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Chapter Text

Chapter 1: The Falling Star

​The jungle beyond the flickering gas lamps of Encanto was usually a symphony for Dolores, a tapestry of chirping crickets, rustling leaves, and the distant, rhythmic hum of the village. But tonight, a sound tore through the familiar harmony, sharp and alien. It was a searing hiss, followed by a ground-shaking thud that rumbled even the sturdy foundations of Casita. Dolores, perched on the highest balcony, clapped her hands over her ears, a gasp escaping her lips.

​Downstairs, Mirabel was meticulously re-stitching a loose thread on one of Casita’s embroidered cushions, her brow furrowed in concentration. Her own internal symphony was a familiar tune of quiet frustration. Another day, another opportunity to feel useful, and another day where her efforts seemed to fade into the vibrant background of her family's gifts. Luisa effortlessly rerouted a river earlier, Isabela bloomed an entire orchid garden with a flick of her wrist, and even Antonio, barely five, was already chatting with the capybaras about his upcoming ceremony. Mirabel just… sewed.

​A sudden, jarring vibration rattled the needles in her basket. Casita itself seemed to shudder, sending a cascade of small ceramic tiles clattering from a shelf. Mirabel looked up, startled. "Casita? What was that?"

​No sooner had the words left her mouth than Dolores appeared at the top of the stairs, her face pale, eyes wide with an uncharacteristic alarm. "Mirabel! You have to go. There was… a crash. Something fell in the jungle. Far out, beyond the old cacao trees."

​Mirabel blinked. "Me? Why me? Couldn't... couldn't anyone else?" She knew why. Everyone else was either busy or considered too valuable to send on a potentially dangerous wild goose chase in the dark. It was the familiar sting of being the expendable one. Still, Dolores's urgency was unsettling.

​"I can hear... buzzing," Dolores whispered, her voice strained. "And a deep hum. It's… strong. It feels like… nothing I've ever heard. Just… go! Before Abuela notices."

​Reluctantly, Mirabel grabbed her shawl and a lantern, the familiar weight of being overlooked quickly replaced by a prickle of genuine curiosity mixed with apprehension. The humid night air pressed in on her as she slipped out of Casita. The jungle, usually alive with nocturnal whispers, seemed eerily quiet, the normal symphony muted by an expectant hush. Only the frantic thrumming in the distance, just barely audible to her un-enhanced ears, pulled her forward.

​She navigated the winding paths, the beam of her lantern cutting through the thick foliage. The air grew heavy, charged with something indefinable, a metallic tang she couldn't quite place. As she pushed through a final curtain of vines, she stumbled into a small clearing, her breath catching in her throat.

​Before her lay not a fallen tree or a meteor crater, but something far stranger. Embedded deep within the churned earth was a sleek, dark metallic capsule, unlike any material she had ever seen. It shimmered faintly under the sliver of moon, reflecting the surrounding trees in distorted, impossible ways. A soft, rhythmic pulse emanated from its smooth surface, like a heartbeat. It was clearly not from Encanto. It was not from this world.

​She approached cautiously, her heart thumping against her ribs. The hum Dolores had mentioned was louder here, a low thrum that vibrated through the soles of her worn espadrilles. As she reached out a trembling hand, barely brushing the surface, a section of the capsule hissed, slowly unfurling like a metallic flower petal.

​Inside, bathed in an otherworldly blue light, was something she couldn't comprehend. It wasn't a machine, not quite. It was a swirling, crystalline vortex of light and intricate patterns, like starlight trapped in a living current. It pulsed, brighter now, and she felt an inexplicable pull, a profound resonance deep within her bones. The air crackled with energy, and the swirling light within the capsule seemed to reach out, beckoning her.

​Mirabel, driven by a sudden, overwhelming curiosity she couldn't resist, leaned closer. As her hand, almost of its own accord, reached into the blue luminescence, a searing, blinding white light erupted from the capsule. It wasn't painful, not truly, but it was an intensity that stripped away all other senses. The thrumming intensified, vibrating through her very cells, and she felt a sudden, impossible rush of information, like a thousand lifetimes flashing through her mind in an instant. Images, sounds, feelings—of distant stars, of towering cities made of impossible light, of a vibrant, dying world, and then… nothing but a profound, silent hum settling deep within her.

​The light receded as quickly as it had appeared, leaving the jungle steeped in a newfound, almost sacred silence. The capsule was still there, but the swirling, crystalline vortex was gone. It had simply… vanished.

​Mirabel stood rooted, her hand still extended, but now, a strange warmth emanated from her very core, spreading outwards. It wasn't the humid heat of the jungle, but something… solar. Something vibrant and alive. She took a shaky breath, and the air filled her lungs not just with the scent of damp earth, but with a thousand other nuances – the faintest perfume of night-blooming jasmine from far down the valley, the metallic tang of rain on distant mountains, the rapid pulse of a hummingbird hovering meters away. Her ears, too, were overwhelmed. Every rustle of leaves, every distant chirp, every tiny creature scurrying beneath the undergrowth, seemed amplified, distinct, urgent.

​She tried to take a step back, her mind reeling, but her foot slipped on the damp ground. Instead of falling, however, she found herself floating, just for a breath, an inch above the earth. Her eyes widened. She instinctively pushed off a tree, and instead of a gentle push, the tree trunk groaned, a small crack appearing in its bark. Mirabel yelped, pulling her hand away as if burned.

​What was happening?

​Panic started to bubble, but then, another sensation, quieter but profound, settled over her. It was a clarity, a sense of innate capability. She looked at her hands, ordinary hands that had only ever mended and created small, tangible things. But now, they felt… capable of so much more.

​She thought of Luisa, strong and unyielding. Mirabel felt a surge of raw, physical power coiling in her limbs, a profound echo of Luisa's gift, but amplified a hundredfold. She could feel the weight of the earth, the pressure of the air, and it felt like she could reshape it.

​She thought of Isabela, bringing life and beauty to everything she touched. Mirabel felt a similar surge, not of plant manipulation, but of an almost primal connection to the very essence of life around her. She could feel the delicate processes of growth, the silent energy of photosynthesis, the microscopic ballet of nature.

​She thought of Pepa, whose emotions dictated the very weather. Mirabel felt an awareness of the atmospheric currents, the shifting temperatures, the faint electrical charges in the air. Not that she could control them yet, but she felt them, as if they were an extension of her own skin.

​She tried to calm her frantic breathing, inhaling deeply. As she exhaled, a soft, ethereal glow seemed to emanate from her, a subtle luminescence that briefly lit the immediate clearing. It pulsed gently, like the fading embers of a fire.

​The humming deep within her, the one that had replaced the swirling vortex, settled into a steady, comforting rhythm. It wasn't an alien sound anymore. It was her. This power, these senses, they were part of her now. She was still Mirabel, but she was… more. Much, much more.

​A distant sound cut through the overwhelming newness: the gentle chime of Casita's bell, signaling the approach of dawn. She had to get back, but how? How could she explain any of this?

​She looked at the small fissure in the tree, then at the deep indent where the capsule had landed. This wasn't a dream. This was real. And if Dolores could hear a far-off hum, then someone else might investigate the damage. Her new abilities, she instinctively knew, needed to remain a secret. At least for now.

​The light of the vanishing Codex left behind more than just new abilities. Where the crystalline vortex had been, nestled within the folds of the metallic petal, lay two objects: a carefully folded suit made of a dark, almost charcoal-blue material, and a glistening, palm-sized crystal etched with a familiar yet alien symbol—an 'S' contained within a pentagon.

​As Mirabel reached for the crystal, a voice, calm and deep yet echoing with the sound of a thousand generations, resonated inside her mind, bypassing her ears entirely.

​"Mirabel Madrigal of earth, sorry for the sudden change. I must confess it was necessary, but if you must know, you now hold inside your new DNA Kryptonian DNA—enough of it for our race to survive and give you 'gifts' like your family candle, Mirabel Madrigal, but so much more."

​Mirabel froze, the crystal cold and smooth in her hand. Kryptonian? DNA? The rush of information she'd felt now coalesced into a terrifying reality: she was fundamentally changed.

​"I assure you, this was the only way for the Kryptonian race to survive, and we are sorry it had to be you. Inside is your hero costume from our planet. It will protect you when saving everyone, but know this: you are special without our gift. Just use it wisely and respectfully."

​Her gaze darted between the suit and the dented tree trunk. Protect her from what? And who was this voice?

​"Side note: your family will see a door for you today and will probably ask questions. Just be you, Mirabel. Your room will be our Fortress of Solitude, and we will train you to help. Please give Kryptonians a new hope and home. That's all I ask. I will talk to you inside your room."

​The voice faded, leaving only the profound hum. A door? After years of the blank, unyielding wood? Today?

​The rising sun was already painting the sky in soft pinks and oranges—dawn was minutes away. She had to hide the evidence and get back before Abuela discovered her absence. Driven by a desperate need for secrecy, Mirabel quickly wrapped the suit inside her shawl and tucked the crystal safely into her satchel.

​She looked at the capsule, now inert metal. How to hide this? She grabbed a handful of dirt, intending to spread it over the metallic shell, but as her fingers touched the soil, the ground seemed to shift and compress beneath her touch. She wasn't just covering it; she was gently, effortlessly burying the entire capsule with a small mound of earth and fallen leaves, reshaping the landscape with minimal effort—an unconscious display of her new super strength combined with a Madrigal-like earth manipulation resonance.

​Panic lent her speed. She didn't consciously intend to run fast, she simply intended to hurry. The jungle blurred into streaks of green and brown. A misplaced root was suddenly beneath her foot, but instead of tripping, she didn't lose momentum. She was moving at an impossible rate, leaping over ravines in single bounds. Her clothes flapped against her like sails, and for a terrifying second, she realized she was flying—not just hopping, but surging forward, barely grazing the tops of the highest ferns.

​Too fast! Too fast!

​She slammed on the mental brakes, crashing back to earth in a controlled skid that churned the earth beneath her feet for meters before she slowed to a breathless stop, just at the familiar edge of the woods.

​She was ten minutes away by foot, but the journey had taken mere seconds. Her heart hammered, not from exertion, but from sheer terror and exhilaration. She had a suit, a mission, a secret, and now... a door.

​Slipping back into Casita just as the first rays of sun crested the mountains, Mirabel rushed to her nursery room. She looked down at the satchel containing the crystal and the suit. She had a double life now, and the first order of business was to keep the secret.

​She slipped into the main hall just as a series of sharp, ecstatic gasps and cries erupted from the family. They weren't looking at her. They were staring at a previously blank wall.

​Where there had been bare, ordinary plaster, stood a glowing, carved wooden door, intricately detailed with symbols and colors Mirabel recognized, but also new, subtle carvings of stars and celestial patterns. It was beautiful. It was hers.

​The family turned, their stunned gazes falling upon Mirabel, who stood there, breathing hard, trying desperately to appear normal, with the weight of an entire lost planet pressed beneath her skin.

Chapter Text

​Chapter 2: The Late Bloomer's Door

​The stunned silence lasted only a second before the dam of questions burst.

​"Mirabel?" Abuela Alma's voice was sharp, a mix of disbelief, wonder, and a deep, complex relief. She took a step toward the luminous new door, her hand hovering near the knob. "This… after all this time? Why now?"

​"Yes, Mirabel! What did you do?" Camilo shifted nervously, cycling through a few different family member faces as he tried to process the impossible sight.

​"Did you wish really, really hard, Mirabel?" Antonio, small and wide-eyed, pulled on her skirt, already excited by the possibility.

​Mirabel felt the pressure mount—the bright light of the new door, the sea of hopeful, questioning faces, and the electric hum of Kryptonian power thrumming just beneath her skin. This was the first test of her double life, and she needed a Madrigal-level performance.

​She took a breath, letting a wide, slightly trembling smile spread across her face. "I… I don't know," she admitted, which was technically true. "I just—I was thinking about Antonio's ceremony, and how much I want it to be perfect, and how much I wanted to help Casita… and then I saw the light."

​She shrugged, trying to project a simple, unassuming confidence. "I guess... I was a late bloomer."

​The phrase hung in the air, simple and powerful enough to halt the immediate barrage of questions. It was the answer they wanted to hear: that she was finally, miraculously, one of them.

​Abuela Alma’s expression softened, the hard lines of worry around her eyes easing into something resembling peace. "A late bloomer," she repeated, almost a prayer. She stepped forward, grasping Mirabel's shoulders. "Well, my nieta. It seems the miracle had a surprise for us all."

​Her mother, Julieta, rushed forward and enveloped her in a hug. "Oh, Mirabel. We knew you were special, always," she murmured, tears welling up.

​The family erupted in cheers, a wave of relief washing over the household. They were too thrilled, too caught up in the magic of the door itself, to question the suspiciously opportune timing or the strange, stellar-themed carvings.

​Everyone, that is, except Dolores.

​While her siblings and cousins pressed Mirabel with congratulations, Dolores lingered at the edge of the crowd, her hand pressed lightly to her ear. She was still hearing the residual alien hum—the faint, deep-frequency thrum that no one else could perceive. It wasn't coming from the door, which sounded like gentle, moving water. It was coming from Mirabel.

​As the family began to try and coax the door to reveal its power—tapping it, talking to it, eager for any sign of her gift—Dolores subtly maneuvered through the throng and stopped directly beside Mirabel.

​"The humming stopped outside the village," Dolores whispered, so low that only Mirabel's newly enhanced hearing could pick it up over the chaos. "But it is very loud in here. Under your skin, Mirabel."

​Mirabel's blood ran cold. She knew it. Of course, Dolores knew. The alien DNA, the Codex's energy—it was a literal, audible elephant in the room for the girl whose gift was sound.

​Mirabel turned, fear in her eyes. "Dolores, I—"

​Dolores cut her off, her eyes serious but calm. "It's safe with me," she whispered, her gaze meeting Mirabel's with uncharacteristic intensity. "Whatever happened out there… whatever you brought back. The door is real, the love is real. And the secret is silent. You need help, Mirabel. And I can listen for the danger before it arrives."

​It wasn't a question or a threat. It was an offer of silent, complete alliance. Mirabel felt a profound, unexpected wave of gratitude and relief. She had an ally, someone who saw past the miracle and recognized the magnitude of the secret.

​"Thank you, Dolores," Mirabel mouthed, giving a tiny, grateful nod.

​Abuela stepped forward, holding the golden candle. "Mirabel," she announced, her voice filled with emotion. "It is time to accept your gift."

​Mirabel stepped forward, placed her hand on the knob, and felt the familiar warmth of the candle's glow envelop her. The wood beneath her palm swirled with light, and the door's carvings began to move. Slowly, the door swung inward.

​Mirabel stepped across the threshold, and the familiar, warm rush of Madrigal magic enveloped her. The cheers of her family swelled behind her, and the door clicked shut.

​To the outside world and to her family, what they saw was a beautiful, but ordinary, room. It was a perfect, comforting duplicate of her old nursery, complete with her sewing machine, her half-finished tapestries, and her vibrant, colorful clutter. For anyone else—Abuela, Luisa, even her mother—the new door led directly to Mirabel's familiar, non-magical space.

​But for Mirabel, and for the watchful Dolores who stood silently beside her, the world fractured.

​The cheerful walls of the nursery melted away, replaced by an impossible, breathtaking vista of crystalline architecture soaring into a star-dusted sky. The air, while still warm and humid from Encanto, held a subtle, invigorating chill, reminiscent of high mountain air. Stretching before them was a sprawling structure that defied physics: a castle of impossibly tall, sharp crystals that refracted the light into every color imaginable, set within a landscape of pristine, glowing snow and ice.

​This was not a room. This was the Fortress of Solitude.

​"Oh, Dios mío," Dolores breathed, her voice a fragile whisper against the vast silence of the crystalline palace. Her eyes were wide, not with fear, but pure, unadulterated shock. The humming in this space was no longer subtle; it was a profound, resonating chord struck by the very structure itself.

​Mirabel felt a kinship with the crystal—the geometric perfection, the incredible strength—it was a visual representation of the alien power now residing in her.

​She turned to Dolores, a shaky, amazed grin on her face. "You see it, too?"

​"I don't just see it," Dolores murmured, "I feel the echo of every sound this crystal has ever made. It's… loud."

​Mirabel followed the lines of the crystalline palace to its main entrance. There, embedded in a seemingly impenetrable door of ice, was a single, small, utterly unassuming house key made of simple, tarnished brass.

​"It will only be lifted by Mirabel," the crystal's voice echoed in her mind, a clear explanation for this absurd sight.

​She approached the ice door, testing the simple key. It didn't look magical, yet when she tried to lift it, the key remained stubbornly heavy, fixed to the spot as if weighted by tons of earth. She pushed with her natural strength, and it wouldn't budge.

​Then, she focused. She remembered the effortless strength she used to bury the capsule, the alien sun-warmed energy pulsing in her veins. She focused on that Kryptonian strength, wrapping it around her small hands. With a surprising lack of effort, the key yielded.

​It was incredibly heavy—like lifting a large boulder—but Mirabel, powered by a dying star, simply picked it up.

​Inside her satchel, the Kryptonian suit felt warm against her skin. This was the moment. She had to understand the suit, the message, and her new mission.

​"Dolores," Mirabel said, holding the absurdly heavy key. "Stay here. Watch the door. If you hear anything—a knock, a whisper, a strange sound—you tell me immediately."

​Mirabel clutched the crystal with the 'S' and the bundle containing the suit. She pushed open the simple-looking door with the heavy brass key, and stepped fully into the heart of her new sanctuary.

​Unfolding the suit, Mirabel laid it out on a crystalline pedestal. It was made of the same dark blue material as the capsule, sleek and flexible, with a vibrant crimson cape attached. It felt alive under her touch. The Codex's voice returned to her mind, calmer now, like a mentor's reassuring presence.

​"Mirabel Madrigal. Put on the shield of El. It is keyed to your unique biology. We begin your training now. Your family thinks you are catching up; we will make sure you are ready to defend them."

​Taking a deep breath, Mirabel pulled off her simple clothes and stepped into the suit, the first act of her new life as Encanto's secret protector.

Chapter Text

​Chapter 3: The Fortress and the First Lesson (Month 1 Begins)

​Mirabel stepped into the suit. It wasn't tight or restrictive, but felt like a second skin, instantly molding to her shape. The dark blue material seemed to drink the light of the crystalline room, and the crimson cape settled on her shoulders with a surprisingly light, fluid grace. She reached up and touched the 'S' shield emblazoned on her chest—a symbol of hope and Krypton. It was a perfect, empowering fit.

​The Codex's voice, resonating from the crystal she still held, spoke with quiet authority.

​"Mirabel Madrigal, step into the light. Now, bring your ally. Dolores Madrigal will be essential. Her heightened perception is a defense system we need. Her gift, though already powerful, must be refined to better serve us. Bring her to the heart of the Fortress."

​Mirabel turned and rushed back to the door, finding Dolores still standing guard in the silent, crystal landscape.

​"Dolores! The voice says we need you. It wants to help with your gift."

​Dolores, still overwhelmed by the sight of the crystalline palace, took a step back. "Help with my gift? Mirabel, I hear everything! If it gets any stronger—"

​"It's not about making it louder," Mirabel interrupted, remembering the overwhelming sensory input she had felt. "It's about making it better. It said you're our defense system."

​Trusting Mirabel completely, Dolores followed her deeper into the Fortress. They walked through a hallway where the crystals formed natural-looking consoles. At the center of the largest chamber, a circular platform glowed with soft, golden light—a simulated sun.

​"Dolores Madrigal," the Codex's voice resonated, directed at her now. "Your ability to hear the minutiae of reality is unmatched on this planet. But the volume overwhelms the message. We will teach you focus and filtration."

​The platform glowed brighter. "Step onto the solar simulator. The energy will resonate with your DNA, enhancing your brain's capacity to process and categorize sonic information, allowing you to selectively mute the unnecessary."

​Hesitantly, Dolores stepped onto the platform. The golden light washed over her. She winced, clapping her hands to her ears as the noise of the entire world seemed to rush in—every conversation in Encanto, every buzzing insect, every drop of water hitting the soil. It was agonizingly loud.

​Then, the golden light pulsed. The noise didn't lessen, but Dolores's mind shifted. She felt an invisible hand organizing the chaos—separating the sound of Luisa’s humming from the sound of a tile scraping on a roof, separating the sound of the wind from the sound of a distant, humming engine.

​A look of pure, blissful relief washed over her face. She lowered her hands. "I… I can hear Abuela's sigh from here," she whispered, "but I can ignore the ants walking in the kitchen."

​The Codex affirmed, "You are now our sentinel. You hear the world, but only you decide what you listen to. This is your primary task: listen for anomalies—unnatural speeds, foreign frequencies, distant tremors, or anything that doesn't belong to the sound signature of Encanto."

​Dolores gave a decisive nod, her eyes shining with newfound purpose. For the first time, her gift felt like a controlled tool, not a constant burden.

​The First Lesson: Mastering Speed and Flight

​"Mirabel," the Codex instructed, drawing her attention to the vast space of the Fortress. "We begin with the most critical abilities for discreet movement and rescue: Super Speed and Flight."

​Mirabel stood ready in her suit, the excitement bubbling up.

​"Your body is now an engine. The energy absorbed from the sun is nearly limitless, but your control is not. We will train your control."

​The Codex projected holographic markers that stretched far into the crystalline landscape. "Run to the first marker and return. Do not use enough speed to blur. Move quickly, but with absolute precision."

​Mirabel pushed off. The moment she exerted the slightest effort, she shot forward like a slingshot. The ground beneath her feet was a blur, and she crashed into a crystalline wall 50 meters away. The suit protected her, but the impact winded her.

​"Too much power, Mirabel," the Codex stated calmly. "Think of your Abuela. She does not move with brute force; she moves with focused intent. The power is not the gift; the control is the gift."

​Mirabel tried again, channeling the power not as a rush, but as a subtle, humming vibration beneath her feet. She focused on the feeling of Luisa's control—the careful application of immense strength. This time, she reached the marker and returned, moving at a speed no normal human could achieve, yet with graceful, intentional footsteps.

​"Good. Now, flight."

​The crystal platforms in the main chamber began to rise and fall in an erratic pattern.

​"You must ascend and descend through those platforms without touching the crystals. The air is your medium. Use the energy not to propel yourself like a rocket, but to defy gravity with a gentle, mental push."

​Mirabel felt the rush of power and launched herself upward. She soared too high, scraping the ceiling, and then plummeted too fast, narrowly avoiding a crystal spire.

​"Remember Pepa's gift, Mirabel," the Codex reminded her. "Control the pressure. Your emotional state dictates the outcome. Be calm, focused, and steady."

​It took the rest of the morning, with Mirabel sweating under the golden light of the simulator, but she began to master it. She learned to hang motionless in the air, to float gracefully, and to dart through the platforms with the precision of a hummingbird, propelled by sheer will and solar energy.

​When she finally landed, exhausted but exhilarated, the Codex spoke. "This is enough for today. You have one month to perfect these arts, discreetly. Every morning, return here for training. Every day, use your abilities in the village to refine your control in secret. We will be watching and teaching."

​Mirabel nodded, her heart full of a powerful, dual sense of belonging—to her family, and to this new, cosmic destiny. She and Dolores left the Fortress, closing the door behind them. To the rest of the world, it was just Mirabel's familiar room, and a girl who was suddenly feeling more confident.

Chapter Text

​Chapter 4: The Discreet Fixes (Month 1, Week 2)

​Training for Super Strength and Invulnerability

​The day after her first flight lesson, Mirabel returned to the Fortress, her mind focused on the next phase of training. Dolores stood on the perimeter, her eyes closed, listening to the world while Mirabel prepared.

​"Today, we focus on durability and might," the Codex instructed. "Your body is now a solar battery. The sun's energy provides you with near-limitless strength and a molecular density that grants you a defense far greater than any Madrigal gift."

​The Fortress projected massive, crystalline blocks into the simulator. "Lift those blocks, Mirabel. Start by applying only the force necessary to move them. Too much force will shatter the crystal, too little will lead to failure. Find the balance."

​This was harder than flight. When she tried to be subtle, the blocks felt impossibly heavy. When she channeled her frustration, they flew across the room and crashed. The key, the Codex emphasized, was precision. Mirabel spent hours visualizing Luisa moving the heaviest loads—not with grunts of effort, but with quiet, absolute certainty.

​By the end of the session, Mirabel could lift the equivalent of Casita's entire foundation with the careful application of a single, outstretched finger. She learned to channel the strength through her suit, making her movements appear effortless and graceful, concealing the incredible power behind them.

​Next, the test of invulnerability. The Codex brought forth a small, humming energy sphere. "This sphere generates force equal to a large falling boulder," the voice explained. "Stand still, Mirabel. Allow the force to wash over you. Understand that your defense is innate, not earned."

​Mirabel was terrified. She closed her eyes, preparing for a crushing blow. When the sphere activated, a wave of kinetic energy slammed into her. She felt the impact—a dull, strong pressure—but her body didn't flinch. She opened her eyes, amazed. The suit was unscratched, and more importantly, she was unhurt. The Kryptonian DNA, nourished by the yellow sun, had made her a living shield.

​Applying Power in Encanto

​Over the next week, Mirabel put her strength to practical, secret use, guided by the flawless reconnaissance of Dolores.

• ​The Bridge Repair: Dolores overheard local men struggling to haul a massive new stone beam across the river for a vital bridge repair. That night, Mirabel flew to the site under the cover of a thick, Pepa-induced fog (a carefully orchestrated lie to the family), and using her newfound strength, she effortlessly lifted and placed the heavy stone beam perfectly into its foundation, cementing the structure in seconds.
• ​Saving the Herd: One afternoon, Dolores warned Mirabel that a portion of the far mountain pass had suffered a small landslide, trapping a large herd of goats—a vital source of milk and cheese. While her family was occupied, Mirabel used her super speed to reach the pass in seconds. Using super strength, she carefully lifted the largest boulders and deposited them gently down the slope, clearing the path before anyone even noticed the animals were missing.

​The village began to see an unprecedented era of easy fixes and solved problems. The community felt a quiet sense of security, attributing it to the Madrigal's collective harmony, unaware that their overlooked Mirabel was their discreet, powerful protector.

Chapter Text

Chapter 5: The Distant Vision (Month 1, Weeks 3-4)

​Training for Heat Vision and Super Breath

​For the final phase of the first month, the Codex introduced the more exotic Kryptonian abilities: Heat Vision and Super Breath.

​"These gifts are tools of precision and atmosphere control," the Codex stated. "They are extensions of your internal energy and breath control. They require focus, Mirabel, far more than brute strength."

​The training began with Super Breath. Mirabel struggled to separate this from a regular exhale. The Codex showed her how to draw the sun's energy deep into her lungs and release it as a highly focused, super-cooled wind. She practiced extinguishing a flickering, crystalline candle flame without disturbing the paper surrounding it—a lesson in delicate control. She learned to create small, localized whirlwinds for cleanup and to generate a freezing cold breath strong enough to solidify fast-flowing water.

​Next, Heat Vision. This proved the most difficult. It was an internal, intense energy she had to learn to focus through her eyes.

• ​The first attempts were disastrous: unfocused beams that merely warped the air.
• ​The final lessons were about control: focusing the beams into pencil-thin lines, able to precisely cut and weld metal without collateral damage.

​Putting It All Together

​By the end of the month, Mirabel was a weapon of incredible, controlled power. She had perfected the integration of her gifts:

• ​Fast and Strong: She could fly at blurring speeds, land gently, use immense strength to steady a crumbling roof, and use Heat Vision to weld the beams back together, all in under a minute.
• ​Dolores's Role: Dolores began listening for more than just accidents. She listened for unusual conversations, for strangers arriving in the area, and for any technology that produced a sound signature unlike anything in Encanto.

​One evening, Dolores rushed into the Fortress, her face tight with worry.

​"Mirabel! I hear a faint, deep, mechanical thrumming," she whispered, her voice low and tight. "It's far away, beyond the mountains. The sound isn't from the Earth. It's alien. And it is getting closer."

​The humming matched a frequency the Codex had warned them about in fleeting lectures. The voice of Krypton resonated in Mirabel's mind, grave and immediate.

​"General Zod is approaching, Mirabel. He seeks the Codex—the information you carry. The time for secret training is over. The time for preparation has begun."