Outside the Encanto

The Secrets of the Scroll

Dearest Y/n,

If you are reading this, I have moved on to my next life, a better life up in the heavens.

I never intended for a war to start. I never meant for our family to become the soldiers we are.

Your Abuelo Andrés fought in the war that made us refugees. At the time of our escape, he was home after a tragic defeat. He had watched a village burn down, and failed to save a family inside a burning home.

He immediately came home, and organized the evacuation of our town. I was four months pregnant at the time, and knew that if I'd stayed, my baby would grow up in constant danger.

Half of the people in our town came with us, the other half stayed. My mother was too sick to travel, so my sister and her family stayed with her. My nephew, Pablo, was her only child.

I fought so hard to take Pablo with me, to bring him to safety. But my sister refused, unwilling to give up her only child.

Later that night our village was raided, and everyone who stayed was killed. I can only pray that my family was taken mercy upon.

I met up with my best friend since birth, Alma, and her husband Pedro. Together, we led our village to safety.

As we crossed the river, the raiders that had slaughtered our village had caught up to us. Andrés had began directing us to a safe spot he knew, and I was right behind him. I didn't realize my dear Alma and her husband had stayed behind. I turned around in time to see Pedro on the ground, and Alma collapsing with her newborn children. I ran back to help her, but suddenly everything around me began to glow, a warmth surrounded me, mountains rose, a home of magic was created.

That was the beginning of the Encanto.

Our home was one of the first built in the Encanto, made to mirror Casita, as two powerful families. We did everything together, and everyone loved us. We were the ones they came to for help, for advice.

When my firstborn son came to me, my husband and I were ecstatic. I'd had some practice parenting already, as Alma often needed help with three babies, so we knew what to do. I felt as if Alma was my sister, and loved her babies as my own.

As powerful as she was, I could tell Alma wasn't happy. She missed her husband dearly, and often came with tear stains on her face. Sometimes I would take her toddlers for a few days, so she could mourn by herself.

My husband wasn't happy, either. He longed to go back out for battle, to fight for the freedom of others. I had just found out I was pregnant again, so I convinced him to stay, to see his child born.

The moment I saw my youngest son, I knew on what to name him. His face looked just like my little nephew, who died all too young. To this day, I believe that my son is the reincarnation of Pablo, his namesake.

Even after the birth of our son, my husband couldn't resist the calling of war. When Pablo was just a year old, and Darius was three, he said his goodbyes, and went to fight.

I never saw him again.

On the day of the Madrigal children's fifth birthday, Alma was excited to show off her children, just as any mother would be. She believed her children were superior to everyone else's, because they would be granted gifts. But her pride was taken away when my children were granted gifts aswell, although not in a professional fashion. We had an argument that night, and I realized that she was not the woman she used to be. I took my children and got out of there, cutting off our friendship.