Worth The Shot

He Is Here

Today's fanart is by @ScoutTheArsonist ! It's of our dear, dear father. I love the way they interpreted him, his expression in this picture captures his personality SO WELL. This is so much like how I imagined him!!

BACK TO THE STORY

"He is coming. He is coming."

Like stones scraping against your skin, an icy chill soaked into you. He's not just my father's best friend. He's his brother. He's THE brother.

"Why didn't you tell me?" You uneasily called down to your father, pushing yourself higher in the liquid-like air with your hands. "Sebastian has a gift?"

"I didn't want you to blame him," Your father muttered through gritted teeth, his right hand gingerly coddling his snapped finger. "You didn't need to know."

You hovered higher, breezing next to Isabella's chained body on the cave wall. "Isabella," you hissed, concerned. "Are you alive?"

Isabella's eyes drowsily flickered open, exhausted. She wrinkled her nose at you as if mildly annoyed by your stupid question. Her gag ensured that she couldn't respond, but dark bruises discolored her face. Have they been hurting the captured Madrigals?

"I'm going to get you out of here. All of you," you promised. Isabella's eyebrows raised skeptically, but hope flitted through her dark eyes like a butterfly.

Sebastian's wordless scream slashed through your skull, startling you. Your father's guard grasped the candle and puckered his lips, blowing. Keen to avoid another dislocated shoulder, you swept toward the ground. Your feet landed gracefully moments before the candle smoked out.

Sebastian's scream limply dropped away, and clarity dawned in Sebastian's green eyes. He glanced around, confused. Guilty regret crept into his eyes as they lighted on your father's crumpled finger.

"Marcos. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to," Sebastian quietly said, crouching down next to him.

"Save it, Sebastian."

"Fine. But we've made a mistake," Sebastian urged, ignoring your father's curt remark. "The ghosts are getting louder. So loud. And the one they've been warning me of is the man who we thought would help us."

"What? Sebastian, he's going to help us! He's going to restore our miracle. The miracle that you broke."

Like a mouse skittering over the nose of a sleeping tiger, you warily crept toward the exit of the cavern. Fumes of passion from their argument blinded Sebastian and your father like smoke. If they didn't turn around, you could get away.

"No!" Sebastian shouted. With a shuddering breath, he fervently explained, "No. He's dangerous. We can't let him come, we need to hide. We should get the Madrigals to safety. If they'll make him more powerful, then we shouldn't let him have them."

"You're making no sense," your father argued, picking himself off the ground. "Who cares about the Madrigals! I'll help the village forget them. Don't worry. It won't hurt anyone!"

"Marcos," Sebastian enunciated, beseechingly holding your father's gaze and willing him to understand. "He's who the ghosts have been warning me about for years! He's coming. Sooner than we thought."

"Sebastian. I don't care," your father sadly frowned at Sebastian, as if disappointed by his lack of noble vision. "As Candellas, we've sworn an oath to protect our Encanto at all costs. I intend to uphold that."

"But people will die," Sebastian relentlessly emphasized, rushing an agitated hand through his jet-black hair.

"People are dying!" Your father snapped. "Right now. Under the mountain. Our people, Sebastian. We've finally found a way to rescue them, and you're backing out? I expected more of you."

You silently edged toward the cool darkness of the tunnel, exhaling. Now that you knew what you were up against, you could warn the village. Gather a rescue party. You tiptoed further into the emptiness, but a cold hollowness sunk into your chest. Something was wrong.

"(Y/n)," a heavily accented voice sneered. "(Y/n) Candella."

"Who's there?" You guardedly demanded, freezing. "Who are you?"

"Don't worry. A friend," the voice assured as innocently as a coiled serpent. A hunched man concealed in a cloak emerged from the shadows, pathetically hobbling toward you.

He's old. You slightly relaxed. I could take an old man in a fight. If it came to that.

But you were wrong. As he limped past you into the glow of the cavern, you sucked in an angry breath.

His veiny, snow-white hand tightly curled around Camilo's neck, dragging him through the dust like a ragdoll.