Chapter Text
Mirabel awoke, and could tell from her first breath it was Spring.
Casita had opened the window, and the air that surrounded her was thick and heady with the scent of new growth- not yet blossoms, but something green and earthy. A humidity, not quite unpleasant, swirled around her. The gentle wafts of food coming from below told her she’d slept in, but she didn’t mind. It was Spring again, and life in The Encanto was nearing perfection.
Mirabel was now sixteen. A whole year and five months had passed since their house had cracked and collapsed around her. Much of it spent rebuilding; not only the house, but the family that occupied it. And further beyond it, the magical family’s relationship with The Encanto itself. A lot had happened in that year, and at the same time, not much. Babies had been born. Old woman Yesenia, who used to make Mirabel’s favorite blankets, had passed away at a ripe old age. And most importantly- most most importantly, Mariano had finally proposed to Dolores. In fact, he had proposed nearly seven months ago; which meant that now, on this beautiful Spring morning, the wedding was only a week away. The Encanto practically buzzed with anticipation; the doors of Casita, which were hardly ever closed anyway, were perpetually thrown open so a sea of people could come in and out. Pepa oscillated between thundering somber rain showers, heartbroken that her eldest was all grown up, and the current flawless weather, sun shining with such fervor the air practically sung. Abuela was thrilled, and Dolores was thrilled, and the family, for once, was completely and truly happy, and everything should have been perfect.
And it was this thought that gave Mirabel pause that Spring day as she passed the stalwart portrait of her Abuelo Pedro on the stairs, his demure smile saved from the rubble. Things should have been perfect, and to all accounts they were; but there had been a restlessness creeping up inside her, like an itch that she couldn’t seem to find and scratch. Perhaps it was the Spring air, or the new routines that had formed out of utter chaos, but Mirabel, despite herself, found herself longing, in quiet moments, for something to happen. And though it was not at all what she wanted, it did.
********************
The first time it happened completely without warning, and it happened like this. Mirabel was in the kitchen with her mother (her favorite place in the world to be) and they were talking about the wedding (what everyone was always talking about these days). Mirabel was saying, if she ever got married (and she didn’t think she planned to, Julieta stayed silent on the matter) she would do her wedding gown in teal, because it was her color, and,
“-if a guy wants to get married he knows he's marrying me right? So he’s got to like lots of color in his life. He’s got to get used to the idea.” And Julieta had given her a very quiet little motherly smile that said she knew she was being silly, and then all of a sudden the door had burst open and Felix and Luisa had come in, carrying a sagging figure between them.
It was a woman Mirabel recognized, Manuela. The Madrigal’s secretly and half-affectionately called her “the fish lady” for a mis-aimed grudge she had held against their tío Bruno for many years years. But she was, for all intents, a nice lady, if prone to melodrama. Her family had an orchard, and every time the Madrigal's threw a party she brought them a basket of fresh pitaya when they were in season. Now she was slumped over Felix’ arms, her skin ashen and drained of color. When they entered the kitchen she looked up with half-lidded eyes, the whites turned nearly to gray, and blinked, unable to focus.
“Aye dios mio, what happened to her?” Fussed Julieta, already turning to a plate of warmed arepas she had set to the sideline. Felix shook his head.
“Don’t know- señor Gomez found her out in the orchard, collapsed against a tree. He thought it was the heat.”
As Felix helped her down into a chair, Luisa sent a look to Mirabel, her eyebrows furrowed. They both had the same thought- that it was mild weather for the time of year- but neither said anything. Julieta had already helped a soft arepa con queso into Manuela’s hands, and the girl had done what every sick or injured member of the Encanto had done since they could remember, and taken a bite, preparing for all their ills to be healed.
But it hadn’t worked. There was a long awkward moment as she nibbled half-heartedly at the food until it was all down, before her glassy eyes found Julieta’s, mirroring a question. Her posture did not perk, and her tremors did not stop. The four members of the Madrigal family who were in the kitchen all shared puzzled glances. Julieta went to the counter and looked around.
“But I put those there…” She said, at a loss, “Just now. Those are mine.”
“Here, try this.” Offered Luisa. She had found a slice of ponque miraculously uneaten in the cupboard. Manuela took it, almost eagerly, but her grip was feeble. She picked a piece off with her hand and nibbled it- nothing. Julieta gasped, a small, frustrated noise.
Mirabel drifted backwards, into the courtyard. Her eyes immediately sought out the candle; but there it was, burning brightly, undisturbed. There was no flicker, no cracks in the floor or walls, no shudder beneath her feet. In the kitchen, she could hear drawers being opened, and the hiss of dough against griddle as Julieta tried and failed to heal poor Manuela. And a feeling washed over her, so strong and powerful it may as well have been a vision. Something is happening again she thought.
Manuela would eventually be sent home, with her father and husband and many apologies from Julieta and Abuela. No one blamed Julieta of course; everyone in Encanto owed her something and cared for her, but nonetheless Mirabel saw that it bothered her mother deeply. For a week afterwards she would bake things to send over for Manuela to try, to no avail. The girl’s illness was as stubborn as it was mysterious, and even the only doctor in Encanto, though long retired thanks to Julieta’s gift, had no idea what to make of it. She became lucid and normal for hours, only to rapidly fall again into a weak and fevered state, rambling incoherent nonsense. It disturbed the happy little bubble of The Encanto, but after a few days and everyone’s love and well wishes, life began to go back apace. The upcoming wedding was central to everyone’s minds, and Abuela announced that, as they should do everything they could for the Gomez family, they should not carry the burden of all troubles all of the time. And soon, in all the hustle and bustle, it was a sad and unfortunate afterthought among the bright perfection.
The second time it happened was not so unforeseen.
They were at the breakfast table, in the Spring sunshine, enjoying the fresh breeze on their faces. The coffee was being served, it's warm rich scent filling the morning air. Mirabel sat with Isabella on her right and her father on her left, and was picking through her plate to get at the slices of passion fruit when she looked up and caught the eyes of her tío Bruno across from her.
Her uncle's fork hung limp from his hands as he stared past Mirabel, eyes wide, off into nothing. She made a movement to swallow what was in her mouth and ask him if anything was wrong, but before she could he slumped forward against the table, his fork clattering onto his plate. He pressed his fingers into the sockets of his eyes and hissed low through his teeth, elbows knocking at the wood of the table. By this time the family had taken notice, and as Mirabel tried to choke down her bite of food her mother, who was still up, came over to put a hand on his back.
"Bruno, hermano, what is it?"
He stilled, and for a second Mirabel thought perhaps he'd just choked on a bite of food (as she was doing currently) and would recover himself, but then his eyes snapped back open, and she saw the glitter of bright green, glowing eerily against the cheery sunlight. A vision.
For a minute the members of the family waited in hushed silence, sharing concerned glances back and forth, before the low wind stopped, and Bruno finally released a huff of exhaled air, squeezing his eyes shut and shaking his head, the electric glow fading from behind his thin eyelids. Then he launched into his knocking routine, running through the motions of his superstitious compulsion. When he reached for the salt Isabella was faster and poured some out for him.
"What is it, Bruno?" Asked Julieta softly, when it seemed he was done. Felix, down the table, had his arm around Pepa, and for her part she smiled , though a thin gray cloud had formed around her head.
"Aye, you can tell us hermano! It's alright. Whatever it is."
"Yes, go on Brunito." Said Abuela, but there was worry etched into the lines of her face. Mirabel saw Bruno swallow, blinking uncomfortably at the sea of expectant eyes.
"Oh, it was, uh- nothing, nothing too bad." He stammered, "At least I think! You can't really know with these things." He amended, and then shook his head to curb his rambling,
"It was just...I saw the river, down where the farmlands start. Where we had the picnic for Pepa's anniversary? And there was- there was someone stumbling out of the water. A man; I think I've seen him in town. He may have been hurt, but, at any rate, he could still walk. There was something-" He gestured vaguely with his hands, "Something dark behind him. Either a storm cloud or- well it wasn't clear. He seemed to be trying to move quickly to get away from it, but he was, er, shambling. That's all I saw."
There was a contemplative silence. Pepa reached across the table and grabbed the fruit bowl, sending a thin sheet of rain down onto the tablecloth, but the worried cloud above her was dissipating.
Abuela nodded, as though the family table were a business meeting and a new proposal had entered the floor. The family began to move and talk again, relaxing.
“Bruno’s gift has brought us this vision,” Said their matriarch after a moment of thought, her tone authoritative, taking precedence over the breakfast conversation “And we should treat it as such; as a gift. We cannot prevent everything that he sees, but we can prepare for it. Bruno?”
Her uncle snapped to attention in his seat, his knee banging against the table as he jumped.
“Yes?”
“Would you be able to recognize the man in your vision if you saw him?”
Bruno furrowed his brow, thinking. “Uh- yes, yes, I think so.”
“Alright then. After breakfast is over, one of you will accompany him into town and try to find him.” She turned and looked pointedly at her son, “Bruno, I will leave it up to you whether or not you feel like warning him is necessary. But at the very least, you must try to find out why and when he might go to that place so we can prepare to help him. Understood?”
Bruno nodded, his mouth twitching in trepidation. Mirabel said,
“I can go.” As the same time she heard,
“I can take him.” From down the table. She peaked past Isabella and saw it was Camilo who had volunteered, and that he was looking back down at her. Abuela glanced between her grandchildren for only the space of a half second.
“Mirabel will go. Camilo, I need you to help your sister- the menu is not yet complete and Tonito needs help being fitted for his guayabera.”
Isabella moved to block Camilo from Mirabel’s view as she rose to take her plate from the table, but for a split second Mirabel thought she saw him throw a glare her way.
*********
When breakfast was washed up and the family had begun to disperse, Mirabel found her uncle lurking outside the courtyard under a shadowed arch bursting with Isabela’s orchids, waiting on her. After a year and a half, she knew well how to find her most reclusive family member; he had spent ten years in hiding, after all, and even now favored the corners of a room, or the shadows. Bright lights and crowds were no friend to her uncle, and so she took his elbow in hers and launched at once into one of his favorite subjects; his novellas.
He was halfway through recounting his new breakout story, something complicated and tragic titled Amor Junto al Río Eterno, when they reached the center of town. The Encanto was alive with excitement over the wedding. A band was already practicing in the square, and music filled the air. Couples doing their morning shopping stopped to swing one another around, laughing, in preparation for the party that was planned to last all day and night and into the next morning. It seemed like everyone was out selling or buying or loafing around enjoying the atmosphere.
They wandered for a while among the flower arrangements and the wool sellers and the food vendors, and the circles of children preparing for their roles as flower girls and quickly forgot what they had come for. Mirabel was halfway to convincing herself she was still hungry enough to eat some of the fresh almojábana’s who’s scent filled the air, when a strong hand clapped her on the shoulder, nearly hard enough to knock her over.
“Oh! Sorry, Mira!” she turned to find Mariano grinning at her, his one arm still halfway in the sleeve of an unfinished wedding jacket, it’s seam stuck all through with pins; “How are you my soon-to-be little cousin? It’s a great day, isn’t it? I hope the weather stays like this for another week. Guess I’ll have to suck up to your tia, eh? Or should I say- my second mother.”
Mirabel chuckled at his enthusiasm. Mariano could be a lot- too much, in fact- but he was difficult to stay annoyed with, and his giddy happiness these last few months of his engagement were infectious. Mirabel had never pictured quiet, flighty Dolores marrying someone so loud, but the two were, somehow, made for each other.
Senor López, the tailor, a middle aged little man with a receding hairline and liverish eyes, had come running up after Mariano, and now desperately tried to grab at what remained of his sleeve, just as Mariano caught sight of Bruno;
“Ah! Tío Bruno! I didn’t even see you there.”
To both the tailor and Bruno’s dismay, Mariano dove forward to sweep the smaller man into a crushing hug. Mirabel stifled a laugh as she heard her uncle let out a pained oof, and the distressed noises of his rats running for safety beneath his ruana.
“Good to see you, Mariano.” Bruno managed breathlessly, upon his release, “Señor.” He nodded at the tailor. Señor López took the pins out of his mouth, finally gaining a hold of Mariano’s arm as if it were a bull ready to charge, and swiftly pinning the errant seam.
“Madrigals.” He nodded at both of them, though his tone was snipped and annoyed. Mirabel assumed it was because of his interrupted work, before he fixed Bruno with a cool look, “I hope you’re not here to give us any bad news about the wedding, señor?”
Bruno looked slightly stricken, his eyes widening. “Uh, er- about the wedding? No, no. I haven’t.” He stammered. López pulled another pin from somewhere behind his ear, a look of alarm passing his features.
“About something else, then?”
“Oh, uh, well-”
“We just came out to enjoy the fresh air!” Mirabel blurted before he could stick his foot in it. Her tío was honest to a fault, and easily coaxed into social missteps such as giving away things that should be between him and the family. Most of his visions fell under this category nowadays, as far as Abuela was concerned.
“It is nice, isn’t it?” Cooed Mariano, “Listen to that guitarist! I hope Dolores isn’t too busy to stop and listen. Hey, when you see her, will you ask her if I got the right shade? Take a good look at it so you’ll remember.”
He (once again) pulled his arm free of the tailor’s grasp, holding it out for Mirabel to inspect. She nodded accommodatingly, completely sure she would have forgotten the shade by the time she made it home.
“Señor Guzmán, please-” Whined López, grabbing uselessly for the sleeve again. Mirabel took the opportunity to back up, waving.
“Well we’d better get going Mariano, you look like you’ve got a lot to do. See you later at dinner!”
She had meant the “we” to include her and Bruno, but as she waved her hand behind her looking for his it came up empty. Her uncle had slipped off somewhere. She flashed an awkward smile at Mariano as he was being toted away by his tailor, and he sent a very genuine one back at her.
It didn’t take her long to find her uncle, or the other way around. She crossed the square, drifting towards the food stands on the further side, and before she could make it she felt him tug her sleeve from the shade of a balcony.
“Ah, there you are. I’m gonna buy a-”
“That’s him.” Bruno interrupted her in a quick hushed voice, “the man in the vision. There.”
Mirabel followed where he was pointing, having to squint against the sunlight. She could see why he was speaking quickly; the man was swiftly moving away from them through the square and across the bridge. Mirabel recognized him at once.
“Teodoro.” She nodded, “He’s a fisherman. I don’t talk to him much but Luisa’s helped him a few times. You sure that’s him?”
“Yes - he’s even wearing the same hat. I guess I should, well, tell him,” Bruno paused, ringing the edge of his ruana with his hands, “Or, well, I’m not sure what I should tell him. It’s all kind of, kind of vague. But uhm, hm, let’s come up with a plan here- OK. I’ll ask him about the hat. Good way to put him at ease. Then-”
“Wooaah, OK, reel it in.” Laughed Mirabel, “I’ve got this tío, you just hang back.”
Before he could argue, Mirabel bounced away after Teodoro, who was disappearing through the crowd. She only managed to catch him once he’d crossed the other side of the bridge, hooking a finger around his sleeve. He looked her up and down for a moment before his face lit up in recognition.
“Ah! Mirabel, isn’t it? Good morning!”
“Good morning señor-” Mirabel started, flubbing a bit when she could not remember his last name, “Er- how are you today? Enjoying the fine weather?”
“Yes, yes, aren’t we all.” He laughed, rubbing the back of his head, “Did you come to buy some fish? Because I don’t really have any on me.”
“Oh, no, just, you know-” Mirabel fumbled, “Just saying ‘hi!’. Catching up.” Inwardly she cringed, she wasn’t doing much better than her uncle would have.
“Ah, well, actually,” Began Teodoro, “I was going to head up to casa Madrigal soon anyway to ask about something, so maybe it’s good you stopped me.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah, it’s- well, actually, I was going to see if your uncle would read my future.”
Mirabel started, blinking owlishly at him for a moment, “Huh?”
Since the rebuilding of their home and the miraculous reinstatement of their gifts, there had been a quiet resolution from Alma Madrigal that her son would be giving no more visions, save at his own discretion. Most of the village were fine with that- strong opinions about the nature of his predictions still prevailed, despite most of the townsfolk finally beginning to separate the legend from the man. Still, in the full year that had passed, only two people had come seeking Bruno for visions, and both had been gently turned away.
Teodoro began talking again, rapidly,
“I know they say he doesn’t really do that anymore, and of course, I understand but, I thought it’s always worth it to ask, right? I won’t be upset if he says ‘no’, but you know, I could really use a reading.”
“What…do you want to know exactly?” Asked Mirabel. Teodoro looked left and right, his voice lowering.
“It’s my business- the fishing that is. Used to be I could pull from the same stream for weeks and never run the river dry, as long as I timed the seasons right, OK? New fish were always coming in from the waterfalls, hatching in our lazy river, and there was always more than enough, so we ate well. But recently, the fish that come in from outside are- well, sickly. I pull a lot of already dead ones. They don’t seem to be growing as big, or breeding as much. This should be my busiest season, but I hardly have enough to take to the market with me.”
“And you want tío Bruno to tell you…?”
“I don’t know if it’s like this for the other fisherman- we all have our own territories, and we get very competitive, so they’d never tell me if they were suffering too. But I need to know if it will get better, or if it will stay like this all year, and I gotta know soon; before there’s nothing left for my family to eat. I- you know, we have another kid on the way.”
Mirabel stared into the nothing past Teodoro, her brow furrowing, lost in thought. Was this, in some metaphorical way, what Bruno had foretold that morning at breakfast? She hadn’t really considered the vision too much at the time; mostly grateful he wasn’t prophesying some inevitable personal disaster or something that would cause strife amongst the family. But now when she recalled his words something cold seemed to take her over, chilling her despite the hot morning sun on her shoulders. Teodoro must have taken her silence to be troubled contemplation, because he suddenly looked regretful, taking off his wide brimmed sombrero vueltiao and fanning himself with it.
“Ah- sorry if I upset you, señorita. I know your Abuela does so much for this community, she’d never let anyone go hungry. But I’m a proud man too, you know? If I need to throw away the pole and learn to do something else, well, I’d like to start now. So, will you ask your uncle for me?”
“Uh, yeah- I’ll ask him.” Said Mirabel. She smiled at him, knowing it probably wasn’t convincing, and wished him a good day before moving back through the crowd.
***************
When she got back to Bruno, he’d just finished buying her a little basket of the almojábana she’d been eyeing, and handed it to her. She ate them wordlessly as they walked home, and he didn’t pester her about what Teodoro had said, perhaps able to tell from her silence it had bothered her in some way. Which she was grateful for. The doors and windows of Casita were all thrown open when they returned, and morning sunlight turned the left side of the house golden and pink. Her mother was playing music softly in the kitchen, it's tones drifting out into the herb garden outside. Their mural on their front door glowed against the sunlight, and the air was fragrant with Isabella’s jacarandas. Here the cold feeling Mirabel had felt in the square dissipated until it seemed like a strange afterthought, but the bad taste it left in her mouth remained.
“I think Teodoro will be at that spot everyday.” She said contemplatively, when they stopped outside the door. “I guess one of us will just have to wander by there with some food whenever we can- it’s not far. I’ll tell that to Abuela.”
“I guess so.” Said Bruno. He looked as if he knew there was more she wanted to say, but she didn’t say it, and he didn’t ask.
***************
It happened sooner rather than later- only two days later, in fact. Mirabel hadn’t even had time to broach the subject of giving Teodoro a vision when, once again, the kitchen door burst open and Camilo, shifted into a spitting image of Luisa, came in, dragging Teodoro behind him.
“I found him on the riverbank,” He gasped out between breaths, “tried to feed him- what you gave me-the food….but, it didn’t work - he didn’t wake up.”
Teodoro was laid on the kitchen table. His skin was ashen gray, and his eyes, when forced open, showed black around his pupils, but he was breathing. His pants were wet to the knees, so he must have stumbled his way to shore and then passed out. In a scene eerily similar to what had happened with Manuela, Julieta first tried her famous arepas, and then moved on to whatever else was in the kitchen. By this time the whole family had gathered, and a cold silence unfamiliar to the usually warm Madrigal kitchen settled over the scene. Nothing worked, of course; two hours passed and the village doctor came with fumbling hands and took his temperature, and waved smelling salts beneath his nose. He didn’t wake. Mirabel helped Luisa and her father carry him back home, where his wife waited worriedly at the door, one young son held on her hip, her stomach straining against her skirts.
“But what do you mean she couldn’t heal him?” She kept asking, desperately, as Augustin tried his best to explain. “This never happens in the Encanto, why would it happen to him?!”
“We don’t know,” Luisa’s voice was tired, “We don’t know- we’re going to try and figure it out.”
******************
That night by sunset the courtyard of Casa Madrigal filled with people, packed to the brim with as many as it could hold. Abuela stood on the grand staircase, elevated above the crowd, and above her the candle flickered with it’s warm magical golden glow. Mirabel sat below her, to the side of with the rest of the family, a sleeping Antonio on her lap, embroidering into a handkerchief for her father as she listened to the adults of the village talk in worried tones.
“For fifty-one years, our Encanto has been protecting us, providing for us,” Abuela was saying. In the soft light she looked blurred and undefined, almost like a mirage, “but we cannot ask a miracle for answers. Something is happening now that has not happened before; I do not believe that Julieta is losing her gift, only that what we are seeing is something the gift cannot touch.”
“I agree.” It was the doctor who spoke, at Alma’s right hand side. The old man had been in The Encanto since the night it had been founded, “Whatever it is, it’s like no disease we’ve ever known before. And Julieta’s food still works on everything else, as far as I can tell.”
“It’s a curse!” Said someone in the crowd, “A miracle can’t touch a curse!”
“Perhaps,” Said Abuela, “But we don’t know-”
“But who would want to curse Teodoro? Or Manuela?!”
“We’re all neighbors; we look out for one another!”
“No one here has the power to curse anyone…”
“...Teodoro was going to have his future told by that seer.” This was Teodoro’s wife speaking, slowly, and the room fell hush as she rose, red eyed, “he told me so, only a few days ago. The fishing was bad and he wanted help…did your son give him a vision, Senora Madrigal?”
Her voice was not outright accusatory, but as her gaze settled on Abuela Mirabel felt the tension of the room suddenly rise.
“Bruno’s gift is to see the future,” Abuela said, her tone careful and measured, “He has no say over what comes to pass. But-”
“But did he prophecy for my husband?”
“...Teodoro never came to him about a vision.”
Mirabel let out a low, relieved exhale of air, stilling her hand from where it had been unconsciously tearing at the piece of fabric. Abuela hadn’t exactly lied, but she was still surprised to hear her come so close with a townsperson. Mirabel's eyes searched the room, looking for her uncle; but he was nowhere to be seen.
There was a second of tense silence, and then another voice spoke;
“So the fishing was bad for Teodoro, too?” Andres, another fisherman from across the Encanto, “I wondered- but he wasn’t saying anything, and so I didn’t-” His grizzled eyes looked sheepishly up at Abuela, “Senora- there’s something I should have told you. The water- there’s been, I’ve been seeing something…wrong with the water.”
“What has been wrong with it?” Asked Abuela. Her voice remained steady, but Mirabel thought she saw her hand shake against the fabric of her skirt for a moment.
“I saw- one or two times, there was black in the water. At first I thought it was the light playing with my eyes, but it wasn’t- there were just- streaks of black, like a sickness, pooling in the water some days. The fish that I pulled out those days were dead.”
A murmur began to rise from the crowd, thick with fear and panic. Antonio stirred against Mirabel’s shoulder. Abuela lifted her hand, and the voices stopped almost at once.
“Andres, you should have told us this much sooner.” She said sternly, “For now...we will not use that part of the river, or Teodoro’s part; not to drink, fish, bathe or wash anything. Any water taken from those streams must be boiled first, is that understood?”
A murmur of “yes”’s followed from the crowd. Voices began to raise again,
“But why is this happening Alma?”
“...It’s never been like this before…”
“How will the fisherman get by?”
“It was never like this before he came back…”
“But those streams all connect!”
“Alma, could it be that the sickness is coming from outside The Encanto?”
“The outside cannot hurt us here.” Abuela said. Her tone was final, words abrupt, voice hardly wavering. Above her the candle flared bright and then waned. “The Encanto will protect us; as it always has. Whatever storm is gathering outside, it will pass. We must look out for each other.”
It was not an answer; but for that night, it was enough. The crowd congealed, and slowly, it dispersed. When Felix finally returned from looking after Pepa to fetch Antonio, Mirabel’s legs were long since asleep. The courtyard was empty and dark, save the light from the candle, and the milky light of the moon and stars. From the side stairway, her Abuelo Pedro’s face stared down at her, his features set in a soft smile.
The outside cannot hurt us here, Abuela had said. And that was the idea, wasn’t it, of their miracle, of the Encanto; protection. That was the point of all their gifts. But standing there, alone, that cold feeling began to creep up upon her again, and she wondered;
Was it enough?