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Dust covered among the ruins of the Casita, blowing in each direction like fogs do in the early mornings, but instead of wet, dew drops that permeated throughout the ground and its grassy hills, it had been the leftover rubble and grit of a destroyed home.
Encanto had seemed...impenetrable; with its magic and the helpful guidance of keeping their town alive with vigor, gifting the Madrigals with stupendous gifts to aid them.
The whole debacle... felt like a book missing a page, but never really looked into it because it had made sense before. Now, everything doesn't.
It was terrifying for Julieta, she had screamed her name over and over again, a desperate tone breaking through her usually calm voice as their Casita pushed them back forcefully.
And just like that, their home had crumbled into heaps of broken pieces, and Julieta could only watch and stand with horror while her daughter tried to save that candle.
She ran past the debris of their home, a look of panic gleaming in her watery eyes, shouting her name, "Mirabel! Mirabel!"
It could have been the dust that caused her hazel irises to tear up, but it wasn't.
Her daughter, Mirabel-the youngest, the most thoughtful and kind person you could ever meet- crouched underneath a poorly roof out of two broken doors, leaving a lifeless squeak that somehow echoed within the remains.
Her body encompassed something so close to her chest, protecting it from harm. She moved her head, allowing for the candle to be in the limelight, but there was nothing but the empty shell of the candlestick liner.
"Mirabel!"
Julieta had knelt in front of her, a hand cupping Mirabel's dusty cheek and eyes searching for injuries, but all she could see was the sheer regret and pain in her daughter's face, screwing up as tears built up within her chocolate eyes.
"Are you hurt?" she asked urgently, thumbing across those baby cheeks that Mirabel never really grew out of. The girl shook her head slowly, but Julieta could see a red stain bloom on the white fabrics of her dress.
Fear seized into the mother's heart, her eyes widening. "Someone help! Please!" she was shouting as Mirabel remained motionless, either from shock or her adrenaline had still yet to give up.
Letting out a ragged and sharp gasp, Mirabel's eyes fluttered.
The candlestick liner dropped with a clatter and she fell forward in Julieta's arms.
Her face was pressed against her mother's chest, glasses shifting uncomfortably with vibrations of her mamá's vocal cords. She was yelling...screaming for help?
Mirabel shuddered, the lingering adrenaline dissipating. A hand cupped the back of her curly head and there were shaking limbs wrapping around her. It sounded distant, but she could vaguely hear different cries from around her.
A hand was pressed against her stomach, and she whimpered out a dry cry, her lungs raspy with dust.
"I got you, cariña, I got you," a familiar voice soothed her, though it was quivering with held sobs. Another familiar voice came beside the shell of her ear. "Agárrate fuerte, mi amor." It was thick with emotion, laden with panic.
Papá?
Her body was moved, much to Mirabel's discomfort and pain, to lie down. She saw the dark, grey clouds hover over them, lightning flashing and flaring inside the core of those shadowy clouds. She blinked, the corners of her eyesight becoming fuzzy.
The glasses were still intact, with only a few scratch marks along the rims of the glass, so why wasn't her vision working?
Other than the bleak sky, Julieta came into Mirabel's view, cushioning the back of her head with her lap. She could see them, the tears in her mamá's eyes and the fear across her aging face.
Familiar hands, warm and covered in dust, gently cupped the outlines of the young girl's jaw, her thumb stroking it.
"Ma?" she croaked, coughing in the process. Blood appeared at the corners of her thin lips.
Julieta had to swallow the bile and the sobs, watching as Mirabel's- her Pequeña- spit out blood from coughing too hard. She leaned forward as far as her old back was able to bend, touching foreheads with her. She attempted a smile, but it fell as a sorrowful grimace.
"You're okay, mi dulce," the mother assured, voice breaking slightly as she wiped away the blood that dribbled down her cheek. Agustín had stripped his suit vest and pressed it against their daughter's wound, his hair falling into his concentrated face.
Mirabel hummed in response, unaware of other people surrounding them and kneeling next to her. They were blobs, but she could decipher that the warm, yellow tones were her tía and the variant of colors was Isabela. The tall one was Luisa.
In all honesty, she could care less who watches her fall asleep, she felt too faint-exhausted after all this. She felt like she was floating, the pain dim and fading.
"Señor, it's too risky to move her."
"Then get me something to stop her from bleeding, ¡Maldición!"
"What about mamá's food?"
"Our magic is gone!"
The sounds of desperate shouting and thunder roaring across their land had become muffled. Had it been thundering the whole time? she wondered tiredly. Was tía Pepa angry at her?
Ever since she was a little girl, she had been scared of thunders, always going to her mamá for comfort. This time, she didn't feel scared of them anymore-it was peaceful.
Her eyelids drooped slightly, lulled by the soft caressing on her cheeks to the resounding thunders that shook the hard ground.
"Stay with us, mi amor," Julieta begged, patting Mirabel's pale face. Her tears dripped down onto Mirabel's cheek, streaming down her chin and neck. Mirabel gasped for breath, lips cracked and devoid of color.
She tried blinking back the blurriness, tightening the clear sight of her mother, but it was all for naught. Mirabel felt nothing anymore-no pain, no fear-nothing.
"Don't feel any'hing," Mirabel mumbled, fighting against the heaviness in her eyelids. Her mamá's beautiful, brown eyes widened like saucers before her facial expression crumbled and shaking her head in denial. "No, no, no, you're okay, mi corazón, alright?" she pleaded. "We'll heal you up, keep trying, please."
For a brief moment, Mirabel's eyes burned with tears as well, hating how desperate her mother sounded. If only.
"Mamá?" she whispered, forcing her hand to reach out to brush the strands of her greying hair away from her face.
"I'm here, amor, I'm here," her mother took her hand into her own, holding it close to her cheek.
Mirabel swallowed thickly, emitting small, shallow breaths. She opened her mouth, but no words came out. Julieta gripped her daughter's hand and clenched her eyes closed, praying to God for a miracle. Anything but this, anything but this.
But to her utter devastation, when she reopened her eyes, Mirabel- her baby girl's chocolate brown eyes slowly dilated, no longer alert or full of life. Her chest stopped with its weak rising and falling.
The hand that Julieta had clasped onto like it was her lifeline fell limp, and Julieta could hear the last breath that would ever escape her pequeña’s lungs, barely a puff of air or a whisper, just sounding hollow and bare.
"Mira?" Her shoulders started trembling, a continuous stream of tears fell from her eyes, blurring her eyesight and gently shaking her daughter's shoulder. "Mi vida, please don't do this," whispered harshly, voice hitching.
There was no response.
Gone.
Lightning struck just as an anguished howl resonated throughout the whole ruin. The rain started pouring, pelting against the hunched frames of those who were outside, staring despairingly at the mother who was sobbing on her youngest daughter's chest.
Agustín fell beside Julieta, wrapping his shaky arms around her and burying his face into her back. Liquid soaked through the fabrics immediately.
Gone.
A broader frame joined them, right beside Mirabel's body. With a shaky exhale, she knelt down and took a hold of her cold and unmoving hand. A voice whispered in the back of her head, Failure, Failure, you failed your family.
Gone.
A hand came up to Luisa's shoulder, squeezing it. Isabela stood, right above Luisa and Mirabel's frame, lips pressed together as she held in the sobs that wanted to breakthrough.
Gone.
The family surrounded Mirabel, and wept, rain washing away their tears, but not their pain.
From afar, despite the downpour of rain and thunderous clouds looming over the mountains swirled dangerously, a delicate butterfly-shimmering with hues of magenta- fluttered against the wind, following after a golden butterfly, and both fighting towards the storm. They vanished among the adjacent mountains, leaving behind the dark clouds and disappearing between the cracks and crevices of the earth.
And Bruno watched as the two butterflies faded within the mountains and fog, tears swimming in his forest green orbs.
The damage is done.