You Are My Encanto

| Chapter Three |

Later that night, long after the Gifting Ceremony had ended, you found yourself lying awake in the moist, dewy grass under the tree in your room, unable to sleep. One hand rested comfortably under your head, tucked safely between your hair and the earth, whilst the other danced through the air above you, conjuring a stream-like ribbon of embers to follow your hand.

Thinking back to everything that happened earlier, at Antonio's ceremony, you found it was a lot more difficult than you'd initially thought to actually piece it all together. It plagued your thoughts like a curse, riddling your mind to the point of madness. The dizziness that overcame you at the worst of times, and the crushing weight of shadows befalling your gift, only led to more questions, and doubts over how much control you had when it came to your gift.

Your gift was the power to control and manipulate light. The rays of the sun itself bent to your will. If you so chose, you could very well summon so much solar radiation to break through the ozone layer that it could burn someone alive. You could supercharge light particles to burn right through solid concrete without much thought. You could turn any crop field into a toxic wasteland. In any wrong hand, your gift could bring so much destruction, famine, and even death. Yet you used it to create fireworks, to entertain and amaze the village, and recreate scenes that seem like they'd much rather belong in a fairytale. You provided warmth and comfort through troublesome times.

You recalled the dozens of incidents where you'd used your gift to help others around you. Not even just for the village, either. You'd comforted the Madrigals more times than you could really count. Perhaps that was why you felt so relatable to Julieta. You served more than just the villagers of the Encanto.

There were some events that came to mind when you thought back...one of them being just after you'd gotten your gift in the first place. Mirabel, understandably, was devastated when she was turned away from a gift. She came to you often, seeking refuge from the kids who teased her in the village. You kept her happy by creating the same kinds of light shows that you liked putting on for people now. That you were using to keep yourself happy right now.

You wondered to yourself what might have happened had you not been given a gift. Childhood fears that once haunted you when you were four came to mind, occupying a space that had previously been left empty. Would the Madrigals have turned you away? Would they see you as no more than a burden, now that everyone knew you had nothing to contribute to the Encanto? Or would they still have given you a home, and a family? Would they care whether or not you had a gift? Part of you desperately ached to seek out an answer. Another part of you had to remind itself that it wasn't safe to ask questions like that. 'Be thankful for what you have.' The words echoed in your mind, working to etch themselves into your memory.

Your gift certainly was strange, though. At least, to you it was. It could blanket the entire world, but your duty was to the Encanto. However, you weren't the sun. Neither was your gift. It was only a small piece of it, and you were even smaller. When you try to spread your arms around the ends of the world, you could only reach as far as the mountains surrounding the Encanto. You could only spread yourself so thin over them. Everything you were went into preserving the miracle. What would you be if you someday became so wrapped up in giving out your gift that, one day, you finally looked up, expecting your light to shine down on only you for once, only to realize that there was absolutely nothing left? What would happen then? The thought both terrified and greatly intrigued you. Would you still be able to extend your hand to feel it's warmth over someone else? Or would you fail everyone in the Encanto, casting them into the same dreadful shadows you'd been locked away in since you realized the true extent of your gift?

You couldn't help the thoughts running laps in your mind, constantly returning to the ceremony. Mirabel. Casita. The image of cracks running up the walls, the candle going out...you didn't want any of it to feel as real as it did. The magic dying felt like a nightmare; all of your worst fears rolling into one form of unconscious reality, unable to break free, and unable to be settled. The deathly cold shards of ice surrounding you fell into your heart, turning your blood into a stone cold curse. One that your gift could not reach.