Worth The Shot

The Black River

Today's fanart is by @Rainy_Riuchan! It's of y/n, and it's SO GOOD! I love how windswept the entire picture looks. She seems like she's about to embark on a great adventure. 

BACK TO THE STORY

The rrrrk of creaking wood softly pried you awake. You blinked fuzzy sleep from your eyes, confused. Raw, pale morning light freshened the square of sky you could see from your window. Camilo was sidestepping across the nursery, and he apologetically grimaced when he realized he'd woken you.

"I'm going back," he whispered, his voice husky from exhaustion. "Mami wouldn't want to find me passed out in your room. I don't want to make you look bad." 

"Right," you mumbled, tugging your quilt tightly over your shoulders. You yawned, nuzzling into your pillow. "Tomorrow, then." Sleep spidered over your mind, reclaiming you to the numb, sweet darkness. You were vaguely aware of Camilo's lingering presence. I thought he was going to leave, you groggily complained to yourself. 

"You talk in your sleep," He suddenly dropped. 

"I do?" Your eyes snapped open with fascinated horror. "What do I say?" 

"Heh," Camilo breathily laughed instead of responding. He leaned his back up against the door frame, loosely crossing his arms. A smirk tugged on the corner of his lips. 

"Camilo, tell me what I said!" You demanded, heat blushing across your cheeks. What did I dream about? Was it him? What did he hear?

"See you tomorrow," Camilo chuckled, easily pushing the door open with an outstretched, relaxed arm. Infuriatingly, he ducked into the hallway without answering. You groaned, mortified. If Camilo had heard enough to smirk at you, it must have been embarrassing. 

The next night, after Camilo knew the truth, he slept peacefully. The teasing, warm color returned to his eyes. His stand-offish moodiness melted like the summer rain that plunked onto Casita's roof.

But the nightmares changed Camilo. He'd still slip witty jokes over dinner conversations with coy smiles. He'd still toss his head all the way back when he laughed. He'd still throw giggling Antonio over his shoulder like a sack of diamonds. But he'd lost his nonchalant slouch. He held himself with a grave, unmistakable air of maturity. His green, gold-flecked gaze held careful intention, as if he'd sworn to live with purpose after glimpsing the black gates of death. He had, in a way. He was lucky to be alive, and he knew it.

If Camilo had fled death, Mirabel seemed to trip closer and closer. She'd succumbed to  unconsciousness and a feverish sheen of sweat soaked her skin. 

"(Y/n)," Julieta heartbrokenly exhaled, ushering you into her room one lazy afternoon. You'd shuffled inside, awkwardly avoiding glancing at Mirabel. A bouquet of snow-white wildflowers that you and Cristina and had plucked for her piled on the bedside desk. 

"Get-well-soon flowers," Cristina had hopefully called them. But the lush, white petals contrasted Mirabel's hollowed corpse. As their sweet aroma mingled with the stench of decay, they resembled the grim flowers that adorned a funeral casket. 

"Gothel was right," Julieta said, pressing her full lips tight and blinking rapidly to keep from crying. "She's only getting worse. And I'm afraid he was also right that she's-" Julieta hesitated, glancing up at the ceiling as if praying for strength. "She's running out of time." 

"So you think I should meet with him?" You helplessly asked. You felt terrified that Mirabel would lose to this parasitic illness, but equally terrified of the irreversible consequences of unleashing Gothel's powers. 

"I don't know what else to do," Julieta whimpered, tears breaking across her reddening face. "We can't let Mirabel just die."

"Alright," you quietly conceded, folding your hands neatly together to distract yourself from the dizzying rush of fear. "I'll go." 

That evening, the rest of the Madrigal family gravely agreed to Julieta's decision. Trusting Gothel was stupid. But allowing Mirabel to suffer was cruel. 

The next night, when a eerily bright full moon haunted the sky, you reluctantly burst out from the illusion of safety given by the towering mountains. You tiptoed through the willowy grass until you heard the steady rush of river water. The liquid trickled over slick rocks, black and merciless in the darkness. 

A cloaked figure lurked against the riverbed, cloak billowing in the summer wind. At the sound of your tentative footsteps, he immediately whirled around, throwing back his hood. The moonlight glared white as his face split into a sadistic grin. 

"So you came after all, little butterfly." 

Author's note:

I just started a lab internship and a swim instructor job, so I've been incredibly swamped with work! Thank you so much for all of your patience, and don't worry: I fully intend to finish the conclusion of this story even if the updates are coming a little slower! Let me just tell you, I'm super excited for how the ending will play out! >:) Thanks readers, love you all <3