Worth The Shot

Magical Veins

Today's fanart is a video by @ChocoTrufflattaii! Ahhh please watch it, it's so cute and I love the song! I love the mutual pining vibes and the way they each have different, overlapping parts of the song.

BACK TO THE STORY

"So you came after all, little butterfly."

"Gothel," you acknowledged, keeping your gaze emotionless and steady. Carefully, you lowered yourself onto a broad rock, silver-grey in the moonlight. Its surface felt slick and cold as death against your palms.

"Not in the mood for conversation?" Gothel raised his dark, hairy eyebrows mockingly. Your steeled expression didn't change. He couldn't learn how scared you were. Gothel chuckled, a winning, amicable laugh. "Come, now, we won't get anywhere if you stay this surly all night."

"All I want is help for Mirabel," you quietly retorted, clenching and unclenching your hands into nervous fists until your nails stung your skin. Underfoot, the river swept by with a soft gurgle. Pointed stones protruded from its current like sharp teeth. If Gothel wanted to drown you, he'd selected the perfect crimescene.

Gothel grandiosely tugged off his heavy sea-green cloak, then carefully folded it into a neat square of cloth. His muscled shoulders bulged tight against a earthy burlap shirt. Charmingly, his full, pink lips spread into a kind smile. He swept tight ringlet curls away from his forehead, settling onto the rock next to you. He was deceptively perfect. Dreadfully attractive. It was sickening.

Remember how he looks like this, you urged yourself, disgusted by his disarming aura. Disgusted how it almost disarmed you. He consumed Pepa and Isabela's miracles. Just for a young, pretty face.

"Tell me," you ordered, angered by his manipulative gestures. You slapped your hand against the wet rock.

"Woah, there," Gothel released another charming chuckle, his eyes twinkling with amusement. He dipped his hand downward, cutting through the clear current. As if you were friends skipping stones, not enemies selling secrets.

"Tell me how to save Mirabel, or I'm leaving."

"It's not that easy, darling," Gothel smiled, and his caterpillar eyebrow quirked upward. He weighed a tiny, chunky stone in his palm. "If I tell you, how can I trust that you'll set me free?" Your mouth irritably dropped open to retaliate, but Gothel interrupted for you. "Likewise, if you set me free, how can you trust that I'll tell you anything?"

"What do you propose, then?" You snapped, your fingers anxiously playing with the butterfly beading along the hem of your dress. "It's a stalemate."

"I propose," Gothel declared, breaking off to release an arrogant, noisy yawn, "That we make a sandwich. I tell you what's happening to Mirabel, you free me, then I tell you the secret of the miracle." With a quick flick of his wrist, Gothel skipped his stone across the river, creating little circular ripples. He sunnily beamed at you. "Everyone wins!"

"Deal," you warily agreed, tightly pressing your lips together. You pawed through the riverbed stones and tossed one toward the trickling black water. The waves devoured it with a messy plunk.

"Alright," Gothel majestically leaned back onto his hands, encroaching on your rock space. You would have shoved him, but what if he shoved you back? What if you splashed into the frigid, heartless river? What if he decided to drown you to reach the moonstone keys?

"Mirabel is different from the other Madrigals, n'est-ce pas?" You didn't understand the odd, breathy language at the end of Gothel's phrase, but you nodded anyway.

"She doesn't have a gift."

"Funny, don't you think?" Gothel mused, hunting through a pile of pebbles for a suitable shape. "Every other Madrigal received a gift. Even when the candle was at its weakest, during Antonio's ceremony. Without fail."

"Camilo and Mirabel's ceremonies were so close together," you reluctantly suggested, flinching as you remembered the heart-filled pages of Camilo's journal. Maybe it had indirectly been his fault. Even so, you felt a jab of guilt for blaming Camilo to Gothel.

"Maybe," Gothel clucked his tongue, analyzing a perfectly oval rock between his thumb and forefinger. "But I suppose it doesn't matter. Back to her sickness. It began when she had skin contact with me?"

"Yes."

"Odd," Gothel shrugged. "I touched the other Madrigals, too. None of them got sick. Could be a coincidence. It does make you wonder, though." A cunning glint flashed through his eyes. He wasn't sharing everything. Not yet.

"Anyways, It's hard to find miracles. There are many concentrated in Colombia. Many in magical lands throughout the world. In realms you couldn't even imagine," Gothel wistfully half-smiled, flicking his rock cleanly across the liquid surface. Skip, skip, skip. "So I thought to myself, what if I could create beacons, to lead me straight to the miracles? What if I could find something naturally attracted to their magical pull?" A heavy excitement accelerated in Gothel's voice. As if he lorded a grand, thrilling secret over you.

"Why do you chase miracles in the first place?" You demanded, painful curiosity devouring your caution. "And what does this have to do with Mirabel? Did you plant a beacon in her? Is that what the disease is?"

"Patience," Gothel calmly instructed, dangling his secrets above your reach. Taunting you. "The first question I'll answer once you free me. When I tell you the secret of miracles."

"And the second question?"

"I didn't plant a beacon in her. I didn't have to," Gothel yawned again, but this yawn clearly was fake. Excitable adrenaline sharpened his gaze, as if he prepared to hurl an explosion with his next words. "I discovered that my offspring carried the same golden magic as me in their veins. But unlike me, they're fragile. They can't survive in an environment void of supernatural auras. These babies made perfect compasses. The farther away I strayed from miracles, the sicker they became. Their own, magical blood ate them alive, cannibalizing their skin from the inside."

"You... bred babies to hunt down miracles? Even if it meant being cruel to them?" You spoke slowly, horror dawning on you.

"A game of hot-and-cold. With babies!" Gothel cheerfully agreed, pitching another rock into the waves like a bullet. This one didn't skip, sinking deep under the cruel surface like the icy rocks settling in your stomach.

"Oh, don't worry," Gothel continued, dismissively flapping his hand at you. But there was deliberate glee in his sudden movement, as if he savored the taste of your horrified shock. "I always released the babies to the wild once I no longer had need of them."

"So Mirabel is..." you balked at Gothel's nastily perfect, white teeth as he flashed a smile. Puzzle pieces rained into place like volcanic ash. Why Mirabel didn't receive a gift. Why Mirabel's arm glowed neon yellow suns.

"Yes," Gothel laughed, a cold smile distorting his face into crinkles.

"It would seem that Mirabel is my child."