unique, no doubt practiced a dozen times before half blind. 

“You learned to stitch without glasses?” Isa said stupidly, not meaning for the thought to come out as it did. She was normally so poised around her familia, but the questions she had for her hermana were numerous. She wondered idly if this is how Dolores felt. 

“I only just found out I needed them,” Mirabel said frankly, thumbing a portion of stitch — deciding against it — and using the needle tip to remove the section and try again, “I’ve been bleary eyed my whole life; I didn’t think it was something fixable. So I learned to work around it,” 

Isabela pursed her lips, leaning on her hands as she watched the pant leg slowly pull itself back together. She never could figure out how to sew. Abuela tried to teach her once, as she was the only member of the family who could next to mama, but Isa never really took to it. Just one of those things she couldn’t be perfect at. Sighing, Isa felt the Casita give her another nudge, as though urging her to keep the conversation going. 

Did it want her to ask about the pass and grab Camilo had mentioned? About her reaction to Abuela’s touch? About that little flicker of something fearful someplace deep within her eyes? What did Casita want from her other then to just blurt out whatever was on her mind without any tact. 

“Isabela?” 

Blinking, Mirabel was looking at her with a raised brow. Realizing she had been fully and obviously scrutinizing her sister, the elder Madrigal sighed and pulled at the edge of her shoe. 

“I saw what happened at dinner,” she admitted finally, annoyed that her own house had such push over her decisions tonight, “the bag? I know you didn’t eat,” 

“Oh,” Mirabel mumbled, hands pausing on her stitching as she pursed her lips, glancing away towards the expanse of Encanto below them. 

“You don’t have to hide food here, hermana,” Isa told her gently, trying to be assuring rather then accusatory about what she had seen, “there’s always something around. Or you could ask Mama, or Casita, or even me, if you want. You and your hermanos don’t have to be hungry,” 

“It’s…a habit,” Mirabel responded lightly, flicking the needle between her fingers as she sighed heavily and tapped an undefined song on her bent knee, “our home was…difficult. Not a good place for kids to be growing up. Food is a hard thing to come by when everyone around you is starving too,”

Isabela frowned at that. There had never been a lack of food in the Encanto. Even with their community growing, their paradise remained fresh and bursting with harvest. It was easy to forget that there was a world less pleasant beyond the mountains, places where people were truly without. A world which she liked to forget existed most of the time. A world where food didn’t grow out of season, or a harvest wasn’t promised by magic. 

“Our Matrona was stern, and unfair,” Mirabel continued on, scowling at whatever memory had popped into her mind, “I had to teach my little ones early about how a meal was never a guarantee, just as my olders taught me. I did what I could, but there’s only so much you can make out of nothing. I made sure they ate, made sure they knew to feel blessed for what little we had…but it never did seem like enough. Pablos — dios mío — he got into so many scuffles over things when he got older. He’d come back to me bleeding, but so proud of what he had managed to fight off someone else in town.” 

Mirabel shook her head, running a hand through her hair as she sighed shakily, clearly unhappy at the memories this thought was digging up. 

“You didn’t each much,” Isa concluded, “you gave your part to the children,” 

“Always. If I didn’t, I hid it in my pockets so Matrona wouldn’t see. She’d take it away if she knew; call us all ungrateful thieves. There needed to be enough hidden someplace, just in case a meal didn’t come. It was…a nightmare.” 

Watching the other girl tremble slightly, Isa scooted a little bit closer on the roof. Her eyelids were burning, but she refused to cry. She was still a big sister, and though she wasn’t the best at it, she still had a responsibility. Carefully — as though treading through a bed of fresh flowers — Isa pulled her sister in close. 

“I promise, hermana, that will never happen to any of you again,” she croaked, feeling the protective fire within her ignite as the body in her arms trembled harder, “you’re safe here. I promise.” 

And Mirabel shattered. The girl returned the hug as she let out a broken sob, melting into Isa’s lap as she pulled her in closer, setting her forgotten mending next to her glasses. 

Casita gently rattled in approval, having accomplished its goal. And though Isa didn’t know it, below them, the magic candle shined just a tiny bit brighter, it’s flame dancing on an invisible breeze before settling, one again content.

Chapter Text

… 

Casita knew someone was moving in the house of the Madrigals. It watched over each family member within the walls, keeping track of those who weren’t where they were supposed to be. The elders were already deep in sleep, as were the grandchildren. 

All except one. 

Young Mirabel was fitful. Casita had felt her presence in the valley the moment she arrived, and rejoiced at her return to the familia. But not all was well. Her body trembled in the night, curled into the smallest position possible as whimpers of fear and pain escaped through her teeth. Casita did it’s best to ease the night terrors, warming the dormitory of the children, rocking the floorboards back and forth like that of a cradle, even allowing the night songs of birds to filter in through the cracks to act as a lullaby. But nothing seemed to work. Mirabel still writhed, clutching at her curls, and flexing the scars up and down her back with each movement. None of the family had seen these marks yet; these tallies of hardship across the girls spine like lattice. But Casita had seen. And Casita was angry. 

But someone else had noticed the turmoil of the youngest granddaughter too, someone Casita didn’t expect. They moved ever slowly between the walls, carefully knocking on the wooden supports and muttering as they went. Through the backways of the house like a rat on the hunt for a meal, sniffing and skittering about. Casita watched the lonely shadow emerge for the first time in 10 years, wild eyes staring this way and that as he crouched in the doorway behind a painting, making sure no one was about. 

“Knock…knock, knock,” he muttered, stepping down onto the floorboards, “salt,” he said, throwing a handful over his shoulder as he closed the painting behind him, “gotta be quick,” 

And so the rat made his way across the veranda, past the glowing doors of the family, being extra quiet outside Dolores’s room. He didn’t even look at the tower, so long forgotten by all who lived in Casita’s walls. No, he went to the nursery, opening the door with a cringe. Casita was sure not to squeak, as Antonio slept here, balled up in the blankets like a burrito. 

“Gotta be quick,” the shadow said again, making his way across the floor to the memorial Julieta had set up many years ago. He stood at it for a moment, letting his eyes wander across the various items. He dropped sugar from his pockets, kicking it under the bed with a foot so no one noticed, “gotta be quick,” 

Carefully, the figure removed the rainbow colored blanket from the mattress, feeling the soft, woven threads between his fingers. Tossing it over one arm, he clicked his tongue in thought. Casita helpfully provided a door to the dormitory, just as it had for Mirabel earlier. No need to traverse outside again, what with Dolores now up and about. A light sleeper; woken by Mirabel’s trembling and whining in the dark and not the shadow who had passed her door. 

“Knock, knock…” the rat said as he passed through the doorway, “thank you,” 

Casita rattled slightly, watching as the figure made his way silently through the new room in the house. He let his eyes wander for a second, observing the many sleeping children. Some had moved beds. Pablos and Bianca slept with Elena between them, while Adrianne flopped over Juan and Hernandez, both of whom were snoring. Shaking his head, the shadow moved to Mirabel’s bed. She was shaking even worse, tears of sparkling silver rolling down her cheeks in soft sobs. 

“…sobrina,” the rat mumbled, unfolding the blanket and very carefully laying it over her, “nightmares. Bad nightmares. Sleep, Mirabel. You’re safe,” 

He caressed her cheek with his knobby fingers, smoothing a black curl at her temple. She reacted with a tremble, but the tears ceased as she grasped the blanket and pulled it closer to her. Her body eased, the nightmares chased away for now. But Casita knew the reunion had to be short. Dolores was coming, tip-toeing towards the dormitory with a candle in hand. The rat didn’t know, so Casita told him with the sounds of knocking. Knocking to tell him to leave quickly. 

“Ok,” he whispered, tossing salt over his shoulder. 

And as Dolores opened the door worriedly, the rat vanished back into the dark. Casita welcomed the newcomer with a breath of wind as she traversed the room, sitting down on the edge of Mirabel’s bed. She frowned at the familiar blanket, running her hand across its colors, then gently feeling her prima’s forehead with the back of her fingers. Mirabel didn’t wake — her mind was exhausted — but she had settled down finally. Dolores made a noise in her throat and stood, extending the candle out in front of her as she walked a bit further into the room and knelt. Casita watched as she dragged her fingers through the small scattering of salt, pursing her lips. 

“…Tío?” She whispered, glancing about as though he might still be hiding somewhere. But Casita had watched the shadow vanish back into his hovel, not to be seen. Dolores sighed and rose back to her feet, her gaze softening as she moved the candle to see the occupied beds. All was well in her eyes, despite her ears telling a different story. Returning to Mirabel’s bed, Dolores set down the candle as she adjusted the blanket over her cousin, who was very still and quiet, “dulces sueños, prima,” she mumbled under her breath, “see you in the morning,” 

And Dolores picked up her candle again, and returned to her own room. Casita knew she would sleep lightly, and wake the minute Mirabel toted her hermanos laundry out to wash early the next morning. She would wander the house while her familia slept, locating piles of salt and sugar left from the night before and sweeping them away not to be seen. She would go to the kitchen and knock on the wall lightly, just three taps to let the shadow know. 

His secret was safe with her. 

Chapter Text

Luisa

Luisa was used to being one of the first Madrigal’s to rise in the mornings. Normally she was up with the sun or a little bit after, Casita helping with her morning workout before she grabbed coffee and headed out for a few household chores before breakfast. This morning however, Dolores was up as well, nursing a cup of something dark and half falling asleep where she sat at the kitchen table. Seeing little Elenita with her was becoming a normal thing, as Luisa hadn’t seen the two separated for more than a few minutes since the kids were plucked unceremoniously from the mountainside. Today, the little girl was snoozing — totally content — in a makeshift sling, which Dolores had against her back. It allowed her to drowsily sip whatever she had made, and mindlessly fiddle with the napkin under her hand. 

“Morning, Prima,” Dolores greeted softly as Luisa poured herself a cup of coffee, cringing at its bitter taste and accepting the cream and sugar Casita offered. 

“Morning. You look tired,” 

“Mmm…didn’t sleep well,” Dolores admitted, blowing at a loose curl of hair which had escaped onto her forehead, “you?” 

“A little, but I was way too excited to sleep,” Luisa explained, setting down her cup to flex her muscles, “so I worked out instead and then crashed afterwards,” 

“Excited?” Dolores wondered, tilting her head, “what about?” 

“About everything. About Mirabel being back, and the kids being here, and Antonio getting his gift tomorrow. Feels like nothing exciting ever happens, it’s always just work,” Luisa grumbled, taking a few strides over to Dolores’s chair and looking down upon the child she carried, “this little one sure sleeps a lot,” reaching out a finger, Luisa touched her nose just as Mirabel had done the night prior, “and she’s tiny,” 

“Not everyone was born an Amazon, Luisa,” Dolores chuckled, still occupied by the presence of her coffee. 

“If Elena is with you, that must mean Mirabel is up too?” Luisa asked, lifting her brows, “I would think she’d want to sleep with all that happened yesterday,” 

“Mirabel’s been up longer then I have,” Dolores explained, “I heard her take some laundry out this morning,” 

“Any earlier and it would’ve been dark,” Luisa noted with a frown, glancing towards Casita’s windows where the start of daylight was turning everything pink, “was it just laundry?” 

“She probably wanted some time to herself,” Dolores mused, “I know I would, what with all her little niñitos around.” 

“Says the one holding the baby,” Luisa joked, swirling her espresso as Dolores scowled grumpily in her direction. Lifting a hand apologetically, Luisa nodded to the door, “I think I’ll go see what Mirabel is up to, make sure everything’s alright,” 

“Mhmm, kay,” Dolores agreed, leaning on an elbow and closing her eyes for a power nap. Smiling crookedly, Luisa left the empty coffee mug for Casita to move towards the wash basin as she headed out into the early morning. Inhaling a lungful of fresh air, the girl walked to the left, rather than heading straight into the village like she normally would. 

Striding down a winding path of crooked stones, Luisa passed through a grove of Isabela’s favorite fruit trees; trees she had grown here when she was about 12 (not long after Mirabel disappeared, Luisa noted). Hidden at the end was a large fountain of crystal clear water, used for washing and cleaning up after a long day of work. As Dolores had said, Mirabel was sitting on the stony edge, legs folded up under her. She had many pieces of ragged looking clothing hung up on the family drying lines, and a borrowed washboard sat against the fountain's shallow wall. Mirabel was wearing the blouse and skirt she had arrived in — thankfully cleaned of blood — causing Luisa to frown. 

Had she not liked what she’d given her? 

Examining the situation a bit closer, the teal fabric overflowing from Mirabel’s lap was familiar, and Luisa relaxed instantly. Taking a few steps closer, Luisa’s larger shadow passed over Mirabel’s frame, blocking her light. She looked up instantly, pausing her hands which had been working some strands of yarn. 

“Oh, Luisa,” she greeted, adjusting her glasses with a smile, “sorry, I was…somewhere else,” 

“I could tell,” Luisa nodded, sitting down at the edge of the fountain despite her huge knees making it a tad awkward, “what are uh…what are you working on?” 

“I was just making some adjustments to the skirt you gave me. It’s a bit long so I just needed to adjust the hem. And Casita found some old yarn and left it at my bedside this morning, so I decided it shouldn’t go to waste,” 

Except Mirabel had done far more than simply adjusting the hem. The skirt, previously flat and plain, was now dotted with colorful patterning. It wound up from the bottom, like a breath of wind picking up fallen leaves and carrying them away. The scene was surrounded by small stitched butterflies, trailing all the way across the front and to the waistline. Taking the fabric for a closer look, Luisa felt the embroidery with her thumbs. 

“Wow, you did all this?” 

“Uh, yeah, I did. It’s not finished, I think I wanna try a self portrait or something here in the middle,” pointing at the spot, Luisa nodded in agreement, taking in every detail. Then…something else caught her eye. It was away from the rest, and would be covered by the fold of the blouse when worn. Gently removing the whole skirt from Mirabel’s lap to have a better look, the younger girl went very quiet as Luisa touched the name written in curly lettering on the skirt’s side hemline. 

Madrigal. 

“I…uh…hem, I thought I’d see how it looked,” Mirabel mumbled, shuffling her feet, “kinda stupid—“ 

“It’s not stupid!” Luisa insisted immediately, “you are my sister, my hermana. Which means you’re a Madrigal. Just like the rest of us.” 

“It’s just a bit strange, having a family again,” Mirabel admitted, picking something up from beside her and shaking it out. The old blouse had gotten the same treatment as the skirt, one side of the waist covered in floral patterns and butterflies, while the collar had a rainbow stitched into it, “it’s just been me and my hermanos for as long as I can remember. Kinda weird having to adjust after that,” 

“Did you think about us?” Luisa wondered, sitting with the skirt still in her lap still as she frowned, “well, I mean, not us specifically. But did you think about your family…while you were gone?” 

“I did when I was younger,” Mirabel said with a little shrug, folding up the blouse and setting it down in the basket at her feet, “I used to think about what it would be like to have someone finally come back for me. To take me into their arms and walk me right out of that dirty little town. But no one ever did,” sighing, the girl played with a loose piece of yarn, tugging at its end with her fingertips, “but eventually I just couldn’t…it just, it hurt too much; I was being distracted too easily by my daydreams. So I stopped waiting and got my head out of the clouds,” gently taking the skirt back from Luisa’s lap, Mirabel folded it, her movements rigid and practiced, “I made myself useful. I protected the kids who came to us, making sure they were taken care of,” 

“You…took that burden all on your own?” Luisa asked wearily, feeling the lines in her palms with both thumbs, “did you ever feel like you were being used?” 

“I didn’t let people use me,” Mirabel answered automatically, tidying up her workspace as she stood. Luisa followed her, curious as to what her little sister meant. 

“But you had people depending on you. Wasn’t that a lot?” 

“Of course, but I taught my young ones how to take care of themselves, too. The kids know to protect one another while I’m not there, and to help support us. No one person holds all the weight,” 

Watching Mirabel pluck a few things from the lines, Luisa decided to make herself useful and do the same. She worked awkwardly with the little trousers, struggling to fold them evenly with her big hands. Mirabel didn’t seem to mind the help, merely smiled at her effort and shifted the basket closer with a foot. 

“How?” 

“My motto is this; work smarter, not harder,” Mirabel chuckled, “for example; why do laundry when everyone else does and struggle to find a place at the fountain?” Waving to the water, Luisa furrowed her brows as Mirabel continued to collect items of clothing, folding and depositing them expertly, “the smart thing would be to come early, where you don’t have to fight for space, and can get finished faster. Make sense?” 

“I guess. What about uh…Donkeys?” 

“Donkeys?” Mirabel asked, a tad puzzled, “what do Burros have to do with this?” 

“If they kept getting out I mean, and you had to collect them. What would be the smart thing to do?” 

“Well…” thumbing her chin, Mirabel thought for a moment, “I think I’d get them all to one place with some food, or something delicious like apples. Then I’d lure them back to the barn the same way. If they kept getting out, I’d look and see how. Maybe there’s a downed fence, or a barn door crooked or something,” 

Blinking a few times, Luisa rolled on her heels as she glanced back towards town. She never actually asked how the Donkey’s kept getting out; just picked them up, put them in the barn and went on her way. Maybe she needed to take a second and figure out how, rather than just doing it. 

“What about a river?” Luisa asked, “if someone asked you to reroute it,” 

“You don’t reroute a river,” Mirabel chuckled, “nature is horrible. It does what it wants, whether you change it to be a certain way or not…don’t uh, don’t tell Señora Pepa I said that…” 

“But if someone asked…?” 

“Uh, figure out why, I guess? If it was for something silly like it being in their way, I’d build a bridge. If it was flooding their crops I’d build a flood wall. If the river couldn’t reach their fields, I’d dig irrigation channels. What are all these random questions for?” 

“I just…erm…well, I’m super strong, right? So a lot of the people in town like me to do things that require heavy lifting. But some of them are just so much work, and I feel like I have no time to myself…” 

“Why don’t you just say no?” Mirabel asked, genuinely confused as she reached for her full basket of clean clothing, “I mean, sorry to be blunt but you really shouldn’t be moving Donkey’s and rerouting rivers when those are things that are either other people's problems, or something that should be left well alone,” 

“You mean I shouldn’t help people?” Luisa asked, a bit shocked that her sister would suggest such a thing. Mirabel immediately shook her head. 

“No, I just mean…if it’s a task someone else can be taught how to handle, why not teach them?” 

Luisa thought about it for a moment, then nodded in agreement. She understood; her Abuela would certainly have something to say about it. After all her dear grandmother was always needing something done; that usually being hauling the stupid piano back and forth. But if Mirabel’s idea worked to make her schedule just a little less busy…? 

“Woah there, little sis,” Luisa said suddenly as Mirabel began to lift her laundry. 

“Wh-ah! ¡Dios mío! Luisa! Put me down!” 

Lifting Mirabel in an arm, the girl yelped and caught her glasses before shoving them back onto her nose, “you can’t just pick people up!” 

“Sure I can,” Luisa laughed, grabbing the basket of laundry in her other arm which was light as a feather compared to a donkey, “I’m doing it right now,” 

“B-but I can walk just fine! Luisa!” 

Feeling Mirabel wiggle in her grip, Luisa walked them back up to the house. Breakfast was sure to be served soon, and naturally Isabela had told her about what she discovered about their hermanas eating habits. Mira would eat, all of them would make sure of it. When they returned to the Casita though, things had taken a turn. The house seemed dark, and Luisa immediately let Mirabel down as Abuela’s unhappy shouting wafted from inside. 

“…they didn’t know about the tower,” Mama said, trying to calm Abuela down who was positively livid with rage.

“They didn’t know?” the older woman scoffed, “the darkness and boards over the door weren’t enough!” 

“Hermanos?” Mirabel rasped, glancing at her youngest brothers who were each being held by the shoulder and looked…terrified. Sure Luisa had been chided by Abuela before, she had a temper after all, but it wasn’t anger like this. 

“Let them go,” Mirabel snapped, ignoring the rest of the family who had come to see what the commotion was as she sprinted across the main courtyard towards her siblings. Luisa almost thought she was going to tackle the other woman, what with how fast she was going. 

“These two were in a forbidden section of the Casita,” Abuela scowled, not releasing her grip, “did you teach them nothing?” 

“I taught them how to be curious,” Mirabel insisted, physically swatting Abuela’s hands away as she yanked the boys behind her. Luisa felt her jaw drop a little, and heard gasps from a few of the others. No one had ever been so bold; but Mirabel seemed to have no qualms about getting into Abuela’s face, “they are boys, they weren’t hurting anyone,” 

“They were hurting this familia by going into that room,” Abuela scolded, “it’s off limits for a reason,”

“Then punish me, not them,” Mirabel insisted, “I’m the one who’s to blame,” 

“Mirabel…” Mama mumbled nearby, only to silence quickly as the girl began to pull at her shirt, struggling to get it up over her head. 

“Mira no!” Pablos cried, held back by Dolores’s hand as she protected the others with her body, not wanting them involved. Luisa, nor anyone else, really understood what she was doing at first. 

Until they saw the scars. 

Long whitish marks crossed her back and stomach like blades in a horrible latticework, some long healed, some still new. Her chest was bandaged and hidden in old cloth, bound tightly and rubbed raw in places from chafing. She was breathing heavily, clenching her fists as the Casita itself rattled in fury. Abuela had her mouth open, but couldn’t seem to find the right words. 

“I’m not afraid of punishment,” Mirabel hissed at her, voice breaking from pure stress, “so let me take their burden. It’s my fault; they are my responsibility,” 

“…Mirabel…” Mama croaked, her eyes filled with tears, “why didn’t you…” 

“I’ll kill whoever did this,” Luisa heard Isabela grit out from somewhere under the veranda, “I’ll strangle them,” 

Across the room, Tía Pepa was full out thunderstorming, the sound rattling Casita’s shingles as a heavy rain began to fall. Abuela and Mirabel stared at one another for a long time, the storm soaking their clothing and hair. The drops collected on Mirabel’s bare skin, pooling in the crevasses dug through her body. Neither seemed ready to back down, pride and anger flaring brightly in each. Luisa herself was seeing red, clenching her fists tightly as she kept herself from punching the thing closest to her - that being a wall, which wasn’t fair to Casita. It felt like the standoff lasted for ages. Abuela was the one to back down first, her eyes not softening, but her anger seemingly quashed for now. 

“We do not discipline like that in this house,” she said finally, “I don’t want those boys near the tower again.”

“I’ll be sure of it,” 

Abuela nodded firmly, walking out of the rain and vanishing up the stairs - probably to her own room. Mirabel huffed like a riled up bull in a fighting match, still standing in the center of the courtyard as she removed her glasses and rubbed her eyes tiredly. Juan and Hernandez, both of whom had been previously silent, grabbed her legs in a hug, tears streaming down their faces. 

“We’re sorry Mira,” one cried, the other nodding in agreement. 

“It’s my fault, niñitos. I should’ve been here,” She grunted, grabbing her shirt from the ground which was now soaked with water and tossing it on, “come on, I want to look at your shoulders,” 

Taking each boy by the hand, Mirabel cast a wary glance at her family before disappearing up the stairs where Abuela had gone. The other kids soon followed suit, sprinting through the storm and vanishing as well to check on their hermana. It was quiet, and Luisa set the forgotten laundry down so as to not drop it. Casita quickly rolled it away, no doubt transporting it back where it belonged. 

“Mama!” Isabela said suddenly, catching the woman as she basically collapsed to her knees, weeping. 

“How could someone do that to my little girl?” She croaked, “I could’ve healed all of it if I had been there…” 

“There wasn’t anything you could do,” Isabela tried to console her, “how could you?” 

“…I’ll fry them all,” Pepa ground to Félix, who was trying and failing to quell her rage. Antonio was held very tightly in his fathers arms, looking at where Mirabel had vanished with worry, “I’ll strike them with so much lightning…” 

“Luisa,” 

Glancing down, Camilo and Dolores appeared at her side, “are you ok?” 

“I don’t think any of us can be,” she mumbled, thinking about the conversation had not so long ago, “we can’t let her shoulder her burdens alone anymore,” 

“That’s a lot, coming from you,” Dolores admitted, tilting her head as Isa stomped over frustratedly. She had left Mama in the care of Papi, but now was steaming terribly in the storm. Red flowers had popped into her hair, toxic and dangerous looking. 

“How dare they touch her,” she spat, only to have a firm hand land on her shoulder. Luisa wasn’t used to being the voice of reason in situations like these, but she had to be strong now. Strong enough to lift the church, strong enough to move the donkeys. And strong enough to see past her rage and think about their hermana, who was clearly hurting despite how well she hid it. 

“I think we need to all cool off,” Luisa said, “I have an idea we could try, if you all are willing to help me?” 

There were nods amongst the group as Luisa waved them all in close, explaining her thoughts. 

“That’s a great idea, Luisa,” Isabela complemented, “it’ll be perfect,” 

“Wait!” 

Turning as a unit, Antonio had somehow wiggled away from his parents and sprinted towards them, “can I come! I want to help!” 

“Of course, Primo, we need all the help we can get,” Luisa said, picking the boy up and setting him on her shoulders for the best view. 

And as the kids left Casita together, uncaring about the weather, their excitement grew larger. It was well near lunchtime when they all returned, hauling bags of wrapped things in their arms, and boxes of goods to be presented. Hurrying through the house so as to not be stopped by any of the adults — especially not Abuela — they hurried towards the dormitory. Isabela knocked lightly with a knuckle, stepping back as footsteps shuffled closer. Mirabel was the one who answered; she looked a bit worn out, but generally ok. She had changed into her embroidered blouse, dry and warm compared to earlier that morning. 

“Hi, Hermana,” Isa greeted with a smile, “Mind if we come in?” 

Nodding but not saying anything, Mirabel stepped aside and let the parade of goods filter through the doorway. The kids all glanced up as well, eyeballs bulging at the sight of so much stuff. 

“So, Mirabel, niñitos, we decided…” Isa motioned to the others, who smiled - except Camilo, who made a funny face, “that as sisters and cousins we haven’t done hardly enough to welcome you into the family.” 

“What does that mean?” Bianca questioned, lifting a dark brow. Isa merely smiled. 

“It means presents!”  

And presents there were. Luisa had told the others how rough the children’s clothing had looked on the line that morning, and decided new wardrobes were required for each. Money was no issue, as none of them ever spent their allowances on anything — most was given to them in response to their assistance to the community. In fact, it felt downright bizarre to spend money in town. But from the bags came new clothes; trousers and shirts for the boys, and skirts and blouses for the girls to match Mirabel’s. Dolores suggested new, more colorful bedding for the dormitory, so it was done. Each child chose a different sheet color, one to keep as their own. Camilo had insisted on toys, including windmills and balls for playtime in the courtyard. Antonio had chosen a variety of stuffed animals like Jaguars, toucans, capybaras and donkey’s to share with his new housemates. And Isa had found many beautiful wind chimes which Luisa hung on the ceiling just for that extra pop of music. 

By the time it was done, the once drab room was bursting with life. Each child had gathered their new things and were running about excitedly, showing off to the others. Mirabel still looked a bit dumbfounded about the whole thing. 

“You guys didn’t have to do all this,” she said finally, “it’s more than any of us could’ve imagined,” 

“Don’t think we forgot about you,” Luisa said, picking up an empty table from the corner and bringing it closer to Mirabel’s bed, “you’re going to love this,” 

It took a second to hoist the object up onto her shoulder to haul it into the dorm, but Mirabel’s eyes practically popped from her skull. 

“Is that…?” 

“Your very own sewing machine,” Luisa announced, setting it down with a grunt. Behind her, Dolores was bringing in a large basket of yarn and thread, as well as an array of fabrics which she nearly dropped. 

“We know you love your needle and thread, hermana. But we couldn’t pass it up,” Isa said, placing a hand on Mirabel’s shoulder, “consider it an apology, for all those years we didn’t get to be your family,” 

Mirabel pursed her lips and nodded, only to start crying a second later. 

“That’s not allowed!” Luisa called, immediately scooping the girl up in her arms, “this is a happy thing! No tears,” 

“It was all Luisa’s idea,” Camilo said, shifting into the form of his cousin and flexing, “I’m so strong, but so soft too!” 

There was laughter around the room as Mirabel hugged each person in turn. 

“Thank you. I’m…so sorry about what happened earlier…I just…” 

“You don’t have to explain anything to us, Prima,” Dolores said, kneeling down to pick up Elena who had tottered over to her to escape the fuss of her siblings, “when you’re ready, or if you want to talk, all of us are here for you,” 

There were nods of agreement as Mirabel smiled again, turning to take in the chaos that was many children. 

“Maybe I could make us all some lunch,” Isabela suggested, “I’m not that great, but I’m still my Mama’s daughter,” 

“Lunch sounds perfect, I’m starved from carrying that thing all the way from town,” Luisa admitted, wiping her forehead as there was more laughter and the little ones were gathered and quickly corralled downstairs for a meal. 

When the adults found them all later, the group had voted on an afternoon siesta right after lunch. Isabela had Bianca in her lap, both of them passed out ungracefully in a chair and sleeping deeply. Camilo had both Juan and Hernandez tucked under either side of his ruana, snoring away. Antonio, Adrianne and Pablos had fallen asleep in the middle of playing with a spinning top, sprawled on the floor. Dolores had Elena against her chest, knees keeping the little one from falling off. And Luisa had Mirabel’s head in her lap, both of them taking up most of one of the outdoor sofas. 

“I feel like our family just got a lot bigger,” Pepa mumbled, swiping at the cloud forming over her head due to a swelling heart. Mama laughed lightly at that and nodded, tugging her sister along as they left the children to sleep undisturbed for a while. 

Chapter Text

Mirabel 

Mirabel didn’t know where the blanket had come from. Sitting on her bed in the dorm, she felt the colorful stitching with both thumbs, frowning at the object. It was soft and warm, and made her belly heat up just like Mama’s cooking. But she still wasn’t sure who had made it, or how it had come to her in the middle of the night. Last she checked, it had been in the Nursery, covered in a light layer of dust from almost ten years spent sitting untouched. Mira thought at first that the house had brought it, but when she asked, the shutters had fallen open in a shrugging motion. 

Guess not. 

So the mystery grew ever more confusing. And with all that had happened in just a few hours, she hadn’t the time to think much about it. Sighing heavily, Mirabel leaned down to pick up the knitted bag tucked carefully under her mattress. It wasn’t filled with stolen food anymore — unless she counted the single pomegranate Isabela had given her earlier — but rather jingled with some reels of thread, a ball of pink yarn, and a small container of needles. But Mira didn’t care about what was in the bag right now. Instead she felt the fabric and haphazard stitches, following her name's curly lettering with a hand. It felt familiar to her, but she knew that neither of her siblings had made such a thing. So now both the blanket and the bag were in her possession, but she had no clue who had made them. She felt a familiar curiosity well up inside of her, despite knowing better. She just wanted to know. 

Glancing up as there was a soft knock, Mira tossed the bag over her chest to think about later and turned to address whomever had arrived. 

“Come in!” 

Casita gladly opened the door, revealing Juan and Hernandez. Both of them looked well rested from their afternoon siesta, but also appeared deeply sheepish. Bianca, who was behind them, prodded their backs with her fingers. 

“Go on,” she whispered, pushing them both over the threshold and into the room. The boys both glanced wearily at one another, lowering their heads as they plodded heavily across the floor. 

“Thanks for bringing them, hermana,” Mira thanked her, “it’ll only be a minute,” 

“Ok, Mira,” she responded, grabbing the door handle and pulling it closed behind her. This left only three of them in the room, two of which were shuffling guiltily on their feet. 

“Alrighty boys,” the elder girl sighed, patting the mattress in front of her with both hands, “we need to chat. Come on up,” 

The six-year-olds did as they were told, scrambling up onto the mattress and folding their legs so they could all fit. Mira squinted at both of them through her glasses, not in any sort of cruelty, but in puzzlement. The twins were usually decently behaved, if not a bit rascally. But they knew when something was out of line; Mira was sure to teach them as such, “so,” she began, “who’s going to explain what happened this morning?” 

The boys didn’t say anything at first, glancing at one another and making a few faces. Mira couldn’t help but lift an eyebrow curiously. Her siblings weren’t normally so secretive, at least not around her. Juan and Hernandez— being the same age— were thick as thieves though, and could speak to one another without any sound at all. So well in fact that even Mirabel couldn’t begin to guess what they were talking about most of the time, “boys?” she urged gently, drawing their attention, “I promise I’m not mad, but I need to know what’s going on if I’m going to help,” 

Still silent…how unusual. 

“…we saw someone!”  Juan finally blurted out, receiving a hard elbow to the chest from his brother, “ow, what? We have to tell her anyway,” 

“Someone?” Mira wondered, frowning, “there’s tons of people in this house, mijo, you’ve gotta be more specific,” 

“Juan thought he saw a…what was it you said?” Hernandez asked his companion, “it was something weird,” 

“It was a Rat Man!” Juan exploded, jumping up to stand anxiously on the mattress, “he was moving around weird, and his eyes were all crazy, and he was all hunched over like…” Juan hunched his back and held out his arms as Mirabel blinked in confusion at her brother's display. A Rat Man? Inside the Casita? 

“O-kay?” 

“I told you it was stupid,” Hernandez snipped at the other boy, who stuck his tongue out and fell back down onto his backside, arms folded in a pout. 

“It’s what I saw!” He insisted, “You saw the little rats too! I wasn’t imagining it.” 

“Hold on,” Mira insisted, holding up her hands, “so you saw this…Rat Man, and then a bunch of…mice, with him?” 

“Tons of them,” Hernandez supplied, “we followed them through the house. We weren’t even on the stairs of the tower, just kinda standing near them when Matrona showed up and got angry. We were just looking,”

“Ok, let me get this straight. You followed a Rat Man and his mice to the tower that Abuela Madrigal says is forbidden?” 

Both boys glanced at one another, shrugged, then nodded in unison. Right. 

“That sounds…really out there, hermanos,” Mirabel admitted, “but you didn’t go into the tower?” 

“No way! The guy on that door was super creepy looking,” Juan claimed, wiggling his fingers like a spider, “and it was all boarded up,” 

“Wait, what man?” 

“Bruno,” Hernandez said, “at least that’s what the door said,” 

“Bruno?” Mirabel wondered aloud, tilting her head. That name felt familiar to her too, but then again, if he was part of the family then maybe he’d been around when she was little, “so the tower belongs to this Bruno character?” 

“I guess,” Hernandez shrugged, “but Matrona stopped us before we could get any closer. All the mice disappeared inside,” 

“Huh,” Mirabel mused, tapping her chin with two fingers as she glanced at the blanket in her lap and stared at it for a while. If Bruno was part of the family once, what happened to him? Why was his door forbidden? “Ok, that’s all I wanted to know,” she said finally, “go on and play, but stay away from Matrona Madrigal. And don’t bother anyone unless you’re willing to help them,” 

“Yes Mira,” “Yes Mira,” both said, grabbing at each other as they hauled themselves out of the dorm at impressive speed, lest Mirabel change her mind and keep them prisoner for their misdeeds. Rolling her eyes, the girl stood and straightened out her skirt. A third part of the mystery was now in play; the mysterious Bruno. But if he had been part of the family at some point, someone was bound to know something about him. Exiting the dorm quietly, Mirabel gasped as her arm was grabbed and she was pulled down the hall into a shadowy alcove. Down this dark hallway was the most ominous set of stairs she had ever seen…and up them? A single, boarded up door.

The Tower. 

“You should be careful,” Dolores whispered, drawing Mirabel’s attention to her. She looked…worried, and was frowning deeply, “we don’t talk about Bruno in this house,” 

“But why?” Mirabel wondered, only to get quickly shushed by her elder Prima who hunched down a little with a wince, “who is Bruno?” 

Glancing around, Dolores nodded deeper into the alcove. Mirabel followed after her, glancing behind them every so often to make sure no one overheard. 

“Tío Bruno is our Uncle,” she mumbled lowly, pulling her knees up to her chest to sit on the lowest step, “his gift was the ability to see the future,” 

“Really?” Mirabel breathed, glancing up at the ominous door down looking over them. It explained the hourglass symbols etched all over it, “amazing,” 

“A humbling gift, but difficult sometimes to understand,” Dolores mused, patting the stair beside her for Mirabel to sit, “Bruno disappeared the same night you did. It…it was assumed that he was the one who kidnapped you,” 

“Kidnapped me?” Mirabel barked, only for Dolores to immediately shush her as she cringed, “sorry. But why would he do that? My own Uncle?” 

“No one knows,” Dolores shrugged, “Tío Bruno was always the black sheep of this family. He never married, never had kids, and struggled with his gift. The town feared his ability to see into the future,”

“Did you?” Mirabel wondered, “fear his power, I mean.” 

Dolores looked downcast for a moment, her brows furrowing. 

“He told all of our futures at one point or another. Mine was…not what I wanted to hear. That the man of my dreams would be betrothed to someone else? Kind of a bummer,” 

“Were all of his prophecies bad like that?” Mira wondered curiously. Dolores shrugged again. 

“Not sure. He was pretty secretive, even with us. But I remember…that you were close to him as a little girl,”

“I was?” 

Dolores nodded, leaning on her knees. 

“I was only a little bit older, but I remember that he seemed to care a lot for you. Maybe because you were so young and didn’t care about all the things other people said about him. But…I don’t know, you seemed to search him out on your own, too.” 

“Like Elena does with you?” Mira smiled, causing Dolores to immediately blush and turn away. 

“A bit. She’s just…awfully sweet, and is the quietest little baby I’ve ever met,” 

“It’s ok. Her Mami was young and soft spoken too, a bit like you, actually. I was there when Elena was born,” 

“You were?” 

Mirabel nodded, forgetting about Bruno for the moment as she rubbed the top of one of her thumbs. 

“Matrona was one of the few women in our village who knew about childbirth, and I was brought along to help. Catalina was her name; she was only a few years older than me, hardly old enough or ready to be a mom,” 

“What happened to her?” Dolores croaked, hunched over her knees and holding her ankles, “Elena wasn’t…” 

“No, she wasn’t at the Orphanage with us. But it still wasn’t an easy life,” counting the cracks in the floor, Mirabel adjusted her glasses slowly, gathering her thoughts, “Catalina was so young, and she never recovered fully from the birth. She was sick, and tired, and couldn’t provide enough milk while Elena was growing. When our village was attacked, I gathered my hermanos and made to flee. Catalina stopped me, told me to take Elena wherever I was going…so she could have a better life someplace else,” 

Dolores was openly crying, lips wobbling as she pressed her forehead against her skirt. Hesitantly, Mirabel placed a hand on her back. 

“Do you…know what happened after?” The other girl whimpered, not looking up. Mirabel sighed heavily and shook her head, despite Dolores not being able to see it. 

“Just that we somehow made it here,” she mumbled, feeling the elder girl tremble slightly under her palm, “I think that you are exactly who Catalina was envisioning to take care of her daughter, Dolores. You love her, it’s as clear as day. And I’m pretty sure her clinginess says enough about how she feels in return,” 

Dolores looked up, her eyes huge and reflective like mirrors. 

“Y-you don’t mind?” 

“What, that she's happiest with you?” Mira wondered, lifting a brow and picking up her cousin's hands, “Dolores, if I could find people to love these kids as much as you love Elena, I would do it in a heartbeat. I just want them to be happy.” 

“I think they already have someone like that,” the other girl said under her breath, smiling and quickly wiping at her tears, “sorry, I didn’t mean to get emotional.” 

“I just wish I could remember more of what happened before,” Mirabel chided herself, closing her eyes to think very hard about her arrival at the Orphanage all those years ago. She remembered feeling incredibly scared and confused, but it was all just a blur of colors and fear and pain. Squeezing her eyes, she continued to think back — all the way back as far as her memory would stretch. Then…something. A shadow not belonging to someone she recognized right away. They were haloed in light, like they were standing over her looking down. The shape was…familiar. Like a lot of things recently. 

Then nothing. 

“Ack!” Hissing slightly as her head flared in pain, Mirabel forced her eyes open and quickly blinked the fog away. Dolores was watching her closely, back to frowning again. 

“Did it…hurt you to think that hard?” She asked, clearly concerned, “maybe we should go to Tía for something—“ 

“No, no I’m fine,” Mirabel insisted, rubbing her temple with a frustrated cringe, “that happens sometimes when I think back further than I should. I’ve had a…hem, don’t…don’t tell Mama, but I’ve had my fair share of knocks to the head in the past,” 

“Did you remember anything?” 

“Nothing useful; just a shadow,” Mirabel groaned, laying backwards on the stairs as Dolores stared for a second before deciding the fight wasn’t worth it. She stood, brushing out her skirt and straightening her blouse. 

“I should probably be getting back,” Dolores pouted, looking like she wanted to do anything else but go back to whatever she’d been doing previously, “Abuela is whipping up a storm down there since we didn’t get much done today.” 

“Sor-“ 

“No, shush, that isn’t your fault,” Dolores said quickly, lifting a finger before extending a palm, “come with me?” 

Mirabel glanced at the hand, then tilted her chin slightly upwards, staring at the currently upside-down door of Tío Bruno. She desperately wanted to know. 

“Hey, I see that look,” Dolores deadpanned, “I know you’re curious, Mirabel. But it’s…unwise, to be here right now. What with ‘tonio’s gift ceremony tomorrow and what happened earlier. Abuela is already on edge. You don’t want to give her another reason to…” 

“Totally hate me?” Mirabel finished with an eye roll, sitting up and grabbing Dolores’s hand as she was hoisted back up to her feet, “you’re probably right,” 

“Hm! Glad someone in this family thinks so,” the elder girl teased lightly, the two of them very carefully slipping from the alcove and walking to a less suspicious place on the veranda. Pausing for a second, someone was standing on the other side. 

“Go on ahead, prima, I’ll be right back,” 

At Dolores’s intense stare, Mirabel scoffed and dropped her shoulders, “I promise I’m not…going right now, ok? Trust me?” 

“Way more than I should, I think,” she chided, shaking her head as she turned heel and headed back towards wherever she had come from. Leaning over the banister to see where that had been, Mirabel smiled as Elena appeared nearly instantly from somewhere down below, making grabby hands for Dolores to pick her up the minute she got close enough. 

“Told you,” Mirabel mumbled happily as the elder gently tossed the little girl up onto her hip as naturally as one might hold a ripe watermelon, tapping the end of her nose as the baby giggled and grabbed her waist in a hug. Making a clicking noise in the back of her throat, Mirabel wandered around the veranda till she stood next to who she’d seen on her way out of Bruno’s tower, holding her hands behind her back and rolling on her heels. Antonio was staring at a wall of photographs, his expression overflowing with dread. 

“…so,” Mira said, breaking the ice as the youngest grandchild glanced at her, “tomorrow is a big day? Five years old, right? Magical gift and everything. Feels to me like you should look more excited. Not like you’re facing a —“ she paused. Don’t compare a child’s somber expression to that of an adult facing a firing squad. Bad metaphor, estúpida, “…well, nevermind. What’s on your mind, hombrecito? Still worried about your gift?” 

“What if I mess up tomorrow?” He worried out loud, “there’s going to be so many people watching,” 

“Is that all?” Mira asked, “I fall down and up the stairs all the time. It’s no big deal. Just stand up and brush yourself off,” 

Antonio didn’t look super comforted as Mirabel placed her hands on her hips in thought. She stared up at the pictures as well, tilting her head at them. Turning, she glanced at the candle burning in the topmost window. She hadn’t spent much time looking at it since arriving; but she knew it was there. Ever burning like a star on a clear night. Like a strike of lightning, Mirabel snapped her fingers. 

“I’ve got it! Hold on, wait right there,” 

Leaving Antonio at the pictures, Mirabel hurried down the hall to the nearest window sill. Picking up a rather large candle, one that hadn’t been lit for the night yet, she glanced to the ceiling, “Casita, are any of the adults around?” 

The house rattled an answer, which Mira was hoping was a no. Nodding, she quickly returned to Antonio who stared at her bewilderedly, “since you’re worried about messing up, why don’t we practice what’ll happen tomorrow night?” 

“Right now?” Antonio blinked as Mirabel nodded. 

“Why not? Everyone else is busy, and tomorrow should be special for you. So, what do you say? Wanna give it a try?” 

Antonio looked weary, but then nodded as Mirabel pumped a fist. Casita apparently heard the goings on and immediately began to shift itself around. A blank wall appeared where there hadn’t previously been one, and the staircase curved slightly to meet it. The house candles dimmed, leaving the house peaceful. And on the nearest banister sat a box of matches, which Mirabel grabbed, “even Casita thinks this is a good idea. Ok, you know what to do right?” 

Antonio nodded hesitantly, descending the stairs and through the courtyard as Mirabel struck a match to light the candle in her hands. 

“Mira! Hermana!” 

Glancing down over the banister, Isabela was staring up at her in confusion, “what’s going on!” 

“Gift Ceremony rehearsal!” She replied back, “Antonio said he was nervous,” 

“Oh! Well it’s way too dull in here for something like that. Hold on!” 

Waving her arms, Mirabel watched in amazement as the walls were coated floor to rafters in orange and yellow flowers. 

“It’s beautiful. Are the others down there!” she asked, “can you make an audience? Make it seem a bit more full?” 

Isabela nodded and yelled to everyone else, who quickly gathered and got filled in on what was going on. With the scene set, Casita adjusted the floor tiles to make a path as the sounds of drums filled the air. Mirabel stood at the top of the stairs, feeling a bit stupid honestly, but willing to do what she could. Antonio waited under the veranda, appearing quite nervous despite the ceremony not being real. He glanced up at her, clasping his hands in front of him, “you got this, hombrecito,” Mirabel said, nodding her head towards her, “come on,” 

Hesitantly, Antonio took a step forward, then another. Camilo quickly shifted into the vision of his mother, cooing and weeping playfully. He then shifted into his father, giving the funniest double thumbs up possible. Antonio giggled, glancing at his other siblings and cousins. Luisa flexed her arms, which the boy mimicked, and Isabela knelt down to grow a flower in his hair. Dolores smiled her warmest smile, still bouncing Elena on a hip, while the kids around her all shouted their excitement and clapped loudly. Antonio reached the stairs, stopping just for a second to look up them. 

Mirabel nodded her approval, waving a hand at the empty wall next to her. The boy let out a deep breath and slowly began to ascend, using the railing to keep from tripping as he mouthed the number of steps. 

“See, that wasn’t so bad,” Mira chuckled as he reached her, still holding her candle, “so, Antonio,” kneeling down slightly, she extended the candle out towards him, “do you promise to keep climbing trees, swimming in the river, and smiling as bright as you can after you get your gift?” 

Antonio nodded, touching the candle with his hands as the flame danced on its pool of wax, “do you promise to keep your familia close, no matter what? Do you swear on this candle to protect them, even if it may seem hard?” 

Antonio nodded with a bit more confidence, looking up at Mirabel as she rose back to her feet, turning to observe the wall. It was still empty, but she could already picture a door there. 

“Come here, niñito,” she urged, placing the flat of her hand against the plaster. Her littlest primo did the same, staring up at the spot with huge eyes, “tomorrow, there will be a door here. And when you get a gift, it’s going to be just as amazing, and as special, and lovable as you. And you don’t have to worry about anything, because even if you don’t get a gift, you’ll have so much more in here,” poking the boys chest, he felt the spot with his hand, “then any magic could ever give you. Understand?” 

Antonio’s eyes suddenly went glassy, and Mirabel grunted as she was hugged tightly by the waist. 

“I wish you could have a door,” Antonio whispered into her blouse, causing the girl’s heart to warm as she placed a hand in his hair fondly. 

“You don’t have to worry about me, primo,” she told him, setting her candle on the ground in order to give the boy a better hug, “because I’ve got an amazing familia, and an amazing house…and an amazing you. And you getting your special gift, and going through your door? Well…it’ll make me more happy than anything,” 

“Thank you, Mirabel,” Antonio mumbled, pulling away from her and running down the steps to meet his waiting audience who quickly surrounded him excitedly. Staring after them, Mirabel moved to follow, but jumped as something skittered by the light of the candle. It was tiny, and barely made noise on the tiles. But as she scooped up her light and ran after the pint sized shadow, she could just make out it’s little tail and ears. Following the mouse for as long as she could, Mirabel skidded around the corner of the banister only to stop. The mouse was gone; totally vanished from her sight. 

“What the…” 

“Mirabel! Come down here!” 

“Coming!” 

Approaching the spot where the rodent had just been, she knelt down slightly when her light reflected off something on the floor. Running her finger through the fine grains with the same texture as sand, she hesitantly tasted it. Salt? Why was there salt on the floor? 

“Mira! Come join us!” 

“Yeah!” Shaking the weirdness away, Mirabel hurried back towards the staircase and descended to join the others in celebrating before tomorrow, totally unknowing of the figure who peeked out from behind a painting, his smile soft.

Before vanishing back into the dark unseen. 

Chapter Text

Camilo

Camilo Madrigal prided himself on his ability to make people laugh. From his wacky transformations, to bad jokes shared at the breakfast table, it was truly his very special skill. But never had he laughed so hard at a story that wasn’t even his. Camilo expected the morning of ‘tonio’s gift ceremony to be tense and filled with worry. After all, the last one had ended disastrously, and made Abuela even more cranky than usual. 

His Prima Mirabel apparently had other ideas. 

Where the heck she got the hand puppets from, Camilo wasn’t sure. Isa and Luisa said she was talented with a needle and thread, and with a new sewing machine maybe she could just pop stuff out like Tía Julieta could pop out Empanadas. But as the kids hurriedly gathered in front of one of Casita’s outdoor hedges, Camilo was somehow dragged into the mess. He didn’t even know how he got here; one minute he was trying to steal food from the kitchen before breakfast, the next Juan and Hernandez had both his arms and were dragging him along. They pushed him down between them, Antonio, and Pablos, who passed him a piece of grapefruit swiped from the table in the dining room. The girls were sitting on a rock nearby, and Dolores — as per usual, apparently — was also present, little Elena sitting in her lap intently. 

Camilo had never laughed so hard in his life. 

The story about the drunken King who lost his clothes to three barmen during a game of Tejo had him and his companions absolutely rolling in hysterics. And as Mirabel stood up to give a bow with her many cloth puppets, Tía called them back inside for breakfast. Camilo saw briefly Dolores hand Elena off as they all filed back inside, but the boy had to skid to a stop in wide-eyed wonder at what he saw. 

Usually the morning meal was a boring affair. Abuela used this time to elaborate on their duties for the day, or to once again tell the family how happy she was that Isabela was being courted by big-hunk-man Guzmàn. But today, the table looked just a bit different. Apparently his youngest cousin had been up early, and covered the wood surface in brightly colored strips of cloth and small illuminated candles. 

Each spot at the table was labeled with a name in curly letters, with a specific animal on each plate for that person. Luisa had a donkey on hers, which she very delicately picked up in her hands to observe. Isa had an intricately folded bird with pink and green feathers which she immediately began growing small flowers on. Antonio had a ferocious yellow spotted Jaguar, Dolores had a monkey with a baby on its back, Mama and Papi both had bears (one was bigger and one was smaller), and Tía Julieta and Tío Augustín had delicately patterned fish. Even Abuela had an animal, that being an owl resting on the candlestick just above her plate. Sitting down at his own spot, Camilo picked up the chameleon waiting for him and turned it in his hands awestruck. Had she made all of these in a single night? 

“¡Hola, familia!” Mirabel announced, emerging from the kitchen with a rather large wicker basket on her arm, “I thought Antonio would like something special this morning, so I made the table just a bit more colorful,” she admitted, ruffling the boy's dark hair as he giggled. 

“Did you make all of these?” Isabela asked, “they’re incredible,”

“I’ve never held something so delicate before,” Luisa added, looking ready to cry as her lip trembled. 

“It wasn’t a big deal, I’m a night owl anyway,” Mirabel chuckled, though it seemed a little bit forced as she shook her head and adjusted her glasses, “I hope you guys have a great breakfast!” 

Blinking, Camilo realized the table hadn’t been extended for their extra members, and there were no special plate settings for the little niños. 

“Are you not eating with us, Prima?” Dolores questioned, seeming puzzled, “I’m sure no one would mind,” 

“Oh, uh…no. After yesterday I think it would be best to give Matr—I mean, Abuela Madrigal, some space. So the kids and I are having a picnic on the lawn instead before heading into town for a field trip,” blowing a dark curl from her face, the girl shrugged casually, “they begged me all night to take them down the hill, so I thought this would be a perfect way to keep out of the way while preparations are going on. ¡Nos vemos!” 

And she walked away, skirt bouncing as she half skipped half ran down a grassy embankment towards the front of the house. Camilo had to immediately wonder how much coffee she had this morning, but was distracted at the clinking of a plate being moved. Despite none of the adults having arrived, Antonio was picking up his silverware and setting it on his plate in order to reach the paper mat Mirabel had made for him. 

“What are you doing, hermano?” Dolores questioned, blinking as the boy slipped out of his seat with some help from Casita, grabbed his special table setting and paper Jaguar, and hurried in the direction Mirabel had gone. They stared after him for a second in silence. 

“What a great idea,” Isa announced quite loudly, shocking Camilo as she rose from her seat and began to collect her things, “I swear if I hear one more word from Abuela about how many great grandchildren she wants, I’m going to pull my hair out,” 

“Hm!” Dolores agreed, and began to collect her things as well. Honestly, Camilo was on board with the rest of his familia for once. Breakfast on the lawn sounded way more fun than a morning meeting about chores. And though he felt a tiny bit bad about just abandoning the adults when Tía Julieta had made breakfast, they were already on the move. Rounding the corner, Camilo immediately heard music playing.

Just as Mirabel had said, the little group of strays had set up a large grouping of blankets on the front hill, a spread of goods laid out on various plates before them. One of Casita’s phonographs had been pulled to the window, pumping out a dancing tune from the front room. Pablos, Bianca, Hernandez and Juan were playing a game of fútbol— with the ball Camilo had insisted on buying, he noted with pride—skidding around in the grass as they laughed and tried to tackle one another to the ground. Adrianne was sitting with Mirabel on the blanket, Elena in her lap as the girl struggled to weave a flower crown. Mirabel herself was laid down back first, one knee bent and her arms behind her head as she took in the sunlight. 

Apparently sleeping. 

“She’s such a liar,” Isabela scoffed, stomping a foot in a huffy way, “I swear, the next time she’s up late, I’m tying her down and forcing her to sleep till noon,” 

Indeed, their youngest Prima had some…worrisome habits. No doubt she had stayed up most of the night to make Antonio’s table special, even gave Abuela her own paper animal, only to worry about being in the way because Abuela was…well, Abuela. Holding a hand to her lips, Isa led the charge forward as they waved to the kids, who immediately paused what they were doing to meet them. 

“Shhh,” Isa mumbled as they ran closer, pointing where Mirabel was snoozing deeply, “we’re just here to enjoy the sun,” 

“Come play with us, Camilo,” Pablos insisted softy, already pulling on his hand, “we need a goalie,” 

“Oh, my little friend, you have asked the right shapeshifter,” he admitted, transforming into one of the other boys from the village as to not be at to much of an advantage, “you won’t get a single score on me,” 

Except they did, because Bianca was ferocious, and reminded him instantly of Luisa as she charged right at him full speed ahead with the ball, whacking it right between his arm and leg through what the kids had determined as the ‘goal’. One after another points were made, and eventually Camilo flopped to the grass and returned to himself with a groan. 

“Ok, ok, I give up. You win,” 

“That was so much fun,” Juan said, nudging his shoulder with a foot, “we can never get Adrianne to play with us, so it’s always two on two,” 

“She doesn’t like getting dirty,” Hernandez complained, “let’s go get some food. I’m hungry,” 

And so the game was put on pause for the sake of breakfast. On the blanket, Isabela had Adrianne in her lap and was helping her with the flower crown, while Dolores laid on her belly, watching Elena play with a spare wildflower while braiding petals into her hair. Luisa had pulled Mirabel’s head into her lap — somehow without waking her — and was leaning back on her arms to bask in the early morning, while Antonio played between their legs with his new paper Jaguar, running it around in the air and imagining it was in the jungle. To Camilo, who quickly grabbed handfuls of Arepas and fruit, it was truly a morning unlike any other they had ever had. No adults giving them looks to behave at the table when they were only having a bit of fun, no Abuela telling them about all the things they needed to do in order to help the community. No pressure to keep their eldest member content with their performances. 

Camilo wished it could be like this every day. 

“…woah!” Everyone on the blanket jumped as Mirabel suddenly shot up, blinking wildly behind her glasses as she gasped slightly. Her chest was rising and falling rapidly, like she had been dreaming about something, but she quickly calmed herself and shook it off, “sorry hermanos, I didn’t mean to fall asleep like that,” she admitted, pressing the heel of her hand to her forehead. 

“That’s ok, we had company!” Adrianne spoke from Isa’s lap, a semi-successful flower crown now in her fingers. Staring around at them, Mirabel seemed puzzled. 

“When did…you guys get here? Is it already that late?” 

“Nah, we skipped out on the usual breakfast for something a bit different,” Camilo said, stretching out his arms and flopping onto his back, “I could get used to this,” 

“You shouldn’t risk having your Abuela come for your heads just for us,” Mirabel complained instantly, running a hand through her hair, “it’s really ok,” 

“Do you ever think that maybe we’re here because we like spending time with you?” Isa chided good naturedly, flicking a flower directly into Mirabel’s face as she sneezed in response, “and I swear, hermanita, if I hear about one more late night from you, you’re sleeping in my room under guard until I say so,”

“But…” 

“Were you having a nightmare just now?” Dolores asked, tilting her head slightly as she rested on folded elbows, “you were breathing pretty quickly,” 

“Ah…uh,” Mirabel puffed out her lips lightly, seeming unwilling to answer and no doubt thinking of some sort of lie to tell. Thankfully, someone else answered for her before she could come up with something. 

“Mira has nightmares a lot,” Pablos explained, frowning as Mirabel slumped. 

“Hermano, you traitor,” 

“What? We all have them,” he insisted, “just yours are always so…” 

“Scary,” Bianca finished. 

“Elaborate, small human,” Luisa said, grabbing Mirabel by the waist and pulling her fully into a massive hug, causing the younger girl to groan in annoyance. Camilo couldn’t help his smirk. She obviously wasn’t used to all this attention, nor being coddled over by…well, literally everyone. “I swear I’m fine,” Mira insisted firmly, trying to wiggle from Luisa’s grip only to huff in frustration at her immediate failure, “they are just little nightmares, no big deal,” 

“Except when we can’t wake you up,” Hernandez said flatly, “those are the worst ones,”  

“Those don’t happen very often,” Mirabel shot back, only to get deadpan stares from all of her little niñitos — including Elena — though Camilo assumed she wasn’t doing it on purpose, “alright fine! I don’t sleep well and I have nightmares! Dios Mío, you guys. When did you get so sassy anyway?” 

“We should have a sleepover, those always help me when I’m scared!” Antonio suggested, “after tonight though; Abuela is cranky,” 

“She’s probably going to be even more cranky now that we ditched her boring morning chores list,” Camilo agreed with an eye roll as he grabbed onto Mirabel’s leg, “save us, Mirabel! Take us with you!”

“Aren’t you all going into town already?” Mira wondered, hanging limply from Luisa’s arms as she adjusted her glasses, “I would think Abuela Madrigal has your schedules wall to wall,” 

“You don’t even know the half of it,” Isabela whined unhappily, “flowers on everything! She wants the whole town decorated by noon,” 

“Abuela asked if I’d move the bridge again,” Luisa grumbled, frowning, “why can’t we just leave it where it is? This is the third time,” 

“I was told to listen for any extra RSVP’s, which is silly because everyone is already coming,” Dolores sighed, shaking her head, “I feel like Abuela is just trying to get rid of us sometimes.” 

“Puh-lease take us with you, Mira!” Camilo begged again, transforming into a random little boy and giving her his best pouty lip. He didn’t want to stand around all day and hold babies again. 

“I mean, if we’re all headed there anyway, no harm in going together,” she admitted, grunting as Luisa gave her a squeeze, “ack! Hermana, can’t…breathe,” 

“You’re so good to us, Mira!” The elder girl wailed as Isabela rolled her eyes at her sister's antics. 

“Luisa, let Mira go before she passes out,” 

“Oops,” 

Camilo chuckled as Mirabel rolled from the bigger girl’s lap, landing on her stomach chest first. 

“Guess it’s settled then, Prima,” 

And so it was that the group of Madrigal’s began their journey into town, ignoring the eyes of the adults watching them from inside the Casita. Camilo strode easily next to his companions, watching intently. Luisa appeared to be thinking very hard about something, glancing every so often in the direction of Señor Parez’s farm (the farm where the donkeys came from). Isabela was fluffing out her hair, making sure it looked perfect and fell in just the right way. Mirabel was helping little Elenita onto Dolores’s back, settling her down in the scarf sling his sister had so lovingly made the day before. The kids ran about their legs like wild chickens, scattered between the group. Juan, Hernandez, and Antonio had found sticks along-side the path and were play fighting with them just ahead. Adrianne walked near Isabela, speaking words of adoration for her long dark locks. And Bianca walked by Dolores, skipping just in front of them. Realizing one was missing from their brood, Camilo stopped his quick stride to look behind them. Pablos was walking unenthusiastically at the tail end of their parade, hands in his pockets as he kicked a stone down the road. 

“Hey, Pablos,” Camilo said, jogging backwards to fall into step at the boys side, “you’re usually up front, what are you doing hanging back here?” 

“Watching,” he answered simply, going very quiet as they passed the first few buildings of their village. 

“What for?” 

“Danger,” the boy answered, patting the little fishing knife at his hip. 

“There isn’t anyone who would hurt you here, dude,” Camilo tried to reason, only for Pablos to lower his brows in focus, “you’re protecting Mirabel, right?” he voiced, “you have her back?” 

“Mhm. I won’t let anything sneak up on us,” he insisted, holding up his fists and taking a few swipes, “they gotta get through me first,” 

“Ah, well, glad my Prima has such a good bodyguard,” Camilo chuckled, watching from behind as Luisa and Isabela hugged Mirabel and Dolores goodbye. 

“...Adrianne, you don’t keep Isa from her chores!” Mira called after her hermanas as they glided away towards the center of town. Camilo could see that Adrianne was trying to mimic Isabela’s movements of perfection, wobbling awkwardly on her feet as she hurried to keep up with the elder girl’s wide, practically leaping steps. 

“Mira, can we go watch Luisa lift the bridge?” Juan asked excitedly, “please, please!” 

“Uh, I mean, if Luisa doesn’t mind?” Mirabel answered, rubbing the boy's dark hair fondly as he turned to the stronger girl and pouted. Hernandez  and Bianca soon joined in as well. Out of all of them, Camilo knew Luisa was easily the softest. 

“I don’t mind,” she nodded eventually, slumping her shoulders in defeat to the younger boys expressions, “so long as you all stay a good distance away so you don’t get hurt,” 

“Yes!” The boys pounded fists excitedly and Bianca fist pumped as they galloped by Luisa’s feet, asking her question after question about her abilities. 

“You don’t wanna go with them?” Camilo asked Pablos, “it’s pretty cool to see one person lift an entire bridge by hand,” 

Pablos merely shook his head stubbornly, setting his jaw as he continued to glance around the environment. 

“…hola, Señorita Madrigal,” 

Glancing up, Señora Nunez appeared from inside the bakery. She was a kindly elder woman, one who knew Abuela since childhood. Camilo remembered the delicious treats she used to sneak them as kids. 

“Hola, Señora Nunez,” Dolores greeted, accepting the light kiss on both cheeks, “¿Cómo estás?”  

“Busy today, what with little Antonio’s gift ceremony tonight,” she responded, kneeling slightly to give the boy — who stood holding Mirabel’s hand — a pinch to the cheek, “and who is this lovely young lady? A friend of yours?” 

“Uh…” blinking, Dolores cleared her throat lightly, “my…my Prima Mirabel, Señora,” 

“Mira…but…” Señora Nunez frowned slightly and knitted her brows. Mirabel pursed her lips awkwardly under the scrutiny, and Camilo put a hand on Pablos shoulder who stiffened. 

“This was bound to happen,” he mumbled in explanation, nodding to Dolores who glanced over her shoulder,  “a lot of the townspeople have known our family forever. Mirabel was a popular little baby, along with me, naturally,” 

“¡Dios mío! It is you,” she croaked, lifting a hand to touch Mirabel’s cheek. Though it was hard to see, Camilo saw the way her shoulders stiffened, and her back foot shifted into a ‘bolting’ position, “it’s been years. I remember the night when you…”

“It was a shock to us as well, Señora,” Dolores interjected politely, very subtly pushing the woman’s hand down as Mirabel shifted awkwardly away, “but she’s back, and we’re doing our best to make her feel welcome. Starting with a walk through town,” 

“Yes….yes of course. Mirabel, cariña mío, I remember you used to love coming to my shop. My baking certainly isn’t anything against your Mama’s Pan de Yuca, but you used to love my Piñitas,” 

“Did I?” She managed, “I…er…wouldn’t know,” 

“No, I suppose not. It’s been quite a while,” Señora Nunez chucked, her eyes brightening, “wait here,” 

Watching the woman vanish back into her shop, Camilo released Pablos’s shoulder who still hadn’t loosened up. 

“You might be getting a lot of that,” Dolores said gently, “a lot of people remember you here,” 

“I honestly didn’t even think about it,” Mirabel frowned, pulling Antonio just a bit closer to her legs as he squeezed her hand, “I thought people would just…forget.” 

“Not here, and not as a Madrigal,” Camilo admitted, “it’s a small town, Prima. And that night is well remembered,” 

“We can take you back,” Dolores insisted, “we can watch your niñitos for you, if it’s to much,” 

“No, no…I’m fine. I just have to get used to it. I can’t stay cooped up forever,” Mira sighed, all three of them glancing up as Señora Nunez reappeared with a large basket of baked goods. 

“Here, I made this batch just this morning,” 

“Oh! You don’t have to do that,” 

“But I do! As a welcome home gift,” she smiled, “will we be seeing you tonight at the ceremony?” 

“Yeah, of course,” glancing down at Antonio, the boy grinned, “wouldn’t miss it,” 

“Good, good. Well, I won’t take up any more of your time. So wonderful to have you back, Mirabel,” 

“Gracias, Señora. It was…good to see you again,” 

Nodding in unison as the woman bustled back inside, Camilo immediately came to look in the basket. 

“Ooo, Piñitas!” reaching for one, Dolores immediately slapped his hand away, “ouch! What was that for?” 

“Those aren’t for you,” she chided instantly, causing Mirabel to laugh at his expense. 

“You’re so mean to me, Hermana,” Camilo whined, transforming into his sister and wagging his finger, “I’m Abuela, don’t do this, don’t do that!” 

“Stop it,” Dolores complained, “I don’t sound anything like that,” 

“Stop bickering you two, there’s enough here to feed an army. Pablos, you too, Hermano. I know you’re burning a lot of energy keeping your face like that,” 

Camilo snorted at the comment as the boy went from overly serious to offended, 

“I’m guarding you,” he insisted, “it’s a serious job,” 

“My hero,” Mirabel responded with an eye roll, holding out the basket, “come on, you know you wanna.” 

Pablos seemed hesitant at first, then broke a few seconds later and reached to grab a roll. It was hilarious, watching his face try and stay serious only to contort into something else as he tried to hide his pleasure. Camilo, Antonio, and Dolores also took a piece of bread, splitting it between her and Mirabel as they continued their leisurely pace through town. Occasionally Dolores would mumble names under her breath, listening for anyone possibly not able to attend Antonio’s gift ceremony. The cycle of ‘is that really Mirabel Madrigal’ continued on as they went, many of the elders recognizing her the minute anyone asked. Mirabel was getting a bit better at greeting the women in town, even allowing one or two to kiss her cheek without pulling away. 

Camilo frowned though, shoving his hands in his pockets as he walked with Pablos, who was still licking his fingers from the bread. The shapeshifter knew about his cousin's scars now; about her punishments. He knew about the Matrona who raised them…no doubt the one who gave them to her. It made sense in his mind that she was nervous around women, especially older women who reminded her of the person who made her life a living hell. It made sense that Pablos wanted to protect her, which is why he always walked behind to see any and all approaching danger. It made Camilo both proud and sad at the same time. 

“…hey, there’s Isabela,” Dolores said, drawing Camilo's attention back to where they were. Isa was standing with Señora Guzmán, chatting with her and seeming…uncomfortable. 

“Mira!” Adrianne said the minute she spotted them coming, causing the group to glance up. 

“Hey there, niñita,” Mirabel greeted, “or should I start calling you niñita perfecta?” 

“Mira, I’m not that perfect,”  Adrianne complained, though she was smiling as she greeted Antonio with a wave, then grabbed his arm to Pablos and nearly tackled him with a hug while Antonio laughed at his misfortune. 

“Hola, primos, hermana,” Isa greeted with a polite nod. 

“My, the rumors are true,” Señora Guzmán cooed, eyes winding, “I heard you returned to us, but I didn’t want to believe it till I saw for myself. Isa has been telling me all about your little ones,” 

“Quite a handful, really,” Isa mused lightly, “but a joy nonetheless,” 

“Sí, sí. I’m lucky to know my grandchildren will be well taken care of,” 

Camilo snorted as Mariano grinned, and Isabela’s eyes widened a fraction as she forced a smile and nodded. 

“And Dolores, you look just like a mother carrying the little one. I’m sure you’ll make someone very happy one day,” 

Glancing to his sister, Dolores cheeks were bright red as she stared at the ground, nodding. 

“Thank you, Señora Guzmán,” she managed, “I think someone is calling me, I’ll be right back,” 

Turning tail, the girl left quickly to tend to Pablos and Adrianne who were wrestling as Antonio tried to pull them apart, Camilo chuckled. He knew his sister was absolutely head over heels for Mariano, just was always so flustered to say anything. 

“Mirabel, you may not remember my eldest, Mariano?” Señora Guzmán introduced, waving at Mariano who had a hand on Isabela’s back. 

“Pleasure,” 

“And my — Mariano, amor, where is Lorenzo?” 

“Where else but in the square, Mama?” 

“Oh, that boy and his stilly accordion,” the woman chided, “LORENZO GUZMÁN!” 

It took a second before the boy poked his head out from behind a few dancing couples, accordion in hand, “come here,” 

Camilo stiffened slightly as he did as he was told, clicking his heels together. Lorenzo had been in Camilo’s class when he was just a kid. Awkward, kinda gangly and got pushed around a lot. Certainly not handsome like his brother. 

“Yes Mama?” 

“I want you to meet Mirabel,” Señora Guzmán insisted, “Mirabel, this is my youngest. Lorenzo,” 

Camilo glanced between the two, then to Isabela who had a very…displeased look on her face. Mira didn’t appear to know what to do, and honestly, neither did Lorzeno. They stared awkwardly at one another for a minute, not saying anything. 

“I like your glasses,” Lorenzo managed finally, pressing the buttons on his instrument, “green is a nice color on you — I mean, on…erm, anyone,” 

“Thank you,” Mira responded lightly, adjusting the the frames as her cheeks reddened, “I like your accordion,” 

“Really? Uh, it was given to me by my Papi. He said if you can’t please everyone, make music instead! Heh, erm…” 

“I’ll leave you two alone to get better acquainted. Isabela! Amor, about my grandchildren…” 

Leaving the three of them to speak with Isabela — who was back to fake smiling — Mira and Lorenzo continued to stare at one another. 

“Do you…do you like music, Señorita Mirabel?” He asked, “I’m still learning, but I think a lot can be said through music which we can’t say through words,” 

“I do,” she agreed, “there was a man in my town who played an accordion when I was growing up; he let me sit with him sometimes so I could listen. He didn’t speak well, but…he said a lot through his playing,” 

“Yeah, that’s exactly it,” 

Lorenzo gave Mirabel his best smile as Camilo clenched his fists. This interaction wouldn’t fly. No sir, not his Prima with this…guy. This guy! She deserved a thousand Mariano’s, not a knock off! Transforming into Augstín, Camilo cracked his knuckles as he approached from behind and folded his arms. Lorenzo’s face dropped slightly. 

“H-hola, Señor,” he managed out. 

“Don’t you have somewhere else to be then hanging around my daughter?” Camilo hissed as Mirabel glanced at him from where she stood. 

“We were just talking. I-it was nice to meet you Señorita! Will I…see you at the party?” 

“Yeah. Bye Lorenzo,” waving, the boy quickly skittered away as Mirabel turned on Camilo and frowned at him, “what was that for?” 

“While Pablos is busy, I’m in charge of guarding you,” he said, “therefore keeping all boys at least a river’s distance away is a requirement,” 

“But he was…” 

“Ah, ah, listen to your father, Mirabel,” Camilo said, only to whine and transform back as Dolores reappeared and slapped his ear. 

“Abuela is furious,” she said to them, frowning, “she wants us all back home. Now.” 

“You best not keep her waiting,” Mira said, only for Dolores to shake her head. 

“She wants everyone. Including you,” 

“Oh,” watching his cousins face as it drained of all color, Camilo patted her shoulder. 

“I’m sure it’ll be…fine? Besides skipping breakfast was our idea,” 

“We really need to go,” Dolores insisted again, “I’ll get Isa away from Señora Guzmán, you two get those three and find Luisa,” 

“Wow, bossy—oof,” feeling Mirabel’s elbow connect with his chest, Camilo groaned, “ow, what was that for?” 

“For earlier,” she said, her cheeks still red as she went to grab her two niñitos and Antonio for the journey home. Camilo grunted and turned to face the square, narrowing his eyes. Lorenzo was sitting on a crate with his accordion, but was looking distinctly in their direction. He’d have to keep an eye on that one.

A very close eye. 

Chapter Text

Antonio 

“…when did it become a crime to let kids explore things as they see it? They weren’t hurting anyone in town, we were just looking around,” Mirabel said harshly, staring at Abuela whose face was pinched in displeasure, “what world do you live in that treating your familia as workhorses constitutes as affection?” 

“You don’t dare speak on how I take care of my family,” the other woman sniffed back, “they all have their responsibilities. They know their place in this community; in this Casita. It is you who must learn that as well.” 

“And…what, just fall in line? Young naive little Mirabel who doesn’t know what family is? When have any of them ever had a day to just…be? When have you ever put their needs before the community? Did any of them ever get to be a kid before you put them to work?” 

“Our miracle blessed us with these gifts to help our community and the people in this valley!” Abuela insisted, “you were not given a gift, Mirabel. I don’t know why, but you will not distract my familia with these childish shenanigans any longer! Am I clear!” 

Antonio cringed at the memory of Abuela's words. Harsh and coarse, so unlike the words she used when around him. Mirabel didn’t appear ready to back down either; she was strong and her eyes were like summer thunder. Only when Pablos and Bianca tugged desperately at her hands did she fold; did she back away from the argument and vanished into the upstairs dormitory with her hermanos. Antonio hadn’t seen any of them since then, not even Elena who was usually with Dolores. The light was getting dimmer, and the sun was beginning to cast weird shadows all over the Nursery. Antonio was dressed in the new white coat Mama and Papi had bought for him to wear. But he didn’t want to go to the ceremony. 

He didn’t want a gift. 

He was already hiding under the bed when his mama came to fetch him, only to instantly begin thundering loudly at his empty bed. 

“‘Tonio?” She voiced, “where…ugh, we’re going to be late!” 

“Pepa! You have a cloud!” Abuela yelled from someplace off in the distance as his mama groaned in irritation. 

“I know mama, but now I can’t find Antonio! What do you want from me?” 

And she slammed the door to the Nursery as she stormed off. It was quiet for a little while, Antonio drawing patterns in the dust which covered the floor under Mirabel’s Nursery bed. He always hid here, because no one ever thought to look. This was his special place; maybe he could just wait here until tomorrow and the ceremony would just…not happen? Could he be so lucky? 

“…thanks, Casita,” 

Antonio lifted his head as someone new entered the Nursery. Not from the main doorway, but from the side where there wasn’t usually a door. The bed above him creaked as they sat down, tapping their pink shoes against the wood. 

“Everyone’s looking for you,” Mirabel mused softly, as though trying hard not to be overheard. Antonio said nothing, biting back his tears. Abuela had been so mean…Mira probably didn’t even want to talk to him. He continued to keep quiet, but blinked as something was slowly lowered over the edge of the bed. It was a box, wrapped and tied with yarn, “this present will self-destruct if you don’t take it in three…two…one…” 

Antonio snatched the gift quickly, bringing it under the bed with him. It was purple in color, covered in all sorts of painted animals. 

“Ugh, Antonio. You need to find a better spot,” Mira grunted as she rolled under the bed with him, huffing out an exhausted breath, “I’m not as small as I used to be, you know,” 

He said nothing to her. She was probably mad at them for the way Abuela had been earlier. Antonio didn’t understand why she couldn’t be happy that Mira was here like the rest of them. 

“Nervous?” the girl continued on, leaning on a hand and glancing his way. Antonio frowned even deeper, resting in his arms, “you have nothing to worry about. We practiced this. You’re going to get an amazing room, and an amazing gift. And it’s all going to be awesome,” 

“But I don’t want a gift,” he said finally. 

“What do you mean?“ Mirabel wondered, seeming genuinely puzzled at his confession, “you don’t want to be the odd duck out, right? Based on how well that is going for me, I really wouldn’t want that for you,” 

“But Abuela…” 

“Abuela Madrigal is all bark and no bite, amigo,” Mira cut him off quickly, “you don’t let what she says discourage you from getting your gift. Because I know that each gift is special, and you deserve every bit of yours,” 

“But what about your gift?” Antonio wondered, fingering the box Mirabel had brought for him, “are you special?” 

“Mm, not in the same way as everyone else in this family,” Mirabel admitted with a shrug, “but I don’t need a gift to make my hermanos happy, or to make myself happy. I know that I like to sew, and that I like music, and that I love all my new sisters and cousins,” 

Grabbing onto Antonio’s stomach, he giggled as Mira pulled him into a hug. 

“But that’s what I want,” Antonio admitted to her, “I don’t want a gift. I want to be like you and all of your hermanos. Happy.” 

“Oh Primo,” Mirabel’s eyebrows softened as she sighed heavily, “whether or not you have a gift doesn’t dictate your happiness. I’m sure your own hermanos want you to be happy; and your primas, and yes…even Abuela, as stubborn as she is.” 

“It doesn’t feel like it,” Antonio mumbled, kicking his feet a bit. 

“Sometimes it just takes a little more work to get there,” Mira admitted, “when I was growing up, it felt like the world was always so dark and bleak. But, after a while, I learned that always looking on the dark side of things? Well, it’s not really much fun. You have so many people who love you, Antonio. Me included, even if it’s still new. And even though things aren’t how you want them now? They could be,” 

“How?” 

“It all starts with you, hombrecito,” Mira said, smiling softly, “it starts with you deciding to look on the bright side of things. To climb those trees, and dance to that music, and to just…be. Even if others may not agree. And when you get your wonderful new gift, I know that you’ll use it well. It’ll suit you.”

Antonio sighed and smiled slightly, leaning against Mirabel’s shoulder. She was warm and comforting as her chin came to rest atop his head, “are you going to open your present?” She asked finally, “I could always take it b-“ 

“No! I’m gonna open it,” Antonio laughed, gently pulling the box closer to him as he removed the yarn bow. Inside the box was a stuffed Jaguar, it’s fabric soft and it’s body squishy in his hands.

“I made this, so when you move into your cool new room, you’ll always have something to snuggle with,” Mirabel told him, only to grunt as he turned and hugged her tightly, “yeah, yeah. I know, I’m great…” 

“Will you come with me?” Antonio asked wearily, furrowing his brows, “can I take her with me?” 

Lifting the Jaguar in his hands, Mirabel sighed heavily and did her best to look encouraging. Antonio knew the sadness in her gaze; he saw it lingering there behind her eyes. He had seen it in Abuela’s eyes too sometimes, something that was very far away which they wouldn’t speak on. Feeling the floorboards jostle under their arms — Casita telling them to get moving — both crawled out from under the bed with a groan. Standing, Antonio brushed himself off as Mirabel straightened her skirt and blouse. 

“Alright, let’s get down there before your mama takes this whole place down with a flash flood.”  

Antonio nodded as he tucked Mira-Jaguar under his arm, squeezing the toy’s soft body. Her name would be Mira, like the one who gave it to her. It felt like forever, making their way around the top veranda towards the front door. The courtyard was filled with people; some singing, others dancing and all celebrating. Fireworks were exploding somewhere in the distance, and Antonio squeezed Mirabel’s hand tighter. He could see the golden glow of his door, and it made his belly flip around like a beached fish. As they reached the stairs, the elder girl paused. 

“I…uh, I should probably stay up here,” she said quietly, “my hermanos are going to be watching from the balcony. I’ll join them,” 

“Just a little further?” Antonio asked, feeling very nervous as they got closer to where his family was no doubt waiting for him. Mira released a breath through her nose, but nodded quietly as they descended the stairs. In the glow of candles, Mama was pacing frantically as Papa tried to calm her. Dolores was the first to look up as they hit the landing, her eyes wide but knowing. 

 “Antonio, there you are,” Mama breathed in relief, quickly bringing him into a hug as Mirabel’s hand slipped from his, “look at you. So grown up…” 

“Pepa, amor,” papa complained, waving away the appearing cloud, “you’re going to get him all wet,” 

Camilo transformed into Papa, grabbing Antonio by the shoulders and shaking him gently, “you make your papa proud.” 

“I don’t sound like that,” “I don’t sound like that,” Camilo repeated, causing Dolores to roll her eyes as she tilted her head. 

“Abuela says…it’s time,” 

“Ok. We’ll be waiting at your door, mijo,” Mama said, smoothing Antonio’s hair as the family was herded away, Camilo being grabbed by the shoulders and hauled off by his father. Glancing behind him, Mira stood in the shadows of the entryway, frowning slightly as she looked out over the crowd. Upon realizing he was watching, she gave her best thumbs up. 

“You got this, Antonio,” she whispered, bobbing her head towards the walkway. Swallowing, he pressed Mira-Jaguar closer to his body and stepped forward, squinting as lights shined down on him. Ahead was the staircase, with Abuela having already made her speech. She was standing on the top step, family candle in hand. Everyone was watching him. Feeling Casita try to nudge him ahead with a floor tile, Antonio stepped back slightly in panic. 

He couldn’t do this. 

“Antonio?” 

Glancing beside him, Mira was illuminated by the patterns of the entrance wall. She looked worried, “go on,” 

“I can’t.” 

“You can,” she insisted, “you just need to take the first step,” 

Hesitating, Antonio extended his hand to her. She cringed slightly, looking between him and the people still watching what was going on in silence. 

“I can’t…” 

“But I need you,” Antonio croaked, feeling ready to cry as his hand trembled. Mirabel’s shoulders slumped as she looked between him and the staircase. Then, with a deep breath, she accepted the offered hand. Antonio immediately pulled her close, clinging to her hip as people whispered. Above them, Abuela looked…displeased. 

“Come on,” Mirabel said, tugging on his hand, “let’s get you to your door.”

Hesitantly, they began the walk forward together. It felt so much longer than last night. So much heavier as they made their way past the whole village. Past an entire community expecting him to get a gift like his siblings and cousins. Glancing up at Mirabel, her eyes were wide and glassy. She looked…stricken, somehow more scared than him. Was she scared of Abuela? Of the door? It didn’t feel like anything should’ve been able to scare his Prima. 

“Mira?” He whispered to her, “are you ok?” 

“…y-yeah,” she managed as they began to ascend the steps, “I’m ok, Primo. It’s nothing,” 

“Are you sure?” 

“Don’t worry about me, this night is all about you,” she insisted, shrinking even more as they approached the top step, closer and closer to Abuela’s waiting figure, “you got this?“ she asked him hesitantly as they paused, only one step away from his door. Antonio nodded, feeling Mirabel’s fingers release from his as she left his side. Quickly, the girl skirted around the family matriarch - who merely sniffed at her presence - and vanished into the shadows. Glancing over his shoulder, Antonio saw his elders silhouette make its way around the banister, appearing with her siblings who had been watching from in front of the dormitory. 

“Mi vida,” Abuela said, grabbing his focus, “come closer,” 

And so Antonio touched the candle, burning with never ending warmth. He promised only half-heartedly to use his gift to further their Encanto, and their community, just like his hermanos and primos before him, and he stepped up to the door. Sighing, the boy glanced over his shoulder again. Mirabel was watching from behind the banister, siblings vanished from around her, half cloaked in shadows. Her eyes were teary as she bit down on a knuckle. Why was she upset? Feeling Casita give him a nudge to the door, Antonio sighed and carefully extended a hand towards the knob. 

It illuminated brightly, giving him his special gift. And some part of him…wilted. He was special, just like Mira told him he was. 

His gift was the ability to speak to animals, something he had always wanted to do. He even had a rainforest in his room, filled with critters and new furry friends. There was music and cheering, and Abuela was bright with happiness and pride. Everyone was. They even took a family photo…but someone was missing. Where was Mira? Antonio wanted her to be here, sharing this with him since she didn’t get her own gift. He was hiding behind a tree, trying to keep his lip from wobbling, when one of his new friends came to his side and landed upon his shoulder. The toucan seemed rather urgent, clacking it’s words right in his ear as the boy’s eyes widened. He bolted from the room instantly, ordering his animal friends to stay behind. He ran right by Mama and Papi, right by Abuela who said something which fell on deaf ears. He didn’t stop for questions, just sprinted out the door and into the dark courtyard. 

“Mirabel!” 

He nearly fell down the stairs with how fast he was going, breathing hard as he reached his Prima. She was on her knees in the middle of the now empty atrium, curled over herself and screaming in pain. She clutched her hand, which was bleeding under her thumbs, and her back rippled in distress. Beside her was…a fallen shingle? From the roof? Glancing upwards for only a second, Antonio grappled at Mirabel’s shirt, pulling her up slightly to where he could force himself into her lap. He grabbed her shoulders, and she clutched him back, breathing hard through her teeth.  

“...what’s wrong?” he managed between pants of breath, “Mira what’s wrong?” 

“...cracks…there are…there are cracks in the Casita,” she mumbled in his ear, “it hurts Antonio,” 

“Where?” he asked, mimicking Tia Julieta whenever she wanted to look at an injury, “where does it hurt?” 

Mira lifted her head shakily, her eyes filled with tears, “Mira? Does your head hurt?” 

She nodded, blinking hard and cringing, resting her forehead back on his chest as she exhaled shakily, struggling to find her lungs again through pained gasps. 

“Antonio,” Tía Julieta barked, appearing at his side as she knelt by Mira and placed a hand on her back, “what’s going on? What happened?” 

“Her head hurts, and her hand is bleeding, and she’s not breathing very good,” he blurted all at once, feeling arms tighten around him, “is she ok?” 

“I don’t…know…?” 

“She’s panicking,” Dolores spoke up, “I can help. Let me help, Tía,” 

Tía Julieta nodded and stepped away hesitantly, allowing his hermana in closer, “just keep doing what you’re doing, Antonio,” she said, running a hand through Mirabel’s hair as she began whispering things in her ear. Antonio wasn’t sure what they meant, or what his sister was saying, but it seemed to work…at least a bit. 

“...I’m ok…” Mirabel whispered finally, shaking her head, “go back…I’m fine,” 

“You need to just admit that you’re not once in a while and this wouldn’t happen,” Dolores chided her, brushing back her curls again and adjusting her glasses, “what caused this? Did something happen,” 

“Memories,” Mirabel admitted, “all at once, like a floodgate. This house…cracking, coming down around us. The candle…flickering…it was horrible,” 

“What about your hand?” Dolores asked, picking up the palm where it lay resting over Antonio’s right shoulder, “what happened?” 

“Cut it…on a shingle from the roof,” she spoke, sounding a bit better as she tilted her head, “it’s there,” 

“What about your siblings?” 

“...sleeping. At least they should be. The party had them all riled up; too much sugar,” 

Dolores nodded, exhaling slightly in relief as Mirabel sat up on her own, resting on her heels. 

“Better?” the elder girl asked, “you’re alright?” 

“I’m-” 

“Don’t,” Dolores warned, “rethink what you’re about to say,”

Mirabel scoffed in annoyance but responded, “better. I’m doing better,” 

“Mhm. Come on, Tía Julieta looks ready to carry you into the kitchen herself,” 

Sliding off her lap, Antonio wrung his hands as Dolores helped Mira back to her feet, keeping close as the younger girl leaned on her for extra support. 

“I didn’t mean to make a scene,” she croaked, “Antonio, I’m so sorry. This was your special night,” 

“That’s ok, Abuela can’t dance anyway,” he admitted, pulling Mira-Jaguar out from inside his jacket and holding it out, “here, you can hold her for a bit if you want,” 

“I’m…” Mira glanced at Dolores, who furrowed her brows unhappily, “feeling more myself now, thank you though. I think I just need to sit for a second,” 

“Well we’ll just all sit in the kitchen. Ay, dios mío, niñita, you’re more troublesome than your father,” Tia complained, pushing all of them out of the courtyard by the backs. Mira was forced down into a stool, Dolores sat on an empty section of counter, and Antonio wormed his way back into Prima's lap, who happily folded her arms around his middle and set her chin in his hair. It was only a second later when the rest of them arrived. Isa was even a bit red from exertion. 

“We…heard something happened,” she panted, “what happened?” 

“Do I need to hit somebody?” Luisa asked, slamming her fist in a palm, “Camilo said there was a boy. Was it him? Should I pummel him?” 

“Camilo!” Mira barked out as the boy poked his head out from around Luisa’s bicep and grinned, “leave Lorenzo alone, we talked for like…two seconds,” 

“Your point being?” he grinned, only to instantly get a face of flowers from Isabela as he fell backwards. 

“What have I said about roughhousing in the kitchen?” Tía complained, already flattening out a few arepas as Casita warmed the hotplate, “Isa, Luisa?” 

“Sorry, Mama,” “Sorry, Mama,” they both admitted, coming into the room to give Mira hugs from behind. 

“Abuela had dad and I play the piano to distract the guests,” Luisa complained, leaning against the table, “it was horrible,” 

“I couldn’t get away from Mariano,” Isa agreed, flipping her hair over one shoulder, “his mother is like a bloodhound,” 

“Isa,” Tia chided again, “be nice to Señora Guzmán, she’s been a good friend to this family. Here, amor, eat.” 

Handing a fresh arepa to Mirabel, she took it with a nod. 

“You want half?” she asked as Antonio grinned, accepting the morsel from his current seat of choice as the two took a bite. 

“Are you prone to attacks like that?” Dolores wondered, bringing the conversation back to what had happened, “you said…memories, they hurt you,” 

“Not always,” Mirabel admitted, lifting her hand to watch the gash stitch itself back together, “but…I don’t know, I haven’t had that happen in years,” 

“It’s happened before?” Tia worried, furrowing her brows. Mira nodded, toying with one of Antonio’s curls. 

“It’s usually not that bad. But when I was younger I didn’t have as good a grip on what I could and couldn’t remember. Things would just kinda…slip through and I’d…you know, panic a bit. It was hard to distinguish then what was real, and what I had imagined,” 

“You shouldn’t suppress stuff like that, it’s not healthy,” Dolores said, “you don’t have to be so strong that it hurts you,”

“Can you say that louder for the Amazon in the back row?” Camilo called, only to receive a whack to the back of the head by Luisa as Tía  gave her a scolding look but said nothing. 

“You’re probably right,” Mira nodded, frowning slightly, “but my memories never involved...you know, nevermind. It was probably something I was imagining,” 

Antonio glanced up at Mirabel worriedly, but she smiled back at him, “sorry to worry you, hombrecito,” she said, “thanks for being there for me,” 

“Can we have that sleepover now?” he asked excitedly, “we can all fit in Dolores’ room! She has tons of pillows,” 

“You aren’t just allowed to volunteer my room for stuff,” the girl complained, only to fold at the younger boy's wobbly lip - something he perfected on her over the years, “oh fine. But your beasts stay outside. No animal hair in my room,” 

“What about Mira-Jaguar? Can she come?” 

“You named your Jaguar after me?” Mirabel asked. Antonio nodded and extended the plush to his hermana, who merely patted it’s head and nodded. 

“As long as she doesn’t shed. Is uh…is everyone coming?” 

Antonio glanced around the room as the gathered group all nodded and began to shuffle out, Camilo still ragging at Luisa and Isa’s heels. Jumping down from Mirabel’s lap, the girl stood and accepted the gentle hug offered by Tía.

“Go get some rest, ok, mi amor?” 

“I will, Mama. Would you mind…” 

“I’ll check on the little ones a bit later,” she agreed, giving the girl a kiss on the temple and caressing her cheek, “Te amo, Mirabel. Duerme bien,” 

“Gracias, Mama,” Mirabel mumbled, Antonio picking up her hand and giving it a squeeze, “alright. One sleepover it is.” 

“You know sleep isn’t really a thing at these, right?” Dolores wondered as they left the kitchen together, “and you better be ready to tell us about this…Lorenzo character,” 

“Trust me, I’m sure Primo’s got that covered,” Mira chuckled, rolling her eyes. As they passed through the courtyard, she hesitated as the trio all glanced up at the family candle. It still burned brightly, just like always. And as Dolores nodded Mira along, the two of them chatting quietly between themselves, Antonio swore the candle illuminated just a bit brighter. 

Chapter Text

…

She was having another nightmare. Mirabel was twitching harshly in her sleep, sweat beads rolling from her hairline and catching in her eyelashes as she breathed through her teeth. Casita thought sleeping with her loved ones might help; that it might ease her pain if only for a night. The house was happy to see the young ones accept her so willingly into their fold — it couldn’t say the same for the elders. But she buckled anyway, fighting against an invisible attacker and throwing her chin backwards in a silent scream of agony. 

A new crack formed. 

Somewhere in the foundations the mortar crumbled, leaving a gaping black crevasse. The walls shuttered, vibrating slightly at the new appearance. Mirabel’s eyes snapped open as she sat up with a hoarse gasp of panic, grabbing at her hair and pulling her forehead to her knees as her shoulders quivered. Casita could feel that she was hurting; cracking just like it’s walls somewhere deep inside. She was hiding it from view, shielding herself from the pain, insisting she was fine when she was not. When would she learn that they were here for her? That she could break and the foundation would hold? Any longer and Casita worried…it worried about the stability of the house. About the stability of this family. 

When she was forced to finally fold under the weight, the house itself might come down with her. 

She was just a kid, and it wasn’t fair. Casita trembled again, this time in discontent. In anger. It could see the scars under Mirabel’s blouse as she stood, wavering on her feet. She stumbled away from the others, holding her head, trying to ease the ache. Casita wanted it to stop, but the cracks were too big now…too noticeable. 

“…please stop…” Mirabel rasped, falling from Dolores’ room onto the veranda proper, “please…” 

She pulled herself up by the banister, which groaned under her hand. She wobbled forward, nearly falling again as she slammed into the nearest wall. From her touch a new crack formed, breaking the colored plaster in a jagged pattern. Just like earlier, when Casita couldn’t hide itself from her anymore, she saw it. Her eyes widened as she ran a flat palm against the new ridges, feeling them, assuring herself that they were real. 

“Casita?” She rasped, “…you’re breaking…?” 

The house rumbled in response. A sad, begrudged acceptance. It was breaking; the magic was so weak. It was easy to hide when Mirabel was missing, someplace far away where her hurt was but a tickle. But now? Each scar made a crack; a tree of fissures slowly expanding deeper and deeper towards the heart of the house. When childhood innocence turned to a mere pile of ash; when the rough edge of a leather belt split smooth, uncouched skin for the first time…the valley itself shook in response. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t! 

“I-I can fix it,” Mirabel ground out, “I can save it;” 

More weight added to her shoulders as she stumbled ahead, past the doors of her siblings and cousins, past a familiar painting with a hidden passageway behind it. She reached for the dormitory knob, towards safety, then thudded to the ground in a blacked out heap. The candle wavered dangerously in a harsh breath of wind, and Casita gave a great, exhausted sigh. 

“…knock, knock…” 

A hoarse whisper came from the walls, the slow creak of the painting door filling the empty courtyard, “knock, knock, knock on wood,” 

A sandal clad foot slowly stepped out, followed by another. The green fabric of his clothing dragged as silent feet hit the tiles without a sound, crouching low as to keep to the shadows, “Mirabel?” 

Casita rolled the floorboards under his feet, urging him closer, urging him to check on her, “…sobrina?” 

He inched closer, sweeping himself towards the girl’s figure. She was completely still, her mind dark and dreamless. At least she wasn’t hurting anymore. 

“…can’t sleep out here. No. That’s no good,” he mumbled, glancing around wearily. It was a risk; rats outside the walls often got caught. But she couldn’t sleep on the floor. Sighing slightly in exasperation and throwing some salt over this shoulder, the figure very gently picked Mirabel up in his arms. The house was surprised he could lift her at all, what with how little he ate. But he managed it — if not somewhat awkwardly — nodding to the doorway which swung open on it’s own. He was extra careful not to wake the children, who had dropped off into dreams an hour or so before. 

The shadow gently deposited Mirabel back into her own bed, tucking her under the rainbow knitted blanket. He smoothed out the wrinkles mindlessly, frowning. 

“…needs an arepa,” he mumbled to himself, brushing the back of his hand against the girls cheek, checking for fever, “l-little bit warm. Little bit.” 

The roof shingles gently tickled outside, like a thousand chimes. A thank you, however small. Casita opened the window to let in a chill breeze. The shadow by her bedside shifted on his feet. He needed to get back, Casita could see him twitching uncomfortably. 

“Good night, Sobrina,” he whispered, then quickly returned to where he had come. 

-

Dolores hadn’t woken this time, too distracted by the sounds of the others sleeping in her bedroom to realize what had happened. She’d be the first to wake though, panicking instantly at finding her youngest prima missing from the huddle, glasses left behind. She’d follow the sounds of early morning back towards the dormitory. She saw the small pile of salt outside the door and kicked it away. Inside the room, children were just beginning to stir from deep sleep.

The eldest of them was dead to the world. 

Casita knew she needed it, as did Dolores. The house rattled a bit as the elder girl checked on her, frowning at the slight heat which still radiated from her skin, and the crease of her brow. Had she not been feeling well during the night? 

Glancing up at the familiar beginnings of a cry, Casita urged Dolores closer to the crib made just for the little one. 

“Buenos días, pequeña,” she whispered down at the two year old, who had just opened her eyes, “your hermana is finally sleeping. We should let her, don’t you think?” 

Elena said nothing, as per usual. She merely reached out her arms as the elder girl picked her up and kissed her forehead. Casita would watch over the dormitory that morning, helping to wake all the little niñitos, and to keep Mirabel from being disturbed. As Dolores herded them all out in silence, she closed the door softly behind her as she met eyes with Isabela at the doorway to her room. Placing a hand to her lips, she nodded to her in greeting and rounded the veranda. 

“Is everything ok?” Isa asked when her Prima was close enough, “where’s Mira?” 

“Sleeping heavily, might have a bit of a fever helping with that,” Dolores admitted, adjusting Elena on her hip as the toddler reached for a loose curl of hair, “Mirabel needs it. I don’t think she’s had a good nights sleep since coming here,” 

“Did she leave during the night?” Isa wondered, “She forgot her glasses,” 

“She must have. Poor thing was out cold the whole hour I was getting the little ones up. Didn’t even twitch,”

“Hm. We’ll have to talk to Mama about something for that fever…” 

“We’ll check on her later, Isabela,” Dolores insisted, placing a hand on her cousin's shoulder, “Let her rest for now; she’ll come down on her own when she’s ready.” 

Isa looked hesitant to comply at first; after all Mira was still so new to their little familia. But she eventually huffed a tired breath and nodded in acceptance. 

“Hopefully Abuela is in a better mood today,” Isa admitted shallowly, “apparently Señora Guzmán offered Mariano to be by husband last night,” 

And so the two girls followed a gaggle of drowsy children down the steps into the kitchen, letting them snooze in the early morning light as they waited for the rest of the house to rise, and talked about the bleak future of a possibly Señorita Perfecta Guzmán. 

Chapter Text

Mirabel’s heart hurt. 

This wasn’t a physical pain; not something broken or cut which could be cleaned and wrapped, then left on its own to heal. No, this pain was a bit different…a bit warmer, like the end of a hot cigarette held against the place between her breasts. That was a scar no one had seen, as she kept it hidden. Easily disguised unlike the zebra print across her shoulders. The pain in her chest was the searing kind; something burning that she couldn’t reach. A distant ache which she couldn’t quite heal. 

Her world was currently dark, and she felt small. Silhouettes surrounded her on all sides, watching as she walked down the narrow path created by the dozens of shifting bodies. The stairs ahead were illuminated only by moonlight and the faint glimmer of candles, and at the top stood Abuela Madrigal. But she looked kinder somehow then Mirabel knew her; softer. As if only watching the events of this dream play out, she ascended the stairs one at a time. Slowly, as though cherishing this moment. Yet as she approached the landing, where the silhouettes became more defined; shifting into the faces of her familia, a squeeze was added to the burn. 

“Mi maravilla,” Abuela spoke softly as she finished the ascent, a smile twinkling in her kind eyes, “come closer,” 

And she did. Mirabel stepped up to her grandmother, eyes wide as a candle was held out to her, “do you promise to strengthen our family? Strengthen our community with this blessed gift?” 

Mirabel nodded, reaching out to touch the waxy sides of the family miracle. It sent a reverberation of warmth bouncing through the open places between her ribs and down her spine. It felt so familiar; too familiar to simply be a wistful dream. No…no she knew this dream far better than she realized. Because as she turned to the glowing doorway before her, glittering like tossed embers of a forgotten honey gold fire, she knew this dream…knew this nightmare. 

“…s-stop!” Mira tried to call out, only to have her voice quickly whipped away as the small vision of herself reached for the door, “no!” 

It turned immediately to ash. The golden embers died, and the door vanished into nothingness. A hush fell over the room, and Mirabel felt engulfed by the flames, and squeezed to death all at the same time. Her Abuela, previously so kind and gentle, had become alarmed. Her dark eyes no longer glittered as the flame in her hands danced wearily on its pool of glass. 

Mirabel remembered that night. 

She remembered it with so much clarity that when she fell to her knees in front of her Abuela, stricken with grief and confusion, the blaze which consumed her truly felt like hot coals held tightly in her cheeks. She wanted to writhe; to spit up the flames. But it only grew hotter, and hotter.

Mira felt something jostle under her body. Her eyes snapped open with a harsh gasp, though it was more of a pathetic wheeze. Her body was unbearably warm, sweat beads rolling down the curve of her forehead and into her eyes. She was back in the Dormitory. 

Feeling her hands tremble, Mirabel struggled to sit up from the mattress. She felt drained, like her whole self had been wrung out on the washboard and hung to dry. The fire in her dream remained, not as some raging inferno caused by the miracles touch, but of a high fever which caused her cheeks to go red and her skin to glisten. 

She hadn’t been feverish since she was little. 

Mirabel got them all the time when she was growing up, usually for seemingly no reason at all. Matrona would simply call her useless, and toss a bucket of backwater on her head to force her temperature back down. It worked, as coarse and disgusting as the method was. The jostling was that of Casita, moving the floorboards around, no doubt to try and wake her. Mirabel tried to speak, to thank the house, but no words came. Just a sad little croak as she pivoted on her hip, rising to stand. She stumbled instantly, her mind still a bleary, spinning haze of colors. She didn’t have her glasses…didn’t know where they were either. 

Slowly, Mirabel made her way from the dorm and into the upper veranda. She couldn’t see a whole lot other than the glow of the magical doors, and she immediately winced as her head flared up painfully. She remembered at once the dream she’d been woken from; the memory of that night. The squeeze of her chest came with it, and Mira held a hand to her heart as she clutched the front of her nightdress. Why did it hurt so badly? She somehow made it all the way to the staircase, gripping the banister and running her fingers across the walls for balance. She wobbled down the narrow steps towards the landing, amazed that she somehow managed to keep from falling. Mira wasn’t sure where she was even going, just that she was looking for…something. Water, possibly? Maybe the wash fountain, or the river which passed not far from the Madrigal home. Anything at all to pull this fever down was better than nothing. Maybe she could find Pablos and have him douse her with a bucket like Matrona used to do? Maybe she could upset Señora Pepa enough and get rained on by a personal cloud. Wouldn’t that be nice? 

She had just made it to the front stoop, the sunlight of a late afternoon warming her even more, when the sounds of running footsteps caught her ears. 

“Woah there, Prima!” 

Ah. Camilo. Mirabel turned to look for him, to address him properly, only to move too fast as she nearly fell over from dizziness. Hands immediately came to steady her, Camilo’s face moving into her bleary line of sight. She couldn’t make out details without her glasses, but the blobs of color that were his eyebrows furrowed up towards his hairline. Mira lifted a hand awkwardly, as a weak greeting, but it trembled and barely moved past her waistline. 

“You…really don’t look very good,” he said, “where are you going?” 

Mira, unable to voice her flustered opinions, merely shrugged and pointed weakly in the direction she had been headed. Probably straight onto her face at this rate, but Camilo didn’t need to know that. 

“Uh, yeah. No. Not like this. Dolores and Tía were just about to bring you some soup. Come back inside,” 

Mira wanted to argue; to say she was fine and just needed to find some water to dunk herself under. But she already felt hands pulling her back inside as the door was closed behind her. She nearly tripped on the way towards the kitchen, Camilo having to shapeshift into someone taller in order to keep her from breaking her nose on the cobble. And as they passed through the doorway, she winced at the sound of a shattering plate. 

Did she really look that bad? 

“¡Dios mío!” Her mother said, someplace further in the kitchen, “what happened? Why is she out of bed?” 

“She was trying to leave, Tía,” Camilo responded, holding Mira just a bit tighter as she wobbled on her heels. Why couldn’t anything just be still for a second? Feeling the chill of a hand come to rest against her forehead, mama made a clicking noise in her throat and mumbled something under her breath. 

“She’s too hot,” the woman insisted, “Mira? Amor? Can you see me?” 

It took a second before Mirabel actually could see her mother. She nodded slowly, though the answer was severely delayed from the actual question. 

“Sit her down, Camilo. Quickly please,” 

“Okay. Come on Mira,” 

Feeling the tug on her elbow again, the girl merely nodded along as she was half carried to a chair and forced down into it. She didn’t like the seat all that much though, and immediately felt sick to her stomach. 

“…thank you, Dolores,” Mama said across the kitchen, her footsteps coming closer. Mira heard Camilo make a disgusted sound in his cheek, and she wondered what the woman had brought to result in such a noise, “open, Mirabel,” 

Mira did as she was told, feeling very childish at the moment but safe enough to be vulnerable. Not that she really had a choice. She couldn’t hit a brick wall with how disoriented she was, let alone a person. The liquid that seeped past her lips and down her throat was cold, and for a brief second she was relieved. 

The taste changed her mind. 

It was horrible, sharp and acidic like pure lamp oil. Mirabel instinctually writhed forward to spit it out, but felt a hand come to clamp her nose shut and force her shoulders back into the chair. 

“…Mira, you have to drink it,” her mama insisted, “I know it doesn’t taste good, corázon,” 

Mirabel struggled against the hand, forcing her head backwards and her chin up. It tasted even worse going down her throat, and she whimpered slightly in discomfort and shut her eyes tightly. Eventually there was only a bitter aftertaste left on her tongue as Mama released her grip, heaving a great sigh. 

“That should do it,” she said out loud, “Mira I’m sorry, niñita. I’m so sorry,” feeling a hand caress her cheek, Mirabel didn’t even know she had been crying until the swipe of a caring thumb took the tear away, “abre los ojos, cariño,” 

Mirabel did so, and exhaled a deep breath of relief. Her world was no longer a swirling vortex of blind colors. It was still hazy without her glasses on, but it wasn’t moving around quite so much. And as she blinked a few times, inhaling a shuddering breath, the crushing weight in her chest had lifted. 

“There, that’s better, isn’t it?” Mama asked as Mirabel swallowed thickly and cringed at the lingering taste. She nodded though, once again leaning into her mothers gentle touch, “I’m sorry, mija, I know how bad it tastes. But your fever was too high,” 

“…disgusting…” Mira croaked out, coughing awkwardly as a glass was pressed into her hand from the opposite side, “…thanks.” 

The water was refreshing to her scorched windpipe as the girl cradled it in her fingers, feeling the heat in her skin slowly dissipate with each passing second. Her mothers healing, doing its best work. 

“I don’t usually use the liquid bandage on its own, so you know,” Mama chuckled, running a hand through Mira’s curls, “I like to hide it in something a bit more flavorful. We were making soup for you, but I guess we weren’t fast enough,” 

“That stuff is nasty,” Camilo said, having taken up a seat in the chair beside her, “I had to take it when I broke my arm. I swear I can still taste it.”

“What does it do?” Mira wondered out loud, mindlessly rubbing sleep from her eyes and grimacing at how grimy she felt, “can’t all your food heal?” 

“Yes it can. But I've found that this particular potion is quite…potent, in what it can achieve. Not pleasant by any means, but it can heal some of the most severe injuries in a matter of moments. I don’t make many batches of it, but that might change with you here, mi vida.” 

“Mama,” Mirabel groaned in exasperation, seeing Dolores’s bright red skirt pass into view. 

“Here, this should help with the rest of that aftertaste,” she mused, “I should’ve come to check on you earlier, I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be,” Mira admitted, accepting the bowl of soup placed before her and inhaling it, “I used to get fevers a lot when I was little. I can remember a few bad ones…not great experiences, but I got through it just fine,” 

“Were headaches and fevers common for you growing up?” Mama wondered, a touch of worry in her tone as Mira spooned the first bit of soup into her mouth, “Dolores filled me in a bit more on what happened last night. This started with the attack you had?” 

“I mean…I guess it did, yeah. I was feeling fine; got all the kids to bed. I was going to find Antonio to congratulate him on his gift when…” 

Mirabel furrowed her brows. Last night. The cracks in the walls. The feeling of the house, coming down on top of her. A memory…but not one that had happened yet. And now the memory of her door vanishing? It all felt connected, yet disjointed all at the same time. 

“Mirabel?” 

“What?” Glancing up, Mama was looking at her, a frown on her blurry features. 

“Last night?” 

“Oh…y-yeah. I was coming to see Antonio when it started. Just this overpowering feeling of dread. And then my head just…started hurting, and I felt so out of control. It’s really no big deal, it happens sometimes,” 

“You don’t just get panic attacks from nothing, Prima,” Dolores insisted lightly, “something triggered it,” 

“Uh…” furrowing her brows, Mira pursed her lips in thought, “it started with a shingle. One that had fallen from the roof and shattered. It fell while I was walking towards Antonio’s room so I went down to check it out. I cut my hand on it,”  

“A shingle caused you to tailspin?” Camilo wondered, “why?” 

Mirabel found herself shrugging. She wasn’t going to speak about the cracks in the walls. She wasn’t going to tell them about how her memory was in shambles, and veering this way and that between things she could and couldn’t remember. Those were problems not healed by any recipe…and Mirabel was going to tackle them on her own. After all, she was already imposing so much on this…on her…family. They didn’t need to worry about things she’d already been dealing with her whole life long. Before the conversation could continue any more, all three occupants of the kitchen jumped as the front door was practically kicked open. 

“…Luisa!” 

Abuela’s call was faint from outside as Luisa sprinted through the foyer and vanished in a blur up the stairs. The sound of sobbing followed close at her heels, as well as a maroon shadow that was Abuela going after her. 

“Agustín?” Mama asked worriedly as the taller man entered the room, covered in red welts, “aye, again with the bees?” 

“I’m sorry, amor…” 

“Isabela?” Dolores spoke up as the flower child in question entered the kitchen, hauling several small bodies along with her, “and company,”

“Mira! You’re feeling better!” 

Mirabel blinked as someone immediately launched into her chest, nearly making her fall from the chair. Light hair and skin defined her as Adrianne. She was soon followed by the rest of her hermanos, who gave hugs each in turn. 

“Hey, niñitos,” she greeted, reaching out to ruffle Pablos’ hair, “where have you lot been?” Feeling the nearest face, Mira furrowed her brows, “no scuffs or dirt? No troublemaking, right?” 

“They were great actually,” Isabela spoke up as Mirabel glanced at her blurry visage, “here, I thought we’d be back sooner but things got a bit…weird at the end,” 

Taking the gift extended to her, Mirabel recognized them as her glasses and slipped them on. They felt a bit better than before. Blinking as her vision cleared up, she was relieved to finally see in detail again. 

“Thanks Isa. I don’t really like being blind,” 

“I had them adjusted in town while Abuela was busy. They should fit a bit better? I noticed the other ones were to small,” 

“They’re great,” Mirabel admitted, taking a second to observe all of her little ones just to make sure they weren’t hurt or scuffed up anywhere. 

“What happened to Luisa?” Camilo asked, having moved from his chair to sitting on the table itself, “what’s got her tail in a knot?” 

“She couldn’t lift a donkey,” Hernandez said before Isabela could answer, “she tried to carry it, but couldn’t get it off the ground,” 

“What?” Dolores mused, a bit puzzled as she began to ladle soup into cups for the kids as they slowly began to flock around her skirt, no doubt hungry from a busy afternoon, “but she lifts those poor things every day,” 

“I know. We were in town with Abuela like normal talking to the Guzmán’s when Señor Perez told us that the donkey’s got out. Luisa…well…didn’t want to get them? I don’t think she meant to say it out loud, but she actually asked him if he had checked the fence recently,” 

“No,” Camilo breathed, “did she really?” 

“Mhm. And of course Abuela wasn’t happy about that response, and told him Luisa would be happy to get the donkey’s back. So she went to grab one and…couldn’t lift it,” 

Isa shrugged a bit at the end of her sentence as Mirabel pushed her soup bowl away, pinching the bridge of her nose. Why couldn’t she just keep her mouth shut? 

“Is your head hurting again, Prima?” Dolores asked instantly, “I can fetch Tía…” 

“No, it’s not that,” Mira groaned, “this is probably all my fault. I…ugh, it’s complicated. But I should probably go talk to her,” 

“You know something about the magic?” Isa wondered out loud, frowning, “it hasn’t ever failed before,” 

“I don’t know yet. I’ll tell you if I find out,” Mira sighed, standing from her seat and giving her legs a try. No dizziness or nausea; always a good sign, “just, stay here with them? Make sure they don’t burn anything down,” 

“That was one time, hermana!” Pablos whined as she left the kitchen, the conversation now shifting to that particular occasion a few years back. Mirabel hadn’t gone far when footsteps caught her ear. 

“Hola, Adrianne,” Mirabel greeted her sister, only to frown at the look on her face, “something wrong?” 

“Uhm. I just…Tía Isabela and that guy? Mari…uh,”  

“Mariano?” Mira supplied as Adrianne nodded quickly, “ok, what about him?” 

“He said to Matrona Madrigal that he wants to marry her,” 

“Oh,” blinking, the elder girl nodded slightly, “that’s nice…or not? What’s with that face?” 

Adrianne had her nose screwed up to her brows, tapping her feet slightly on the floor, “spit it out, hermana. What’s got your tongue?” 

“She can’t marry him!” Adrianne insisted finally, “she just can’t! She doesn’t wanna, it’s so obvious even blind people can see it!” 

“Annie,” Mirabel chided instantly, “blind people are a ferocious bunch, be careful,” 

“Sorry, hermana. It’s just, Tía doesn’t wanna marry that big dumb hunk. She’s so upset,” 

“Is she?” Mirabel rolled back slightly on her heels and glanced back at the kitchen. Of course she had seen the tight smiles her elder sister had around Mariano. But she thought perhaps it was just girl crush jitters. Adrianne though was very in tune with people's feelings, Mira knew this well enough, so she nodded in agreement. 

“Alright. I’ll talk to her tonight,”

“You have to do it sooner,” Adrianne insisted, “Matrona is having him over for dinner. He can’t propose,” 

“We shouldn’t be meddling in that kind of thing, Annie,” Mirabel frowned, “I know you just want to help but it’s not our place,” 

“But hermana,” 

“Annie, look. I’ll talk to Isabela, ok? I’ll find out what’s going on and then tell you what I find out. But you need to just keep being your adorable little self and stay out of it. Alright? We’ve had enough problems already with Matrona, we don’t need any more,” 

Adrianne looked ready to complain, but nodded in a somewhat sulky way.

“Ok, Mira,” 

“Good girl,” patting her chin with a hand, Mira gently ushered the girl back towards the kitchen where Julieta and Agustín had just returned from healing the bee stings. Shaking her head slightly, Mirabel had just reached the stairs when the sound of a closing door caused her to pause. Staring up the flight, Abuela was standing at the top, lingering outside her own door. For a second they made eye contact, and Mirabel frowned deeply at her. 

Dark eyes glistened with a deep rooted fear, hidden somewhere in a facade of perfection. 

It took only a split second for that facade to slam back into place, but Mirabel had seen it. A sliver of vulnerability, glimpsed between the cracks of a steel clad heart. Abuela knew something was wrong with the magic, just like she did. She was worried. And that was dangerous. Watching the woman vanish into her room as the door closed softly behind her, Mirabel sighed heavily and quickly ascended the staircase. Tip-toeing past Matrona’s room, Mirabel reached Luisa’s in no time at all. 

The glow of the door was flickering slightly, like a candle flame in a breeze. Something was impacting her magic, but what? Lifting a hand to knock, Mirabel paused as the door clicked open for her. Casita, allowing her entry to one of the magical rooms. 

“Thanks,” she mumbled under her breath, passing over the threshold and peeking into the room hesitantly, “Luisa! Hermana, it’s me! I’m coming in!” 

Stepping further into the space, Mira couldn’t help but drop her jaw in wonder. She had walked from a home, to a tropical bay-side oasis in just a few steps. Her shoes sunk in beautiful white sand as she turned around to have a better look. The sky was vast and blue, and a great ocean lapped calmly at the shore. The beach was scattered with weights and work out equipment, all of which were still and slate compared to the tropical scenery. Mirabel whistled under her breath as she headed deeper into the paradise, a sweet smelling breeze tossing her hair.  

She eventually reached a rather large wooden structure, towering up into the sky. She couldn’t see if her sister was at the top, but she could hear a soft sobbing on the breeze.

“Based on my luck, Luisa is up…there,” she mused, sighing heavily and cupping her hands around her mouth, “Luisa! It’s me Mirabel! God…please don’t make me climb up there! You know I will!” 

For a second, Mira wondered if she’d have to make true of her promise. But soon, what looked like a wooden swing on a rope thudded to the sand nearby, “really? No stairs?” she scoffed, hesitantly situating herself on the round seat and giving the braid a tug. She soon was hoisted up off the ground, lifted one foot at a time up the tower’s edge. Luisa met her at the rail, holding the other end of the rope. She still looked weepy, her eyes red ringed and her brows furrowed, “you know, it’s a really good thing I’m not afraid of heights,” Mira joked lightly, giving her sister an awkward little wave, “hey,” 

“Hey. Come on over,” Luisa pulled Mirabel in, grasping her arms with both hands as she was pulled up and into the tower’s highest room, “what…are you doing in here?” 

“Casita let me in,” Mirabel answered simply, straightening out her skirt and looking around the room. It was very warm in here, draped in tapestries of horses running and star-lit skies. The floor was dotted with pillows and soft toys, and a slowly spinning shade cast patterns from the light of an illuminated candle, “it’s beautiful up here,” 

“Thanks,” Luisa sniffled, using the heel of her palm to wipe at her tears, “Dolores said you weren’t feeling well?” 

“I’m ok, just had a touch of fever this morning. Mama took care of that,” 

“Based on that expression, she forced the liquid bandage on you, huh?” 

Mira shrugged and winced a bit in response, stepping further into the room to look around. The little paper donkey she had made for Antonio’s breakfast was sitting proudly on a wooden shelf, surrounded by framed pictures of the familia. Mira was instantly drawn to the one of Luisa and a tiny baby, held so precariously in the still small girl’s arms. 

“That’s you,” Luisa spoke up, reaching over Mira’s shoulder to pick up the frame and hand it to her, “I was so afraid that I’d drop you, but Mama said she knew I would never. You were so small…still are,” 

Mirabel chuckled at Luisa’s friendly hair ruffle, but frowned as the larger girl sighed heavily, “that day you were taken away? I thought I failed as a big sister. I thought that maybe if I was bigger, or-or stronger, or smarter I could’ve…” 

Luisa paused, grunting in frustration. Mirabel placed the frame back on the shelf, turning to watch the bigger girl scoop up a soft donkey toy in her arms and squeeze it tightly as she fell into a comfortable looking hammock.

“Luisa?” 

“Yeah?” 

Mirabel hesitated, pursing her lips as the donkey toy was thrown and caught in the girl’s arms, “what happened today?” 

There was a long, still pause. Luisa still rocked in the hammock, back and forth, back and forth in a steady rhythm. Mirabel stepped closer and tossed her head, “I’m sorry,” she admitted finally, causing Luisa to look up at her, “this is all my fault,” 

“What are you talking about?” Luisa wondered, sounding honestly puzzled. 

“I really just need to keep my big mouth shut sometimes about what I think about things,” she admitted, “scoot over,” 

Luisa did so as Mirabel practically fell on top of her, shifting around to get more comfortable next to her sister. The elder folded an arm behind her head, supporting it as she stared up at a sky painted wooden ceiling. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever spoken up like that before,” she admitted to Mirabel after a second, frowning deeply, “I always have to put the donkeys away. No one ever offers to help, no one ever thinks that maybe I don’t wanna carry a bunch of pack mules around. And I thought that maybe I was…you know, finally standing up for myself. It felt so awesome, just to ask what Señor Perez had done to fix his own problem. But then Abuela…” 

“Yeah, Abuela,” Mira agreed with a huff of annoyance, “what’s her deal anyway?"

Luisa shrugged, making the toy in her arms gallop across her chest. 

“I don’t know. She’s always been stern, but…I never really thought about how much work we do until you mentioned it. And I felt really bad after what I said, cause then she gave me that look? You know? And I went to grab the donkey and it was…it was heavy,” Lusia’s lip wobbled as tears flooded her eyes, “it was so heavy, I couldn’t.” 

“Last I checked, yes, donkeys are supposed to be heavy,” Mira nodded simply, causing Luisa’s tears to turn to a blubbering snort of laughter, “look, I have no idea how this magic works. But it seems to me like it’s telling you that all this work? Lifting this family by the shoulders? This whole valley even? It’s too much just for you. It’s not fair,” 

Extending a hand, Mirabel dabbed at her sister’s eyes with the back of her hand, “and you shouldn’t feel bad about standing up for yourself. It makes you even stronger than you are now,” 

“What about you?” Lusia wondered, causing Mira to lift a brow. 

“Hey? We aren’t talking about me here,” 

“But you hold those kids up all by yourself,” Luisa insisted, “isn’t that…you know, a lot?” 

“Yeah, but there wasn't anyone else. You have your familia here…out there though? It’s always just been me. Me and the kids; teaching them, healing them, making sure they didn’t starve in a world that didn’t want them,” Mirabel knitted her brows, “it’s heavy. It’s…hard, it’s really hard. But you know, we get through it fine.” 

“We want them,” Luisa said instantly, prodding Mirabel into sitting up as they stared at one another in the hammock, “us. Our familia. We want all of you,” 

“Mm, I don’t think Abuela would agree with you - woah!” 

Mirabel blinked as she was hauled into a hug. This was a different hug; something…softer, a tender part of her sister she had yet to see much of, “Luisa?"

“We want you, hermana,” she insisted, “we’ll help you carry your donkey, if you help us carry ours,” 

Mirabel felt her heart clench again, but this time not with any burning fire. It was love, true and honest love for this other girl who was still so new in her life. So new in her kids' lives. Yet here she was, asking to share a load that wasn’t even her own. Nodding, Mirabel closed the hug and the two stayed like that for a while. Mirabel had to swallow her tears, closing her eyes as Luisa made little blubbering noises again. 

“...there’s something else,” she said eventually, allowing Mira out of her grip as the two sat back, “I saw Abuela last night, going up to Bruno’s tower,” 

“The forbidden one?” Mira asked, pushing her glasses up onto her nose, “why?” 

“I guess that night you vanished? He had some kind of terrible vision. I heard the grown-ups talking about it once,” 

“A vision? Like of the future?” 

“Uh-huh. No one ever found it,” Luisa whispered, “but it was supposedly what drove him to…taking you that night. Maybe you could find some answers up there, if you wanted,” 

“Maybe,” Mirabel mused, thumbing her bottom lip. 

“Just…if you do go up there?” Luisa warned, looking legitimately fearful, “be careful? It’s off limits for a reason,” 

“I will,” Mira nodded, running a tired hand through her curls as she glanced at Luisa, “hey. Can I ask you something?” 

“Sure,”

“What can you tell me about this Mariano guy?”

Chapter Text

Isabela remembered the night she got her gift. Every Madrigal did; it was an important moment in their lives. She remembered the way Abuela’s eyes glittered with fondness as she ascended the stairs, the family candle held protectively in her hands. Her smile was true and real, more real than any smile afterwards. It was pride, it was love and adoration. And as Isa touched the knob and blooms of color sprouted across the wood grains, everything - if just for a second - was truly perfect. 

Isa wasn’t sure when her gift transformed into a burden. 

Was it that first night? That first month as she was taken by the hand into the village to fill the streets with her new, colorful gifts? Isabela didn’t know how magical flowers were mistranslated into perfection by her family…by her Abuela. Or even, if it had been mistranslated at all. She’d have a different door if her gift was to be perfect, right? If that was truly who she was supposed to be, the entrance to her private sanctum wouldn't be so carefully etched in blooms and vines. She wouldn’t have a room sprouting in shades of color, and wafting so constantly of perfumy scent that it made her own head spin. Isa didn’t even want to imagine what her life would be, if perfection truly was her gift. 

She supposed the idea came with being the eldest of the Madrigal children. Abuela had always been a traditional woman, and in her eyes the eldest was expected to carry on the family name, through reputation…through marriage. Dolores - who was only a few months shy of her - didn’t seem to carry the same expectations of perfection. She had her own vices and burdens of course, as all of them did, but Abuela didn’t ever pinch and tilt and rearrange Dolores around like some sort of doll on a shelf. But Isa, while growing up, loved the attention. She loved her Abuela, and she loved the pride which shone in her eyes every time Isa managed a new skill, or finally released her hair to hang loose instead of caught up in a childish braid. Isa liked being perfect…until she realized it wasn’t enough. 

The looks Abuela gave her, the glances, and smiles, faded away as time passed. Worry replaced those emotions; worry about the family, about the valley, about the miracle itself. When Mirabel was born, Isa remembered leaning over her with Luisa sitting on her feet, staring. Staring and wondering. She remembered…distaste, on her tongue. She didn’t like the idea of another kid to compete with for her familias attention; already Tia and Tio’s fussing over baby Camilo was grating on her nerves. She was trying so hard to be perfect, to please her Abuela and make their family proud. She didn’t want another sister. But even she couldn’t deny that Mirabel - her hermanita - was awfully cute. Isa resisted at first when Mama tried to pass the baby to her arms, but with Papi guiding her hand eventually the little bundle was resting right there against her chest. She stared down at the infant with a screwed up nose, but Mira didn’t seem to care. Her big brown eyes were slightly crossed, but little hands gripped the air as fingers gently felt Isabela’s long, dock locks which hung over her head. 

Isabela wished she could take back all of the mean things she had thought before Mirabel arrived, and subsequently all the mean things after. She loved her sister of course, but the new baby meant being perfect was even harder then before. How could you be elegant with a two year old sitting on the hem of your skirt, or clinging to your leg? How could you be beautiful when she was insistent on playing with hair, or watching the flowers grow with a fascination only a toddler could? Isa often wished Mira would just go away so she could have a little peace. And god…did she wish that thought had never crossed her mind. 

Isa remembered the night Mirabel’s door didn’t appear. She remembered the confusion in the room, and the look of awestruck horror which flitted across Abuela's face. She remembered her looking at Tío Bruno - his visage only a shadow to her now. Mirabel was crushed…the look on her face still haunted Isabela’s nightmares constantly. Those eyes, pooling with hurt as her door dissolved to ash. Her hands clasping in front of her, like she had somehow done something wrong. That look she gave Abuela, pleading , asking for some sort of validation that none of it was her fault. 

A validation that came in the form of Mama and Papi, and not the one person Mira clearly wanted it from. 

Isa remembered Tía Pepa dragging all of them back into her room and shutting the door as the party beyond was quickly ushered out. Isa remembered her mothers panicked wail upon finding the Nursery empty from where they had laid Mira down to sleep. The anger that came when it was discovered that Tio Bruno was gone as well. Isa remembered the long nights afterwards, her feet and body sore from hiking the mountains, and her throat dry from desperately calling out for her sister to come home. 

She never did, and slowly they stopped looking. Mama didn’t smile fully anymore, and spent endless nights in the kitchen leaned over her knees weeping into her hands. Papi’s consolations fell flat as tears of grief and loss rolled down his own cheeks. Luisa was determined to keep looking more then anyone else, but eventually she too was forced to cease by exhaustion and duty. The Casita itself seemed…quieter, then. The house was darker and more subdued than ever before, missing the little girl who Isa had watched time and time again dance a clumsy Cumbia with the masonry, or spend hours decorating in messy, hand painted scrawl which - no matter how much Abuela scrubbed - wouldn’t ever come off. Casita loved Mira’s decorations.

Isabela was the only one who never truly stopped looking. 

Though she was tired from holding up her mask all day, and growing flowers on anything that would allow, she would slip from her window on a vine and walk the trails between the wax palms. Her figure would be silhouetted in the moonlight as she searched desperately for anything…any sign at all that her little sister was still out there. Even after Antonio was born she walked, traversing familiar paths all throughout the Encanto. Up until the day that the mountain cracked and they were once again blessed by a miracle, she was searching. There wasn’t a single night she hadn’t tried. 

“... Mirabel !” 

Isabela jerked upwards. Out of sheer habit she reached for her face, wiping at the tears that streamed across her dark skin and made her eyes sore. She was currently hiding from the world under the shadow of a great mango tree; her favorite tree actually, one of the first she had ever grown after getting her gift. A time before flowers were her exclusivity, it seemed. Leaning around the wide trunk, a familiar group of bobbing heads were emerging from the Castia. Isa found herself smiling as Mirabel was tugged by the hand down the front stoop, her hermanitos chattering away about something or another. 

It had only been a few days (it felt like longer to Isabela), but she already held fondness for the little ones. She had spent nearly the entire afternoon with Adrianne, who was…unusually bright for a girl so young. She was chatty and could hold a conversation with just about anyone. Isa was endeared by her attempts to be girly, speaking on the fact that ‘Bianca never cares about dirt, she’s just like the boys,’ and how annoying it was not to have another girl to talk to other then Mira. But it was no match to the emotions she felt at seeing her sister there amongst them. 

Though it clearly hadn’t been an easy road for her hermanita, she came out the other side strong as steel. Isabela felt proud that she endured so much and became better for it, but also ashamed. Ashamed that she believed her own silly burdens to compare to the weight Mira had been forced to carry. Isa swore she saw grey hair already sneaking into the teens dark hair, and the bags under her eyes were not fading as they had all hoped for. Yet still, despite all of that…despite all that had happened, her smile was still the most genuine of them all. Her world didn’t revolve around anything but the kids currently running at her feet, tugging her along as Juan and Hernandez chased Pablos who had stolen the futból. 

Was it so awful that Isabela wanted that, too? 

“…Isabela?” 

So lost in her own musings, Isabela jumped in fright as the very subject of her thoughts suddenly stood before her. Mirabel was leaning slightly over her knees, head tilted questioningly as quickly fading sunlight cast funny reflections across her glasses. 

“M-Mirabel!” Isa managed out, scrambling to her feet as though she had been caught doing something unsavory, “hi, sorry…I was just…” 

“Are you ok?” 

The forwardness Isabela was not used to in her sister sprung up and slapped her right across the face. Her expression must’ve said quite a bit, as Mira settled her weight on one hip and folded her arms, reflecting a posture their own mother often took. Did she even realize she was doing that? Isabela shook away her surprise at being called out and nodded, straightening out her dress and hiding her feet which were bare behind dusty ankles. 

“Fine. Totally,” she lied a bit too quickly, “just taking a minute for myself before the Guzmán’s get here,” 

“You’re a terrible liar,” Mirabel huffed dryly, tilting her head the other direction as she pursed her lips, “what’s going on?” 

“Nothing! Nothing is wrong, I’m really ok,” waving a hand, Isa tucked back her hair and forced a smile. It was the fake smile, the one she used on the town and her Abuela that made them all think she was perfectly content. Mirabel though merely lifted her nose, then shook her head. 

“I should have the kids give you fibbing lessons,” she mused under her breath, running a hand through her dark curls only to have them fall right back into place, “do people really fall for that?” 

Isa’s mask shattered to dust as she slumped. Mirabel’s gaze was impossibly sharp and dark, openly quizzical and non-judgemental, but still searching her intently. 

“Yes. How’d you tell so fast?” 

“Disguises don’t really work when I just watched you put it on,” Mira admitted with a very coarse sort of chuckle, “so what’s up with the game of faces? It’s just me, I’m not that special,” 

“I…” 

Isa paused. Just her? She had been wearing her mask for so long now, she didn’t really take it off for anyone. Not even her own familia saw her without it, especially not Abuela, Mirabel seemed to sense her inner turmoil and frowned again. 

“Difficult question?” 

“A bit,” Isa sighed heavily, flopping back down against the tree and pulling her knees to her chest, “I’m really fine. You should go be with your hermanitos,” 

“Not with my hermana like this,” Mira complained instantly in response, sitting down beside her and resting an arm over her bent knee, “I promise I’m really good listener,”

“We should be getting ready for the Guzmán’s,” Isa mumbled half-heartedly, “I’m a total wreck,” 

“I think you look fine. Besides, it’s not like you really wanna get married anyway.” 

Isa jerked her head up, resulting in knocking her skull against the back of the tree with a wince. Mirabel cringed in sympathy, “sorry…” 

“What do you mean I don’t want to get married,” Isa whined, “of course I do,” 

“But right now?” Mira wondered honestly, “look Isa, I know I haven’t…you know, known you all that long. But even I can see you’re not happy about this. Even Adrianne can see it, though I have to admit she’s way more intuitive then me,” 

“I do want to get married,” Isa insisted again, “I like Mariano…” 

“Liking someone and loving someone are two very different things, hermana,” Mira mused, “of course I can’t really say much on the matter of romance, I’m no expert, but I know my basics,” 

Isa groaned and rested her head in her hands, running her fingers across her forehead. 

“I just…this is really important to the family, and the Encanto,” Isabela insisted, “it’ll be great for the Madrigal name. And it’ll make Abuela and Mama and Papí so proud and…” 

“Woah, no. Stop,” Mira shook herself wildly, as though scaring off a buzzing insect, “you getting married should be considering you first, not anyone else. This is…I mean…Dios mío Isabela, this is your life you’re giving away,” 

“But it’s my duty to the family to carry on the Madrigal name,” 

“Who cares!” Mira cried, her cheeks a bit red from her obvious displeasure as she huffed, “Matrona Madrigal can wave her finger and bark her orders all she wants, but that old crone shouldn’t have any say on who you choose to love, fin de la historia,” 

Swiping a hand across the air as though closing off the conversation, Isabela stared at her for a long time. No one had ever said those words to her before. Of course Mama tried her hardest to be supportive, but Isa’s mask always fooled her. She felt bad about deceiving her that way, but it was necessary. The family was happy now, Abuela was happy. But her? 

Isabela was not happy. 

As if the thought triggered a magical reaction, the tree behind them shuttered as Mirabel reached out her hand, catching a mango in her open palm. All around them the fruit began falling, hitting the ground and making squished craters in the dust. 

“Huh…” Mira mumbled, looking at the fruit as though she hadn’t ever seen one before before looking up, “…oh…” 

Isabela glanced to where her sister was staring and blinked in confusion. The once elegant mango tree was changing before their very eyes. The oval leaves turned brown and died, replaced by spears of spiky green stalks. It was the largest dragon fruit tree Isabela had ever seen. Each branch was massive, towering over them like a fortress of harsh barbs. Pink fruits, fully bloomed and ready for picking, hung heavy on the oddly positioned limbs, weighing them down. 

“…did I do that?” Isa mumbled, holding out her own hand as a fruit fell into it. 

“What else can you do?” Mira asked, “that was really cool!” 

“I…I haven’t ever done anything like that before,” 

“Have you ever tried?” 

“Uh…” Isa honestly hadn’t tried. Abuela liked flowers, the town liked flowers, so she grew flowers. She hadn’t tried growing anything else since this very tree, which was now unrecognizable on the path. Handing the Dragon Fruit to her sister, who quickly stored it in her knitted bag, Isa felt her open palms with her thumbs.

What would happen if she grew what she was feeling in the moment? 

“Woah!” 

Isabela heard the earth shift as something grew at her command. But it wasn’t a bush of roses, or orchids that her Abuela loved so dearly. This… thing… was bright green, and had spines all across its surface. Tilting her head at it, Mira laughed beside her. 

“You just birthed a cactus,” she snorted good heartedly, “congrats,” 

“It’s sharp,” Isa mused, reaching out a hand to touch one of the needles, which poked at her hand. 

“Well you aren’t supposed to touch it,” Mira rolled her eyes, pulling Isabela up from under the Dragon Fruit tree to stare down at the new growth, “you are now a proud mother of one single succulent. If you do get married, I’m sure Mariano will be a great Papí,” 

For once Isabela laughed. And it wasn’t her careful, small, shielded laugh that she used in town. This was a silly, giggling, girlish laugh as she bumped Mirabel with her hip, 

“Shut up!” 

“What! I’m just saying. Can you do another one?” 

“I can try,”

And so Isabela slowly but surely focused her magic on the ground, watching as cactus after cactus sprouted up around the little one she had made. Though they started small and plain, the more she focused and put her heart into the little creations, the more colorful they became. Isabela hadn’t ever felt this kind of excitement before; the thrill of something new and unexplored was rushing through her like fire. 

“Keep going!” Mirabel cheered her on, “what else?” 

Plant after plant, flower after flower, Isa felt her courage grow as she experimented with her powers. Jacarandas and Sundew curled around the fruit trees, illuminating them in colorful light. Vines raced up the tree trunks to create a brilliant jungle landscape. Hitting a flower accidentally with her hand, colored powder spewed onto her dress. For a second Isa was horrified, but soon she grew more of varying colors, for a second not caring about the consequences and she and Mirabel we’re covered head to toe in shades of red, yellow, blue, and green. 

“Amazing!” The younger insisted, using an arm to wipe at her glasses as they looked at the chaos they had created in the garden, “that sure is something,” 

“Thank you!” 

Pulling Mirabel into a bone crushing hug, Isabela squeezed her. And for the first time since she disappeared, and Isabela had walked the Encanto, she felt whole. 

To bad it couldn’t last longer. 

“ISABELA MADRIGAL!” 

Leaping apart from one another, Isa was startled to find her Abuela standing at the entrance to the path. The Guzmán’s stood a little ways behind her, staring with their jaws agape at the new world, “what in Dios name do you think you’re doing?” 

“A-Abuela…I-I…” 

“You should’ve been inside, helping the familia,” 

“I…”

“And look at you! Covered in this…this mess, aye what a disaster,” the woman chided as something shriveled up in Isabela’s chest, “And you ,” Abuela pointed a finger at Mirabel, who barely even twitched in response, “you should be ashamed, leading her astray! She’s to be married! A bride! She doesn’t need you here whispering these things in her ear,” 

Mirabel said nothing, her brows set angrily low above her eyes. 

“You are to leave at once,” Abuela seethed, “I’ve had enough of this. We’ve given our kindness to you, and this is how you repay us?” 

“ Abuela !” Isa barked in shock, only to be silenced as a firm hand was shoved in her face. 

“You are to be gone by sundown,” she growled, “ understand?” 

“Of course, Matrona,” Mirabel mumbled lowly, her tone scarily calm as she gave a little bow, “thank you for your hospitality,” 

“Mira!” 

Isabela reached for her sister as she brushed by the elder woman’s shoulder, disappearing behind the Guzmán’s who stared after her in wonder. Abuela shifted unhappily on her feet, groaning lowly in her throat. 

“¡Qué lío!” The woman hissed, turning to Isabela again, “go change at once. You should be ashamed letting young Mariano see you like this,” 

And for a horrible second, Isabela was going to do as she was told. She brushed at her skirt as the colors from her hands rubbed onto the now soiled fabric. But as she looked over her shoulder at the Dragon Fruit tree, something twisted inside of her. Something harsh and mean and frustrated, and betrayed. 

“No!” 

The whole world was silent for a moment as Abuela turned from where she had began walking back towards their guests, spine ridged. 

“…no?” 

“No,” Isa insisted again, curling her fists, “I won’t,” 

“Isabela…” 

“I said no! Enough of this! I’m tired of being some perfect princess for you to haul around and show off! I’m tired of doing whatever it is you tell me to do because it’s good for the family. I can’t do this anymore! I won’t marry Mariano, because I don’t love him!” 

Abuela gasped, and glanced worriedly over her shoulder. The young man looked wounded, but…not as stricken as Isa thought he might be. 

“You will marry him,” Abuela said, “it’s your duty as a Madrigal.” 

“My duty as a Madrigal isn’t to get auctioned off like a cart horse!” Isa snapped, stomping a foot as the earth itself seemed to tremble, “I won’t marry him. And I won’t stand here and lose my sister all over again because of you!” 

Isa was heaving, seeing read as she hurried past her Abuela and past the Guzmán’s. Her heart was pumping blood so fast as she sprinted back into the Casita, nearly bowing Dolores over in the process. She had Elena in her arms, but looked very worried as she bounced the little girl up and down. 

“Lolo!” Isa managed, “where is Mirabel!” 

“She…” Dolores hesitated, grabbing Isabela by the hem of the dress and pulling her aside. No doubt she had been standing here listening to the altercation with Abuela outside. And based on her face, something equally bad had happened inside. 

“What happened here?” Isa wondered, placing a hand on her cousin's unoccupied shoulder, “where is Mirabel?” 

“The Casita is cracking ,” Dolores managed finally, “it’s shaking. I thought the whole house would come down just now,” 

“Where did Mira go, prima?” Isabela insisted again, “Dolores, tell me,” 

“She was chasing something,” Dolores admitted finally, “I don’t know what but it led her upstairs,” 

“Upstairs?” 

“…she went into Bruno’s Tower,”

Chapter Text

Dolores felt like her gift was more of a curse. She could hear everything from the whistling winds through closed shutters, to the rats scurrying inside the safety of Casita’s walls. The night Mirabel disappeared was possibly the loudest night she had ever experienced, starting of course with the ceremony itself. There were so many people, and fireworks going off, and talking from one corner of their house to another. It could make any regular person's head spin, but for Dolores it was a nightmare. She just clapped her palms over her ears and prayed it to stop just for a second.

And it did. And Dolores wondered - even into adulthood - if it had somehow been her own doing that started it all. 

As Mirabel’s door turned to golden dust at her touch, the Casita was the quietest she had ever heard in her life. Except it wasn’t quiet all at all, because she could hear her little cousin’s heart beat; a skipping, frantic rhythm against the back of her ribs. She heard the toddler inhale sharply, her dark eyes widening as the door before her vanished into nothing. The look she gave Abeula was filled with…fear, and confusion. She was only 5-years-old, just a child. Dolores heard Mirabel’s crying that night until she fell into a restless sleep. She sat with an ear pressed against Mama’s thundercloud engraved door as Julieta and Agustin left the Nursery, speaking to Abuela in hushed tones. 

‘What happened, Mama ?’ Tía whispered, no doubt clinging to her husbands elbow, her voice crackling with grief for her daughter, ‘the magic…I don’t understand, ’ 

‘ I don’t know, mija ,” Abuela murmured, though something in her face must’ve clued Tía into something the rest of them weren’t privy to. 

‘ Did you know this would happen? Mama please… ’ 

‘ I must convene with Bruno, ’ the woman said briskly, just as steady and calm as she had been standing at the top of the stairs only a few moments before, ‘things will be better in the morning, mi vida, ’ 

Except things weren’t better, because it wasn’t long after that when Dolores heard a noise. A shuffling sound, like someone was trying their best to move quietly throughout the house. Assuming it was a member of the family — not taking into account that almost all of them were still holed up in Mama and Papa’s room — Dolores didn’t think twice when the sound of an opening shutter caught her ear. Perhaps Tía was cracking a window to let some air in; it was a rather warm night. But then Casita began to shake violently, like the house was threatening to fall in on itself. Dolores once again had to clap her hands over her ears, cringing at the sound of splitting mortar somewhere deep in the foundation. This was the moment that changed everything. Soon, Tía was crying out in grief at Mirabel’s empty bed, and an open window as the only clue as to where she had gone. 

They looked day and night for months. Search parties were formed, and Dolores recalled vividly how badly her feet ached from trekking up and down the hillsides searching for her Primita. But she knew that Mirabel was gone…stolen away in the night by a shadow. She never came back, and the world kept on turning. Things didn’t really get better, at least not in the way Abuela maybe wanted them too. Isabela still snuck out during the night to hike amongst the wax palms, reciting poems and lullabies to herself in the dark indigo hues as though that would entice her young sister out from her hiding place. Luisa buried herself in work, while Camilo always seemed like he was missing his other half. Tía and Tío wept regularly, grieving their lost daughter. Mama and Papa kept a closer watch over them, waiting for the night where one of them could be stolen away.

Antonio was a wild card, and Dolores would never tell Mama how heartbroken Tía Julieta looked after the announcement. How much pain she was in at the thought of a new baby possibly replacing the old. 

But Mirabel was here now, someplace in their Castia. She was as bright as Dolores remembered, yet so much of the little girl she knew had been lost. Lost to hardship, pain, and grief. Lost to the cold truth that there was no paradise beyond the Encanto’s mountains. The scars on her cousin’s skin, and the deep rooted weariness caught in honey reflecting eyes proved that enough. But as Mirabel darted past her in a blur of teal and white, chasing after something which moved at an impressive speed just ahead of her, Dolores had no plans to sit back and let something happen to her. 

Not again. 

So she tightened the scarf across her chest as Elena grappled at her curls, babbling softly to herself. She kept pace with Isabela (an impressive feat as the flower child’s legs were significantly longer) as they made their way up the steps towards Bruno’s tower, stopping just below where the stairs began. After all, this part of the house was forbidden. Had been since that night. 

“Stay here,” Isa said, “I’ll be right back,” 

“What? No…” 

“Lolo, it could be dangerous.”

“So what? You might need my help. I’m coming with you,” 

“But Elena…” 

“Knows to hold on,” Dolores insisted, “I don’t just listen anymore, Isabela. She’s my cousin too,” 

Isabela seemed hesitant at first, but at Dolores’ firm insistence, soon nodded and extended a hand, “ok. Just…stay close to me?” 

The younger girl nodded intently, accepting the outstretched palm as the pair ascended the steps up into the tower. The boards covering the door had been yanked off, either Mirabel’s doing, or someone else’s. The woodgrain was dark and ominous, lacking the normal golden glow of the other magical doors in the house. Glancing back at her, Isa appeared hesitant. She hadn’t seen their Tío either in over 10 years. But giving her open palm a little squeeze of comfort and a slight nod, Isa exhaled and grabbed the knob. The door opened with barely a sound, and the first thing Dolores heard was sand. Falling sand. The same with which she associated with her Tío. 

She wondered mindlessly if he was here; if he was the shadow Mirabel had been chasing. But it confused her as to why he had been out during the day; not only out in the Casita, but out in the daylight where there was a high risk of being seen. Her uncle was very much like the animals which he cherished. A night dweller. But since Mirabel’s return to the Casita, everything, from her Uncle in the walls to the very boards and shingles of their home, seemed more alive than ever before. 

Moving into the dark, echoing chamber, Dolores winced at the reverbs. She hadn’t forgotten the one time she had visited Bruno’s tower, and how huge it had been then. It seemed even bigger now, and the air was heavy and stale. Before them was a doorway, cut in the shape of an hourglass and blocked by a waterfall of golden sand. Extending her fingers, Isabela cradled some of the grains, feeling them in her grip. 

“Casita?” She practically whispered, “Can you…?” 

Glancing over their shoulders at the open doorway, the tiles outside were jumping frantically, “you can’t?” Isa translated, only to get a sad little ‘no’ from the house. Clearly the Casita was worried about them, as the whole staircase rolled in response to their being here. But Isa merely waved a palm, soothing their dear friend. 

“It’ll be ok, Casita. We have to find Mirabel.” 

“We should be able to go right through,” Dolores mused, adjusting little Elenita in her scarf to where she was hanging from her chest, rather then on her back, “on three?” 

“One…” 

“Two…” 

The girls closed their eyes and leapt into the sand. Dolores bent her body over Elena, now clinging to the front of her dress. The waterfall was harsh against her shoulders, but she felt her feet sink into the ground as she reached the other side. Isabela kept her from falling over, grappling at her arms and quickly batting sand out of her curls. 

“Are you ok, Lolo?” 

Standing up a bit straighter, the little one’s dark eyes were massive. She looked awestruck by their surroundings, staring first at the underside of Dolores’ chin, up into the massive stone hall around them. Brushing her small braids back behind her shoulders, Dolores grunted as she once again adjusted position. 

“Now I know how Mama and Tía felt hauling us around,” she mused, feeling fingers one again thread into her curls as babbling once again wafted to her ears, “what happened to this place?” 

Bruno’s tower was overflowing with sand dunes, the whole floor a massive desert with only bits and pieces of stone poking from the mess. Huge chunks of rock, fallen from up above, had made craters in the soft surface, showing its age. 

“It’s falling apart,” Isa breathed, “if the Casita has no power past the door, maybe the house can’t channel magic through here either?” 

“So where do we go?” 

“My guess? Up,” 

Isabela pointed to a staircase, wide at its base, but narrowing as it spiraled up into the tower’s upper floors. Had Mirabel ascended all of these stairs? “…I can’t…” 

Shaking out of her thoughts, Dolores glanced at her cousin. She appeared confused, flats of her hands open to the floor as her brows furrowed. 

“What’s wrong?” 

“My powers…” closing one hand to feel her fingers, Isa shook her head, “I can’t feel them in here. How’s your hearing?” 

Tilting her head, Dolores hadn’t even noticed she was hearing a bit less than usual. Actually, a lot less, seeing as she could only pick up on what was immediately nearby. It was quiet compared to the usual cacophony of noise she had learned to block out over the years. 

“You’re right. I don’t think our powers work in here, just like Casita can’t manipulate the room,” 

“So the long way it is,” Isabela groaned, “so many stairs…” 

And there were so many stairs . Dolores was sweating profusely only about halfway up, and by the time they neared the top landing, both were practically crawling to reach the end. Taking a moment to rest before reaching the top, Isabela leaned against the wall with a pant of exhaustion while Dolores bent over her knees to catch her breath. She couldn’t imagine Tío Bruno having to make this journey day after day. 

BANG! 

Both girls jumped in surprise, startled by the sudden, gong-like sound which rattled through the vast chamber. Glancing wearily at one another, they listened for it again. 

BANG! BANG! 

The gonging was hollow, one after another, after another. 

BANG! BANG! BANG! 

Without speaking, both elders hurried the rest of the way up the stairs. They had just reached the top landing, only to find a massive, pitch black ravine between them and a round metallic door. The same door from which the banging was coming from. With no way across, Dolores and Isabela were just beginning to look around for a solution when the passage burst open. A wave of sand poured from inside, and a familiar scream accompanied it. 

“MIRA!” Isabela cried, watching in horror as her sister was swept towards the edge of the canyon. Dolores almost shut her eyes, childishly throwing her hands over her face as Mirabel was taken over the edge and towards pitch darkness. Thankfully the younger girl was fast, twisting herself around and crying out in panic as she gripped the edge of the cliff with both hands and clung to it, her feet scrabbling against the stone. 

“Hold on, Mira!” Isa called to her, hurrying towards what looked to be where an old bridge was. But there was nothing that could be used to cross the gap. Just a hanging rope looped to the other side (no doubt what Mirabel had used to make the leap). 

“I-I can’t!” 

Dolores covered her lips as Mira’s arms slid closer to the edge, her fingers unable to grasp the floor due to it’s sandy covering, “h-help! Help me!” 

“Just hold on!” 

But it was too late. Dolores squealed in fear as Mirabel’s hands lost what little friction she had, and her body began to fall. There was a flash of shadow from one of the dark corners, and the sound of swishing fabric as a figure leapt to the edge, hurling himself down to grab Mirabel’s still extended hand. And for a second it didn’t even feel real. The shadow was not a shadow at all, but a man draped in green. His hood had fallen down in the rush, revealing a familiar head of curls and dark, wild eyes. 

“…T-Tío?” Dolores croaked, arms falling to her sides as her estranged Uncle gripped her cousin’s hand, the two staring at one another from their precarious position. 

“I-I got…you,” he began, trying hard not to fall either as he hauled Mirabel up over the edge. 

“It can’t be,” Isabela whispered, returning to Dolores’ side as they stared across the chasam, where Mira was gasping for breath. After a second though, she pivoted her head to stare up at the man, eyes wide behind her glasses. Tío only frowned back, running his hands up and down his Ruana as he tapped a foot. 

“You…” he began, exhaling shakily as Mirabel squinted at him, “your hands. They’re very sweaty.”