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Chapter Text

The first time was when she was 8.

She didn't even remember why she wanted to. Maybe to feel something different?

Her abuela was mad at her enough, so why wasn't her mamá doing anything about it? 
Maybe she was supposed to hurt. More physically than she was inside? Maybe she was broken that way too. Feeling her pain inside rather than out.

It started with bruising. Didn't matter what it was, punching, purposefully running into things, starting fights, pinching, biting, falling.

It didn't really matter how. She just needed to see the blossoming purples and blues. maybe then she wouldn't be so broken?
It didn't feel quite right but if it made her abuela not mad anymore, maybe it would do.

She didn't do it often, just a little here and there.

It lasted for about a year or two, odd bruises here or there.

Until her abuela mentioned how clumsy she was and how she needed to be watched when doing chores, less she gets hurt and distract everyone more than she has. 

Her abuela stopped asking if she was alright after that. She stopped checking in. She continued to be mad.

So, the bruising turned to odd scrapes and scratches.
She wasn't even doing it to make her abuela happy anymore.

She just didn't ask for help when she needed it. She was underfoot and the village needed the healing food more.

She scratched absentmindedly. Just itching at the back of her arm when nervous or tense.
She itched throughout the day, to the point where blood sometimes was brought to the surface and made it red and blotchy.

Her mamá worried at that. Made her eat to heal it. Hoping it wasn't an illness. 
It got worse as more time went on, her scratching more insistent until her sister Isabela caught on and said something to their mamá.

She had to wear mittens for weeks. She broke the habit eventually. 
She didn't want to hurt. She just thought that she didn't need healing as much as everyone else.

She was Giftless and the villagers were important to the familia so the familia was more entitled to her mother's healing. That is until her mother would basically force feed her.

It only started to get worse when her cousin was inching closer to getting his Ceremony. She didn't blame him, not at all. She was scared for him if anything. 

She didn't know if he would be deprived of the miracle, just as she was. 

No.

He couldn't.

That was when it turned bitter. A sour taste on her tongue. The self-infliction became a punishment. A true hatred.

She suddenly saw herself as the villain. The cause. A plague. 

So, she took to her skin. Whatever she could find that didn't raise suspicion. Her thighs and upper torso were suddenly alight with marks. Burns, cuts, bruises, whatever would last. 

It had to leave a mark. 

She had to be reminded of her mistake. The mistake of not receiving her Gift.

She must've done something wrong, right?

She was caught once by Antonio. It was after dinner, which she skipped. As she has been for the past week leading up to his Ceremony.

He had walked in on her in the act. Halfway through the room before he noticed. 

His face was wild with confusion, her thigh covered in her own blood. He panicked and almost ran to get his mamá but Mirabel wrapped her arms around him before he could reach the door.

Her heart was pounding, panic racing through her veins. Her hands shook though they were tucked around her cousin. 

"It's alright Antonio, you don't need to get help. It looks worse than it is." He had looked at her with doubt clearly not believing her.

Mirabel sighed, "Would you like for me to go find my mamá to heal it? Will you go to bed then?" She was scared, she couldn't be caught now. He couldn't tell anyone. Not now.

She couldn't ruin his ceremony before it even started. Her familia would never forgive her. She would never forgive her.

After a beat or two he relented and nodded.

Relief. 

But also, a weight dropped upon her shoulders. She wouldn't go to her mamá. She lied to him. A shudder rattled her frame. 

No, she couldn't cry. Not here.

It was already a problem that she made so much noise. Dolores could have heard this whole thing. Hopefully she was too busy listening for other things. 

Chapter Text

Guilt is a beast when it is brought upon by yourself.

No one to counteract it when it gets out of hand. 

She lied to him. She hated lying to her little cousin. He is the closest family member she has. 

He sees her. He includes her. He asks for her help. Because up until his Ceremony neither of them has a Gift. 

She wasn't going to her mamá for any help. She couldn't risk being asked why she needed to be healed as she didn't trust her ability to lie consistently enough. 

The guilt was enough to make her skin itch. Nails aggravated her already marred thighs through course cloth. She hated the feeling but the only way to get the itch to leave was to find it deep in her skin. She couldn't so soon after Antonio caught her. 

So, she walked the corridors, past the kitchen and towards the front doors. 

Her mind drifted back to how scared her little cousin was when he saw her leg. 

*Was it really that bad?* 

She hadn't really thought about how bad it was. It just always was. And the gradual increase of severity was completely unnoticed by her. 

When did the spilling of her own blood become normal?

She was about to cross the threshold of Casita, with the intention of escaping to the fields to get some air away from the family, when a soft voice spoke.

"Tía Julieta isn't in town tonight, Mirabel. You'll find her in the kitchen cleaning up." 

Her heart sank like a stone. Delores did hear. Of course she did, estúpida. She hears everything.

"Antonio thought it was much worse than it was. I don't need any help." She tosses over her shoulder hoping it would be enough to brush her cousin off. She knew it wouldn't, not really but she wasn't going to stay to argue. She could feel her marks now. It was a dull ache and her dress aggravated them, making her teeth clench.  

The crawling returned, more fevered now. She clenched her hands to stop the shaking. Nails bit into her palms as she stepped out of Casita and into the cool night air.

When describing the itch, it isn't like that surface feeling. Like when you have a tag against your neck from your shirt. Or an uncomfortable texture like a knitted sweater. No, this itch was below the surface. It crawled through her veins, a silent call.  The itch was persistent, and no amount of scratching would be enough. She could feel it if she thought about it. It lived in her flesh and inched through her blood. It made her want to hurt. To watch the crimson flow in tiny beads. Dripping from the wound in stark contrast to her skin. Sometimes it stains her clothes, but she is quick to clean it or cover it with her embroidery. It made her feel better to release it weirdly enough. She'd breathe easier and her thoughts didn't plague her as much.

But some itches didn't stop with a cut or a burn. Not just one anyway. Sometimes it took several. Sometimes the thoughts would reignite the itch and she'd feel it everywhere.

The itching gets so bad that sometimes she has to overlap her cuts with burns to get any reprieve. And sometimes she'd almost mark where it could be seen. A wrist. Shoulder. Maybe even her neck? 

It didn't really matter where, but the temptation to put it where it can be seen was too much.

*Would they even notice though? and if they did, would they even care?* 

That thought hurt. Ever since abuela stopped caring so did everyone else. She just became the family screwup. Always hurt and always in the way. 

*They wouldn't care. If anything, they'd probably not even miss you.*

Her breathing was getting deeper, more ragged. 

*They'd probably throw a party*

Hot tears blurred her vision, the itching unbearable. It ate at her bones. Like insects chewing at the scraps they threw for the stray dogs.

*The nursery would finally be open for anybody else*

Frustration burned through her chest, and she decided that yes, she'd do it. She picked the spot. Just at the base of her forearm. Two would be all she needed. One would be passed off as an accident. Two parallel to each other? A dead giveaway. 

She sat by her favorite tree and pulled her bag onto her lap. She always had her items on her. She couldn't trust Antonio not to find them.

She prepared her item of choice. A small, decorated knife, no bigger than her index finger. 

She propped her elbow on her knee, her shoulders tense, and as she began to make the first cut, her heart nearly stopped with a realization.

She could feel eyes on her. 

She couldn't move. She refused to move. Like if she didn't move whoever saw her would leave. 

A twig snapped and she jolted. She couldn't risk it. Not now. How *stupid* could she be?

"Mirabel!" Flinching again at that voice she recognized too well. After all she and her sister yelled at each other enough. But what was different was that this was not a shout of anger but of worry and panic.

Isabela saw it all and she knew. And she was holding her hands up in a calming gesture. As if she were a scared animal. 

It didn't make sense. Why did she sound so worried? The sound was so foreign from the yelling she normally heard from her sister, and it scared her. Mirabel didn't know what to do. She couldn't move. She could barely breathe.

When did Isabela get closer? Why was everything blurry?

Why was everything moving so slowly?

Was she spinning? No, that tree was staying put. 

She glanced down.

Oh. 

The knife had gone too far.

Damn it all.

Chapter Text

When Dolores mentioned Mirabel's weird behavior, Isabela chalked it up to what she believed to be attention seeking normalcy from her younger sibling. 

So, when their mama told her to retrieve Mirabel to help clean up from dinner she was annoyed. 

Why didn't Mirabel come to dinner? Was it to push oof her duties onto everyone else?

The answer was worse than what she could imagine.

Finding her sister with a knife to her arm and with a look that scared Isabela to her core was beyond what she thought was even possible.

"Mirabel!" She had shouted. She didn't know how to respond but that had been a mistake. The knife had gone deeper than intended but Mirabel didn't seem to notice as she had her eyes on Isabela.

It was a stalemate. A scared older sister seen as an aggressor catching a scared younger sibling seen as the screwup. 

When Isabela started to move closer hoping not to scare her sister again, she could see the panic racing across her eyes. Mirabel's chest was heaving as if she couldn't get air, not correctly. Isabela was scared, that was true but how scared was Mira? 

She reached her sister and was about to try to grab the knife when her sister looked down at herself and it was like you could see the realization sink in. It was too deep, and she needed help. Blood was starting to stain her skirt.

Mirabel suddenly looked so small like this; Isabela had thought. How long had this been happening?

But it was like a flip switched in Mirabel when her eldest sister closed her hand around the knife. She ripped her hand away from Isabela, she scrambled to her feet and looked wild with fear. Isabela didn't know what to do. But before she could really do anything, Mirabel turned.

And ran.

And Isabela stood frozen, unable to decide between getting help or chasing after her sister.

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She was never supposed to see. She was never supposed to know. 

She was going to tell everyone. She was going to give away everything.

Mirabel was running faster than she thought were possible under the circumstances. 

She wasn't paying much attention to what was happening or where she was going. She just knew she needed to leave.

She knew running was not her best option but what else could she do?

All Isabela knew was how to degrade her. Make her feel less. She was the *last* person she wanted to know about her habit.

Everything was falling apart, and Mirabel was scared. What was going to happen to her? How would she blow this off? 

She couldn't. Not now.

How could she be so stupid? She knew it was too soon. She even told herself she had to wait. 

She just had to try to get someone's attention, and she got it. The worst kind. 

Her legs were tired when she finally slowed down enough to see where she was. 

Looking around she realized she could see Casita from here. She wasn't too far but it was far enough that the family would have a harder time finding her if she stayed quiet so Delores couldn't hear her. Well, to delay Delores finding her. She knew her cousin had fine-tuned her hearing over the years to pin-point sounds from hundreds of feet away. 

The blood loss was catching up with her though and so was the adrenaline. Her body felt so weak. All she wanted to do was sleep. 

Surely, a small nap wouldn't hurt? She could just close her eyes for a bit. 

Yeah.

Ripping of a patch of her dress, she wrapped her arm the best she could. Sitting down, she realized she hadn't eaten. 

Glancing around she spotted a bush full of berries.

She couldn't remember if this was the part of the forest she needed to avoid as it had poisonous berries but when she thought about it, wouldn't this be perfect?

Her problems would be solved if these were poisonous. And if they weren't then she'd be up in a bit to properly hide. So, either way, she'd has her answer. 

Right?

Grabbing a handful, she brought them to her lips. 

As they passed her teeth and down her throat, she hoped that they would kill her. 

Chapter Text

Isabela had to fight to keep her tears down as she as she went to find Dolores.

How could she just let Mirabel run away like that? Why was she doing that? 

Everything she thought about her sister was suddenly cast into a darker light. How did she get this far?

Another wave of fear and anxiety crashed over her, and she struggled to hold her facade. 

Dolores might be in her room by now, Isabela hoped. 

She cursed the soundproofing but understood why as her cousin needed to be able to get away from the noises. To be able to hear the heartbeats of everyone in the room can be overwhelming to say the least. 

Making her way up the stairs, she tried to keep her stride tall and calm. 

She couldn't freak out her family now. Dolores wasn't the best at keeping secrets but if she wanted any chance of finding Mirabel, she needed her cousins hearing.

She faced her cousin's door now, suddenly unsure how to brooch this subject. How do you tell your cousin that you just caught your sister cutting into their arm and you just let them run away and now you need your cousins super hearing to find the sister you let run away?

Biting her lip and taking a deep breath, she knocked on Dolores' door. 

And waited.

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Mirabel waited. 

Were the berries supposed to take this long? 

Frustration growing in her chest she punched the ground. The ground was soft and damp, most likely from her Tia Pepa's rains. It was rare that they got natural rain here.

The berries should have killed her, right? She had the intent to die, and it didn't work.

Even this she couldn't get right. Death even evaded her attempts as much as her family evaded her quiet pleas for even an ounce of care. 

She messed everything up. She got caught and now she couldn't even finish what she started. 

It got her thinking though; did she want to die? Or did she just want her family to care? 

It was a difficult thought. What did she want? 

Could she even imagine her family caring? Have they always cared? if not, did she want them to suddenly care? 

Did she want to die? Or did she just want these feelings to stop?

Did it even help to mark herself as she did? 

She didn't have any answers. 

She didn't know what to do but cry. So, she did just that, or she tried until she heard rustling.

Was it Isabela? Did she find her already?

"Mirabel?" Dolores? 

"Mirabel!" and Isabela? 

"Thank heavens!" Why did they sound so relieved? 

Isabela looked like she had been crying, why? 

Dolores looked strained, guilty even. 

Mirabel didn't understand, they weren't angry? She watched as Isabela tentatively step towards her. 

"Are you okay?" 

That's weird, why does her voice sound so distant?

Mirabel was going to answer but her throat was dry, and it she couldn't make a sound. She tried to reach for her throat, but her arms were so heavy. 

Why was moving so hard? 

She remembers turning her gaze toward the berries before it all went black.

Chapter Text

When Isabela knocked on Dolores' door, she immediately had second thoughts. What the hell was she supposed to say?

'Oh, my sister is bleeding profusely, and I accidentally caused it and now she is somewhere in the forest because I didn't grab her in time?'

or how about; 'My sister is severely depressed; we didn't see it. Well, maybe we did and chose to be ignorant and now she is potentially bleeding out from a cut she put in her arm that I accidentally caused that I couldn't stop because I spooked her and now, she is running through the forest, and I don't know where she is. What do I do?' 

Maybe she needed to think through what she was going to say before talking with Dolores. Yeah. 

Her door opened.

'Or not'

"Uh, hey? Um, I need your help." Isabela had no clue what she was doing. 

The look on Dolores' face didn't help. She looked like she was just woken up from the only sleep she's had in weeks. Probably true, Dolores has spoken about hearing... very unpleasant things before and nightmares have plagued her since.

"What could you possibly need my help for?" Great, now what?

Isabela wasn't sure how to word it, the words jumbled in her head when she was stressed and despite her insistence, she be perfect, there were times she could not form a sentence to save her life.

"Mirabel is hurt?" Great. Even better.

Although that seemed to get Dolores' attention and she became very serious much faster than she thought her nosey cousin was capable of. Jokes ran in their side of the family much stronger than hers. 

Reaching into her room she grabbed her satchel and was ready before Isabela had time to really comprehend what was going on.

"She ran, didn't she?" She knew? What do you mean Dolores knew? 

Her question was apparently evident on her face as Dolores smiled a solemn smile and simply put, "Some things are too sensitive to tell with this family. Even I know that."

Oh.

It gave her a lot to think about really. What topics were going to be okay to talk about in her familia?

Would she be able to even bring up what was going on to anyone without it being taken the wrong way? Would they just make it worse by telling? 

Were they even the ones who should be finding Mirabel? 

When she thought about it, who was able to handle this situation?

Tia Pepa would scare Mirable more with her flaring temper and thundering clouds.

Mamá was too stressed to handle this. Mirabel wouldn't want to worsen it. We needed her calm.

Abuela was out of the question. She was likely the cause of this, much like everyone's stress here. 

Agustín was probably preferred, and he means well, but we couldn't risk him getting hurt when Mirabel needed someone. 

Luisa was busy enough as it was, she didn't need another heavy load to bear. 

Félix might help but he has his hands full with Antonio and Camilo. 

Camilo was only 15 and he didn't need to know just yet that his cousin was hurting like this.

Antonio wouldn't understand just yet. He was only 4. Almost 5. 

He was turning 5. The ceremony. 

Oh.

Oh. 

Isabela stopped in her tracks, Dolores stopping not long after her. Probably noticing her rise in heartbeat. 

"Dolores how could we be so stupid? The ceremony. She- of course, it would set her off." 

It was piecing together, and she didn't like how they fell into place. 

"The injuries? That couldn't have been coincidental."

How long had she been doing this? Why? Was it us? 

Dolores rested her hand on her cheek, tilting Isabela's head up to meet her gaze.

"We ignored her. She was cast aside, and we didn't do anything to stop it. I know."

How was she so blunt about this? 

Tears blurred her vision and anger boiled in her blood, but instead of bursting she found herself. She would help her sister. She needed her, even if she had to fight to save her.

but Mamá needed to know, or at least to expect some trouble. 

Running past Dolores and over the railing, vines assisting her decent, she made her way to the kitchen. 

Breaching the entrance, she adopted a demeanor of grace. Severely contradicting how she felt if her hands were anything to go by.

Grabbing anything would be a nightmare as of yet, so she settled for making a rose bouquet.

"Mamá! Can you tell me how this looks? I was hoping to try something new for Antonio's Ceremony." 

As she made it to her Mamá's side, as calmly as she could she whisper, "I am sorry Mamá but please keep quiet."

"Of course, Don't want to spoil the surprise?" Her mama jested.

"What? No. I-" This did work the way she wanted. "It's Mirabel." She tried again. "She's-" A breath.

She hugged her mother tight, tears overflowing, and her throat nearly choking her, she whispered "She's hurt and it's not completely something we can just heal but please keep quiet, no one else can know yet. I already scared her off, and she needs our help. I- I think she might try to kill herself." 

She could feel her mother's hands grip her sides painfully. Her whole body ridged. 

"Please mama, keep it as quiet as you can. Abuela cannot know. Not yet." 

And with that she spun out of her mother's grip and ran out the door with Dolores. Not seeing her mother nearly collapsing under the weight that she didn't know if her daughter, her hija, was alive.

Chapter Text

She had eaten the berries. The one's she had deliberately been told not to eat.

It took Isabela a while to figure it out, when her sister went from looking at her, with eyes glassy and unfocused to fogged over and dark, her body falling limp into her arms.

It took her longer than it should have to see the stains on her fingers, the berries by her side and the way her sister had looked at the bush as if she just realized it was there.

She really was trying to kill herself. Her baby sister.

No, no, no, no, NO! She could not lose her sister. Not like this. 

She scrabbled at Mirabel, trying desperately to pick her up.

She was 15, why couldn't she pick her up? Was she really that weak?

No! She had to get her help. She couldn't mess up now. 

She had to show her sister she cared. That she saw her. That she wasn't a burden. 

That she loved her sister. 

No. Fuck. No! She couldn't see through her tears, and she couldn't find Dolores. Couldn't hear her. 

Where was she? She needed to help her pick Mira up. They needed to get her to Casita!

"Dolores? Dolores!" 

She heard nothing.

"Fuck! Someone, HELP!" 

Her voice was breaking, and her throat was so sore 

"Anyone, please! Dammit, someone please help my sister!"

There was no being quiet about it now. She knew she needed help and consequences be damned her sister needed help.

Mirabel was shaking now. Little spasms that if she weren't holding her, she wouldn't feel.

"Fuck, no. Mirabel? Mirabel!"

She shook her, trying so hard no to hurt her but she needed to get her awake. To know she wasn't too late.

Her heart was racing and her head spinning.

"Mamá! Papá!"

She'd take anyone, anyone at all. It didn't matter. 

"Please!" She sobbed, voice finally reaching a point too painful to use.

That's when she noticed it. It fluttered across her skin and dazzled across her blurry vision.

Her sister was glowing. 

Just like the candle.

When Dolores ran after Mirabel collapsed, she knew they couldn't carry her alone. She had to find Luisa.

"Luisa!" 

She hated using her hearing, she hated shouting, she hated running. Everything was so *loud*

But she couldn't afford to dwell on her pain now. she could hate it later. 

Mirabel needed help now, before the berries have time to fully take effect. Fortunately, the berries here were slow acting. 

Not as slow as she would like but slower than most poisonous berries. 

She rounded the corner of Casita, side stepping as she heard Luisa's steps just in front of her.

"Whoa! Dolores? What is the rush? Why are you running and why do you look like you were rolling in a pile of brush?"

Dolores rolled her eyes "We don't have time, Luisa. Mirabel needs our help. Isa and I cannot lift her." It was beginning to set in that they may not make it in time.

"What?! What do you-" Before Luisa could finish Dolores had grabbed her hand and yanked her to follow. She fell in line and ran. 

But it felt too slow so figuring it was the best course she wrapped her arms around Dolores and hefted her up to her shoulder, Dolores squeaking along the way.

It was easy, really. Pick up Dolores and go right? Before she could ask where her cousin pointed. She needed no further instruction as she used her strength to take off like a bullet fired from a gun. 

From the sound of panic and the heartbeat she could see pulsing in her cousin's neck, the pulling of her muscles and the ache in her lungs were going to be the least of her worries. 

Julieta tried. She really did to keep herself quiet. She knew what her mama was like to her Mirabel. This would only be seen as a cry for attention.

Bruno did the same once. When everything was starting to turn sour and all anyone would say is "Bruno will only bring you misfortune." "To get a vision from him is to doom your future." 

He couldn't take it. So, he threatened to jump from the tallest step in his room. Their Mama did not listen.

In the end he did try. But apparently your room is designed to keep you safe. From what he said through his tears, "The sand ha-had reach up to mee-meet me. I couldn't do it."

She couldn't see the look of pain like that in his face again. It hurt her too much because she knew she couldn't help. She made the mistake of telling him as such, because he never spoke with her again about it.

She wouldn't do this to her daughter. She should have seen it sooner.

She knew this ceremony was going to be a lot for her. If mamá did not put so much pressure on the Gifts being essential to making the town happy and sustaining the Miracle maybe Mirabel wouldn't have gone this far. Maybe Bruno wouldn't have gone this far.

She couldn't just tell her mamá to stop, could she? Why did it frighten her so much at the idea of standing up to her mamá when she was the one hurting her daughter? 

Did her mother scare her that much that she couldn't even do it to save her youngest?

Even with her Gift why was she so powerless? What use was her power if she couldn't use it to do this? To stop the pain? She could heal the wounds and scrapes her daughter would get for the rest of time, but she couldn't heal the hurt inside with an arepa. 

"The candle!"

A shout from the courtyard, drew her out of her thoughts. What was wrong with the candle? She couldn't tell who was shouting but she walked out from her kitchen to see.

What did the stupid candle need more than her daughter needed help?

"It's fading!"

She could still hear even as she was being carried by her sister Luisa. Her sister Isabela and her cousin Dolores was there too. They sounded so scared. And what was it about her glowing? Everything was so dark, so how could she be glowing?

She could barely feel the movement as Luisa ran as fast as she could by the sound of her heaving breathes and the sound of rushing wind and crashing foliage. 

She was so weightless. But why was she so heavy too? She couldn't move her limbs. Why was is so hard to turn her head?

It was like every movement took a mountain of effort and she felt breathless with every switch of her train of thought. 

Where did her body end?

She felt simultaneously too big and too small for what she thought her size was.

Her stomach rolled. Nausea made her world spin as in on a top. What was happening?

How did she get here?

Why did it feel like the entire world was watching her? Did she care?

"Mirabel, don't you dare give up on me." Why did Luisa sound so worried? Where was Isabela and Dolores?

Did Luisa leave them behind? 

How was it getting darker? 

She was so tired.

So, so tired. 

Chapter Text

Fading?

How could the miracle be fading?

What has happened to my daughter?

Julieta couldn't figure out what to do.

Her daughter was potentially dying. The candle that gave us this miracle is fading. What was happening?

It was not even a full hour ago when everything seemed completely fine!

But- 

Was it fine? 

Was it fine when Mirabel was so clearly hurting? When her daughter looked on with eyes so full of sadness? Was Mirabel hurting this whole time?

Of course, she was. It hurt Julieta to admit it, but she had seen that her daughter was in pain. All those years when Abuela would emphasize the need of their gifts and she would watch as every word drove Mirabel's shoulders ever closer, retreating into herself until Abuela Alma would snap at her to straighten up.

She never said a word. Not to Abuela. She only ever talked to Mirabel. How she had nothing to prove. How she was as special as anyone else. 

She didn't remember when the light had died in her daughter's eyes. She doesn't remember when her daughter stopped believing her. She doesn't remember when the hope could no longer be found in Mirabel's words.

She didn't remember when the Mirabel she knew had become a mask.

When did her daughter's smile lose its shine?

When did "I'm fine," become a lie?

And the candle? When did that become more important? When did our health stop mattering? 

Suddenly it felt like her every fiber of her being lost its energy. A heaviness settled itself onto her shoulders. Bearing down like an unseen force pushing her to the ground. Grasping for the wall she looked up to see the candle flickering wildly.

But the air was still and not a leave moved from its place. How could the candle be threatening to go out? 

"What the-What in the world? What am I doing wrong?" Camilo said. He looked like he was trying to change his shape. Twirling like he normally would.

"Why isn't it working?"  Was he losing his gift? A different weight settled in her stomach.

What did that mean about her gift? Was she losing hers too? What about Mirabel? If her gift was fading, how could she help her?

Panic raced through her shoulders and to her hands. She found herself pacing and shaking her hands to try to dispel the horrid feeling, but to no avail. How do you stay calm when you are the healer, and you can't heal?

Would she be able to help? Would she watch helplessly while her daughter died?

She couldn't breathe. She couldn't find her footing and she sagged to the floor still gripping the wall as if it were the only thing keeping her on this Earth.

"Juli, mi amor, are you alright?" It was Agustín. He had to know, right? She had to tell him their daughter was hurt, right?

But...

She couldn't find the words. Not one word described her fear. 

Not one word could describe the jeopardy her daughter found herself in.

So, instead she reached for him and pulled him close, burying her face in his neck and cried.

His arms found their way around her quickly, and a kiss found her temple. He didn't ask her to elaborate. Somehow, he knew that he would find out soon enough.

Isabela could only run as Luisa carried their littlest sister, somehow keeping up with her. Was it panic that drove her to keep running? Her legs wanted to give out so long ago, so it must be, right?

Every tree was bending to her will and every vine pulled the foliage to part to let them through. Dolores had split off and disappeared from view before Isabela could ask why. She couldn't care at this moment though.

They could see Casita fully now as they crested the final hill. They were so close.

Mirabel had gone so pale; the light had disappeared minutes ago. Every bit of life in her face had left and she looked so sick. The only sign her body still functioned was the thin sheen of sweat that coated her forehead. Her lips had turned blue, and Isabela feared they were too late.

But Isabela could only watch and pray that their mamá could help.

Luisa didn't know what happened. Mirabel was fine earlier!

How could she be carrying her sister from what could have been her deathbed? Her *voluntary* deathbed at that? When did her sister's health deteriorate this far? When did it escape her notice?

Luisa didn't understand how this could have happened. But she kept running, clutching her sister to her chest, hoping she would be strong enough to reach Casita and their mother in time. 

But when her feet suddenly couldn't carry her, she could feel her heart shatter. Her knees buckled and she turned to take the fall, keeping Mirabel safe from the rock surface below. She heard Isabela cry out behind her and Luisa knew she felt it too. 

It was suddenly so hard to breathe as Luisa struggled to get to her knees. Mirabel had slipped from her grip and laid completely still next to her. She stopped glowing a while back, when Luisa picked her up the light had left in a flash. They didn't understand what it was but there was a sense of urgency that it could not have been good. 

No one had said a damn thing to her. If anybody knew this was happening, no one said anything. She was left in the dark. 

If Luisa knew this was happening, she would have dropped everything to help her little Mirabel. 

If Mirabel had only talked to her, let her know she was feeling this way, she could have helped. She could have prevented this! 

Right?

Why didn't Mirabel come to her? Why did she only now learn? Now when her sister suddenly was harder to carry, and Luisa could feel her Gift fading. 

Why did it only now come to her attention that her Mirabel, her sunshine, was so far in the dark? Did Mirabel not want her to bear the burden? Was she doing what Luisa did? Keeping all of her secrets close to her heart and never breaking her facade?

Luisa could only struggle to her feet hoping that as she retrieved Mirabel, she wouldn't screw this up too.

Chapter Text

A horrible sense of dread fell upon the family, like a wave of anxiety bubbling up from their stomach and all at once it was as if gravity had increased until the air itself felt oppressive. Fear rose its ugly head, and no one knew why. No one could figure out why suddenly every member of the household, seemingly only those who had been touched by the Miracle, felt as if their world was suddenly on the brink of collapse. Like the foundation itself was balanced precariously on toothpicks and any second, they'd feel everything they knew fall to pieces. 

No one could explain why this was happening, but every second seemed to make the feeling grow till all they could feel was the growing sense of catastrophe. 

Pepa's clouds faded in and out, stuttering between weather patterns. Thunder clapped for one second then wind gusted the next, wiping around Pepa knocking her to the ground. Then ice pelted her back, changing to rain within the blink of an eye. Felix desperately trying to keep his wife calm couldn't understand what was going on as he watched his family all collapse one by one. He had never seen Pepa's clouds get this bad; not even when she was dealing with pregnancy hormones for the first time.

In the courtyard Camilo's shape wouldn't hold, and he switched between man, child, woman and back again, changing faster and faster till it seemed that he was every person he knew all at the same time. He couldn't stop it and he was panicking. He cried for his mamá but she couldn't help. He crouched, head grasped between his hands as if to protect him from the onslaught his body went through, clenching his teeth so hard he was sure they’d crack, and hoping it would stop. He begged it to stop. 

Julieta watched in horror as her family spiraled. Something was wrong with the Magic, even Casita was freaking out. Shutters and drawers flipped open and closed, while the banisters seemed to tremble and shake. The doors themselves flickered as the candle had done. One of the doors opened, Abuela Alma’s door. Her mamá clutched at her heart, candle in hand still flickering wildly. This time it didn’t matter the wind was billowing, she knew the candle was threatening to go out with or without it.

As her mamá made her way down the stairs and in front of the family she shouted over the coming storm, "What is happening? Where is your daughter's Julieta?" Her eyes were fearful, but her tone was accusatory. Clearly, she blamed one of her children for all of this. Julieta wanted to respond in hostility. How dare she accuse her daughters for this! But to talk back to her mother? She clutched Agustín closer, hoping that he could keep her grounded amid this chaos.

"Well?! Where are they? Where is Mirabel?" There it was. Even Abuela knew what she did as she rolled her shoulders back and suddenly you couldn't see the fear as it was replaced with a look that said she caught her mother red-handed and she was willing to defend her side. Why Julieta couldn't say, but she knew her mama blamed Mirabel for this and that she couldn't understand not forgive. The house rumbled with her anger, loud enough she was sure the house had fallen apart somewhere.

Before she could really stop herself, anger and fear rose up too fast to quench and she snapped, "You blame my daughter for this?!" Forcing herself out from her husband's grip she shakily got to her feet, "You don't even know what is happening and you immediately blame my daughter? Is that really what you think?" She took a step forward and she knew it made an impression as her mamá took a step back. Just one before Alma steeled herself, "Who else could it be?!" Grasping at straws she reasoned, "It certainly isn't one of us! It couldn't possibly be Isabela or Luisa, they wouldn't dare!" 

Julieta couldn't believe what she was hearing. She scoffed, "So you go and blame Mirabel? As if she would dare? It could be just the candle itself, or something happening in the Encanto, and your immediate thought is to blame her ?!" 

Anger was beyond tampering down now as she flailed her arms out in exasperation, voice reaching a pitch she would have been slapped for had it been different, "What in God's green earth did my daughter ever do to you? What could she possibly have done for you to immediately see her as the cause of this? What is wrong with you?!" Her voice was breaking with her anger, and she was quickly losing it. How could her own mother accuse Mirabel of doing this? 

Between them the tiles were forced apart by an enormous crack, punctuating the situation with a sound so loud and sudden that even she had to cover her ears as it overcame all sound of cries, rain and thunder. 

“Mamá!” It was Luisa and Isabela! They had returned and as Julieta turned to see them, she could see whatever was happening with the candle was affecting them too.  Isabela stumbled through the door of Casita along with Luisa looking completely exhausted and their eyes screamed that if they stopped now, they’d not be able to move further. So, Julieta moved to meet them in the middle, reaching for the form she knew as her youngest. 

 “What is this? What is wrong with her?” Even through her anger Julieta could hear her mother’s worry as they lowered Mirabel to the ground. It was briefly forgotten what had just gone down in favor of making sure that the youngest daughter was okay. But it became increasingly obvious that, based on Luisa’s and Isabela’s faces and how pale Mirabel seemed, okay was far from the truth. 

“Isabela, what happened? How did Mirabel get like this?” Julieta hoped, even though she knew better, that her eldest had been wrong about what she said. That this wasn’t intentional. That her baby girl was not this far gone. That her daughter was exactly how she thought she was, because if it were a lie, she didn’t think her heart could take it. She wouldn’t be able to take knowing she didn’t know her daughter, that she had become a stranger before her very eyes, and she was none the wiser.

Isabela’s next words made her blood run cold.

“Poison berries.” Isabela couldn’t hold her tears back any longer and she stuttered through her next breaths, “She- I think before I scared her off-” a sob cut her off, “I think she was trying to- to cut her forearms. She ran and I just stood there, and I got Delores and told you and we went to find her and when we did-” 

It had become increasingly hard to keep herself level enough to tell what happened and she couldn’t get the words out. 

Julieta didn’t need to hear the rest. She couldn’t hear the rest. She needed to help her daughter. She couldn’t break now. Not now. Please, not now.

“We found her unconscious having already succumbed to the berries.” Dolores stated. She had appeared from basically nowhere, but no one was paying attention either way. It had seemed she was in shock. Tears stained her cheeks and she stood staring at Mirabel’s still form. 

Dolores was always like that, quiet and still. She rarely reacted aside from her wide-eyed stare, looking forever shocked at what she would hear. The only times she was seen doing anything else was when she stared wistfully out to the town, listening to only what she could hear. A small smile would grace her lips till she was brought out of her trance by anyone close enough to see her.

But now she seemed devastated. Her cousin lay before her still and cold, dying from her own choice and Dolores never heard it. She never heard Mirabel crying at night. Never heard as she hissed from the blade. Never heard the thoughts that plagued her little cousin’s mind during every waking moment and through every horrible nightmare. 

She never heard a thing.

And now Mirabel was at death's door and not one person within that courtyard knew what to do. They understood now that the overwhelming feeling of dread and doom was right, as the light of their lives was slowly being snuffed out in front of them, they wept. 

No matter how much they wanted to save her, they had no answers. The one person who could have helped only look at her daughter’s face and knew no arepa could heal what had broken right before her eyes. 

Her family had seen the look in her eyes and the grief that ate at their hearts would settle within the space that Mirabel occupied. 

Their sunshine had been cast into shadow and they never saw it coming.

Chapter Text

Casita hadn't moved a single tile while she slept for those weeks, and everyone feared it would never move again. It had always been a part of their lives, always alive and animated. Up until now.

Now the halls didn't race with you in the afternoon on your way to the town, and the banister didn't hug gently around your hands when walking down the stairs. The cabinets didn't wave, nor did the tiles. Casita was still and uncaring. 

When the house had stopped, the walls shuddered, and the floors shook. The only warning was a flutter of the roof tiles and then the house seized. 

The silence that followed was deafening. Suddenly, their house was a shell, only a surface to hide you from the elements.

When Casita stopped, they realized Mirabel had too. Or at least they figured it out after an hour or so after they brought her to the nursery. She stopped losing color and felt vaguely warm to the touch. She wasn’t dead, not yet, but she certainly wasn’t alive by any known meaning of the word. Casita matched her in movement, feeling lifeless and suspended.

Casita felt as if it were holding its breath. It was far too quiet. 

When they say Mirabel slept, it was more hope than fact. They weren’t sure what was happening during those weeks. 

 The days that followed Mirabel falling ‘asleep’ had been dreadful. With how dense the clouds above the Encanto were, it would seem to anyone the skies themselves wept for Mirabel. No one knew where Pepa's clouds ended, and the skies began. Not one soul in the town knew that the clouds above the Encanto were not Pepa’s. No matter how much she wept, she knew these were not hers and the rains that fell did not cry with her. Not in the way she knew.  

For days it rained and not one person within the shell of Casita complained.

No one was sure when things would return to normal. When it would feel like nothing was wrong with La Casa Madrigal. No one knew when she would wake, or if she would.

Antonio was going to turn 5 in a few days, but no one was sure if things would feel the same. If even the Miracle had the heart to bless one more under its embracing light. 

It didn’t take much for Antonio to figure out something was wrong with his favorite cousin. After he woke up, seemingly having been moved from his bed in the nursery to his parents' room, he was struck with how quiet and tense the house was. It scared him how Casita didn’t wave back to him when he greeted it. It scared him how it looked like everyone at breakfast had a deep sadness that even he could tell went to their bones. Mirabel wasn’t there. It scared him that no one ate when he did. He felt uncomfortable feeling like the only one to enjoy breakfast, which was minimal, just an egg and an arepa or two. Mirabel wasn’t there and people kept looking at her spot.

Not even Camilo ate that much. His food had two or three bites taken from it and he stared at it like it hurt him. Face pinched and brows furrowed he glared at his food. 

Everyone else looked… sick. 

What scared him most was that even though his mamá was crying, there was no cloud above her head. She was crying harder than he had seen really and there was no cloud above her head. His papá didn’t even really acknowledge that there was no cloud, he just rubbed Pepa’s back in soothing circles. The only thing that was said to Antonio was to eat some more.

He didn’t want to, but he did as he was told.

His favorite cousin wasn’t there, and everyone kept looking at her seat.

Where was Mirabel?

—--------------------

After breakfast one morning, tired of not seeing his favorite cousin for days, Antonio made his way up the stairs. It was harder now that Casita was still and unmoving. Usually, the stairs would become shorter to make getting up them easier but now that they didn’t move it took him much longer to reach the top and his legs didn’t like the strain. He had a lot of energy for a five-year-old, but that didn’t stop the ache. He just wanted to see Mirabel.

No one told him why she had been in the nursery for days, or why he couldn’t go in there. They had moved his things to his parents' room. He didn’t get a say, just suddenly he was living with his parents. Was he not grown enough? Did they think he couldn’t handle sleeping without his parents? He had Mirabel! Did this have to do with everyone not using their Gift? What did he miss? 

As he got closer to the nursery the air shifted with a coming breeze. It unsettled him to say the least. The air felt unfamiliar to him, unfriendly and it had a taste of something metallic in the air. It smelled sick, but not in the way of the flu or a common stomach bug. 

He made his way up to the door taking careful steps as if not to startle the form inside. He knew Mirabel was inside but why did it feel so… wrong ? 

His little hand closed around the doorknob, and it turned.

The door opened and before him stood Mirabel. 

She was staring at him. She didn’t greet him as she usually did but that didn’t stop his excitement as he rushed forward to hug her. 

Mirabel wasn’t prepared for contact but as she settled into the hug her heart grew warmer. Just a little. She knew her little Tonito loved her, completely and without conditions. 

She felt off though, like she was looking through a fog. Her world didn’t seem quite hers, if that made sense. Like a veil was covering her vision but she couldn’t see it. Everything was out of focus and not because she didn’t have her glasses. How did she get in her room?

“Your eyes are different.” She looked down at Antonio. Different? 

“Tonito, what do you mean?” What did he mean by different? Why couldn’t she remember what happened? Every time she thought too hard, her head felt like it was going to split. It felt like someone took a really long nail and drove it through her temple. 

Why couldn’t she recall what happened?

Antonio pulled her further into the room and to the bathroom they shared. Casita added it when Antonio got scared one night going by himself downstairs to the only bathroom they had at the time. It made everything significantly easier because now Mirabel didn’t have to fight with her sister, Isabela every time she needed to use the restroom or take a bath when her sister just so happened to be in there before her.

It was a fairly large bathroom, set up with a large bath and a curtain to separate it from the rest of the room. The water ran as hot as she wanted it and for some reason it always stayed warm. Never cooling until she was done. Sometimes she fell asleep in there, basking in the heat. It was so comfortable, and Casita made sure to never let her drown. 

It was a safe place. To her it was sacred in a way. She could pretend the stresses of her family didn’t exist and that she didn’t want to die. 

She never brought her blade in here for that reason. She didn’t want to tarnish this place.

Anotonio pulled her attention to the mirror that spanned the wall opposite of the bath and her breath caught. Before, her eyes were a rich brown, with hints of a deep orange-red in the right sunlight, but now her eyes were sparkling. Well, sort of. The brown was flecked with gold and seemed to shift like sand as she looked. 

“Woah. That’s…new.” She breathed in deep, nerves making it hard to think. The world still seemed so dense. She couldn’t really tell what was going on aside from Antonio looking at her with wide and innocent eyes. He was being really intense, and it wasn’t helping the fog that threatened to take her under. 

“Tonito,” she whispered, “What happened? Do you know?”

She wasn’t ready for the answer, but she needed to know what she couldn’t remember. Everything was so foggy, the last thing she remembered was a feeling of panic and her limbs feeling so heavy and a flash of light.

“Antonio!” Pepa’s voice cut through the house causing Mirabel to jump. The sudden movement made her dizzy and she had to grab the counter to steady herself. 

“Where are you? Antonio? Antoni….oh.” Pepa stood in the doorway, frozen at the sight before her. Mirabel was awake! 

Tears fell down her face and she didn’t move. Fearing it was some trick of her mind, that if she moved her niece would disappear in a burst of light.

She was so scared during those weeks, wracked with guilt and anger. She didn’t know how to channel any of it from the years of trying to keep her clouds at bay. Now that her Gift refused to work, she didn’t know what to do. 

“Mirabel? You’re awake? You’re awake!” Before Mirabel could say anything Pepa was out the door and shouting to the house, “She’s awake!”

Mirabel could hear doors open and confused shouts echoed through Casita louder than she would have liked. 

The person who ran through that door into the room was not Pepa, but Julieta. She looked around wildly from the bed to the rest of the room before her gaze landed on her daughter. 

Relief flooded her face, and she couldn’t stop the tears as she raced to her daughter, crushing her in a hug, desperate to never let go. Her daughter was alive! 

Slowly they both fell to the ground in their embrace, Mirabel more confused but appreciative. Her mother's hugs always made her feel safe and warm. Before she knew it tears fell from her eyes too and she wasn’t sure why. 

Why did she feel so sad? Why am I so relieved? 

What happened?

Chapter Text

Mirabel had no idea what to think. Her eyes were different and she had no clue how to handle it. How do you handle waking up to your eyes being different?

She found out they glowed when in lowlight, and she found that out the hard way when going to the bathroom that night. The soft glow of her eyes reflecting in the mirror as she walked in was not a pleasant way to greet her safe space. She didn't make a sound but an intake of breath. She thought she pulled a muscle with how bad her body jolted.

After letting her heart rest she stood in front of the mirror just watching her eyes shift and swirl. If she looked close enough she could she tiny flecks of other colors within the mix, but they were brief and were gone almost as soon as you saw them.

Her family still hadn't gotten used to her eyes. They'd speak to hear, a distant tension lingering in their voice, and when they looked up to her they'd flinch. It was small and hardly noticeable but she'd watch them. The corner of their eyes would tense, or their smile would falter. It was always small, but she seemed to be sharper at seeing all the sudden differences.

It mesmerized her. Her eyes. She wakes up and suddenly she has glowing pretty eyes. It confused her though as much as it fascinated her. She doesn't remember how she got back to her room. She doesn't even remember why she wasn't in her room in the first place.

It just felt to her that she wasn't in her room, or in Casita, and she didn't know how she got back home.

All she could feel was this intense tension within her chest that made her sad. She didn't know why, or how to describe this feeling but she was just... sad.

It ached deep into her core sometimes, causing her to have to catch her breath. She'd discover tears trailing down her face when she never even felt the sting.

Why was she so sad?

And why wouldn't her family tell her what had happened? She would ask and, depending on who, she would see sadness and what looked like guilt flash across their faces. They'd look shocked that she asked, sometimes even momentarily angry until their face fell and they'd retreat back into themselves.


She never received an answer. Not from them. Only Casita was willing to speak about it. 'Speak' was a stretch but Mirabel knew it tried.

When they 'spoke' she could feel what Casita was saying. It resonated in her chest like it were her own feelings.

But what it said to her didn't make sense. It felt muddied and unclear. All she felt was sadness. A hole that threatened to grow, but never did.

She noticed, not long after waking up, that the itch, that she lived with for years, was gone. She didn't feel the urge to tear her skin apart. She knew she still wanted to but it was... detached. It didn't feel quite real.

She couldn't remember what happened and now her feelings didn't feel like hers.

What was going on?

Chapter Text

She doesn't know what woke her up. 

Just one minute she is in peaceful oblivion, then next she is fully awake and sitting up. Listening. 

The fog surrounding her mind ever since she first awoke those days ago never seemed to let up, even in her dreams. Everything was listless and slow. Like syrup on her tongue. 

Speaking was a hassle and every word she spoke sunk her bones deeper into exhaustion. Sleep never helped and food never seemed to give her anything more than what feels like a breath of fresh air before her mind clouds over and her body feels like it is caving in through her spine. 

She took to roaming the halls at night. She learned that way it wasn't just her eyes that glowed. Her steps left little sparks that glimmered and floated up around her, much like her sister's flower petals. She felt an uncanny resemblance to the candle and how it shimmered. 

It was so weird; she forgets several weeks, her mind seems to be in a state of perpetual fog, her eyes are a different color and now they glow as well as little sparks? 

She didn't understand it and no matter how hard she thought about it, nothing could come to mind. It was like everything, even thoughts, moved too fast for her to properly look at. It was only at night that things seemed... lighter. Easier to cope with. No bustle of town streets, no animals to avoid, no people to talk to. 

No thoughts to interrupt her quiet. Her night. The only time she ever felt remotely herself. 

It was the time for reflection, embroidery, and thoughts. Time she was able to use to settle fully into her skin. The time she usually felt comfortable, when the itch wasn't as loud. 

At least that is what she thought. 

She knew that it was a fact that she was sad. That she hurt but she didn't feel it. It wasn't true in the sense of in the moment. It was just something she thought but couldn't put into physicality. 

None of her feelings were really present anymore. She felt so hollow. No, not hollow. Numb. Like her heart was full of static and dulled the senses. Every emotion was put through a filter and sifted until what came out barely resembled anything she knew as sadhappyfunnyangerRAge.

She just couldn't feel it. It was a breath from another room that said an emotion but it never quite reached her ears. It was a sound you thought you heard but the more you think about it the further away it feels until suddenly it has no meaning anymore. 

So she stopped trying to identify how she felt. Instead she roamed her Casita, her steps leaving what she took to calling fireflies. She liked to think they were 'more in the moment' than her. It made her smile, though no feeling was behind it. 

Tonight she took to the halls again, but not really to roam but to investigate. Her lack of sleep never really seemed to bother her after all. 

The thing that woke her was more apparent now. It felt solid. A feeling of location. A presence. 

The kitchen. 

Down the stairs, through the courtyard, around the corner, and into the dimly lit room she stepped. Her little fireflies danced around her in hypnotic patterns. 

The figure sat at the table, back to the door. She could see who it was, but the name wasn't solid in her mind. The figure was family and she knew who it was. The figure wore the same dress all the time she knew that. The figure had the dress hiked up theirher thigh and seemed to be staring at something. 

The Madrigal her sister was holding something and staring at it. Mirabel couldn't see her face but she still couldn't place the name. But she could suddenly feel the emotions coming from her sister. 

Confusion, anger, guilt, sadness, fear. 

It all came crashing on Mirabel all at once like raging flood waters and tears flowed from her eyes before she even felt the sting. Everything was so crisp and here. 

Her thigh hurts.

There were no words but she knew her sister didn't understand. Why would she ....... 

"Isabela?"

The figure jumped and the knife clattered to the floor, forgotten. Fear "Why is she here? Did she see? Why would she do it? It hurts. What is abuela going to think? Why did I do it? Why did she do it?" Guilt. Shame. 

It all washed over Mirabel and she had to blink back her tears, furiously wiping her eyes in a desperate attempt to stem the flow.

"Why are you here, Mirabel?" Isabela's voice cut through the overwhelming cacophony of emotions. Mirabel could tell she wanted to ask about the eyes, and the sparks but her panic overloaded the urge.

Instead of answering Mirabel stepped forward. Isabela moved her dress down and adjusted her leg away from her prying gaze. 

But Mirabel wasn't going to let it slide. 

"You kind hide this from me," her voice rasped from disuse, she rarely talked anymore, "I've been doing this for years. I am the last person you'll be able to hide this from." As she approached Isabela she grabbed a clean rag and wet it before gesturing to her leg. By the feel of her own leg, her sister had cut deeper than intended. 

It didn't take her long to figure it out but this was still the first time she felt it, that she had the new ability to feel others' emotions. 

Just add it to the pile, I apparently don't really care.

Her matter-of-fact, no-nonsense tone must've won over Isabela as she lifted her dress to show a nasty wound. It definitely stained her dress in her hurry to cover it but that can be fixed later. Mirabel wanted this to be fixed and over with. 

As she got to work, Isabela winced a few times before asking her questions. 

"What's with the eyes?"

"Don't know. Woke up with it."

A pause. 

"The lights?"

"Same answer." 

The silence was tense. The wound wasn't too bad, just surface but it was a bit too much to just slap a bandaid on. 

"Why did you do it?"

Mirabel stopped. 

"Do what?" 

Irritation flashed across Isabela's face and for a brief moment Mirabel could feel it. It was simmering and flashed like a spark from a fire. 

"What do you mean 'Do what?' You know exactly what you did. You gave scared us all half to death and now you have the nerve to pretend you don't know?!" Her voice rose in pitch but not much by volume. She sounded appalled. No she was appalled. 

Mirabel set her jaw, a thing she only recently learned was a habit ever since she couldn't feel anything else. 

"I don't know, actually. That's why I have been asking. Because for the life of me, I can't remember anything from before I woke up. I don't know what day it is. I suddenly have glowing eyes and sparks float up from my steps. I've been trapped in Casita because none of you are letting me out in town and now I find you doing this?" 

She didn't realize she had been pacing until she stopped and stared pointedly at Isabela who stared back in turn.

Angerconfusionworry 

"You... don't remember? Mirabel you nearly died," tears were slowly leaking from Isabela's eyes and it was such a rare sight, "Mirabel you nearly took your own life. You nearly died in Luisa's arms. Our gifts went haywire and you nearly died." 

Sobs wracked Isabela's frame and Mirabel couldn't feel it anymore. The emotions were cut off. Now directed inward, Isabela was closing herself off.

"Why did you do it?" It was barely a whisper but Mirabel heard it. She didn't have an answer because she couldn't remember. Even though she now knew what happened, she still couldn't remember.

Dropping to her knees in front of her sister, she wrapped her arms around her in a fierce hug. There wasn't really emotion behind it but the intent was there. It was to protect her sister. To maybe take some of this burden. 

Her sister didn't deserve this pain, she knew that. She already had to deal with the impossible standards of their abuela. She didn't need this. 

Her sister went slack in her arms and it was a sudden weight Mirabel wasn't expecting. Bracing herself with her sisters full weight, she leaned her back into the chair. There was no panic but she didn't quite know what to make of it. 

Thinking fast, thinking as she could anyway, she retrieved a new rag and wet it with cold water but didn't wring it out. Gently dabbing the cloth on her sisters head, she let the water drip onto her face and down her neck, hoping it would wake her from what ever made her pass out. 

When her sisters eyes fluttered there was a brief and momentary flash of golden light, that would have been missed had Mirabel not been staring intently, before the color settled into their normal brown. 

As if waking from a deep slumber, Isabela looked around confused and groggy and voiced her feelings with a simple, "Wha- what the-" 

It took a second until she seemed to become more coherent, seemingly more confused by the second. 

"Why am I here?" 

It didn't surprise Mirabel when she asked that, it didn't even faze her. 

"You must've slept walked. I found you here in the kitchen and tried to wake you. Took a bit but I guess I did it." She put on a lopsided smile, one she knew would distract her sister enough to not ask anymore questions. 

"You should head back to bed though, you've got work to do in the morning with all those flowers of yours." It was not fun thing to do, tricking her sister, but it was necessary. She didn't know how she got her wish but as her sister walked away and back to her room, Mirabel had saw her sister's wound heal with that same damn light she has seen too much of this evening. 

What she didn't like, or maybe she did, was that her leg still hurt and now was bleeding in the same place Isabela's had been not even a few minutes before. 

Chapter Text

Despite everything, it seems nothing has changed.

Everything is as tense as ever but no one treats her the same.

Suddenly Mirabel was like fine china. A slight wind would break her with the way her family looked at her. But it came with frustration and anger.

"How could you? You nearly ruined Antonio's ceremony!" Her Alma growled at her.

Not even his birthday. His ceremony is what she cared about. Mirabel never reacted to the jabs anymore. She was as unresponsive as the candle she pleaded to all those years.

She just stared with those swirling eyes, face expressionless. Numb.

The fog never left. Her thoughts remained clouded and obscured. Her nightly walks took her to the forest now. Her path leading her to where she nearly left this plane. The berries long since rotted away. Leaving the grass and ground stained dark. She wondered if she could ever try again. If it would be worth it.

Never would she bring it up to her family. Too loud. Too much. Everything was just too much. She couldn't even bring herself to cry anymore. The fatigue pulled her down to her knees as she stared at the things that almost gave her rest. Rest from the ever persistent need to please her family.

Nothing would change and nothing would stay the same.

She couldn't even bring herself to care that she had a sort of gift. To everyone else she was still the giftless Madrigal. Now with odd eyes and light in her step. She contributed nothing.

And she planned to keep them from this. Keep them from her pain. It's what she had always done. Stay quiet. Stay out of the way. Never speak. Never cry. Never feel that regret.

Not until she was tucked away. Far from any prying eyes and concerned hands.

She couldn't stand the way her mother looked at her now. As if any words could fix the gaping hole that was her heart. New lines marr her skin and she didn't care if anyone saw. It's not like she'd speak of it. She hardly spoke at all anymore. Never smiled. Never did anything other than stare into the nothing.

It's not like she ever let herself be seen in daylight anymore. She just remained in her room.

It wasn't even her room. Not really. It was the nursery. She never even got a room to herself. She just became expected to care for Antonio when he came around. She was just the nanny.

She was just dead weight now since even Antonio was taken from her. His stuff has since been moved out. The empty half if the room reflected her heart. Devoid of purpose.

What was she to do except keep from her family? She didn't want to hurt them but anything she did was just seen as too much.

So she'll keep to herself. Silent and watchful. A wandering ghost of the candles flame. Taking the hurt when her family broke and keeping them from the fate she so desperately wished to be granted.

She won't burden them with her need to eat. She won't burden them with her presence. She won't burden her with the attention talking requires. She won't burden them with the anxiety her presence induces.

She'll keep away till she ceased to be in their eyes.

It's all she can do.

...

Maybe they'll be happier that way.

Chapter Text

"You must be present at this ceremony, you mustn't ruin this night for Antonio. Your stunt was enough. Be present."

"Mirabel, stay out of the way."

"You will not speak of this. Not a word."


That's what her Abuela had said to her this morning before the preparation. The sun had yet to crest the horizon before Abuela had shoved her way into her room. No, not her room. The nursery. She had to stop thinking she was welcome here.

Her Abuela's commands, contradictory but indisputable, would be followed. The thought wound tight in her stomach, making her nauseous. It seemed to be the only thing she was capable of feeling recently, nausea and gnawing hunger. She hadn't eaten in days.

But she promised herself to stay out of the way, eating outside of meal time was a direct violation with all the meal prep going on for her cousin's ceremony. She refused to see her family. Their eyes stare into hers, her mother's eyes the worst, full of something that made her wish she was anywhere but there. Anywhere but in the gaze of those eyes that seemed to see something she couldn't. 

No matter how many hours she stared into her reflection, she couldn't see what justified the disgustfearconfusion in those eyes. They bore into her, and she can't stand it. Part of her wanted to rip these eyes from the place they reside in her skull, to stop the swirling. To never see their faces again. But she can't subject Antonio to that. Not another trauma that he'll likely never get over. She can't add to his burden.

He hadn't come to see her after that first time, after she woke. He had looked at her with a queasy sort of alarm. Had she looked that bad? Did she scare him that much?

The thoughts made her ever angrier, furious at herself for ruining yet another thing. A new gift and she still wasn't perfect. She still hurt everyone she cared for. The reflection stares back at her, and her rage made the mirror tremble, or maybe it had been her hands that clenched the sink till they lost the blood she so desperately wanted to spill.

But she couldn't, it was too close to the ceremony and any blood was bound to be seen. So much for not caring.

So she stares and hates the ever swirling sand, telling herself she wasn't enough.

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

Julieta POV

She was worried.

It was an understatement, she was working herself into the ground with anxiety. She had always baked to work through her feelings, a forced coping mechanism enforced by her mother. Cooking was her life, and the life of a mother was an anxious one. Today was no exception. So she baked and prepared.

She hadn't seen Mirabel in days. She knew she was still in the house by the little fireflies that trailed behind her and lingered in the air long after she passed. It was surreal. Her daughter finally got what she had always wanted, and she simply vanished from family life. Not a word. Not a smile. Her daughter was a ghost for all it was.

And it killed her to witness it. The liveliest of them all, and now she was a husk of her former self. The light she brought, snuffed by the void she leaves behind. Julieta can't remember the last time she heard her laugh ring through these hallways. Which seem even emptier now that Casita ceased. It had been disquieting, the moments before she saw her limp in her sister's arms. The house was completely still, the life drained from every corner. She had never been in... just a house before. The night seemed far too dark, which had gotten even darker the moment she saw her daughters.

That night when her daughters came bursting through the front door was a moment that she can't seem to stop remembering. The fear and desperation. The confusion and pain. It clawed at her throat and threatened to stop her breathing.

Mirabel on death's door, and their powers all but vanished. Julieta was helpless, and she couldn't stand being helpless.

Her hands sealed yet another jar that she added to the shelf. It had grown crowded in such little time, the four shelves filled to the brim. She had taken to pickling, hoping that the preservatives would hold onto the magic even if the candle were to fluctuate as it had. She can't lose her daughter again.

...

She never said what happened those nights in her daughter's room. She still couldn't wrap her mind around it herself.

As Mirabel lay in her bed and her mother worked diligently to bring life back to her daughter.... nothing had worked. Not food. Not medicine. They tried to purge the berries from her system, but not a thing worked.

Her daughter, her 15-year-old daughter, was gone. Cold in her hands and unresponsive. Her pulse quiet, so, so quiet. Her skin devoid of color, ashen as she lay in her blankets.

"She's cold." She had whispered to herself as she held that frozen hand, the blankets doing nothing to bring back that life she had wished she never took for granted. Her own hands trembled. "Why can't I get her warm?"

No matter how many blankets, that hand only got colder.

For hours, she stared at her still form. She couldn't bring herself to move. Abuela had done damage control, pushing everyone to assure the town that the screams they heard earlier in the day were just from playing too rough. A broken bone, that was all. Julieta can heal broken bones.

She could heal broken bones.

She couldn't bring back the dead.

Not a soul was allowed in that room but her. A punishment, no doubt, for her still daughter. Not a visitor until this mess was sorted out. Even Abuela thought she could cure this.

What will Abuela think of her now that she was gone?

Days had passed, and she refused to eat, staring at her daughter's form. Time didn't move properly to her anyway, the days blending together as she struggled to make sense of it all. She remembered people knocking, but her voice was so far away as she told them that she was busy and Mirabel needed to rest.

Why couldn't she tell them? She felt like such a coward. She could defend her daughter in life, and now she couldn't respect her in death. Mirabel deserved the prayers the family and the town would offer her for those 7 days. She deserved to be viewed and mourned by those that loved her, she deserved that respect.

But the thought of burying her daughter after taking her own life was something she just couldn't understand. What was wrong with her to not see this tragedy coming? Why didn't Mirabel say anything?

Why did she suffer alone?

Bitterness welled in her mouth as she thought about it. She should have seen it. How could she consider herself a worthy mother when she couldn't see just how deep that pain had buried itself in her sweet daughter.

Julieta believed herself to be a failure to her children. They all suffered, but she had focused so hard on helping her youngest. Did she push her away? Did she cause this? What had she done wrong? Did she hurt her baby?

As tears streamed forth, blurring her vision and sobs rendering her inconsolable, she noticed a light. It was small and easily missed had her tears not refracted the light and made it as obvious as a fireworks display. It danced and scattered more in its wake as the tumbling thing made its way closer to her daughter's painfully still body.

She was entranced, thinking it to be her daughter's soul at first. Until it fluttered and settled on the bridge of Mirabel's nose, flaring a pair of gorgeous glittering wings, and she recognized its shape. A butterfly.

Its wingspan covered more than half her face, and the light was almost painful. She didn't even notice at first until she felt the blankets shift, and then she thought she was losing her mind with grief.

That is until she heard the puff of air that forced the glowing thing into the air.

Revealing those swirling, haunting eyes. Staring back at her.

...........

She had left in a hurry after that, refusing to think about what she saw. They had stared at each other for a long time before sleep began to overtake her daughter. After what felt like hours, she felt her daughter's hand, fearing it to be an illusion of the mind... only to find it warm and soft. She couldn't cry. She didn't understand. 

When she made it back to her room, she ignored Augustin and instead let silent tears fall.

Her dreams were plagued with berries and butterflies, feasting on her daughter's blood.