Worth The Shot

Mystery of a Pendant

Today's fanart is A VOICE ACTED ANIMATION by @ChocoTrufflattaii !!!! HOW COOL IS THAT??? It's the scene where y/n and Camilo are trapped in the cave from The Pressure of Earth. I love this animation to DEATH, the music, the drawing, the emotion... It's literally so perfect and I hope you guys like it as much as I do. 

BACK TO THE STORY

"Bruno, that's the worst idea ever. We are not relighting the Candella candle." 

"But (y/n)," Bruno pleaded, his threadbare ruana rippling as he chased after you. "It's the theatre. Our first performance. We need you!" 

In a fit of preparation for his play, Bruno had concocted the terrible suggestion to cram you into the cast. A delirious, last-minute flounder. 

"A spectacle," Bruno had declared, clasping his hands together, "Is just what the show needs."  Bruno's eyes glowed, but his skin hung an ashy brown-gray, as if the years in dust and darkness had drained its color. 

"No, Bruno."

"Why not?" Bruno hedged, persistently weaving through the rows of stackable chairs. Mirabel and Isabela had slaved since morning to arrange seating. With Isabela's flowery talent withered, Alma must have demoted her to mundane, giftless chores. You wondered if Mirabel's icily beautiful cousin loathed her new, underappreciated role. 

"Why not?" You spluttered, ignoring Bruno as he clumsily toppled over a chair. It seemed ludicrous to even need a reason why not. "Because it's the Candella candle! My father used it to brainwash me and kidnap Madrigals and hurt Camilo and ruin everything!" 

"But we have it! Not your father," Bruno emphasized, guiltily glancing at Isabela as his hands fumbled to right the chair. You got the sense that Isabela terrified him. 

"I'm not sure, Bruno. Is it safe?" 

"Listen: I'll light it. You'll flap around. Do your role. I'll blow it out." 

"I don't flap," you protested, mildly offended. Bruno's unflattering word made you sound like an gawky vulture or a hairless bat. 

"Sure you don't, kid," Bruno amiably agreed with a crooked grin. "So, are you in?" 

"Fine," you exhaled, half-smiling at Bruno's enthusiasm. It would be fun to take your mind off Camilo. A hopeful longing throbbed through your gravity-coated limbs. You could fly again.

 "See you tonight! Backstage! Everything will go right, trust me!" Bruno crowed with uncharacteristic enthusiasm. "Knock on wood," he quickly added, slapping an unlucky wooden chair. Thumping and clacking, the entire row of chairs plunged down like dominos. 

"Tio Bruno!" Isabela howled, dropping her chair in frustration. She swept across the battlefield of wooden seats with a turbulent glare. 

"Oops," Bruno sheepishly whispered, drawing his elbows close to his body. You laughed, waving goodbye. "Hey, wait, where are you going?" Bruno begged, his wide eyes anxiously pinned on Isabela as she stormed closer. 

"There's someone I need to talk to." 

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Your fingers hesitated, sliding the brassy key between their gaps. Alma had willingly trusted you with the prison key, but it felt heavy and awkward in your hands, like a dangerous jar of snakes. With a spurt of courage, you thrust the key into the lock, jiggling the tip until you heard a neat click. 

"...I'll tell you my real name if you let me call you Seb," a muffled, charming laugh was rippling from behind the door, stickily smooth like peanut butter. 

Like a slice of coconut pie, a sliver of white light creaked across the darkness as you warily pulled open the door. You squinted into the eerie hall, dipping your foot across the border between the grass and the chilled, white floor. 

"Sebastian?" You squeaked into the void, immediately cringing at your nervous voice. 

"I'm still here," Sebastian's voice boredly announced. "What do you want?"

"I-"

"You could actually come in and talk with me if you're not scared." 

"I'm not scared," you asserted, stiffly stepping into the prison. Not scared of the chained prisoners, at least. The unnatural white of the walls and floors glared like the whites of a rabid dog's eyes. The ghostly building itself, wrapped in its sterile cloak, sent your heart flapping in uneasy thuds. "I- I just- I wanted to-" 

"My, my, we have a mumbler," the cloaked man cheerily taunted, his knees against his chest and angled toward Sebastian. "Get on with it, dearie." 

"I wanted to warn you," you steadied your voice, embarrassed. "We're going to light the candle, Sebastian. Not for very long, but I know what it does to you." 

"And?" Sebastian raised his eyebrows, feigning indifference. But you caught the flash of cold panic in his emerald eyes. 

"Now who's scared?" The cloaked man jeered, gripping Sebastian around his bicep like a claw. "The ghosts are coming for you." 

Sebastian snorted and shoved him hard in the chest. "Get off me." You briefly wondered who'd made the disastrously imprudent call to chain the two men close together. 

Gold shimmered around the cloaked man's neck, glittering in your eye. A tiny pendant dangled, winking and turning in the scarce sunlight. A tendrilled sun splashed onto its precious metal. Mirabel's sun. 

"Where did you get that?" You demanded, pointing at the medallion with the suspicion of a judge condemning a criminal. 

"It's a family ornament. From my home," the cloaked man admitted, surprise flicking over his dark, symmetrical features. "You've seen it before?" 

"What did you do to Mirabel?" You angrily hissed, jabbing at the shiny pendant. It's regal design sported an exact match to the parasitic swirls wriggled under Mirabel's skin. 

Did he possess her? A terrified thought writhed in your head. Who knows what powers he's absorbed? Can he do that?

"Nothing," the man honestly blinked, bewildered. With almost comical confusion, he touched his sturdy chin against his chest to study the pendant. "Why, is she... what's wrong with her?" 

"Nothing," you hurriedly backtracked, echoing the cloaked man's word. If he didn't know about Mirabel's gold tattoo, you felt reluctant to spill Madrigal secrets. You nodded to Sebastian as you shuffled out. "Good luck tonight." 

As you tumbled outside, the burst of tingling sunlight on your skin felt like a delicious gift. Relieved, you slammed the door shut. You jostled the key in the rickety hole, but leaned your shoulder against the red-brick wall after locking it. Eavesdropping. 

Morose silence choked the prison for a moment, disrupted by a short, harsh sigh. Sebastian. He's stressing over the ghosts. 

"She said it'll be quick," the old man offered. 

"Yes, I have ears," Sebastian's voice grumbled. "Thanks, wizard wannabe." 

A pause.

"Monsieur Gothel. My name's Gothel." 

Inexplicably, the whispered name prickled chills along your skin, tiny poisonous blisters that seared until you escaped to the safety of Bruno's bustling backstage.