𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: first, i wanna apologize for the rushed ending--if you dared read this--i just kinda lost inspiration for the 'encanto' aspect and didn't want to diverge from the cutsy storyline--my plot for this went real dark and needed a better setting up... one day i may retry this but until then, thank you babies for still sticking/chosing to see what i wrote ❤️
Your body shakes uncontrollably as the voices escalate, their demands piercing through the fragile peace.
❝Please, let me tell my family that I love them!❞
❝My husband deserves to know what his sister did to me!❞
❝Help us... Help us... HELP US!!❞
❝I can't. I can't. I can't,❞ you trembled as you covered your ears in hopes of drowning them out, but it was no use.
Just as you're about to succumb to the overwhelming despair, a sudden grip on your shoulders jolts you, and you brace for the familiar mockery of a spirit's deception. Instead, a voice cuts through the chaos, clear and unmistakably real. ❝Hey, ____. Calm down. Please, calm down. I'm here.❞
Cautiously, you open your eyes, meeting two pools of green filled with worry.
Your heart wants to believe it's truly him, but your mind rebels, scarred by too many deceptions; too many times than you could count, you found yourself in a similar predicament, yet when you allowed yourself to relax, you found that instead of really being someone you cared for, it was just a spirit playing jokes.
Flinching back, you shook your head, ❝No. No. No. You aren't real. You aren't real. You aren't real,❞ you chant, body curling in on yourself as you expected a spirit's mocking laughter to follow.
Yet, the laughter never comes. Instead, you feel two hands cover the ones you held over your ears.
They were...warm...a sensation both unfamiliar and comforting.
Spirits have never possessed warmth; their touch has always been a cold reminder of their otherness.
Slowly, your breathing steadies under his touch, and you dare to lift your gaze, allowing yourself to truly see him.
Golden-brown skin that speaks of sun-kissed days.
A wild mane of curls that defied gravity, seemingly untamable, no matter how much it was brushed.
Two gorgeous green eyes that made you feel as if you were lost in a forest of evergreen trees.
And freckles—so many freckles to count—scattered across his nose and cheeks like stars against the dusk of his skin.
Noticing your attention, Camilo offers a gentle smile. ❝There she is,❞ he whispered, his hands moving from your ears to cradle your face.
❝Y-You're real,❞ you manage, the statement half question, half revelation.
Camilo's smile widens, and he hums in affirmation, his gaze softening as he looks at you. ❝Yeah, ____,❞ he gently caressed the side of your face. ❝I'm real.❞
..... ... ..... ━━━━━━━☆☆━━━━━━━ ..... ... .....
You were blessed with the gift of seeing the undead.
Though seen as evil and devilish by many, the Madrigals showed you the beauty that comes with it and that your gift doesn't define you.
Now, turning 17, you find that your gift continues to grow—from being able to just see the dead, to being able to allow them to communicate with the living through you.
You find yourself drowning under the pressure from both the living and the undead, yet before you can completely hit rock bottom, a certain curly-haired trickster vows to be the one to save you.
..... ... ..... ━━━━━━━☆☆━━━━━━━ ..... ... .....
╭─↬ ❗𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆❗ ↫─╮
There will be mentions/descriptive scenes of the following:
╭ ⁞ ❏. Death/Mentions of death
Lol, I don't know if I got them all, so if you see anything I didn't list, come back and comment right here so I can add them to the list later ➡
Enjoy (•͈˽•͈)
ㅡ This book takes place 2 years after the main plot in Encanto, so just think of it as a canon-divergent, since all that happened in the movie stays true.
ㅡ Also, no smut since Camilo is underage. IDC if he got aged up, it still wouldn't make it any better; 17 is a minor. Now, Uncle Bruno tho 👀 jkjk. Unless??
ㅡ A few headcanons will be immersed into the story, just to make it a bit towards my liking (you'll know when you see them) and I would like to just paste the link of a few of what I liked; I may or may not include them, who know?
http://hourlyencantohcs.tumblr.com
**Most of these won't be from the reader herself, but fromㅡAAHHH! I want to say it, but I don't want to give away any plots 😭. Just know it won't be the overall theme of the book, just a few scenes. So don't worry, and if it'll make anyone feel better, I'll put a warning in a chapter that has these.
P.S. This is a FanFic (Fan-made fiction book). The original characters shown in this book is an entire work of fiction unless stated otherwise.
𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: also wanna apologize for the rushed end i just kinda lost inspiration for the 'encanto' aspect and didn't want to diverge from the cutsy storyline--my plot for this went real dark and needed a better setting up... one day i may retry this but until then, thank you babies ❤️
𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐃: January 04, 2022
𝐏𝐔𝐁𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐃: January 04, 2022
𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐃: March 25, 2024
⌜Tactus Mortis | Chapter 16
Chapter 16 | EPILOGUE: Muerto a la vida⌟
╰ ⌞🇨🇭🇦🇵🇹🇪🇷 🇮🇳🇩🇪🇽⌝
❘ prev. chapter ❘༻✦༺❘ next chapter ❘
In the days that follow, the community of Encanto comes together in a way it hasn't before.
The Madrigals, always seen as the pillars of strength, now show a vulnerability that draws people closer rather than pushing them away.
Your father—a constant presence by your side—helps bridge the gap between the past and present; his stories of your mother and the life you've led serve as a reminder of the resilience that runs in your family.
Camilo, in particular, remains a steadfast figure in your recovery.
The two of you find moments of quiet amidst the healing chaos to discuss the events; the conversations often stretch into the night under the canopy of stars that seem to watch over Encanto with a renewed sense of guardianship.
"It's strange," you begin one evening, your voice a soft murmur against the gentle rustle of leaves, "to think of how much fear and pain can lead to... this. To healing, to understanding."
Camilo nods, his gaze thoughtful as he watches the play of moonlight through the branches."I think... I think it's about finding the light in the darkness. About not letting fear win."His eyes meet yours, and there's a depth there, an acknowledgment of the journey you've both undertaken.
"You were there," you say, the words heavy with unspoken emotion. "Even when I couldn't see you, even when I... I was lost. You were there."
Camilo's hand finds yours, his fingers intertwining with yours in a grip that's both comforting and grounding. "I'll always be there, Y/N. That's what families do, right? We stick together."
The simplicity of his words—the sincerity—strikes a chord within you. This moment, this connection, feels like the beginning of something new—a foundation built not on the magic that runs through your veins or the gifts that define the Madrigals, but on the mutual care and understanding that has blossomed between you.
As you hummed in agreement, repeating "Stick together," softly, your eyes locked onto his, finding a depth of emotion that mirrored your own. His gaze softened, a tender warmth radiating from him that made your heart flutter in your chest.
Slowly, as if drawn by an invisible force, Camilo raised your intertwined hands, his lips brushing against the back of your palm in a kiss so gentle it sent shivers down your spine. The action, so filled with care and affection, coaxed a giggle from you, your face warming with a blush that deepened the longer you gazed into his eyes.
Those eyes, a mesmerizing mix of green that you could indeed get lost in, held you captive. The freckles that scattered like stars across the bridge of his nose, each one a constellation you longed to trace, drew you in closer. And his lips—those soft, inviting lips that had haunted your dreams with the promise of what could be.
With a breath that trembled with anticipation, you reached up to caress his cheek, marveling at the softness of his skin under your fingertips. "Can I... Can I kiss you?" you whisper, the words barely escaping before doubt could silence them.
The question seemed to take Camilo by surprise, his smile faltering for a heartbeat before it was replaced by a look of wonder, his cheeks dusted with a blush that made him even more endearing. "Of course you can," he whispered back, his voice laced with excitement and a hint of nervousness.
In the next moment, your lips met his in a kiss that felt like coming home. It was soft, sweet, and filled with all the unspoken words and emotions that had built up between you.
Camilo's arms wrapped around you, pulling you closer, enveloping you in a warmth that seeped into your very soul. You melted into the kiss, each gentle press of his lips against yours sending waves of happiness coursing through you.
As you pulled away, the smile on Camilo's face was radiant, his eyes gleaming with an adoration so pure it took your breath away. He brushed a stray lock of hair from your face, his touch sending a thrill through you.
The world around you might as well have ceased to exist, for in that moment, there was only you and Camilo, bound together by a kiss that had sealed a promise of togetherness.
"Can I kiss you again?" you asked, your voice filled with a joy that bubbled up from deep within.
"Mi corazon, do you even have to ask?" Camilo laughed, his voice rich with affection.
You giggled, the sound mingling with the rain around you, and leaned in once more. This time, the kiss was filled with a playful passion, a celebration of the connection that had grown between you.
As the night deepens, you and Camilo continue to talk, the conversation meandering through hopes, fears, and dreams for the future. It's a balm to the soul, this sharing of selves, and you find yourself smiling, genuinely and freely, for the first time since the ordeal began.
The path to healing is long and winding, filled with moments of doubt and pain, but also with moments of incredible beauty and strength. You and Camilo, along with the Madrigals and the entire community of Encanto, are walking this path together, each step a testament to the resilience of the human spirit.
And as dawn begins to break, painting the sky with hues of pink and gold, you feel a sense of peace settle over you. The events that transpired have changed you, changed Encanto, but in the end, it's a change for the better. For in the face of darkness, you've all found a way to shine brighter, to hold onto hope and to each other.
In that moment, you knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, you and Camilo would face them together, bound by love, laughter, and the unshakable belief in the strength of sticking together.
A/N: Thank you all for supporting me on my lil book ❤️❤️.
I can't wait to get back into writing for other fandoms. see you guys on my next book! hint: It's set in BNHA 👀: 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐍𝐎 𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐋 ᵇⁿʰᵃ
The sky rumbled ominously with blinding lights as rain poured down from the heavens.
In the crevices of an eroded mountain sat a small cabin, sheltered away from the thundering storm.
Inside the cabin sat a middle-aged woman, who sang olden hymns under her breath as she tended to the sick 5-year-old splayed out on the bed.
"My little one," she sighed in sadness, keeping her tears at bay as she watched how her child's chest slowly went up and down in labored breaths.
Just as she reached forward to fluff the pillow, the door to the creaky opened, and in walked a middle-aged man.
The woman looked up, a tired smile growing on her lips. "Miguel, you're home."
The man smiled back at her as he walked over to the bed, setting the bowl of water on the bedside table before bending over to place a kiss on her lips. "How is she, Jovena? Is she alright?"
"I'm afraid not," Jovena told him, reaching over to dip the cloth in the bowl before gently wiping off the sweat littered across the little girl's forehead. "Her fever hasn't broken. I'm afraid it's getting worse."
Kneeling by the bed, Miguel gave a deep sigh as he watched his wife cater to their sick child.
"If her fever hasn't broken by sunrise, we will have no choice but to ask them for help."
Turning towards the door, Miguel shook his head at the sound of his grandmother's voice, "Abuelita, no. I will not risk the life of my child for help that isn't guaranteed."
An older woman with grey hair hobbled into the little room, her body formed into a hunch. "Nonsense, she will receive help. They owe us after all."
Jovena quickly got up and walked over to the elderly before her husband could say anything, "Abuelita, please, take my seat." Taking her gently by the arm, she led the old lady next to the chair.
The second the elderly woman sat down, her eyes were drawn towards the sickly child. "Miguel,"ㅡshe set her cane to the side to wipe the child's foreheadㅡ"as I've stated before, she needs help. Something we can't give her. We need to take her to them."
"Why should we beg for them to help us, abuela!? After all that we've doneㅡsacrificed for them, they turn around and left us at a time when we needed them most! I refuseㅡ"
"No! No more talking! You'll listen to me because I'll only say it once," the old woman cut him off, her eyes narrowing into slits, "Your child is dying. The sickness has grasped her, taking it to the point where we can no longer provide help to make her better! We can do no more! Now is the time to push away your pride and take her to those that can. I will not allow another life to die on my watch."
The room went silent; the only sounds to be heard were the patter of raindrops against the wood shutters and the wheezes of the aforementioned child.
Miguel allowed his head to drop in shame, knowing deep down that the older woman was right, "Abuelitaㅡ"
"No. I don't want to hear any more excuses, Miguel," the old woman sighed, her age showing with the heavy look on her face. "There was nothing I could do for your mother. But her...."ㅡshe looked down at the sleeping childㅡ"I can save. So please, allow them to help her."
As the man stood, watching his grandmother clutch the rag in her hand as she stared down at his daughter, his dying daughter, he knew what he needed to do.
Looking over at his teary-eyed wife, he reached over to tenderly cup her face before facing his grandmother once more. "Okay, Abuelita. I will take her to them."
☆
☆
The journey took three days and four nights of stormy weather before the small family reached their destination.
A flash of lightning illuminated the area, showcasing a giant rock wall.
"Abuelita, it seems that we've hit a dead-end," Miguel called out through the rain, stopping the mule before a small riverbed, "Did we head in the wrong direction?"
The old woman's voice was carried out from the cloth-covered wagon. "No, we are at the right place."
Miguel looked over at his wife in confusion at his grandmother's words. "But there's a wall of rock. If our destination is beyond it, how are we going to get past it?"
"Patience, dear Miguel. Our goal is there. You just have to look closer."
Taking the old woman's advice, Miguel led the donkey over the riverbed, the wagon making splashing sounds as it followed, stopping until they were directly before the wall.
Hopping down, Miguel walked over to Jovena, lifting her off the wagon with ease, before walking towards the back to lift the white cloth that sheltered those from the rain.
The sight Miguel was met with was his daughter swaddled up in blankets as his grandmother fed her herbal water, singing soft words of encouragement.
Stepping aside to allow Jovena to climb inside to try and cool down the feverish child, Miguel grabbed a nearby cloth to drape over his grandmother's frame before helping her down from the carriage.
"So where is the entrance, Abuelita?" Miguel wondered, keeping the old woman from falling over slippery stones as they walked closer to the wall.
"Right there." She pointed over to an uninteresting crevice in the rocks; it looked nearly identical to the hundreds of others that lined the wall.
Miguel looked unsure of where she was pointing; the space looked barely big enough for Jovena to slip through, let alone him. "Are you sure that's the entrance?"
The old woman gave a tired sigh, yanking her arm from Miguel's arm to hobble over the crease, mumbling harshly under her breath, "Idiota, nieto.Nunca presta atención. Todo lo que hace es hablar, hablar, hablar....*"
After a few seconds of touching the inside of the crease, the old woman found a small button-like pebble. "A-ha!" she cried in victory; quickly pressing the pebble, she shuffled back, allowing the crease to creak open in a door-like fashion.
[A/N: Pretend this is a well-kept secret that only a few people are aware of in order to travel and trade with other settlements.]
Miguel could only watch with raised eyebrows as his 87-year-old grandmother moved the wall wide enough for them to go through with ease.
"What a useless grandchild I have. Just watching as his poor Abuela does all the work," the old woman playfully tsked, wobbling back over to her grandson. "No worries, Miggy, you're still abuela's favorite grandson," she cooed, pinching his cheek before going back towards the wagon.
Turning to follow her, Miguel could only shake his head at her words. "But I'm your only grandson."
Making sure everyone was settled in, Miguel led the donkey through the large space, a shocked sound leaving him and Jovena when the rock slowly creaked back into place after their entrance, whilst Abuela behaved normally as if used to such an eccentric thing.
As the group traveled down the path, the weather fluctuated, from sunny at one moment, to rainy the next, even snowing at one point.
Soon, bright lights twinkled in the distance, as well as the sound of music.
The wagon came to a complete stop at the entrance of a town with a large sign that read "Encanto" and was decorated in several different colors of roses.
Looking back into the wagon, Miguel was met with the sight of his wife gently rocking their fussing daughter in her arms, trying to calm her.
He met his grandmother's eyes, who gave him a sharp nod.
Sucking in another breath, Miguel pushed the donkey to trot further into the town.
Translation: *Idiot, grandson. Never pays attention. All he does is just talk, talk, talk.
A/N: Hello! And welcome to my first chapter of: Tactus Mortis which translates to The Touch of Death in Latin!
At first, I was going to write F/N & M/N for father's name and mother's name, but I didn't like it much, so I looked up the meaning of my own parents' name and found ones that mean the same/are similar in Spanish, so hopefully, none of you don't mind.
Also, I want it to be known that I know zero Spanish unless you count the cuss words and insults my friends teach me, so don't expect a lot, okay?
I'm just tryna do my best in creating a Camilo Madrigal fic I'd like to read because I haven't found one yet and as people say: "If there's a book that you want to read, but it hasn't been written yet, then you must write it," so without further ado, here's the book I want to read and I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it.
⌜Tactus Mortis | Chapter 02
Chapter 02 | el muerto⌟
╰ ⌞🇨🇭🇦🇵🇹🇪🇷 🇮🇳🇩🇪🇽⌝
❘ prev. chapter ❘༻✦༺❘ next chapter ❘
The Casa Madrigal was alive with joy and excitement as the youngest member of the family, Camilo, received his gift from Casita.
"I'm so proud of you, mi pequeñito," Pepa exclaimed, showering her son with kisses and tears as a small rain cloud formed over her head.
"Mamá," Camilo whined, his face flushing with embarrassment.
Unable to let go of her son, Pepa continued to smother him with affection until Camilo turned to his father for help.
"Pápa," he pouted, reaching out towards Félix for rescue.
Chuckling, Félix walked over and effortlessly lifted Camilo from Pepa's tight grip with one hand. "That's enough, mi vida. Give the boy some space," he smiled, placing Camilo back on the ground to run off and play.
Pepa's eyes welled up with tears, "If I let him go, he'll grow up and leave me," she cried, her thundercloud releasing a small boom before showering her in rainwater.
"Shoo, shoo." Félix gently coaxed the clouds away, "It's okay to feel sad, Pepa. Camilo is growing up, but that's a natural part of life."
Pepa buried her head in her husband's shoulder, pulling at the ends of her hair in frustration. "I know, but it's hard to let go."
"Take your time, mi vida. You'll feel better soon," Félix reassured her.
"I know," Pepa sighed before her eyes sparkled with a mischievous idea. "Do you want to have another child!?"
Félix was taken aback, his eyes widening comically as he choked on his own breath. Before he could respond, a tall, dark-skinned man burst into Casita with a look of worry etched on his face.
"What's wrong, José?" a blonde woman asked, stepping towards the anxious man.
"There are people coming down the trail! Someone has entered Encanto!" José exclaimed, his voice filled with urgency.
The news sparked a wave of panic throughout the house.
"It's not possible! No one can enter!"
"Do you think he made a mistake?"
"What if they're the bad people!?"
"It can't be. We haven't seen any sign of them in over forty years." A voice boomed over the commotion, silencing the crowd. "Enough!" All eyes turned to the head of the Madrigal family, Alma Madrigal, as she made her way down the steps with a commanding presence.
Alma approached José with determination, her every step exuding purpose. "Is what you said true, José?" she demanded, her tone conveying the seriousness of the situation.
"Yes, Doña Alma," he replied, his own face etched with concern.
Without hesitation, Alma called out for her third eldest grandchild. "Dolores, please come here. We need your assistance."
With footsteps as quiet as a mouse, Dolores Madrigal deftly weaved through the crowd to stand before her. Dolores needed no explanation as she tilted her head to the side, humming softly before relaying her findings. "There are four people traveling here in an old wagon pulled by a donkey. Three of them are adults, while one is a child. I believe the child is sick by the sound of coughs and snivels I'm hearing, and that one of the three adults is elderly by the sound of joints popping."
Alma thanked Dolores with a smile before turning to her eldest child and daughter, Julieta. "Julieta, please have food on standby and ensure that the guest rooms are in order."
Julieta immediately nodded and set about making the necessary preparations, but there were some in the room who were shocked by Alma's decision. "Doña Alma, you can't be serious! You're allowing strangers to come, even going as far as to offer them hospitality in Casita?" One person spoke up from the crowd, their voice filled with disbelief.
But Alma only smiled serenely in response. "Of course I am," she stated firmly, making her way toward the door. "Only one person in the outside world would know the way into Encanto." As she opened the door, the sound of a creamy wagon stopped outside the house, drawing everyone's attention.
Some of the onlookers peered curiously around Alma to get a glimpse of who had arrived. They saw a middle-aged man assisting an elderly woman out of the wagon.
"Abuela Francisca!" Alma exclaimed upon recognizing the elderly woman, who playfully smacked the man on the arm.
Francisca turned around, her face lighting up upon seeing Alma. "Alma, my little mija," she greeted warmly.
The two women met halfway, embracing each other with happy chuckles and tears of joy.
Alma's eyes widened in surprise as she met the young couple's gaze. "And who might these young ones be?"
Francisca limped over to the couple, beaming with pride. "This is my granddaughter-in-law, Jovena," she introduced, pointing a wrinkled finger at the woman. She then shifted her finger towards the man, "and my grandson, Miguel."
Alma's expression softened with fondness at the mention of Miguel's name. "Miguel?" she said with a hint of disbelief. "Do you mean he's...?"
Francisca nodded, confirming Alma's suspicion. "Yes, he's Alejandra's little boy."
Alma's heart swelled with emotion at the thought of seeing her best friend's son after so many years. She walked over to Miguel, smiling at him. "Hello, Miguel. I'm Alma. I was your mother's best friend."
Miguel's face turned stiff as he forced a smile. "I know. My abuelita has told me a lot about you," he replied, clearly holding back his emotions.
Alma could sense that something was amiss and her smile faltered slightly.
Francisca noticed Alma's expression and quickly interjected, "As much as I would love to spend time catching up, mija, we have urgent business to attend to."
Alma nodded in agreement, understanding the need for urgency. "Of course. Please bring the child inside. We've already prepared a room for her."
The couple's faces filled with shock at her words. "How did you knowㅡ"
"Ah, I see Casita has blessed your family with many more gifts," Francisca said, cutting off Jovena's question as she walked into the house. "Miguel, go get my bisnieta. The quicker she gets help, the better she'll be. I'll meet you in the room."
Nodding, Miguel went to get his daughter.
When he arrived with the still feverish 5-year-old, nearly everyone was standing outside Casita to get a peek at the strangers.
Miguel pressed his lips into a firm line, sheltering his daughter closer to his chest.
Seeing his discomfort, Alma turned towards the house, shaking her head at the many eyes staring back at her. "I'm sorry everyone, but tonight's celebration will be cut short. If you'll please, Casita, help our guests see their way out."
The house shutters gave two flaps as if saying, 'You got it' before moving the stone underneath the crowd's feet, like a treadmill, straight out towards the outskirts of the house.
Miguel and Jovena were in awe as they followed, but as they stepped forward to enter the house, Casita's doors seemingly slammed shut before opening quickly, its windows jingling as if singing a happy tune.
Miguel's brow rose at this, "Does the house always do this?"
Alma looked around at Casita's shutters, shingles, and even furniture moving about as if she were singing a song without a rhythm. "Uh, not usually," she spoke in embarrassment as the floors made flower patterns around the couple.
As the couple got ready to trek up the steps, Casita took it upon herself to turn it into an escalade the moment they stepped on.
The house's hospitality didn't stop there; once they were up the steps, Casita dropped them off directly at the room and opened the door for them.
As Jovena stepped through the door, Miguel turned around, his face still stuck in a mixture of amazement and confusion. "Um, thanks, Casita?"
The house gave one more round of noise at this, seemingly puffing up with pride.
"Jovena," Alejandra called out as Jovena was about to close the door.
"Yes, abuela?" Jovena turned to face her.
"Come, come. I want you to meet Alma's second child, Pepa. She's around your age," the old lady said, waving over toward an auburn-haired woman in a colorful sundress.
Jovena took a step forward, but Miguel shooed her away, mouthing, "Go have fun," before leaving the room.
After Jovena scurried off to converse with one of the Madrigals, Miguel fully stepped into the room and took in the decorations. Bright colors lit up the space, and funny characters were drawn all around. On the bed, several hand-stitched toys sat next to the pillows, perfect for his daughter's age.
Alma noticed his observations and spoke up as she shifted the blankets to make space for the child. "My son, Bruno, saw your arrival a few weeks ago. I made sure a room was prepared for your daughter."
Thanking her, Miguel sat the child down on the bed. "Is that so? Then why was everyone so surprised?"
"When Bruno approached me with his vision, I ensured that it was kept confidential, shared only amongst between my three children and me. I did not wish for it to become a big issue, especially since you were all arriving for something other than a celebration."
Nodding his head at her answer, Miguel bent down to tuck his daughter in. As he leaned over to adjust the edge of her blanket, a soft voice caught his attention.
"Pápa..." The little girl's voice was weak and strained.
Miguel turned to face his daughter and knelt beside her bed, gently brushing her hair from her face. "What is it, my muñequita?" he asked, his heart aching at the sight of the bags under her eyes; she was far too young to experience it.
"Pápa, it hurts..." she whined, tears streaming down her cheeks. "My chest hurts."
Miguel's heart sank as he saw the pain in his daughter's eyes. "Shh, mi amor," he whispered, wiping away her tears with his thumb. "You'll feel better soon, I promise."
Alma watched the scene unfold, her heart heavy with sadness at the sight of the little girl in pain.
Just in time, Julieta arrived with a tray holding a small cup of soup. "I'm here~" she sang softly, "I've been stuck for the past ten minutes deciding what I should make, but ultimately decided to cook up a portion of chicken noodle soup."
Miguel raised an eyebrow at the small portion. "Is that all you're going to give her?"
"Yes, she won't need much," Julieta replied, gently setting the tray in front of the child.
"You see, Julieta's gift is being able to heal with her cooking. Whenever someone is hurt or sick, all it takes is one bite for them to instantly feel better," Alma explained, seeing the incredulous look on the male's face.
Though he wanted to protest, Miguel knew the earful he'd get from his grandmother, so he stepped back, allowing her to feed his daughter the soup.
The small child ate with ravenous hunger because, for the first time in forever, she didn't immediately throw it back up.
The little girl shook her head. "My chest still hurts."
Miguel mumbled a few curses under his breath. "I knew it! Abuelita talked me into coming all this way for something that didn't even work." He stormed out of the room to find his wife and grandmother, leaving the two eldest Madrigals in the room alone with the child.
Julieta's brows furrowed in worry as she looked back at her mother. She hoped to communicate, 'I don't know why it didn't work! It usually works.' Her mother replied with a nod that said, 'I understand, mija. Don't stress yourself. There's nothing wrong with your gift, but there is something wrong with the child.'
The little girl just stared up at them, waiting for someone to say anything. When all the two women did was look at each other, she let out a small cough. "Though my chest still hurts, can I still get some more soup? My face doesn't feel hot anymore."
Julieta's eyes lit up. The child was just like her. Just as Juliet could heal others, her healing didn't work too well on herself. For instance, if she were to cut herself while cooking and eat something to heal it, instead of healing right up as it would do for anyone else, it would take a bit longer. A scab would form in the next hour, and it would completely heal up by the end of the second day. "Of course, darling, I'll go get the soup," she hummed before rushing out of the room, making sure to drag her mother behind her.
Five minutes passed, and the child continued to sit, waiting for her food.
At the sound of the door creaking open, she sat up, anticipating the arrival of the woman with her meal. But to her surprise, it was a little boy wearing a yellow ruana over a white, long-sleeved shirt, paired with black pants.
The boy was small, with a wild head of dark auburn hair that curled in several directions. As he peeked around the door, the little girl caught a glimpse of his green eyes, which sparkled with mischief.
"What are you doing?" The girl asked before coughing into her elbow.
The boy's green eyes narrowed at her, and his lips pulled down into a frown. "It's because of you!" he suddenly exclaimed, racing towards the end of the girl's bed.
"Huh?"
"You stole the attention from me! Today was supposed to be about me getting my awesome gift, and now everyone's talking about a sick little girl."
The girl frowned back at him. "I'm not little," she sniffed, "I'm five."
"So am I."
"Then how can you call me little if we're the same age?"
The boy blushed when he realized she was right. "B-Because you're shorter than me, so that makes you little!"
"How would you know? I'm lying in bed," the girl replied, giving him a skeptical look.
"I just do, okay!"
"Okay, then."
The boy narrowed his eyes at her. "You don't sound like you believe me."
"Because I don't," she replied, "My mamá told me to always agree if you think someone will try to prolong a stupid argument."
"Pro-long. What does that mean?"
"I don't know, but if my mamá said it, it must be a smart word."
"Whatever. Your mamá is wrong, because I know for a fact I'm taller than you," he said, puffing out his chest.
The girl bristled at his words. "How would youㅡ" Her sentence was cut off with a gasp as the little boy suddenly transformed into a man as tall as the door.
"See, I'm tall," the man replied, sending the girl a smirk.
"How did you do that?" the girl wondered, her eyes glittering with excitement as the man turned back into a boy.
"It's my gift," he said with a bright smile. "I can change into whoever I want."
Clapping her hands, the girl wiggled in her bed. "Oh, do me, do me!"
"Alright, calm down," the boy said, walking closer to her. "Let me see what you look like." And with that, he leaned in close to the girl's face.
He was so close that she could see the freckles scattered across his nose and cheeks, and how his hazel-green eyes held a few golden specks.
After a few more seconds of examining her face, the boy stood back, and in the blink of an eye, there stood the girl.
"Woah," she breathed in awe, watching as her own face showed the same expression.
Holding her hand up, her mirror image did the same until their hands were touching.
"So cool," she breathed out.
The boy shifted back, a proud smirk on his lips. "As it should be. I'm the Amazing Camilo! No one could ever top my powers."
Just as he finished his little introduction, a shout rang through the house. "Camilo Madrigal! Where are you!? It's past your bedtime, young man!"
The boy'sㅡCamilo's face grew one of panic. As the shouts grew nearer, he lost control and shifted into multiple people at once, resulting in funny combinations that the little girl couldn't help but giggle at.
Camilo's shifting stopped abruptly, and he gazed at her with a grin.
Suddenly, the floorboards beneath his feet began to shake, slowly carrying him toward the door.
"Casita, I don't want to go to bed," he whined, plopping down onto the floor. Still, the house continued to move him, despite his pleas.
As Camilo's body was about to leave the room, he grabbed hold of the door frame. "Hey, what's your name?"
The girl, still chuckling at his antics, finally told him, "It's ____" and with that, he was gone.
Shifting back onto the pillow as silence encased you, you could only yawn.
Just before getting there, you felt sick to the bone, unable to move.
All the times your parents and bisabuela called your name, you wanted to respond, but couldn't. But now, after eating the tasty soup, you have enough energy to talk.
Hopefully, you'll get better soon.
A/N: Bear with me ppl, just one more chapter then you'll be done with the introduction arc.
I can't help it. I just can't give a half-assed first chapter before moving on, I gotta world build in this peace 😭😭
⌜Tactus Mortis | Chapter 05
Chapter 05 | lo contrario⌟
╰ ⌞🇨🇭🇦🇵🇹🇪🇷 🇮🇳🇩🇪🇽⌝
❘ prev. chapter ❘༻✦༺❘ next chapter ❘
"ㅡI knew you were waiting for my demise to get with that Maria woman, you low-down, good for nothing bastard! The fact that you moved on before my body had even settled into the ground tells me everything I need to know! Every day you spend time going to that harlot's house instead of being at home grieving for me! I pray to my ancestors above that you fall victim to El Boraro and he rips your cojones from yourㅡ"
"And that will be all. Thank you very much, Señora Luciana. I will be sure to let Señor Mateo know of your grievances," you told the spirit before sending her away.
As soon as she was dispersed back to the other side, your body gave a tired sigh, your ears still ringing at the ungodly screeches left by the vengeful spirit. You should have known better than to accept Mateo's request; Luciana was a loud woman while living, and death surely didn't put a dent in her voice.
"So what did Luciana say? Did she say anything about me?" Mateo asked, hands holding on to the picture of his recently deceased wife with bright eyes.
You winced at his hopefully face, "Um, yes. She's happy that you aren't too distraught from her passing and wanted you to know that she loves you," you told him, lying through your teeth with a forced smile.
Mateo's shoulders sagged in both sadness and relief. "That's good. Since her death, I've been receiving crocheting lessons from Maria to pass the time," he told you with a sheepish smile, "Luciana always begged me to learn with her, and every time I told her no. Hopefully, the lessons will pay off and she will like the blanket I made for her headstone."
You felt your heart internally crack as Mateo stared down at the picture with sad eyes, gently caressing the frame; oblivious to his dead wife's sadistic wishes for his suffering.
Poor man, even beyond the grave, his wife somehow jumps to conclusions, you thought with a shake of your head. May he never die, or he'll be stuck with her shouts for an eternity, literally.
"Anyways, thank you for your help, ____. I will be sure to return for my next appointment," he told you as you held the door open for him.
Shutting the door, you slid down to the ground with a big huff.
"Tsk, tsk, tsk, what a bad medium you are, ____. Lying to your customers," a voice taunted in your ear, causing you to groan in annoyance.
"Please shut up, Sidero. I'm not in the mood," you said, looking over to the smiling spirit.
Sidero was the first spirit you met when your gift manifested at 5-years-old. After nearly falling victim to pneumonia, you were fortunately healed by Julieta's gift, but due to your near-death experience, it seemed to awaken your gift: the gift to communicate with those beyond the living.
At first, when you told others about the people you would see walking around town, they assumed you meant the townsmen until you began describing them, saying the names of those dead, and even speaking of things that happened before your time.
The town was in shock: a child that wasn't a Madrigal had received a gift?
Many, as well as the adults of Casa Madrigal, were stumped, wondering how you had such a gift when there wasn't a single door within Casita that had your name plastered across its surface.
It was then, with a heavy heart, that your mother admitted her lineage.
Apparently, long ago, the women of the Muertez line were blessed by the Goddess of Death, Santa Muerte, and given an array of abilities that were related to death.
Your mother talked of the tales of your ancestors, women who were priestesses to the deity. They used their abilities to dispel myths about death, teaching people that it wasn't the end of life, but rather a part of it.
She admitted that she didn't think you would get a gift, seeing that the lineage wasn't blessed with one in nearly six generations, the last being your great-great-great-great grandmother, Adriana Muertez, who could temporarily bring life into corpses or inanimate objects using the heart of an animal.
She also confessed to keeping it from your father because of what happened to her family. Because of the nature of the Muertezs' gifts, they were known far and wide, but then, after hundreds of years of peace, they were turned on by those they helped.
Though she didn't experience it, her mother did. She explained how her mother, your maternal grandmother, told her how she watched many of her family members get burned at the stake for witchcraft. To save her, your grandparents took your mother and ran, leaving the name Muertez behind to cover their tracks.
Eventually, everyone seemed to accept it, which greatly surprised your mother, who thought they would harm you. Alma even promised to always ensure harm would never come to you because a gift is a gift, no matter its nature, and that no child should be harmed because of it.
And soon, seeing spirits hanging around became the norm, especially for the noiret-haired teen named Sidero Patricio.
"You're never in the mood to deal with me," he whined, allowing himself to float upside down while staring you in the face with a pout.
Sidero was handsome, but not in the conventional sense. He had an appearance that would have made him stand out in the crowd if he were alive. Standing at around 5'11, Sidero was tan with two unfathomable dark-colored eyes paired with inky black hair.
Waving him off, you pushed yourself up from the floor, dusting your clothes. "Because you're always yapping away in my ear," you told him, walking around to light cleansing incense.
"Only because I care about you," the spirit argued, following close behind you much like a puppy would. "If I didn't, I would have dispersed to the other side, leaving you without me, your only friend."
An incredulous squawk escaped your body, "WhatᅳI have friends!"
"I'm sure you do, chiquita."
You couldn't help but bristle at the nickname before turning to Sidero with a raised brow, "Stop with the chiquita, okay? I'm not little anymore. Plus, if we're going to get literal, it should be the other way around with me calling you chiquito since I'm almost two years older than you."
"____, ____, ____..." Sidero sighed, setting himself on the ground. "You may be older than me physically, but I've got decades on you, chiquita," he teased, smiling over at you.
Knowing that he got you there, you waved him off once more, "Still, I don't know where you got that I don't have friends. I'll have you know, I have many friends."
"The dead don't count, and since I'm a part of that demographic... you see where I'm going with this."
You knew he was only trying to rile you up, but you couldn't help the annoyance bubbling in your chest. "Sidero Nacio Patricio, I am this close"ᅳyou held your pointer and thumb an inch apartᅳ"to banishing you to the land of the dead and not allowing you back until next week."
Instead of him apologizing like you assumed he would, Sidero just laughed as he walked over to you. "Oh~ I can't believe you went and used my full name on me, ____," he stood in front of you, gently pinching your face, "Am I in trouble?"
When his hands came into contact with your face, you couldn't help the rack of chills flowing through your body, feeling as if you were drenched in a bucket of ice water.
Stepping away from his touch, you walked away to grab your cloak. "Pah! It's impossible to threaten you when you never take me seriously."
"Of course, I don't. This is the fifth time this week you've told me that, yet when you do it, you end up summoning me back not a day later. And if I didn't know any better, that makes you seem a bit friendless~" he sang, leaning back to float on the surface of a chair, giving the illusion that he was sitting down, with a wide grin.
"Why youᅳ" Your insult was cut off by the sound of knocks at your door.
"____, it's me, Mirabel. Are you ready?"
"Yeah, I'll be out in a bit," you shouted back before turning to the Sidero. "Well, since I spend so much time with the dead, I guess I'll send you home so I can be with the living," you drawled, sending the noiret a fake-sharp glare. "See you tomorrow, Sidero."
Playfully rolling his eyes, the spirit sent you a wave. "See you next time I'm summoned, chiquita." And with that, the spirit was gone.
When you opened the door, you were met with Mirabel looking over your shoulder with a puzzled expression, trying to see who you were talking to, only to find an empty space. A look of understanding came over the teen's face. If she didn't know what your gift was, she'd have thought you were insane for talking to the air.
"Let me guess, Sidero?"
"As always," you told her, walking out of the shop, shutting the door before beginning your trek towards Casa Madrigal for dinner.
Instead of walking straight through town, the two of you took the shortcut so your conversation wouldn't be interrupted.
"I didn't see you at lunch today. What was so important that you couldn't come?"
"Ah, you know, existing."
"That bad, huh?"
"Yeah," you sighed, shoulders slumping in both regret and guilt as you recalled the shrieking voice of your last client. "It's been a hectic day today."
"It couldn't have been worse than usual," the noirette stressed, not understanding why you were more worn out than usual.
"Believe me, Mira, it was one of the worst days I've ever had."
"Try me."
"I had the Castillo's as a client today."
A wince came across Mirabel's face at the name, immediately understanding who you were talking about, "Geez, I'm so sorry. You're right. You had a pretty sucky day," she said, giving you a pity pat on your shoulder.
"Yeah."
"But hey," she spoke, a bright smile growing on her lips. "If it makes you feel any better, I asked mamá to save you a few buñuelos once I realized you weren't coming for lunch."
You swiveled around to face her, gripping her by the shoulders with sparkling eyes. "Mira, I will literally kill for you."
"No need for that, ____," she giggled as the two of you walked up towards the large mansion.
Before either of you could even think of opening the door, Casita was, as always, a step ahead.
"Thank you, Casita," you both replied to the happy house, laughing as the tiles beneath your feet created eccentric shapes and colors.
As you and Mirabel were about to turn the corner towards the dining room, Julieta came out of the kitchen with a tray of tamales in her hand.
"Mamá, let me help you with that."
"Thank you, Cosa linda," the noirette smiled as Mirabel took the tray from her.
As Mirabel was off taking the food to the dining room, Julieta turned to face you and said, "Can you help me with the remaining dishes?"
"Of course, Señora Julieta." With that, you followed the graying-noirette into the kitchen.
The fragrance of delicious food was the first thing that hit your nose when you walked in behind the healer.
Immediately, your eyes zoned onto tonight's dessert: a tray of Merengón de Fresas.
Your mouth practically watered at how delicious it looked, how juicy and sweet the strawberries, peaches, and mora looked sitting on top of the bed of fluffy whipped cream.
Seeing your distracted gaze, Julieta shook her head with a smile as she handed you a pot of arroz atollado. "So did you enjoy the buñuelos? I decided to try something new and added a pinch of cacao powder. I hope they turned out well enough."
It took a moment before you were able to register what was said to you, "Eh? I didn't get any buñuelos. Mirabel said that you saved me some because I missed lunch," you told her as you both walked out of the kitchen towards the dining room.
A puzzled expression quickly filled out on Julieta's face at your words. "I did. That's why when I saw you walking down the hall earlier, I asked if you'd want them now and you took them."
"Señora Julieta, you must be mistaken. I haven't been here since this morning. Plus, I couldn't have done that. I just came in with Mirabel."
The two of you were left in silence before looking at one another, understanding immediately filling your minds. "Camilo," you both sighed in unison.
That trickster should have been the first thing to come to mind when Julieta asked if you enjoyed the buñuelos, yet he wasn't because of your distracted nature.
You couldn't believe he'd do that to you!
Well, actually, you could, but still, he committed identity fraud to hurt you in the worst way possible: to steal your buñuelos!
Oh, the horror!
You haven't had them in weeks due to both your absence as well as Julieta's rule to make a dessert once a week, and that devil went and stole it from you.
Seeing the waves of sadness flowing off your form as you pouted over the loss of your desert, Julieta gave you a gentle nudge with her hip, "Don't be too upset, linda. If it makes you feel any better, I'll whip you up a few buñuelos and personally deliver them to you tomorrow, alright?"
Feeling a smidge better, you gave the older woman a small smile as well as a "Thank you," before walking into the dining room.
Everyone wasn't present at the moment, the only ones there helping set up being Mirabel, Agustín, Julieta, Dolores, and yourself.
Agustín was the first to notice your arrival, getting up to grab the pot out of your hands, allowing you to go over and set plates on the table with Mirabel.
After getting everything together, the others began trickling in, the only ones absent being Camilo and Alma.
"Mira, I never knew I could kill a man until Camilo came into my life," the words left your lips, eyes narrowing at the empty seat before you as you sat next to your best friend.
"Huh? What did he do?" The girl wondered, turning towards you with a puzzled face.
At her question, you couldn't help the scowl that grew on your lips. "That tramposo pretended to be me and ate the buñuelos Señora Julieta saved for me."
"Wow, really?"
"Yeah. I swear, he has it out for me. Out of everything he could have done, he had to do that."
Mirabel hummed, "I suppose, but you can't blame him. It was you who missed lunch, after all. You'd think that since you love mamá's buñuelos so much, you wouldn't miss it for the world."
"Yeah—wait, what?" You were taken back by her words; she was siding with Camilo!?
When had she ever, in your twelve years of friendship, sided with that trickster!?
Besides, she was the one who told Julieta to save you a few pastries!
"Mira, whatㅡ?" Before you could finish your question, Alma and Mirabel walked into the room.
It was at the moment that you saw her enter with the matriarch that you knew you'd been duped for the second time today.
Releasing a sigh, you turned to face 'Mirabel' only to find Camilo already staring at you with a wicked grin. "Hello, ____. I heard you had some interesting things to say about me. Care to reveal them? I'm all ears."
You wanted to scream right then and there. Why, on Santa Muerte, couldn't you realize that it was Camilo? And how come the rest of them didn't tell you it was him? They obviously knew, seeing as they showed no reaction when the real Mirabel walked in with Alma. You couldn't help but feel that they wanted you to fail and continue to be deceived by him.
"Camilo," you started with a false smile, "If you don't move, I will ask Antonio to put his animals on you again."
You both knew that it wasn't an empty threat; a couple of weeks ago, you got Antonio to put a few of his pets on Camilo due to him aggravating you, and you were pleasantly surprised to find that they knew where Camilo was no matter how he looked because his scent always stayed the same.
Camilo must have realized that you were serious because he stood up, allowing Mirabel to sit in her seat, but not without leaving with a cheeky last word. "If it makes you feel any better, they were delicious. Tía Julieta really outdone herself with that batch."
You just stayed silent, allowing your eye to twitch out your frustration as he happily whistled as he sat before you, winking before beginning to dive into the food.
"Don't let him get to you, ____. He just enjoys getting a rise out of you," Mirabel said, handing you the salad bowl.
"Yeah, yeah. I know," you muttered, fixing your plate and eating like everyone else.
Besides the usual trickery from Camilo, dinner was exquisite; you couldn't believe you willingly missed two weeks of Julieta's delicious food just because of work; never again.
As everyone was finishing up, Alma stood up to give the evening family meeting.
"As we all know, Día de Muertos will be arriving in less than a few weeks, so we have much to prepare." Her voice was soft yet strict, easily capturing the attention of everyone at the table. "And since the celebration allows our deceased loved ones to come back to visit us, I believe it would be best if you, ____, took control and plan the ceremony this year."
Your eyes bulged out of your skull, choking on your water in surprise at her words. "W-What? Me?"
"Yes, cariño, you."
"B-But shouldn't it be planned by you, Doña Alma? You've done it for so long."
Don't get it wrong, you were honored to be chosen to be in charge of something that suited your gift, but she wanted the entire ceremony to be planned by you!?
"Yes, but seeing as what your gift entails, I, as well as many others, agree that you are perfect for the task. Unless, of course, you feel that you aren't ready?"
She was right; it's only natural that someone of your lineage is in charge of an event related to spirits crossing over to the living and visiting loved ones.
Hosting such a big event like this reminds you of the stories your mother would tell you; stories depicting the ceremonies the women of your family bestowed on the people around them, allowing them the opportunity to showcase their gifts from your goddess.
"No...I would like to do it," you said, looking up to make eye contact with the matriarch.
A grandmotherly smile filled out Alma's face. "Well, in that case, it is settled. ____ will be in charge of planning the upcoming celebration. Let's make it everyone's priority to assist her with whatever she needs. La Familia Madrigal!"
"La Familia Madrigal!" And with that, dinner was dismissed.
A/N: I didn't necessarily know where to end the chapter, so please forgive the need for dragging it on. I hope you enjoyed the extra info I dumped on you all regarding Y/Ma's family history, as well as my OC!
I've also been getting messages about when I'll update, and I'm sorry to say that I'm unsure. I try writing whenever I can but it isn't always guaranteed every three days due to school and tons of work. So I'll try to update often, but I can't be too sure; hope you all understand.
"Please! Please, take me to my children!" A wail screeched into your ears.
Following the sound, you found yourself standing behind a veiled, black-haired, woman kneeling next to the riverbed, the white dress on her body flayed out around her form.
You took a step forward, worry etched into your face as you watched her continue to cry, "Are you okay? Do you need help?" Your words seemingly never reached her ears because the closer you got, the louder they grew.
"My children! Where are my children!?"
You were close enough that you were able to see that the woman was drenched in water; the droplets clinging tightly to her noiret locks, making them seem stringy as the white dress stuck onto her frame like a second skin.
Before your hand could touch her shoulder, she swiveled around, her mouth falling open at an unnatural angle, with blood flowing from her eyes.
Taking a step back and turning around, you prepared yourself to run away, fear coursing through your veins, but in a blink of an eye, the veiled woman stood before you, head bowed.
"My children?" her voice was hoarse, body swaying side to side. "Do you have my children?" With that, she lunged towards you, hands grasping your neckᅳ
You woke up in a cold sweat, your hands snapping up towards your neck.
A dream, you thought. It was just a dream.
Dropping your hand, you let out a tired sigh, your mind unable to get rid of the sound of the wailing woman from your dream.
Looking over at the clock sitting on your bedside table, your eyes stare indifferently at the time: 6 in the morning. Knowing that you wouldn't be able to get back to sleep, you decided to get up and officially start your day, even if it was a bit earlier than usual.
After going through your morning rituals of cleaning up your sleeping area, getting dressed, and saying your prayers, you were ready to go. Tying your cloak around your neck, hood drawn, you made your way towards the Casa Madrigal.
There were only a few people scattered around by the time you arrived in town, most already beginning their work for the day. Just as you were about to cross the path, a familiar build was seen in your peripheral vision.
"Luisa!" You called, watching as the buff girl carried several donkeys on her shoulders as if they weighed nothing. Turning at the sound of her name, Luisa sent you a smile as she dropped the animals into their pen.
"Good morning, ____," the brunette smiled, dusting off her hands as she shut the gate before any of the donkeys could escape. "I haven't seen you in a while. Where've you been?"
A sheepish chuckle left you at her truthful statement: you haven't been to see the Madrigals in nearly two weeks. "Sorry about that. I didn't mean to go off the grid. I've just been so overwhelmed with work."
Luisa nodded her head in understanding. "I get it, no need to explain yourself," she told you, giving you a pat on the shoulder. "Just don't work yourself too hard; take time to relax once in a while, alright?"
"Okay, I'll try not to overwork myself." If anyone knew how strenuous it was to keep up with the ever-growing tasks in Encanto, it's Luisa.
"Well, since I'm done here, you want to head over with me? I'm sure Mirabel is up."
You nodded your head, and with that, the two of you were off towards the large and magical home of the Madrigals.
☆
☆
After arriving with Luisa, you were immediately whisked away by Casita before you could even begin your search for your best friend; the house being excited about your return.
The first thing Casita did was drop you off at your old room, opening the closet, showcasing numerous outfits inside. You knew you didn't have the best fashion sense, but you couldn't help but feel wounded that a house practically called you out on it.
Though instead of denying her, you went ahead and humored the house by picking out an outfit.
Now, dressed in a long burgundy skirt matched with a white off-the-shoulder Campesina shirt, you left your old room with your first objective in mind: to find Mirabel.
You were well on your way towards her room, only to run into Pepa. The energetic redhead practically ran you over as she gave you a bone-crushing hug, leaving you speechless as she both coddled and berated you for your absence.
After finally escaping her clutches, she asked you to do the impossible task whilst she helped set breakfast up: find Antonio and bring him down to eat.
You couldn't find it within yourself to say no to the woman unless you wanted to get rained on, so you agreed to do so.
And that was how you found yourself currently scouring through the large jungle that made up the youngest Madrigal's room.
"Toño~" you sang as you pushed green trees, searching for the little boy. "Come on, come out, wherever you are."
The jungle you trudged through was filled with animals and insects, surrounding you in a symphony of various hums, chirps, and buzzes.
Just as you were about to backtrack your steps to the treetop/treehouse, the faint sound of a twig snapping rang out from a bush to the left of you.
Gotcha.
Smiling, you began to talk out loud. "Now, who might that be?"
Giggles were heard from behind the bush as you made a show of looking under leaves and sticks. "I wonder where this mysterious person is." The closer you got to the bushes, the more uncontrollable to giggles got.
"I wonder if they're under..." Your fingers held on to the edge of one of the gigantic leaves, "...Here!" And with that, you yanked back the leaf only to reveal Antonio.
"You found me!" the dark-skinned 7-year-old boy shouted, jumping up from his crouched position, raising both arms into the air.
Smiling, you bent down to ruffle up his hair, "Good morning, Toño."
"Good morning, ____," he replied, fixing his long-sleeved, yellow and light orange striped shirt.
After helping fix his red scarf, you stood back up. "Alright, you little alborotador, let's hurry up and get to breakfast before Camilo eats up all of the arepas." And with that, the two of you traveled through his and out of his room towards the dining room.
"Good morning, everyone," you said, the aroma of delicious food wafting through the air as everyone ate their fill.
Everyone replied back with smiles of their own, some even with a chuckle as they watched you enter, with Antonio swinging your hand back and forth whilst singing a happy tune. You couldn't help the warmth that filled your chest as you watched the little boy; unable to keep yourself from reaching down to pinch his cheeks.
"Camilo!" Alma's voice brought out of your affectionate gesture, "Why are you messing with ____? You were supposed to have been here earlier to help set the table."
You were confused by her words. "Camiloᅳ?" Your question trailed off as your eyes landed on Antonio, sitting by his father, feeding one of his toucans a piece of fruit.
The little boy was quick to look over at the sound of your name, eyes sparkling in happiness, "Good morning, ____! I came straight down to breakfast on time, remembering how you told me that big boys must be responsible!"
You were speechless, your eyes bouncing back and forth from Antonio holding your hand and from Antonio sitting at the table.
"Camilo," the warning tone came from Alma as she watched the confusion continue to grow on your face.
The once smiling child could only pout before letting out a "Fine, abuelita, I'll stop," before shapeshifting into the bane of your existence; the hand growing from a small childs' to that of young adults that easily engulfed your own.
"Good morning, ____. It was nice of you to seek me out and bring me to breakfast~" Camilo sang, his half-lidded, green eyes sparkling in mischief as he watched your once confused face turn into one of horror.
Dropping Camilo's hand as if you had touched fire, you quickly headed over to the table, plopping yourself down next to a giggling Mirabel before vigorously wiping your hand on your skirt.
"Camilo, why do you always play tricks on ____?" Pepa asked, watching as you pouted at your plate of food.
"I can't help it, mamá. She's the only one that falls for it," the boy laughed as he set himself across from you, stuffing an arepa into his mouth.
Your face heated up at the auburnet's words; he didn't lie at all. Just last week, he was able to dupe you, coming to your house as Bruno and convincing you that he had a prophecy of your future filled with nothing but bad luck if you saw your reflection.
It was so bad that you had your face covered in a veil to avoid seeing yourself in anything that would reflect your face.
"Still doesn't mean it's funny," you grumbled as you stuffed a strawberry into your mouth.
Camilo's grin grew into a smirk as he leaned his arm on the table, propping his chin in the palm of his hand. "Yet here you are, continuing to fall for it. That's pretty hilarious if I do say so myself."
You opened your mouth to respond, your eyes narrowing on his form, only to be cut off by Alma.
"Family, before we begin this day, I must remind you all not to take our miracles for granted and to work to the best of your abilities," the elderly woman said, her back straight as she looked back at the diverse family in front of her. "The second thing I would like to say is to our pseudo-family member, ____."
You blinked owlishly at her, uncertain of what caused this.
"I would just like to say that I, as well as many of us here, have noticed your absence from family breakfast and dinner."
You felt your shoulders hunch up in shame, staring down at your plate.
"And for that, I am sorry." Your eyes quickly snapped up to the matriarchy's form only to see a soft smile on her face. "If I'd known you were so stressed I would not have pushed so many appointments on you, cariño. So from this day on, you will have no more than five a day. This will not only give you enough time to recuperate but also time for yourself."
How did she know that I was overwhelmed from all the appointments, you thought to yourself. I never told anyone butᅳ
Your thought is immediately cut off, your eyes moving over to Luisa only to find her already smiling at you with a wink, throwing up an okay sign.
Shoulders falling, you turn back to Alma, a bright smile on your face. "Thank you, Doña Alma."
Light chuckles left Alma's lips at your words, "No need to thank me, cariño. Your health comes before anything else. So, please be sure to come to me if anything becomes too much. This goes not only for ____, but the rest of you as well," she finished, turning towards the rest of her family. "Now, with that out of the way, let's make today a profitable day. La Familia Madrigal!"
"La Familia Madrigal!" Everyone, including yourself, said it in the chorus before finishing up breakfast and leaving to start on your job for the day.
A/N: Hello, everyone! Hope you enjoyed this chapter; I'm slowly but surely am introducing Y/N's gift (though you know it from the description) in a way that just doesn't dump it on you in the first chapter.
This also allows me to build on how she got it as well as her parents and bisabuela (i didn't forget them, I got a plan for the angst muwahahah).
Also, thank you for being patient. It wasn't easy going to my aunt's funeral and I'm happy that you all understood and didn't rush me to update, so hope the Camilo interaction suffixed. See you all next time~
p.S - Did y'all peep who the first part of the chapter was on??? I made it pretty easy to guess tho, hahah.
As you find yourself at the heart of the ceremony, a sudden, inexplicable force bursts forth from within you, casting Camilo, your father, and the onlooking Madrigals away as if they were mere leaves caught in a fierce wind.
Their bodies are flung backward, expressions etched with a mix of utter shock and deep fear, as they struggle to comprehend the unseen power that has just torn through the fabric of reality.
In the midst of this chaos, your form begins a slow, eerily graceful ascent, rising above the cobblestones of the town square. Arms extend outward, your posture mirroring a figure of crucifixion, head lolling backward in a silent plea to the heavens.
Your eyes, now glowing a deep, menacing red, fixate on the darkened sky above, a silent witness to the storm that rages not just outside, but within.
Around you, the rain intensifies, each drop a torrential downpour that seeks to drown the world in its sorrow. Yet, remarkably, not a single droplet touches you; they veer away at the last moment, repelled by an unseen shield that encircles your levitating form.
This bubble of dryness amidst the deluge becomes a symbol of your isolation, the physical manifestation of the barrier that now separates you from everything you hold dear.
From below, your father's voice cuts through the storm's cacophony, desperate and laden with an agony that mirrors the tumult in your own soul. "Muñequita, please!" he cries, his plea a beacon of love in the overwhelming darkness.
But it's as if you're in another world entirely, his words unable to bridge the distance that this unseen force has created.
Inside, trapped within the confines of your own mind, you're a spectator to your own body's betrayal, screaming for release, for any semblance of control.
Yet, your cries echo back, unanswered, in this prison of darkness until a chillingly familiar voice whispers, offering no comfort, only resignation. "There's no use. You might as well give up."
Turning, you're met with Sidero's visage, a ghostly figure who had once been a source of comfort, now the architect of your despair. Relief at the sight of him quickly morphs into confusion and then horror as you realize what he meant.
"Sidero," you start, voice trembling with a mix of betrayal and disbelief, "why?"
He looks at you, his expression a complex tapestry of sorrow and resolve. "I suppose it's time you knew the truth," he begins, his voice echoing strangely in the confines of your internal prison.
The space around you shifts, colors and shapes melding into scenes from a past not your own. You watch, helpless, as Sidero narrates the tale of his life—and his death. "I was just a boy, no older than you are now," he says, the scenery changing to show a vibrant town, its life snuffed out by disease. "My family, my friends... I watched them fall, one by one, to an illness we had no means to fight."
You see him there, a young boy with eyes too old for his face, the specter of death looming over his town. "Encanto was a mere legend to us, a whispered fairy tale of magic and miracles. But when I passed, and I saw it... saw them," he continues, the vision morphing to show the Madrigals in all their vibrant glory, "I realized the truth."
The bitterness in his voice is palpable as he recounts how he latched onto you, a lifeline to the physical world, during a moment of your own vulnerability. "You were so close to death, so close to joining me in the void. But you lived. And through you, I saw my chance for... justice."
The word hangs heavy between you, a condemnation of the Madrigals' perceived selfishness. "They had the power to heal, to save, but they chose to hide away. My family, my town, we could have been saved. But we were left to suffer, to die, because they wouldn't leave their precious Encanto."
The visions Sidero conjures are vivid, heart-wrenching—images of suffering and despair outside the magical borders of Encanto, a stark contrast to the peace and prosperity within. "And so, I made you my vessel, a bridge between the living and the dead. Through you, I'd bring them to their knees, make them see the cost of their isolation."
As the last of his words fade, the visions dissolve, leaving you back in the dark recesses of your own mind, facing the ghost who had been your friend, your confidant.
Now, he stands revealed as the architect of your torment, a spirit consumed by vengeance and a twisted sense of justice.
"Sidero, how could you?" The question is a whisper, a reflection of the hurt and betrayal that courses through you. His plan, his hatred for the Madrigals, has turned your gift into a curse, made you the unwitting perpetrator of his revenge.
As Siderio's scowl fades, replaced by a look of what might be construed as regret, he steps closer, his movements slow, almost hesitant. "If there was another way, I'd do it," he murmurs, his voice a stark contrast to the cold anger that had filled the space between you moments before. He reaches out, his hand coming to rest gently against your cheek, a gesture that once would have offered solace now only serves to heighten the sense of betrayal coiling within you.
You instinctively turn away, repelled by the touch that now feels like a violation. His hand falls away, and a huff of frustration escapes him. "You'll understand sooner or later," he insists, the softness giving way once more to bitterness. "Those Madrigals are selfish, caring for nothing but themselves." His frown deepens, the scowl returning as his eyes begin to glow an ominous red, mirroring the storm of emotions raging within him.
His rant escalates, anger and resentment fueling his words until they are a venomous tirade against the Madrigals. "They deserve to pay for their crimes," he declares, the intensity of his fury sealing you away, leaving you a silent witness to his full possession of your body.
In the heart of Encanto's town square, with the Madrigals and townsfolk gathered in a tense circle, the atmosphere thickens with anticipation.
Your body becomes a conduit for Siderio's fury; his voice, emanating from you, is laced with venom, each word a dagger aimed at the heart of the Madrigal family.
"People of Encanto," Siderio begins, his tone dripping with disdain, "you stand here, blind to the selfishness that festers within the walls of that magical house." The crowd shifts uneasily, the air charged with a growing sense of unease.
"For years," he continues, "the Madrigals have hoarded their gifts, basking in your adoration while just beyond these walls, people suffer, people die—abandoned and forgotten." Murmurs ripple through the assembly, faces turning towards the Madrigals, seeking denial, seeking reassurance.
"Alma Madrigal," Siderio's voice booms, "patriarch of this so-called blessed family. Tell them, tell them about the families that could have been saved, the lives that could have been spared if only you had stepped beyond your precious boundaries."
The accusation hits like a physical blow, and Alma stands, her posture that of a leader, yet the sorrow in her eyes speaks volumes. "We did what we thought was best to protect our own," she starts, her voice barely above a whisper as she attempts to explain, to justify. "The world beyond our home is fraught with danger. We couldn't risk exposing our family, our children, to that—"
"Protect your own? Excuses!" he scoffs, his voice growing bitter, as he recounts the loss of his own family, the helplessness and despair that marked his final moments. "My family... we could have been saved. But you chose to keep your gifts to yourselves, hoarding your miracles while the rest of us perished. What of the children who starved, while your tables overflowed with food? Your gifts, a beacon of hope you chose to extinguish for those not fortunate enough to be born within your enchanted borders."
Gasps and murmurs swell in the crowd, the image of the Madrigals as protectors and heroes cracking under the weight of Siderio's words.
Children cling to their parents, their eyes wide with fear and confusion, while the younger Madrigals, those who had grown under the shelter of innocence and pride, look to Alma, their foundation, now questioned.
"You speak of danger beyond the walls, but the true danger lies in your greed, in your refusal to share your miracles," Siderio rages on, his anger palpable. "While you chose to watch from your walls, people died. Families were torn apart. And for that, you shall all pay."
The declaration, a curse spoken through tears and centuries of pent-up bitterness, leaves the square in stunned silence. Alma, the matriarch, the symbol of the Madrigal legacy, stands diminished, her struggle to defend her family's choices laid bare before those she sought to protect and those she inadvertently harmed.
