Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

"It's not bad," said Augustín.

"It's not good either," said Félix. "We need to make more."

"I don't think we can," said Bruno gloomily, "We don't have the metalworking skills. Or the ore."

Mirabel walked into the kitchen and found the three Madrigal men - Tío Bruno, Tío Félix, and her dad Agustín - sitting around the table looking thoughtful. In the middle of the table and currently the subject of debate was a small pile of money.

"Um," said Mirabel, "What are you doing?"

"Oh, hey there, Mirabella!" her dad gestured her closer. "Come here, come here. See this?"

"Um... yes?"

It was quite a heap of cash, although much of it was dusty, as though it had been dug up from the dirtier corners of the house. On closer examination, it looked like some of the money was sandy. Mirabel frowned in confusion.

Her dad nudged her. "You've gone shopping in the city, haven’t you? Does this look like a lot of pesos to you?"

"Um..."

Truth be told, Mirabel wasn't sure. Mirabel had left Encanto with Camilo just once, and the two of them had come to a sudden realisation: they didn't know anything about money. There was always enough food for everyone in Encanto, and because the Madrigals didn't charge for their help, they tended to get most of their stuff as gifts. People spent money in Encanto, of course, just... not really because they needed to. Besides, nobody in town knew how to make new coins or notes, so everything was at least fifty years old. They'd gotten by with their own little system for fifty years by the time the mountain split open, giving them access once again to the real world and its trade system.

Now, Mirabel had been educated, at least. She knew about poverty and commerce and how money was the backbone of society... outside. Mirabel knew about economics only in theory. In practice, when she'd gotten hungry in the next town over, the prices at the market had been so nonsensical that Camilo had stolen her an orange from the market instead of buying it.

She was saved from having to answer by Abuela, who came into the kitchen with exactly the same question Mirabel had asked. "What are you three doing?"

Mirabel noticed Agustín and Félix avert their eyes. Bruno drummed his fingers on the table. She realised none of them wanted to tell Abuela.

Eventually Félix offered, "We're trying to see how much money is in the house."

"Money?" Abuela raised an eyebrow. "What do you need money for?"

"Well, y'see, now that the mountain pass is open," Agustín said, "The kids have been visiting the next town over, and we thought, you know, they ought to have a little spending money..."

"There are a lot of new books and magazines out there," added Félix, "Lots of things you can't get in Encanto..."

Bruno cleared his throat. His expression was blank and careful, which Mirabel recognised as a sign that Bruno was about to disagree with his mother. She quickly checked her exit routes, but didn’t find one in time.

"The mountain pass means that the kids can leave Encanto, if they want to," said Bruno, "We thought it would be good to have some money put aside, just in case."

Abuela didn't react much. Her face grew a little harder. Mirabel recognised that look: Abuela was going into serious business mode. "Mirabel, could you give us a moment?" she said politely.

"She can stay." Bruno didn't give Mirabel time to react. "It's her future we're talking about."

Mirabel began to feel like she was getting a bit more than she'd bargained for just by walking into the kitchen. She looked at Agustín and Félix and saw them both smiling awkwardly, looking distinctly uncomfortable.

Abuela nodded. "That is... a thoughtful plan, Bruno," she said, "But the children have everything provided for them here. What would drive them to leave?"

"That's up to them," Bruno spread his palms, "They've been in the same village their whole lives. It's the twentieth century. What if they want to see the world? Have a career? Go to university?"

Abuela looked doubtful. "University?"

"Why not? The world is open to them now. What if Camilo wanted to study theatre? Or Antonio the natural sciences? We should be able to support them, if that's what they want." Bruno frowned at his pile of money.

"The world is different now," Agustín said, a little hesitantly. "There are so many more opportunities. For men and women! These days, Mirabel could go to university in Bogotá and become a doctor if she wanted to!"

"Me?" Mirabel gave her dad a don't drag me into this look.

"And if the kids find new goals, then we have to find new ways to support them," said Félix. "It'll be good to have a backup plan."

Abuela didn't like this idea. It was written all over her face. But Abuela was also much softer and mellower than she used to be, and instead of giving a firm statement of denial, she simply shook her head in disbelief.

"Well, if you want money, you won't find much of it here," she said, "We have had no need for it."

"Hmm." Bruno crossed his arms. "Anybody... have any marketable talents?"

"They say there's money to be made in fortune telling," grinned Félix, "At carnivals."

Bruno winced. "Yeesh. And people pay for it? How do they stay in business?"

"Lying, I think," said Félix.

"Yup," said Bruno gloomily, "That sounds about right."

"I could ask Isabela,” suggested Mirabel, “She has friends in the city.” She brightened up. “I could sell my embroideries at the market!”

“You don’t need to do that,” said Agustín, “After all, we could just do the jobs we usually do, but over in Eréndira. I could play the piano over there.”

“Speak for yourselves,” said Bruno, putting up his hands, “I see the future. That’s my thing. Outside of the Encanto, I’m just a guy with no skills.”

“That isn’t true!” Félix laughed his big, booming laugh. “Don’t say that, man! You could get out there and become a millionaire. You’ve never tried!”

“You paint those little rat sets, don’t you?” said Agustín, nudging Bruno with his elbow. “Paint some portraits! Become an artist!”

Mirabel was pretty sure Félix and her dad were winding Bruno up, but it was hard to tell. They both looked pretty earnest. Bruno, who could be extremely socially inept sometimes, was looking thoughtful.

Abuela shook her head in disbelief.

“You three really have no idea how lucky you’ve been,” she said, “You really don’t... Ay. It doesn’t matter. Bruno, are you busy this afternoon?”

Bruno’s face immediately went from ‘uncle discussing the financial implications of the future’ to ‘little boy who doesn’t want to wash the dishes’.

“Why?” he said suspiciously.

“Someone wants to meet with us.” She folded her arms. “Someone who arrived from the city to work here. He sent a messenger to the Casita. I thought it would be rude to keep him waiting.”

That interested Mirabel. The existence of the Encanto wasn't a secret - Abuela had considered asking everyone to stay quiet about it, but it had become rapidly clear that the villagers were extremely eager to visit the outside world. It wasn't often, though, that anybody from the outside visited the village. In fact, in the space of a few months, nobody had - at least not anybody who wasn't visiting a friend or relative.

"And I want you to be there when I meet him. I told him to come around at midday." Abuela ignored the look of reluctance on her son's face. Mirabel would have asked why, but Abuela surprised her again by turning to her and saying, "And you, Mirabel."

"Me?"

"If you want to," added Abuela, scoring another point for gently surprising Mirabel. Abuela often met with the townsfolk to discuss small political matters, but before this point, she had always been alone. Mirabel nodded in response.

Satisfied, Abuela gave the pile of money a last baffled look before walking away.

"The joys of it all, eh?" said Félix. Mirabel looked at him, but Félix was talking to Bruno, who was looking rather victimized.

"Ten years! Hasn't she replaced me with one of you?" said Bruno desperately.

"Sorry, Bruno," said Agustín, patting his shoulder, "You're on your own. We'll always remember you."

"Wait," said Mirabel, "What?"

"You wouldn't have known, of course," said Agustín, "But way back when, Bruno was your Abuela's right hand man."

Bruno cleared his throat. "Way back when," he said, "Abuela would have me sit in on her meetings with the townspeople. She says that when you're a woman telling people things they don't want to hear, it helps to have a man in the room."

"Unfortunately, she's probably right," said Félix, "Some people can be real..." He looked cautiously at his niece, "Donkeys."

"I don't know if that's the only reason," said Agustín, "I think she probably wanted you specifically, Bruno. It's a good look to have a guy who sees the future around, helping you make choices."

“It was your Abuela’s intention, a long time ago, that Bruno would take her place some day,” said Félix. Bruno shot him a look. “A long time ago, I said! There’s nothing to be embarrassed about!”

“I wish ,” sighed Bruno.

“When we were young men, that was what Bruno did. Sat next to your Abuela, being the golden child,” murmured Félix, “That was who you had to face if you had to talk politics at the Casa Madrigal, Alma and Bruno Madrigal. The deadly duo.”

Bruno said, “Félix - “

“Didn’t help your tío’s reputation, you know, being present for every unpopular decision your grandmother ever made and not saying anything,” continued Félix.

“Félix, could you - “

“Like when she refused to clear the cornfield during the drought and we lost half the harvest. Now, Farmer Rodriguez pinned that one right on Bruno. I remember him saying it, when we were teenagers, and then everybody picked it up, ‘the day you die, you’ll see Bruno Madrigal’-”

Bruno, who had sank so far into his chair that he was no longer visible at the table, reached up a hand and knocked on the table, mumbling. “Mirabel,” he said, sounding impressively confident for a man who was sinking onto the floor, “Why don’t you meet me in the sitting room upstairs? I can talk you through what’s happening.”

“Uh, sure, Tío Bruno.”

Mirabel followed her slithering uncle out of the room. Her dad shot her a double thumbs-up. It didn't encourage her. He always did that when something bad was about to happen.

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The more time Mirabel spent with Bruno, the more she got to see the side of him that wasn’t a trembling, stuttering wreck. It was, nonetheless, very easy to get Bruno nervous; in a moment he turned back into the man she’d found hiding in the walls all those months ago, rambling and fidgeting and avoiding her gaze. He knocked his way up the stairs, held his breath along the landing to the sitting room, and sank into one of the chairs with an unhappy sigh.

"Tío Bruno," said Mirabel, "You know if you don't want to meet with this guy, you don't have to, right?"

"I know, I know," sighed Bruno, "I'm fine, Mirabel, I'm not great with people is all. I'm a little nervous."

No kidding. "Then why are you meeting this person? You know Abuela can't make you, right? I can talk to her - "

"No, Mirabel, I wanna be there today. I'm not doing this for her, don't worry."

Mirabel put her hands on her hips. "What, you're doing it for me? I don't need you for moral support just to meet some guy!"

"Mirabel, you are not just meeting some guy," said Bruno, "Your grandmother asked you to sit in for a reason, and I think I know what it is, and if I'm right, then I'm staying in this room with you."

Mirabel knew that her uncle could be a little self-sacrificing when it came to her. Including, but not limited to, locking himself away for ten years to protect her. She frowned at him. "So... what is the reason?"

"Your... " Bruno began, then paused. He reached into his ruana, threw a handful of salt over his shoulder, and continued. "Your Abuela is a very important woman in this community. We don't have a leader and we don't have any security. We have her. And she's not - kn-knock on wood - gonna be around forever."

Mirabel tilted her head, not understanding for a moment.

"Someday somebody is gonna have to take over from her, and ever since the whole... mountain cracking, house falling, me-on-a-horse thing happened... her opinion on you has changed. She thinks you'd be a good successor for her."

"Would I be wrong?" asked Abuela, walking into the room.

Mirabel was definitely, totally fine and not freaked out by any of this stuff, so it surprised her when she went to speak and her voice came out in a squeak. "Abuela?"

"I don't want to push you into anything you don't want, Mirabel. But it's obvious to me who in this family is best suited to leadership," said Abuela, "And who our community would be willing to accept as a leader."

Mirabel felt herself going red. "M-me? Really?"

"The village likes you, Mirabel. They rallied around you when you brought back Bruno and rebuilt this place. That is important." Then, reminding Mirabel of how much things had changed, she smiled kindly. "And even if you do not take a guiding role in the future, I would value your opinion on matters from here. I have many things to learn from you, cariña. I want you to be a part of these meetings from now on. Do you accept?"

Mirabel gulped. "I... wow. Okay. Yes. Thank you, Abuela."

"Thank you, Mirabel." Abuela's smile was proud and loving and made Mirabel feel like she was a little kid. Her? Abuela's successor? Suited for leadership? Years of longing for Abuela's approval were suddenly ramming headfirst into the present. Abuela didn't seem to notice Mirabel's awe, instead turning to her son and saying, "I wish you wouldn't look so nervous, Brunito."

Bruno sighed unhappily. "I wish I wasn't so nervous, Máma, but we play the cards we're dealt, huh? And sheesh, it's not easy listening to you tell Mirabel this stuff. I remember you saying the same thing to me about thirty years ago and look how that turned out."

"I did badly by you, Bruno, and I'm not proud. But it remains true that I value your opinion on these things." Abuela peered at him. "Do you not think Mirabel should be here?"

Bruno sighed deeply. "Ah. No. No, I think you're completely right about Mirabel. She is the best candidate for leader of the Encanto. I'm here, aren't I?"

"Um," said Mirabel, "I don't really get it. Why are you here?"

"Because I don't want you alone under Abuela's influence," he said bluntly.

Abuela didn't seem offended by this. "I tried pushing Bruno into this role," she said, "And I am not proud of that. But my reasoning was that he is, despite everything, very wise. I trust his opinion here. And I would say that you have a lot to learn from him."

"Despite everything?" said Bruno slowly.

"Many of my greatest failings have been because I did not listen to Bruno's opinion," Abuela continued, which cheered Bruno up considerably. "In these matters and many others." The house bounced a chair politely. "Ah. Our guest is here. One moment, I will bring him upstairs."

Abuela left, and Mirabel took a moment to check if she was dreaming. Bruno looked at her, frowning. "You okay?"

"Yeah," said Mirabel. "Wow. Okay. That's a lot."

"Remember, you don't have to do this if you don't want to," he cautioned, "You can always back out. Now and forever. You always come first."

"I know, Tío Bruno. But..." She gave a small smile. "Do you... really think I'm good enough to take over from Abuela?"

"Mirabel, there is nobody else in the world , let alone this family , who I would trust to do a better job than you." He sighed. "Even if I don't like the idea of planning out your future so soon."

"I dunno, I... Well, I don't want to be in charge or anything, but I like the idea of... helping people? Knowing stuff? I... I think it'd be really cool."

He nodded. "As long as that's how you feel. I'll be here if you ever want to talk about it."

"I-I know. Thank you, Tío Bruno."

"Now then," he sank unhappily into his chair, "Let's meet this guy. If you want my advice, which you shouldn't, I usually just sit here and pretend to be invisible until they go away."

"Should I say anything?"

"If you want to," he said, "Don't worry. If your grandmother doesn't approve, I'll kick her under the table. She brought you in here, she oughta listen to you."

*

Mirabel hadn't been sure what to expect from their visitor, but it hadn't been the Professor.

The stranger Abuela brought in was a white man with piercing blue eyes and wire-rimmed glasses. He didn't look much older than Mirabel's father, but his hair had turned completely grey, including the well-trimmed mustache on his face. Mirabel had never seen anybody so foreign before, and she had to try not to stare as Abuela gestured towards the two of them, saying, "My son, Bruno, and my granddaughter Mirabel."

The man shook Bruno's hand in a firm handshake, but when Mirabel stood up and held out a hand he held it to his lips and kissed it. "Señorita," he said, "A pleasure to meet you."

His Spanish was perfect, but it was clipped and overly formal, clearly a second language he had been well-educated in. His clothes were Colombian, as was the sunburnt-looking tan on his skin.

"It's nice to meet you." Mirabel said. Then, hoping she wasn't being rude, she asked, "Um... Are you American?"

"English," he said, flashing her a smile. "But I haven't lived in my native England for some years now. Professor Richard Dunnock, from the National University in Bogotá."

"University?" She remembered the conversation from earlier. "What do you study?"

"I'm an ornithologist," he said. Then, seeing her blank expression, he added, "A biologist specializing in the study of birds. Tell me, how old are you?"

"Fifteen."

"Fifteen. Very good." He smiled to himself, as though this meant something to him. Mirabel found herself shrinking away.

Abuela gestured for him to sit. He adjusted his spectacles as she turned towards Mirabel. (Bruno, with remarkable skill, had faded into the background to the point of invisibility.)

"So," said Abuela, "Professor. What brings you to our community?"

"As I was telling your granddaughter," said Professor Dunnock, "I'm an ornithologist. I've come here in pursuit of a very rare species of bird. Tell me, have you ever heard of the Andean Bird-of-Paradise?"

Abuela shook her head. The professor reached into his satchel and brought out a battered old notebook, which he opened onto a page with a watercolor painting. Mirabel leaned forward to look.

It depicted a bird with shining blue and orange plumage, its wings outstretched as though to take off. Its tail feathers were long and fluffy, almost the same length of its body, and they trailed behind the bird like a large, swooping cape. Mirabel had never seen a bird like it before.

"I'm not familiar with it," said Abuela, "But I know very little about birds. You believe this animal lives somewhere in the region?"

"I am almost positive," said the professor, his eyes glimmering brightly. "This bird is well-documented in oral tradition and local legend, but its existence has yet to be scientifically confirmed. The people in the neighboring city of Eréndira tell me they've seen it flying up these mountains."

"I see," said Abuela. "So you seek to capture it."

"If possible. Documenting a specimen in the wild would also be a worthwhile scientific endeavor. And of course, this region is rather under-studied; I would also be undertaking a brief ecological study of the area. If I find nothing, then I would seek your permission to stay here a month," he said, "Perhaps to return again later, should I find something of value. I might also ask you for a local guide - paid, of course."

Mirabel had forgotten Bruno was there for a moment, but Abuela's eyes very briefly made contact with his.

"I see no issue with either of those," said Abuela evenly, "Do you have somewhere to stay?"

"The local greengrocer has stated she is happy for me to rent one of her rooms for as long as I need."

"Good," said Abuela, "One of my granddaughters often helps the woodcutters in the forest, and is familiar with the area. She would be happy to assist you, I'm sure."

That was Luisa. It was a wise choice by Abuela, Mirabel thought; Luisa wouldn't tire from any amount of walking, and being nearly physically invincible, Luisa was never in any danger in the otherwise quite dangerous forest. Plus, if she got lost, she could simply jump her way back to Encanto. Although if Luisa didn't agree, they'd probably have to get Camilo - or worse, she thought, Mirabel herself.

Professor Dunnock nodded. "It would be my pleasure."

"In that case," said Abuela, "I will have my granddaughter make some coffee, and we can talk about the specific details..."

"There's one more thing."

Abuela paused. The Englishman leaned forward eagerly. There was something intense in his eyes, Mirabel thought, something not unlike hunger.

"Señora Madrigal," he said, "You are the woman who led your people here, are you not?"

Abuela stiffened.

"That is correct."

"Then it's you," he said, eyes shining, "Whose family possesses magical gifts. Is that not true?"

Everyone in the room froze. Dunnock didn't seem bothered. He had a wide smile across his face, like a boy at the window of a sweetshop.

"The daughter who controls the weather," he continued, "And another who heals. And the son," he turned to look directly at Bruno, who shrank back into his chair, "Who sees into the future."

"People talk," said Abuela stiffly.

"I beg your pardon, madam," said Professor Dunnock, "But I have been staying here for two days now, and I have seen things that I know to be impossible, if not for the fact they happen in front of my eyes. The people call it your miracle."

Abuela was still, her face stern and reserved. Mirabel was glad nobody was looking at her. She was sure there was a look of fear crystallized on her face.

"What of it?" asked Abuela.

"Nothing, Señora," said Professor Dunnock, "Only that it fascinates me. I am a man of science, and I find myself facing a question with no scientific answer... No answer yet, I would be inclined to say. Tell me... has anyone ever studied this phenomenon? Scientifically?"

This phenomenon. Mirabel recognised what those words really meant, and she didn't like it: has anyone ever studied your family?

Abuela didn't flinch. She barely reacted. "My people seem to have told you plenty. Tell me, did they tell you how we came to be in possession of our miracle?"

"Not in detail."

"My husband died before my eyes," she said plainly, "I watched him fall into the river you crossed to come here. We were given this home, and my family given gifts, in exchange for his sacrifice. I give thanks every day for what we have received. I do not find it fitting to question it."

Abuela gave the Englishman a piercing look.

"For you to try and study our miracle would be a dishonor to my husband's memory," she said sharply. "Is that clear?"

Dunnock nodded. The smile never left his face.

"Of course," he said. "I am a scientist, but I am not a blasphemer. If this place is an act of God, far be it from me to question it. I will leave the matter alone."

"Good." Abuela nodded her head at Mirabel. "Mirabel. Coffee?"

Mirabel had no desire to take her eyes off of Professor Dunnock. She had a terrible feeling about what he might do if nobody was watching him. But she was unable to disobey her grandmother, not in front of a stranger, and she respectfully stood up to leave without saying a word.

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Even with Casita helping, making coffee took way too long.

"He's so weird," she muttered to the kitchen. "He's like a hungry animal. Brr. Why is he here? What does he really want?"

The house shrugged the kitchen counter at her.

"Is it safe for Luisa to be alone with him? No, that's stupid, of course it is," she said, pacing, as Casita tilted the coffee pot and filled a tray of cups. "But what if he has some kind of science thing that lets him overpower her...? No, he's a bird scientist, that doesn't make any sense..."

The tray on the kitchen counter bounced at her, and Mirabel caught it with a sigh.

"Fine, fine! I'm going! I just have a bad feeling, that's all."

Mirabel carried the tray upstairs and heard the murmuring of deep voices inside the sitting room. She tried to peek, and the door cracked open for her very slightly, letting her see in without betraying her.

Abuela was gone - fetching Luisa, probably. Dunnock was facing directly towards Bruno, his predatory smile beaming at her uncle, who was sitting as far away from Dunnock as his chair would allow with wild frantic eyes.

"...wisdom, certainly," Dunnock was saying, "But you must, pardon the expression, be a forward-thinking man, Mister Madrigal."

He said the phrase Mister Madrigal in English, and Mirabel couldn't tell if he was mocking her uncle or trying to pal up to him. Bruno certainly didn't look appreciative.

"Sure," said Bruno slowly. Mirabel could see his hands twisting up nervously in his lap.

"Think what a man with your talents could achieve in a field like mine," continued the professor, "The people here seem to view you as a curiosity. Have you ever seen yourself as someone with knowledge that could change the world?"

"That's, uh, well, actually," Bruno gulped, "Well, the powers don't actually work outside of the Encanto, so it's not like I could leave..."

"Nor would you have to," said Dunnock, "Imagine what you could do simply by keeping a regular correspondence with the National University."

"That's... hah... Well, you heard what my mother told you, so..."

"Indeed. Nor would I wish to sully the memory of your father. But you are your own man, surely, Mister Madrigal? Don't let me pressure you, by any means," said Dunnock, "But let me give you my card, at least. You will have my address, should you ever want to contact me... about anything."

Bruno's eyes flicked towards the door and saw her there, eavesdropping. They flicked back without reacting, not giving her away. Mirabel considered that her cue to push the door open loudly.

"Ah, Señorita Mirabel," Professor Dunnock smiled at her. (He smiled a lot, Mirabel noted. She didn't like it.) "Thank you. You’re fifteen years old... So you must be the youngest granddaughter, the one without powers.” And then, before she could get offended, he added, “Tell me, señorita, do you go to school?"

"Um... yes. Kind of." She had been to school, but these days Abuela made her and Camilo take lessons from El Padre, who made them learn Latin and Mathematics and English. Lessons which, Mirabel noted, she usually neglected to work much on.

"Do you study the sciences at all?"

"Not... really? A little?"

"Would you like to? I could tutor you, you know. I have books, too, though primarily written in English. Do you speak English?"

Mirabel was saved from the rest of this conversation by Abuela entering the room, with Luisa in tow. "Thank you, Mirabel," said Abuela, "Professor Dunnock, my granddaughter Luisa."

"Charmed." The professor didn't seem surprised or intimidated by Luisa's size. He did add, "I assure you, you'll be quite safe under my supervision, and I have no intention of making you strain yourself," which made Luisa briefly look at Mirabel and make a what the heck? face. He doesn't know, Mirabel realised. He doesn't know what her gift is.

Abuela and Dunnock began talking again, but Mirabel could barely follow the conversation. She looked at her uncle and saw that he was drumming his fingers on the armrest, face dark. He met her gaze, and the two of them frowned at each other, identical expressions of worry on their faces.

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"I dunno, He seemed normal to me," said Luisa. "In, like... a weird way."

It had been about an hour after the professor had left, and Mirabel was wound up about it.

"I'm telling you, it's like he was offering to buy Tío Bruno!" Mirabel paced up and down Luisa's room. Luisa was idly lifting weights, watching her sister with a curious expression. "And the way he asked about the gifts? It was... predatory!"

"Well... as far as he knows, magic isn't possible," said Luisa, "I'd be pretty curious, too."

"He didn't look curious, I'm telling you! He looked... hungry!"

"I believe you, sis," said Luisa gravely, "But even if he is being weird and greedy about it, there's nothing he can do about it. Abuela won't let him."

"What if he tries..." Mirabel wracked her brains. "... Something?"

"I'll stop him," said Luisa earnestly, "Promise. I won't let him do anything weird, okay?"

Mirabel sat down on one of Luisa's stone benches. "Augh... Okay. I can't believe Abuela just sold you out like that," she added bitterly.

"I dunno," admitted Luisa, "It actually sounds kind of relaxing. Like... just a bunch of hiking in the forest."

Mirabel frowned. "...Okay, fair enough."

"Hey, listen," said Luisa, "If you're really worried about it, why don't you ask Tío Bruno? He could probably look into it for you."

"He's not gonna know any more than I do. He can barely make conversation with someone he doesn't know."

"No, I mean... look into it for you." Luisa raised her eyebrows. "You know."

Ah. Mirabel hadn't asked Bruno for a vision since the very first one with the house collapsing. And he certainly hadn't been happy about that one at the time. But maybe he'd be happier about it now? He knew she wouldn't blame him, after all. And he was fond enough of the house-cracking vision that he kept it framed in his wall, whatever that meant.

Luisa must have seen what she was thinking from her face, because she said, "I don't think he'd mind, if it'd help you worry less."

"Well..."

"You should go ask him," said Luisa, "It can't hurt."

Luisa had gotten a lot better at de-stressing and talking about her feelings in the last few months. She and Mirabel had gotten a lot closer, and they'd talked about a lot of things that they never would have before. Subsequently, though, Luisa was a lot better at seeing through Mirabel than she used to be, and a lot more insistent that Mirabel take care of herself, too. Mirabel couldn't help feeling a twinge of nervousness and she headed to the Rat Den behind the walls, where Bruno...

... Wasn't.

"Huh," said Mirabel.

It took several minutes of searching for Mirabel to remember that, unlike her, Bruno actually had a magical room in the house. Bruno's portrait watched her, a little ominously, as she pushed the door open.

Bruno's tower was very different these days. The stairs were shorter, for a start. But the main difference was the plants. Isabela had rapidly used up every pot in the house with her botany, and the garden was Julieta's domain. Bruno, whose room contained only sand, unflattering statues of himself, and a hammock Mirabel had never seen, had offered for Isabela to use the large bottom floor as a gardening space. Now the space was littered with cacti and desert plants, and Isabela had even persuaded a small tree to take root. Bruno's sign, which had once read Your Future Awaits, was now obscured behind a layer of pots and trailing vines.

Mirabel never saw Bruno in here, let alone having visions, so it was to her great surprise that she jumped through the sand-fall and in the center of the room a small tornado of glowing green sand.

Mirabel stood and stared. The swirling winds grew in intensity before suddenly vanishing, leaving curtains of sand abruptly falling to the ground. Left behind was Bruno, shutting his eyes, and Camilo, spluttering and coughing and saying, "Dang it, dang it, I forgot we were done with the liquid trials!"

Mirabel stood and stared some more. Bruno knelt down and picked up a green vision plate. Unlike the two Mirabel had seen before, this one was small, the size of the palm of her hand.

"It's a chicken carcass," said Bruno. He looked up at Camilo. "That's fun, right?"

"What? No. There are no fun carcasses, Bruno. Nobody wants a picture of a chicken carcass."

Bruno sighed and tossed the vision away. "I guess not."

Mirabel found her voice. "What are you guys doing?"

Both of them turned around. Bruno's expression lit up with the same expression he got while describing a particularly convoluted rat telenovela. Camilo... also looked the way he did when Bruno was describing a convoluted telenovela.

"Mirabel!" said Bruno. "C'mere, c'mere. Look at this."

Mirabel walked over. A small pile of glowing green plates, varying in shade and opacity, lay on a sheet on the sandy ground. Bruno held up a coin-sized vision depicting a broken plate.

"Would you buy this?" he said.

"What? No, I don't wanna buy one of your visions, why?"

"I mean would you buy this at a market? You know, as... decorative art."

“Wh,” Mirabel tried to pick just one of the questions in her mind, “Why’s it so small?”

“Because it’s not that important. What? They’re not the same size every time, you know. I’m not a printer.” He stubbed his toes into the sand. “Theoretically, I’m an artist.”

Mirabel stared at the vision. Then, lost for words, she looked at Camilo.

"It's like watching a very slow, self-aware housefire," said Camilo.

Bruno threw the vision aside and groaned. "There's gotta be some way of getting appealing pictures on these things. C'mon! I did a great one of Isabela and Mirabel once! You could even see them smiling! And I smashed it. Honestly!"

"We tried looking into that," added Camilo, "You and Isabela's relationship in the next week. And look what we got."

He held up a picture of Isabela in the middle of screaming, face frozen in horror.

"Tío Bruno," said Mirabel slowly, "What... what... what? I mean, what? What?"

Bruno flopped down in the sand. Camilo joined him, and Mirabel, trying not to get too much sand on her skirt, sat down too.

"It's the money," explained Bruno. "I don't know how to make or do anything you can sell... Except having visions. So I figured, what if I just had a bunch of totally unimportant visions? Then I'd have a bunch of pretty glass plates, and that'd be worth something, right?"

Mirabel glanced over at the pile of glass plates. One depicted a skull. Another depicted a very detailed spider.

"Problem is..." Bruno groaned.

"Every vision he had is horrible," said Camilo cheerfully. "Seriously, we've tried everything. What's for dinner tonight, what flowers are blooming, the next time someone in the house is gonna laugh... They're all terrible. It's like the worst possible image from any scenario on every plate."

Bruno lay down. "It's not my fault Agustín is gonna help cook tonight."

"I'm telling you, dude, we should try sugar."

"No. The flour visions did not work," said Bruno, now face down in the sand. "Even you couldn't finish the vision cracker."

"The only ingredients were flour and magic. I told you we should've added salt first. It still has potential."

"Tío Bruno..." Mirabel looked concernedly at him, although given that her gaze was directed at the back of his head, it probably didn't mean much to him. "Why is it so important that you start selling visions?"

Bruno flopped out of the sand. With alarming dexterity for a fifty-year-old man, he twisted himself around so he was now propped up on his elbows.

"You heard what I said earlier today about you guys," he said, "Look, Mirabel, I'm your uncle. I don't have any kids of my own. It's only right that I leave something behind for you guys when I'm dead."

The idea of Bruno being dead someday upset Mirabel immensely, and before she could smother the look of sadness in her face, Bruno's eyes widened.

"No, no, I'm sorry! That was dark. I just want to be able to contribute something to your future, that's all. You know the future is important to me. I'm all about the future. Your future..."

He gestured to the sign, which when you counted the ivy covering it simply read, '-its'.

"...That's... that's really sweet, Tío Bruno," said Mirabel, "But aren't you pushing it a little hard?"

"Oh come on, Mirabel," said Camilo, "He doesn't have anything else to do. He's unemployed."

"I'm self-employed," said Bruno primly.

"Doing what? Feeding rats? Stealing?"

"Speaking of visions," said Mirabel, sensing a good time to change the subject, "There was... something I wanted to ask you about."

Bruno twisted himself into a sitting position. He gave her a curious look.

She began, "Professor Dunnock - "

"No," he said sharply.

"But I haven't even asked - "

"No!" he repeated. "I wasn't born yesterday, Mirabel, I know what you want! I'm not going to look into the future and see what the professor's deal is."

Camilo looked between Bruno and Mirabel curiously.

“Okay,” said Mirabel meekly. “If you don’t want to. Sorry.”

“No, I don’t.” Bruno crossed his arms. Then, realizing that Mirabel wasn’t actually pushing the matter, a look of guilt flashed across his face. “No, it’s okay, just - look, Mirabel, I don’t do visions to pull up dirt for people, alright? It’s one of the things I don’t do.”

“Tío Bruno,” said Camilo, “You don’t do visions for other people... ever.”

“I still do visions! I just have a no-go list.” Bruno began to count off on his fingers. “I don’t do visions about future wrongdoings, children who haven’t been born yet, animals, the weather, love, any women, wealth, the future of technology or the elderly.”

“You know Bruno doesn’t do visions that aren’t scary, Mirabel, don’t be ridiculous,” said Camilo, holding up a vision plate depicting an eyeball.

“That one wasn’t my fault. I don’t pick the image. Look, the point is,” Bruno put out his palms, “If I showed you a vision, and we saw the Professor doing something wrong, well - what would we do? Punish him? What if he hasn’t started doing it yet? What if he hasn’t even thought of it yet? Is it fair to arrest somebody for a crime they don’t even know about yet?”

“Well, no, but -”

“Call me a hypocrite here, Mirabel, but I don’t believe in people being responsible for bad things before they’ve done them. As far as I’m concerned, the guy becomes a villain when, and I mean when, he does something wrong. Not before.”

“You’re a hypocrite,” said Camilo cheerfully. Bruno looked at him. “Well, you said to call you a hypocrite. But seriously, if you don’t want Mirabel to go blaming this guy for something he hasn’t done yet, why don’t you just... talk to her about the vision after? With your mouth? Correct me if I’m wrong, but it’s connected to your brain, right?”

Bruno shot him a sour look, which Camilo was completely immune to.

“You’re the one assuming Mirabel will be irresponsible with the info you give her. Maybe you can change the future,” Camilo transformed into Bruno, twisting his uncle’s features into a ominous grin, and wiggled his fingers. “By using the power of your mind to help her interpret what you see.”

Camilo had a point, and Bruno clearly didn’t like it. Camilo turned back into himself and raised an eyebrow. Bruno looked at Mirabel, frowning.

“Of course I don’t want you to have a vision if you’re not comfortable with it,” said Mirabel, “I’m just... worried, that’s all. Luisa’s going to be alone with this guy for, like... days.”

Bruno breathed in deeply, lay back down on his back, and blew a long puff of air. He stared unhappily at the top of his cave for a moment.

“Fine,” he said. “Fine, fine, fine! Alright. Come on. Before I change my mind.”

He sat back up and held out both hands. Mirabel shuffled closer, taking one of them, and she held out her other hand for Camilo to take. Camilo looked at the two of them.

“I don’t see why we have to hold hands.”

“Health and safety,” said Bruno sharply, “I’m either seeing the future or I’m seeing my surroundings. I’m not explaining to either of your mothers why I accidentally slapped you in the face while having a vision, so hold my hand.”

Camilo sighed and took his hand.

With all three of them forming a chain, Bruno inhaled and closed his eyes. His mouth folded nervously, and Mirabel squeezed his hand. He squeezed it back.

“Alright,” he murmured. “Uno, dos, tres, four, five, six... Let’s do it. What is Richard Dunnock doing here?”

When he opened his eyes again, they were ringed with a bright neon green, and Mirabel felt the stomach-churning sensation of magic filling the air as the sand around them began to move. Mirabel felt her palms sweating, and resisted the urge to take them away and wipe them.

The sand formed a swirling green dome around them, the light of the... sun?... blocked out by the howling winds. She watched Bruno’s glowing eyes move around, as though searching for something, then find it; as they did, she saw an image begin to form in the sand.

“What is that?” said Camilo.

“It’s...” Bruno’s eyebrows furrowed. “Outside. A pond. Somewhere.”

The shape began to take. The image appeared of a lake, framed by drooping trees and wilting plants. Then the details began to fill in, like a painting taking form; thick soupy water, a coating of fallen leaves, buzzing insects...

“Fish,” murmured Mirabel. “They’re...floating?”

“Dead,” muttered Bruno. His eyes flicked around, and in the spaces around the lake were images of a riverbed, gravel, pondweed, and floating lifelessly in the water were the bodies of fish, rotting and nauseating. Then the trees, the wilting flowers, the leaves; Bruno sounded like he was in a trance as he murmured, “Dead, dead, dead. They’re all dead.”

“Diablos,” whispered Camilo, looking nervous. “What the heck is this?”

“Dunnock, Dunnock...” Bruno was turning his head as though looking around. “Where are you? Why are you here?”

Mirabel spotted him walking towards the pond, the ethereal shape of Professor Dunnock. They watched him unhook a large machete from his hip, and for a moment dread filled Mirabel’s chest, but he only used to cut away a swathe of dead vegetation and approach the lake; they watched from behind as he walked through the dead grass, his back facing them, and he fell to his knees in front of the water.

The professor reached into the water and scooped up a handful. The water came out thick and slimy, and it coated his palms as it ran through his fingers.

Then, to Mirabel’s alarm, the professor suddenly turned his face and looked behind him, as though something were sneaking up on him, and she couldn’t shake the feeling he was looking directly into her eyes. The professor’s eyes narrowed at whatever he saw, and then he turned the rest of his body around, his face contorting in fury, and he opened his mouth to shout, and Mirabel watched him move towards her and -

Bruno gasped. The image vanished. Mirabel barely had time to squeeze her eyes shut as a thick layer of sand showered them from above, making a rattling sound as it bounced off the glass that Bruno had created.

Lying in the sand in front of them was the image of the dead lake, the figure of the Englishman kneeling ominously in front of it, watching the bodies of fish floating to the surface, water falling through his hand.

Camilo shook the sand out of his hair. His face was pale, and he was clearly a little shaken by what they’d seen; nonetheless, he reached over and picked up the vision, brushing the surface clear and examining it as Mirabel and Bruno both sat there in shocked silence.

“Well,” said Camilo, “At least it’s got scenery. I’ll put it in the maybe pile.”

Neither of them laughed at the joke, but it was enough to snap Mirabel out of her stupor. “What the heck was that?!” she cried.

Bruno sighed. “Something he’s going to do while he’s here. That’s all I can tell you.”

“Is he... is he... going to cause that?!”

“I don’t know,” said Bruno grimly.

“Can’t we stop it?! That lake is somewhere here!”

“No, we can’t,” Bruno brushed down the front of his ruana, “No point trying that. It’ll happen.”

“But...”

Mirabel sank to her hands and knees, staring into the vision as though it would tell her something.

“Can’t you look again?” she said desperately.

Bruno massaged his temples. “No.”

Mirabel hesitated. “A-Are you okay?”

“No.” He sighed. “I mean... No, no, sorry, I’m fine. This is why I don’t do these, Mirabel, they just raise more questions than they answer.”

“That’s not true! I mean...” she stared into the vision, trying to figure out something, anything, that it could mean. “I mean, we know he brought a weapon...”

“This is a jungle, that’s a machete, and he’s a natural scientist,” said Camilo dryly, “It’s not exactly a revelation.”

“And he saw something... or someone... that made him angry?” Mirabel thought of his face, twisted up with anger, and shuddered. “Do you... know what it was?”

“No,” sighed Bruno. “I saw the same thing you did.”

Mirabel picked up the vision and frowned at it. She didn’t recognise the lake at all. The mountains around the Encanto were large and covered in forest that wasn’t safe to travel, in many places; there were plenty of places it could have been, and no way she could see of ruling any out. She tried desperately to think.

“So he’s going to be traveling the forest,” she murmured, “And he’s going to find a lake. He didn’t have his bag, so it’s probably a lake he’s been to before... So he’ll probably find it once, then something will happen, or he’ll do something to it, and then he’ll come back... And Luisa isn’t there, unless that’s her he was looking at... That might be likely...”

“Mirabel,” said Bruno, “You can’t figure it out.”

“I know you didn’t see it either, tío, I’m just trying to think.”

“No,” he said patiently, “You’re looking at it the wrong way.” She looked down at the vision in confusion. “I meant metaphorically, Mirabel, it’s the right way up in your hands. You can’t figure out what’s going to happen because it’s not certain.”

She looked down at the image. “But...”

“Hold on,” said Camilo, “Your visions always come true. You telling us the future still isn’t certain?”

“Yes. Well, no. Okay, sort of,” Bruno sighed, “It’s... okay. Look at the future like this.”

He drew a line in the sand of front of him. Then he drew two more lines, extending towards the first from a single point.

“A pair of pants,” said Camilo.

“No,” said Bruno. “Look at the future like a destination. This vision,” he jabbed a finger at the bottom of his drawing, “It’s static. It doesn’t change. It’s always in the same place, surrounded by the same things, it doesn’t move, it can’t. And this,” he pointed to the top, “Is the present. It’s predetermined. But here,” he waved his hands over the rest of drawing, “This part, it’s not certain at all. This is the path we take from the present to the future.”

“Also the future,” said Camilo.

“You’re not helping,” said Bruno impatiently. “Look, the point is, I can keep looking and looking and tell you as many things about this - ” He pointed at the future. “ - as I can. But no matter what I do, I can’t tell you how you’ll get there. I don’t know how or why that vision will come true because that isn’t certain yet. Maybe the professor will cause this on purpose, maybe by accident, maybe it’ll happen naturally and he’ll stumble across it - we can’t know any of those things. We can prevent some of them, but if we do, all we do is cause another to come true.”

“So...” Mirabel deflated. “This vision doesn’t help us at all?”

She regretted saying this almost instantly. She knew Bruno had a thing about it, and she knew he hadn’t wanted to give her this vision, and she hated saying the exact words that had haunted Bruno from basically every person in his life.

It was Camilo who responded. “Maybe it doesn’t help you two, but it’s not the vision’s fault that you guys have no imagination.”

Both of them turned to stare at him. He stood up, hands on his hips, and raised an eyebrow.

“You say the path’s not certain, sure,” said Camilo, “And that anything can happen in the blank space between Bruno’s future-vision and Bruno’s now-vision. So. That thing that the old man is staring at in fury? We get to decide what it is. Am I interpreting that right?”

Mirabel said, “I don’t think - ” and Bruno said, “Not exactly - ” and Camilo ignored both of them.

“Like I said, no imagination!” he said loudly. “Now that you have this vision, you can figure out where it is and how it happened. And once you know that, you can figure out how to to stop it from happening again. Bruno’s visions buy you time. They annoy people because they show them problems they haven’t solved yet. For all we know, the thing that our guy is looking at in that vision is a solution to the problem that you made. You’re going to have to deal with this at some point, so why not get a head start?”

Mirabel stared back down at the vision. It was... a good point. An impressively good point, actually. And, better yet, it seemed to have encouraged Bruno, too.

“So all we have to do is figure out where to start,” she murmured. She smiled. “You’re right, Camilo. We did get a head start. Thanks.”

“Wrong,” said Camilo cheerfully, “ You got a head start. This isn’t my problem.”

“What? You’re not helping?!”

Camilo shrugged. “Why do I care if some fish die and a white guy sees it?”

Mirabel had no retort to that. Camilo gave her an infuriating grin and began to pack up Bruno’s visions.

“Okay, okay...” Mirabel folded her arms. “Well... he said people in Eréndira had seen his bird. That means he was there talking to people before he was here. Maybe they know something about him. And Isabela has friends in Eréndira, so she can probably introduce me to them... Okay! I can do that!” She got to her feet. “Thanks, Tío Bruno!”

“Mirabel, wait!” Bruno said. He scrambled to his feet, dislodging several small showers of sand from his clothes and hair as he did. “Just a sec.”

“What?”

“Just - ” he reached out and squeezed her shoulder. “Look, try not to jump to any conclusions, okay? You know better than anybody that visions can make things look much worse than they actually are.”

“What do you - oh.” There was, of course, a vision mounted on Bruno’s wall of her destroying the house. A vision that marked both of their lives for over a decade. Yes, things could look pretty bad based on those visions. “I know, Tío Bruno. I’ll try to not to.”

“And be careful,” he added, “Don’t go arresting anybody or, or going to any dead lakes or walking into the forest alone - ”

“I won’t.”

“And for heaven’s sake tell your mother if you’re gonna go investigate - ”

“Okay.”

“You know, Mirabel, are you sure you shouldn’t just leave this to your sister?”

“Tío Bruno.”

“Alright, alright.” he sighed. “Okay, get outta here. And if you find out something about the professor from Isabela, tell me. Don’t run away and do something heroic on your own. I know it’s a habit. And someday it’s gonna get you into trouble.”

“I won’t, Tío Bruno.”

This was, of course, a lie. But Mirabel didn’t know that yet. And anyway, it wouldn’t happen for a while.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

They'd all changed a lot in the last few months, but Isabela was practically a whole new person. Especially if you weren't Mirabel. Mirabel was used to the snappier, more irritable side of her sister; she'd been subject to plenty of snapping from it. To everybody else, though, it was like the calm and graceful Isabela had vanished overnight. The new Isabela was sarcastic, adventurous, rebellious. She cultivated plants both magical and mundane and stained all her clothes with pollen and nectar. But the biggest change had been Eréndira.

Everybody found something life-changing in the city of Eréndira. Camilo now collected and played vinyl records on a gramophone he valued with his life; Dolores and Mariano left every Saturday and danced, and Dolores would come back giddy and talking more than Mirabel had ever seen, in awe at how many people existed outside of the little world on Encanto. Even Mirabel had a small battery radio that she and her father would listen to sometimes, her dad explaining the various things Mirabel didn't understand; place names, foreign cities, politicians.

But Isabela had thrown herself into modern living. Isabela was reading books about politics and foreign poetry and society. Mirabel hadn't seen Isabela wear a dress for weeks; she was assembling a wardrobe of slacks and capris and even a bodysuit. Abuela heavily disapproved of Isabela wearing pants and Isabela, who had been sweet and obedient to Abuela all their lives, didn't seem to care. "Why shouldn't women wear trousers?" she'd say. "Why didn't we think of this?" Isabela now had opinions on things Mirabel had barely heard of, like the war (what war?) and gay rights and Buddhism. Compared to her, Mirabel felt like she was still living fifty years in the past.

But at her core, Isabela was the same sister Mirabel had always known; snappy and smart and a little bit prissy, more thorn than rose. She was just, more often than not, on Mirabel's side these days. She arched an eyebrow when Mirabel explained about the professor and the vision and how Dunnock had previously worked in Eréndira.

"Paranoid, much?" she asked.

"Isa, c'mon. That vision meant something. And I don't know where to start asking around."

"I'm just saying, if Bruno told you not to get in over your head, you should probably listen," said Isabela, folding her arms. "It sounds to me like you're paranoid about some scientist from the outside because he's a scientist and he's from the outside. You shouldn't be scared of either of those things."

"It's not that simple, I swear! Look, are you gonna help me or not?"

"Fine," Isabela sighed. "Get Antonio for me."

"Antonio?"

Isabela refused to explain any more, so Mirabel went off and found her primito sitting in his dad's lap, being entertained by Félix and Agustín.

"Just relaxing, huh?" said Mirabel.

"Should we not be?" said Félix.

"Bruno says he's going to try selling glass plates to send us to college."

The two men exchanged looks.

"Well, he's got more ideas than I do," said Félix.

Mirabel took Antonio back to Isabela’s room, where Antonio stuck out his tongue and made a grossed-out noise.

“Your gross boyfriend,” said Antonio.

Isabela rolled her eyes. “Not my boyfriend. Gross, maybe. You love Bubo. You spent hours playing pretend with him."

Mirabel turned to stare at Isabela. “You’ve taken your friends here?”

“It’s a secret, shh.” Isabela began to scribble on a scrap of paper. “Are you ready to go right now?"

“Oh! Yeah, sure. Um, what are you - ”

Isabela handed over the paper. “Thanks, Toñito.”

Antonio put his fingers to his lips and whistled a loud, piercing whistle that called several toucans to the room. He reached out for one, tied the paper to one of their legs, and whispered briefly to it before they flew off.

“What are you doing?” said Mirabel.

“So he knows to meet us,” said Isabela, “Otherwise it’ll take hours to walk to the city.”

She led Mirabel out of her room and to the landing, where she leaned over and shouted, “Mamá! Mirabel and I won’t be here for dinner!”

“Okay, honey,” said the distant voice of Julieta, “Give Simón my regards.”

“Wait,” said Mirabel, “We’re going now? It’s hours away - ”

“Can we do question time after we get there? Anyway, I’ve been doing this for weeks. You should’ve noticed.”

That was fair. Mirabel still stuck out her tongue at Isabela’s back. There was only so much a house falling down and a few heart-to-hearts could do to change a sisterly relationship forged over many years of fighting.

Isabela took Mirabel downstairs and stood just outside the front door, turning to Antonio, who was following the two of them with an eager look on his face. “I wanna go,” he said.

“No, Antonio, not until your mom says yes,” said Isabela. Antonio pouted. Mirabel could never say no to Antonio’s pleading eyes, but Isabela must have been made of stronger stuff, because she made a dismissive gesture and Antonio slunk away. Then Isabela stretched her hands above her head, bent and stretched both trousered legs, and took a deep breath.

“Um, what are we - woah!”

The ground under Mirabel’s feet suddenly shifted. Isabela put a hand around Mirabel’s waist, holding her tightly, and pulled Mirabel with her as she took a step not onto the ground but onto a branch that was suddenly rising from the ground and forming a platform that was rapidly raising into the air.

“Wait, wait, wait, what?!”

“C’mon,” said Isabela, as plants and branches rose from the ground in front of them and began to sweep them forward. Isabela walked as freely and easily as though she were strolling around town, but Mirabel’s eyes were fixed on the ground, which was rapidly getting further away as trees and shrubs began to raise the two of them higher up, growing and bending and fading away with alarming speed and power.

“How long have you been able to do this?!” Mirabel screamed. Isabela was practically flying. Isabela had a wide grin at her sister’s awe; the two of them flew into the treeline and suddenly a dozen vines and leaves were reaching down from overhead to carry them, Isabela with her eyes blazing passionately and her smile fixed onto her face. Isabela was barely moving now, the plants doing all the work; they were growing and stretching faster than Mirabel had ever seen them, passing and tossing the two Madrigal sisters like they were blowing in the wind, the jungle turning into a rushing windy blur.

“This is amazing!” Mirabel had to yell; there was no way she could get her voice any lower. Isabela laughed delightedly, raising her hands as the vines brought them rapidly towards the split in the mountain. “When Bruno said your power would grow, I didn’t think you’d turn into a superhero!”

“Wanna see me fight crime?” grinned Isabela. Mirabel yelled as the plants suddenly tossed her into the air, leaving her behind; while she was still flying through the air, a vine from behind caught her and swung her around, dropping her onto a rising fig tree, which snaked and curved until she fell back onto Isabela’s platform, both of them screaming with laughter and exhilaration, as Isabela called, “What do you think?! I’m saving it for if somebody every attacks us!”

“Attacks us?! You’re practically an army!”

No matter how sour Isabela got, she turned into a playful kid again the moment her gift got involved. Isabela was clearly thrilled to have an audience, and Mirabel didn’t doubt that Isabela was taking a more circuitous route than she had to just to maximize the amount of magical phenomena she could try on Mirabel. Even then, it didn’t feel like long at all until they’d passed through the mountain road and were reaching the river that formed the outer boundary to Encanto.

Isabela lowered the two of them to the ground sooner than Mirabel was expecting. The two of them were panting, and while they caught their breaths at the side of the road, she asked, “Why’d we stop?”

“The boundary,” said Isabela. “This is about as far as I can go before my gift stops working.”

Mirabel turned to stare at her.

“Mirabel,” sighed Isabela, “Don’t tell me you didn’t know our gifts don’t work outside of the Encanto.”

“They don’t?!”

“If they did, I think we’d probably get into trouble with nosy scientists a lot faster.” Isabela shrugged. “Don’t worry, we don’t have to walk that long. Only till the road.”

The two of them began to walk. Mirabel stared in awe as Isabela’s plants began to wither and fade at a rapid pace, leaving behind no trace that they’d ever been there. It reminded her of the dead lake in Bruno’s vision, which made her remember why they were here.

They walked for about five minutes before they reached what seemed like a completely arbitrary point of the path and Isabela stopped. She inhaled sharply, putting her hand to her chest. Mirabel stopped in concern. “It’s fine,” said Isabela, “This is the border. It just feels a little weird to cross.”

Mirabel felt a small pang of jealousy that she’d walked right over this border and felt absolutely nothing. Her body, evidently, didn’t have any magic to lose. She said, “Couldn’t you have taken the plants up to here?”

Isabela gave her a sharp look. “Do you want to get catapulted to the ground when the plants suddenly vanish and you’re ten meters in the air?”

“Fair point.”

Isabela made her stop and stand by the edge of the river and be silent for one minute, in Abuelo’s memory.

“It’s been one minute,” said Mirabel.

“No it hasn’t.”

"Has too."

“Shut up for ten seconds.”

They crossed the river, Mirabel taking off her shoes and lifting her skirt, Isabela walking right through and getting her trouser legs soaked without a care in the world.

“Not long now,” said Isabela. “Bubo meets me a few minutes out from here.”

“Who is Bubo?”

“One of my friends. You’ll see him in a second. Well, you’ll hear him before you see him.”

Ominous, thought Mirabel.

They hadn’t been walking very long when they heard the sound. They both paused, Mirabel tilting her head and trying to make out the exact details.

“What is that?” she said.

“Guess,” said Isabela, grinning.

“It sounds...” It happened again. “It sounds like La Cucaracha being played by a dying elephant.”

Mirabel was quite pleased with herself when that made Isabela laugh.

La Cucaracha was followed by a trundling, puffing, mechanical sound, and eventually, Mirabel saw the car.

It was an open-topped motor-car, the type Mirabel had only seen on TV, which puffed and trundled along the road like it was fighting for its life. Its engine spluttered and coughed, and several of the bits of metal that made it up had clearly come from different places to each other. Mirabel didn’t have to be an expert to know that this car sucked. She liked it as soon as she saw it.

Driving the car was a small young man who looked anywhere between fifteen and twenty-five. He was shorter than Mirabel, and had a lopsided pair of thick-rimmed glasses at the end of his large nose. His hair, greasy with spray, was slicked into a pompadour that wouldn’t have looked out-of-place in a historical court painting. He looked, in all honesty, a little ridiculous, and it didn't help that sitting in the back seat were two pretty-looking women the same age as Isabela. Nonetheless, he pulled his screeching car over and opened the door, beaming, without a trace of humility.

"Isa!" he cried. (Since when did Isabela let her friends call her that?) "And your little sister! Hello, hello, hello. Charmed."

It made him sound a little like professor Dunnock, but this guy couldn't have been less intimidating, and Mirabel found herself grinning back at him. "Hi."

"Mirabel, this is Bubo Marquez," said Isabela, gesturing.

"My reputation precedes me," said Bubo, waggling his eyebrows. Then he slapped the hood of his battered old car. "So! Whaddya think of the Cachila? When Isabela saw it, she called it all kinds of things."

Mirabel laughed. "It's the most amazing car I've ever seen!"

"Good answer! I like this sister! She's called the Cachila because when I found her, she was a total wreck. No way she would ever function. Now look at her!"

"You make it sound like you helped fix her," said one of the girls in the back. She was dressed in a collared jacket and had curly hair very much like Mirabel's, but hers was tucked into a straw brimmed hat affixed with a brightly coloured flower. "Hana fixed it. All you do is drive it."

"Not true! I installed the horn."

"Oh, yeah. How could I forget whose idea it was to install La Cucaracha?" The girl gave Mirabel a smile. "Hi, Mirabel. I'm Beatriz. If you don't mind me asking, which superpower do you have?"

"Umm," said Mirabel, glancing at Isabela, "None of them."

"Probably for the best. It's hard enough having one magic friend." Beatriz laughed. "You're like me, then. Bubo has the personality, Hana has the brains, Isa has the looks, and I've got the dad who lets us hang out at his house and that's kind of it."

"Don't say that, Beatriz, we love you!" cried Bubo. Then he pursed his lips and made sloppy kissing sounds. They laughed.

"She's lying," Isabela told Mirabel, "Beatriz is amazing with gardening. Most of what I know, I learned from her." She saw Mirabel's confusion and added, "About normal gardening, Mirabel."

"So, um," Mirabel turned to the third friend, "You just be Hana?"

Hana was a slight-figured woman with a leather jacket and gloves. Her dark hair was tied up with an oil-stained cloth, and when she removed her sunglasses, Mirabel saw that she must not have had any Colombian heritage; she had sharp dark eyes and features that Mirabel barely recognised as being East Asian. Hana responded by raising her glasses in salute and grinning wryly.

"Full name Hana Hikami. Her dad used to work the farms. She doesn't say much, but she's a real genius," said Bubo, "She turned this car from a hunk of junk into the divine chariot you see before you."

"Yes, in other words, a hunk of junk with an engine in it," said Beatriz. "There's only so much she could do for the Cachila. Someday, I'm pretty sure it's going to explode and kill us all. Hopefully not while you're visiting," she added to Mirabel.

Mirabel was honestly agog. She had no idea Isabela had friends like these - in fact she'd barely known anything about what Isabela did in Eréndira. They weren't anything like Isabela’s old friends in Encanto, who she'd fallen out with a while ago; those friends had been sharply dressed girls who giggled and gossiped in only the ways that were socially acceptable. Isabela's new friends were weird, and Mirabel liked them a lot.

"Okay, ladies, we're not here to look pretty," announced Bubo, "We're here to look pretty and party, so let's get moving! Mirabel, you take the front seat, it's your first time. You're gonna love it."

Bubo opened the car door for her and bowed theatrically. Mirabel sat down in the cracked and battered leather, feeling the car juddering underneath her. Isabela hopped in behind her, then reached over Mirabel's shoulder to fasten some kind of strap around her. "Seatbelt," explained Isabela. "Make sure you keep it on."

"Um, okay." Mirabel turned to Bubo, who was hopping in next to her (without fastening his own seatbelt, she noted). "So, um, did Isabela tell you why I'm here? Because - "

Bubo raised a hand. "Sorry, Mirababe, but while we're driving the Cachila does all the talking."

"Wha-"

"The engine is too loud to talk over," said Beatriz, "Bubo, don't call Isa's sister Mirababe, that's the worst thing I've ever heard."

"Alright, buckle up!" said Bubo, notably still unbuckled. "Next stop, Chez Cantor!"

"My house," translated Beatriz. "It's nothing special."

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That had been a lie. The Cantor house was the first non-Encanto house Mirabel had been inside, and it had fascinated her.

Well, not that Mirabel was thinking straight. She’d been to Eréndira once before, a trip which had mainly consisted of her and Camilo wandering around and staring, both of them refusing to admit to each other they were too shy to talk to anybody. This journey had been nothing like that. For a start, Mirabel was nauseous. The journey had been bumpy and simultaneously faster and slower than she’d thought; she’d expected to be too windswept to look at anything, but there was plenty of time to just stare out at the world while the engine roared and spluttered.

Eventually the Cachila coughed its way to a halt in front of a small battered shopfront. “An apothecary,” explained Isabela, “Where they sell medicines made from herbs.”

“I know what an apothecary is!”

“How am I supposed to know what you do and don’t know? You barely pay attention at lessons, do you?”

A small bell jingled as they opened the door and walked into the apothecary, which was a small cramped space that was humid and had a strong medicinal smell. At the counter was a man who was clearly Beatriz’ father; he had the same-shaped face and the same dark brown curls framing his face. He looked up, then his face crinkled into a smile.

“Ah, the three Cachilas,” he said, “And your friend from the mountains. And who’s this?”

“I prefer The Cachila Three, Señor Cantor,” said Bubo.

“You don’t get to choose your nickname, you know. The people in town call you that. The Three Cachilas, causing trouble again.” Beatriz’ father chuckled.

Mirabel gave a small wave. “I’m Mirabel. I’m Isabela’s sister.”

“Welcome to Eréndira, Mirabel. Please, call me Simón.” Simón Cantor reached a hand over the counter and Mirabel shook it. Simón was probably older than her own dad, but he was clearly stronger and in better shape; he was the shape of a man who had spent his whole life working hard. His hands were calloused and rough.

The Cachila Three - or the Three Cachilas, if you preferred - were heading behind the counter and through a back door like it was no big deal, so Mirabel followed, giving Simón an awkward wave as she did; clearly this happened all the time.

Behind the shop was a cramped kitchen and sitting room, crowded end to end with potted plants. It looked a lot like Isabela’s garden, although much more aromatic; Mirabel recognised a handful of her mother’s herbs, but most of the plants were completely alien to her. She looked around in awe as Beatriz explained, “We don’t have much space, so this is where we have to grow most of the stock. I grow the plants and my dad makes the medicine.”

“You grew all these? That’s amazing!”

“Not to mention most of these are non-native,” said Isabela, admiring a pot of bright white flowers that smelled like freshly cut lemons. “They need special care so they don’t die over in our climate. It takes a lot of talent.” Mirabel saw Beatriz flush with pride next to her.

“Psh, never mind the plants,” said Bubo. “Come check out the library!”

Beatriz rolled her eyes. Hana nudged Mirabel’s arm and pointed towards another door off to the side, slightly ajar; Mirabel let Hana guide her into the small doorway and into a tiny, closet-sized study, dominated by a tiny desk and an overflowing bookcase.

“It’s Simón’s, but he lets me use it,” boasted Bubo. “Most of it’s politics, but there’s fiction. Now that’s where it’s happening. Isabela tells me you don’t have any high fantasy over in the Encanto and I’m telling you, you’re missing out...”

Mirabel was examining the rest of the shelves in fascination. The titles were mostly in Spanish, with a scattering of English and German; they were all battered and well-worn, mostly dense-looking books on broad political issues she’d never heard of. Plenty of books about Colombian history, too, a subject which Mirabel had shamefully little familiarity. She recognised Bolívar’s name, of course, and distantly recognised Sun Tzu’s, but she had never heard of Arango or Nietzsche or Engels or any of the others that emblazoned the cracked spines of Simón’s books.

“Ignore them, Mirabel, my dad’s books are mostly weird,” said Beatriz from the kitchen, “You want something to eat?”

“Um, no, I’m okay...”

“Don’t talk to Bubo about fantasy novels, Mirabel, come back here,” said Isabela, “Otherwise you won’t get anything done. Worse, you might agree with him.”

Feeling a little dazed, Mirabel let Hana pull her back out and sat down next to her on a battered wicker sofa against the wall. They had to move plants from the top of it first - Mirabel hoped Beatriz wouldn’t mind. Mirabel saw Hana examining her face, a small quizzical grin on her lips.

“Oh, I think it’s really cool in here,” Mirabel clarified, “It’s just... different. Wow.” Hana shrugged and raised her hands like what can you do? Isabela came to sit on the armrest while Bubo hovered in the doorway of the study - it was clear that this house hadn’t been designed to hold this many people at the same time.

“Anyway, Mirabel, obviously you’re welcome to come hang out whenever you want,” said Beatriz, “But it sounded like you came for a reason, right?”

Mirabel had almost forgotten why she’d gotten Isabela to take her here in the first place, and she had to stop and think for a moment. Isabela rolled her eyes.

“A guy arrived in the Encanto,” she said, “An English scientist named Richard Dunnock. Do you know who he is?”

The three Cachilas exchanged looks.

“The gringo?” said Bubo. “Yeah. He’s in the Encanto? I thought he was going back to Bogotá.”

“You do know him?”

“He was here for a few months,” said Beatriz, “He employed my dad a couple of times. He’s some kind of biologist, I think. Why?”

“What was he doing?” Mirabel leaned forward. “Did he... do anything suspicious?”

Bubo and Hana were exchanging looks that clearly said is this girl crazy? Beatriz, though, tilted her head in concern.

“Not that I know,” said Beatriz, “He had my dad take him to some of the spots out in the forest. He was compiling a list of all the plants and animals in the area, something like that. Papá didn’t like him all that much, but... Well, I don’t know if he did anything wrong, as such.”

That wasn’t very useful to Mirabel, and she felt herself deflating, having come all this way for nothing. Beatriz crossed her arms, deep in thought.

“He spent a lot of time at our lake,” she added, “Papá took him out there at least three times.”

Mirabel perked up at the word lake, and before she realised it she was standing up. “How big a lake?”

Beatriz opened her mouth to respond, but Mirabel, wracking her brains to remember the vision, cut her off.

“A small one? More like a pond? Surrounded by bushes?”

“Um, well... Yes, I suppose so,” Beatriz frowned, “You won’t have been there before, it’s on the other side of town. It’s not actually our lake, it’s just... well, my mom used to visit it a lot before she died, and it’s not easy to get to, so...”

“Can you take me there?!”

Beatriz, a little alarmed, turned to look at Bubo. Bubo, in turn, looked at Isabela.

“Isa, is your sister okay?” he asked in a stage whisper.

“Yeah, she just gets like this sometimes,” said Isabela, making Mirabel burn with embarrassment. Hana raised a reproachful finger at the two of them.

“It’s too far to walk,” said Beatriz. “But if it’s important, Mirabel, I’m sure we could take you there and back before it gets too late.”

“There is no landscape too rough for the Cachila! With the work Hana has done on those tires, that baby can drive up walls. If you need to get there, I can get you there, fast as you can say cock-of-the-rock, no problem.” Bubo snapped his fingers.

Mirabel’s stomach churned at the idea of any more time in the shuddering front seat of the Cachila, but she had to know. She had to know. “I’d really appreciate it. I need to... well... It’s complicated...”

Hana raised her arms in a shrug and slung her jacket back around her shoulders, making to leave. Beatriz nodded in agreement. Bubo patted Mirabel on the back. “Don’t worry about it, Meeb, anything for the little sister of our Isabela. You must have a hard life, being her little sister, huh?”

“Oh, you have no idea,” said Mirabel.

“‘Meeb’ is the worst nickname I’ve ever heard,” said Isabela, “The worst nickname I have ever heard.”

Simón laughed when he saw them re-emerging so soon. “You guys are busy. Beatriz, you coming home for dinner?”

“I’ll try, Papá, I might be late.”

“Mirabel, Isabela, you should eat with us,” Simón said, “I know it takes a long time to get back to your village, even with that old junker of Bubo’s.”

“Thank you,” Mirabel said, suddenly feeling a little shy. She realised, with a jolt, that she’d met more strangers in the last few hours than she had in about ten years. She remembered her mother’s words - give my regards to Simón - and wondered if they knew each other. Even her mom had friends out here - how much had Mirabel missed, spending all her time in the Encanto when there was practically a whole foreign city out here?

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Not even the bouncing of the Cachila as it drove down the battered rural paths could keep Mirabel’s mind off the vision. A ball of dread was growing in her stomach, making her fingers twitch.

The countryside was nothing like that of the Encanto. The Encanto was lush, with only tiny bits of farmland carved into the seemingly endless forest; the landscape on the other side of Eréndira was pockmarked with roads and fences, grasses and plantations. Eventually Bubo pulled over next to a small dirt path, leading into a clump of trees and underbrush that looked more familiar to Mirabel.

Isabela slowed down and allowed the two of them to fall behind a little, leaning closer to Mirabel.

“Mira,” she muttered, “What are you going to do if the lake isn’t the one you saw?”

“I don’t know,” sighed Mirabel, “I’m gonna figure it out when I get there.”

Isabela pressed. “What are you going to do if it is?”

“Something, I guess. Look, it’s a process.”

“What’s a process? Rushing into things and getting yourself into trouble?”

Mirabel snorted. “You sound like Tío Bruno.”

“Tío Bruno can see the future. And he doesn’t need to see the future,” she added, “To have better foresight than you.”

“What is your problem?”

“Actually, Mirabel, I’m saying this because I’m worried about you. If you’re wrong about the professor trying to do something to us, then you’re being paranoid to the point of being totally loco,” Isabela waved away Mirabel’s protests, “And if you’re right, then you’re getting into something way too heavy for you to handle alone.”

“I’m not trying to handle anything on my own! And I’m not totally incapable, either! Abuela told me she wants me to learn how to take her place someday, you know.”

The look of shock on Isabela’s face told Mirabel that this was, in fact, news. “She told you what?”

“I mean, not that like she thinks I’m better than any of you or anything, just that, like - ”

“You know that means you’d have to stay in the Encanto for the rest of your life, right? And you agreed?”

“I didn’t agree to anything! It was just, like... an idea she had this morning, I don’t know!”

“A couple of months ago I watched you yell at Abuela about everything she’d done wrong,” Isabela pinched her brow, “And now you’re totally okay with letting her decide what to do with your entire future?”

“Wha - it’s not like that! You really do sound like Tío Bruno.”

“Tío Bruno, who can see the future, tells you something is a bad idea and you just totally throw yourself into it?”

Mirabel’s retort was at the tip of her tongue when the two of them were interrupted by a scream.

Beatriz had dropped to her knees. The scream had clearly come from her; her hands were pressed over her mouth, her eyes wide. Bubo and Hana, on either side of her, were too shocked to respond. Mirabel and Isabela ran forward, argument forgotten.

The second thing Mirabel noticed was that this was the wrong lake. It was the wrong shape, surrounded by the wrong things; it had a small island in the middle and bits of litter that Mirabel would’ve noticed. Wherever the lake in the vision was, it wasn’t here.

The first thing Mirabel noticed was the slime.

It lay under the surface of the water in spiky swirling shapes, like smoke from a fire had been frozen in time; it choked every plant, coated the shores in a thick slimy layer. It was a sickly purple color, the same shade as a bruise, and the air smelled of compost and rot. The reeds were drooped and wilted, their stems stained; bobbing at the surface of the water were the bodies of fish, rotting and dry, their mouths frozen open like they were choking. Even Mirabel knew that the plants surrounding the lake were dying from the way their leaves were turning brown and dry, and if she hadn’t, she would’ve known from the way Isabela’s eyes widened, filled with horror and then rage.

Bruno’s words came back to her: Dead, dead, dead. They’re all dead.

“What happened?” gasped Beatriz. She turned to Mirabel, and the pleading, desperate look in her eyes made Mirabel feel inexplicably like she’d done something terrible. “What... what happened to my Mamá’s lake, Mirabel?”

Mirabel’s mouth was dry. “I don’t know,” she said quietly, “I’m so sorry.”

“There’s got to be something we can do,” said Isabela, her voice fiery and hard. “Clean the water, replant the trees. How long has it been like this?”

Bubo took off his glasses and polished them thoughtfully. “Less than a couple months. We... we were here in Summer and it was... Well, it wasn’t...” He shook his head.

“Did the professor have something to do with this?!” Isabela’s voice was rising. Her hesitation seemed to have vanished the moment she saw the lake.

“Isa,” said Bubo quietly, “The professor is probably the only person who could explain this. Nobody else in Eréndira knows anything about science.”

Hana, for the first time, spoke. Her voice was soft, and it clearly took a lot of effort for her to force the words past her lips, choked back by a severe stutter. “S-Simón.”

Beatriz looked up at her and gulped. “You’re right,” she said softly, “My dad will probably recognise this. Or my mom’s books will mention it.”

“We’ll figure it out,” said Mirabel, feeling like she was intruding on a moment she didn’t belong in. “I... I promise.”

Beatriz turned to look at Mirabel, and it filled her with guilt when she gave a weak smile and said, “Thank you.”

Beatriz let Hana help her to her feet, and watched numbly as Hana picked through her pockets and emptied out a small flask; Hana removed her leather gloves and carefully scooped the flask through the lakewater, filling it with the strange purple substance.

Mirabel, torn between respectful silence and a burning need to know, leaned into Isabela.

“Isabela,” she whispered, “The purple stuff. Is it a plant? Like a pondweed...?”

“I don’t know,” murmured Isabela, “I can’t tell out here.” She hissed in frustration. “I’m useless.”

Mirabel watched glumly as her three new acquaintances prepared to leave again. I understand that feeling, she thought. This is going to happen again, and it’s something to do with Professor Dunnock being in the Encanto, and I have no idea what.

“I need to figure this out,” she muttered to herself, and didn’t realize she was talking out loud until she felt Isabela’s hand squeeze her shoulder.

“We need to figure this out,” said Isabela through gritted teeth, and Mirabel had never been so glad for her sister’s ferocity.

They turned their backs to the lake, but Mirabel was sure the smell followed them all the way back to the Cachila; rotting, cloying, sickly-sweet.