The Red-Brick Wall

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Today's Fanart: This is by ChocoTrufflattai ! They drew y/n in the final scene of Icy Dread and Fierce Hope. I've been hanging on to this fanart for a LONG time, so I felt like it was finally time to share it with all of you guys! I love their drawing style SO MUCH, it looks so fresh and whimsical. Thank you so much! 

BACK TO THE STORY

Sheets felt smooth and cold against your bare legs. Sore, aching pains bruised your chest, legs and arms. Disoriented, you blurrily made out the miniscule cot-beds and brick-lined window of the nursery. 

From that window, the purple-blue hue of blackberries smeared the evening sky. It was the drowsy bridge between sunset and black night. Weak hunger kneaded your stomach, and you hollowly tried to prop your back against the wall. 

"Hi," Mirabel smiled, intense relief softening her whole body. She dove across the nursery, snatching up a napkin-wrapped arepa and thrusting it at you. "Mama said you'd want this when you woke up. I've missed you so much; hurry up and eat so we can go outside!" Her energetic demands uncomfortably pierced your groggy head. You felt like a toy ship in a tumultuous bathtub, jostled by the sloshing water. 

"Hey, Mirabel," you woozily mumbled back, stiffly stretching out your arms. An acidic pang burned your dislocated shoulder. Wincing, you nibbled on Julieta's arepa, easing the flaky crumbs apart with your teeth. "What happened?" Sweet calm breathed over your throbbing muscles, and the pain in your shoulder swirled away. Magically healed. Thank the miracle Julieta's back. 

"A lot happened," She laughed, twirling a tight, black curl around her finger. You slid your bare toes to Casita's wooden floor, and a silvery-blue nightgown cascaded to your knees. Snowy lace trimmed the neck and hem. It must have been a spare pajama of Isabela's; you could never imagine Mirabel sleeping in the frilly costume. 

 "Everyone got out of the mountain safe. But it was crazy, (y/n), the mountain-" She split off, excitedly rocking back on her heels, then forward, high on her toes. "Just wait until we get outside. You have to see it." 

"Alright, alright," you grinned nervously, crossing your arms over the thin fabric. Mirabel slid out the nursery window, and you followed, its orange brick sill gently scraping your legs. Casita clunkily bumped your feet to the terrace. The sweltering months of the Colombian summer approached, but an evening chill gusted underneath your nightgown, fanning your hair. 

"Hey, Mirabel, what's that?" You frowned, indicating your head toward a weird, unfamiliar structure. A red-bricked, saltbox extension jutted out from Casita's back. A massive, boxy shed, slapped disruptively into the terrace. 

"Ah, that," Mirabel huffed out a sigh, lightly skipping towards the obscure building. "You've been asleep for a while, huh?" 

"A while?" You interrupted, panic edging into your voice. "Is Camilo..." You swallowed the sentence you didn't want to finish. Dead? Dangerous? Forgetting? 

"Three weeks," Mirabel admitted, grimacing sheepishly as your eyelashes fluttered in surprise. "Mama said you cracked your ribs. She won't tell me how it happened. Actually, she won't tell me anything that happened in there." Mirabel eagerly leaned toward you, as if hoping you'd share tantalizing, horrifying secrets. 

"The cloaked man beat me up," you bluntly simplified with a shrug. You didn't care if Mirabel knew. "You know, the guy who stole Isabela and Pepa's gifts?" 

She didn't answer my question. About Camilo. 

"Bruno's working on that, you know," Mirabel nodded, her dark eyes fogging and focusing at the same time, with the same dreamy expression as when she'd cleverly pieced together the rescue plan. "He's looking into how to get their gifts back. He... he hasn't seen much yet." 

"This," she explained, roughly patted the reddish bricks with the palm of her hand. "Is the prison." She breathed the word, secret excitement glittering in her hushed whisper. "We've never had a prison. Isn't that so scary that we have criminals now?" Mirabel's wide-eyed sparkle contradicted her cautious words. She romanced the novel idea of criminals and thieves and danger. 

Because she wasn't there in the mountains. She didn't see the brutal, unnatural extraction of Pepa's gift or Camilo's bruises. 

"Can we... can we go inside?" You surprised yourself with the question. Father's in there. Is he alright? Does he feel bad about any of this?

"Nope. Abuela says we're not allowed to," Mirabel impatiently shrugged. "There's a window, want to look in?" 

"I'll be quick," you promised, pressing your hands against the gritty bricks. You had to stretch on your toes to peer your eyes over the window. The inside of the prison was clean, with a clinical, white-plaster interior and knots of coiled chains winding around the wrists of twelve prisoners. 

Twelve? The number struck you as odd. Who else is in there? Disappointment wilted your curiosity as you studied their unfamiliar faces. Where is he?

"He's not in here, Daddy Issues," Sebastian called from the shadowed corner, scowling up at you through the glass. You weren't entirely startled to find Sebastian among the captives; nobody trusted him. Besides, he had conspired with the man to kidnap the Madrigals. 

"How's the 'winning side' treating you, Seb?" The cloaked man jovially prodded Sebastian with his elbow, his wrists encased in milky-white moonstone chains. Luisa must have salvaged the smashed bits and fabricated gift-inhibiting restraints. 

"Shut up. At least they like me more than you." Sebastian retorted, rolling his green eyes. He paused. "And don't call me Seb."  

"Who else was in there, Mirabel?" You curiously slipped away from the window, dusting off the silky nightgown. You didn't need to eavesdrop on Sebastian and the cloaked man's squabbling. 

"The rebels," Mirabel griped, adjusting her round, green glasses like Augustin had. "With Luisa and her super-strength back, Abuela and Dolores discovered that there were really only ten men terrorizing the village. It was awful, they controlled the food sources to manipulate loyal villagers and beat anyone who protested." She uneasily hurried away from the prison. "It took a full week to get things back to normal." 

"Mirabel," you whispered, hating the desperation that cracked your voice. "How is Camilo? Is he alive?" She'd been delicately avoiding the question. You felt it. 

"Yeah, he's alive," Mirabel muttered, dropping her eyes, focusing on the prickly grass underfoot as you followed her. "If you can call it that." 

"So he's still asleep," you exhaled, disappointment seeping heavily through your skin. What did I hope for? Father warned us this would happen. 

"Yeah. (Y/n), I miss him. We all do," She murmured, biting the inside of her cheek. "You want to go see him after this? Who knows, maybe you can kiss him like a magic frog and he'll wake up." She finished the sentence with an effort at a cheeky smile. 

"I want to see him," you immediately agreed. It had been three weeks. There was a tangible longing in your chest, a heart-shaped lock that could only be filled by Camilo's curls or the touch of his strong, tan fingers. 

You missed him. And maybe a part of you secretly hoped Mirabel would be right. Hey, impossible magic runs in the veins of this place, right? 

The stars had flicked on, pretty electric lights in the sky. Your eyes snagged on the brightest one and cast a pleading wish. Wake up, Camilo. 

"Before we go back," Mirabel nudged you, the adventurous buzz returning to her voice. "Look." She pointed to the starry sky. No, not to the starry sky. To what should have been there. 

A single mountain had collapsed, tearing a wide, vulnerable gash in the silhouette of the Encanto's protective cliff circle.


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