Worth The Shot

Dizzying Gold Bubbles

Today's fanart is by @gidget11037 ! Camilo looks so clingy but adorable! I also love the glows around y/n and Camilo, the dark background is so poetic, like it's showing how they're each other's whole world. So cute! (Let's hope one of them doesn't die) *cough* sorry.

BACK TO THE STORY

Marcos lit the Candella miracle candle and pressed a single finger to Camilo's forehead.

"Father. Stop it," you anxiously snapped, frantically sifting through your head for any real threat to give him. "I'll go run away with Tio Sebastian. I'll... I'll kill myself! I'll kill you!"

"(Y/n), would you calm down?" He ordered, deep creases scoring in between his eyebrows as he concentrated on Camilo. "This won't kill him."

"He's right. For once." Sebastian warily slunk around your father as if Marcos' magic spewed jagged razors of glass. "Don't distract him while he's... working." He grimaced at the clinical word.

"Why not, Sebastian?" You demanded, but your question was honest. You trusted two things about Sebastian: that he loathed his brother, and that the memory-warping gift disgusted him. He wouldn't spin a sugary lie to protect Marcos.

"Because he's bad at it," Sebastian vaguely snapped, focusing on Marcos. In Sebastian's mistrustful glare, Marcos now was a delicate bomb. Even Sebastian didn't dare touch him. "If he loses control, it messes with their head. Shreds it up. Permanently."

When he loses control. Just like Pepa, with her violent, swirling rainclouds. Just like Isabela with her accidental, imperfect plants. Just like Camilo, with his shuddering, uncontrollable shifting. Only much, much more deadly.

"Yes," Marcos grumbled through gritted teeth. Light gold bubbles wafted, sparkling, around Marcos' extended finger, giving this unstable weapon the magical appearance of a fairy godmother wand. "I want to keep him alive. So stop talking, both of you."

Pop. Pop. The bubbles lightly burst, seeping into the skin of Camilo's forehead. Sucking in painful breaths through his teeth,  Camilo cringed away from Marcos' touch.

"Does it hurt?" You whispered to Sebastian, helplessly paralyzed. Your frustration surfaced a childhood memory of chasing bright blue butterflies through a field, just outside the village. If you moved, the butterflies would flap away, but if you froze stock-still, you'd never reach them. Both options were useless.

But I didn't grow up in this Encanto. It's a false memory. Why would father jeopardize my life over blue butterflies?

"Does it hurt?" Sebastian humorlessly laughed, mocking your question. His angry words tasted bitter with scorn and repulsion. "He's ripping apart his mind. Burning away thoughts. Sometimes they cry."

You weren't stupid enough to scream or sob. Any sharp noise would pop your father's fragile focus like the acidic bubbles. Killing Camilo. All you could do was silently pray for a miracle. For Luisa.

As he worked, your father frowned at the air just above Camilo's head, as if mesmerized by an invisible screen. His right, sparkling pointer finger drilled into the unconscious teenager, while his left fingers dabbled across the blank air.

With tiny swirling motions, your father's free hand progressed through the secrets of Camilo's mind. In the hidden dimension that only he could see, was he bleeding out your colors from Camilo's memory?

Swipe. What memory did he just reject? Your first kiss? Dancing in the rain?

Knots tightened in your throat. Every secret joke, "Mariposa," and shared moment dissolved like papers left out in a storm, tattered by cold raindrops. And the rain soaked you with the heavy ache of loss.

Tap. Did your father's tap corrupt a false experience? Camilo betraying his own Encanto? Camilo having a different family?

Your father's gift held too much power. With his victims locked in the vulnerability of sleep, he could convince anyone that capybaras sing or that the sky should be purple. He could dissolve righteous revolutions. He could incite selfish murders. He could trick a heart into loving him.

Hanging over Camilo's dark complexion, your father's brown hair seemed limp and faded. Your gaze fled, desperately hunting for distraction. High on the glowing cave wall, Augustin's hands poked through a crevice, chiseling at Luisa's chains.

Luisa's cheeks flushed with strength and determination, unlike the paled skin of Isabela and Pepa. She hadn't lost her gift. The cloaked man hadn't subjected her to the poisonous procedure. He'd been patient, silent as night while Marcos altered Camilo. Why?

Spine straightening in horror, you suddenly discovered the reason. The cloaked man clasped the Madrigal candle between both hands, humming meditatively.

His eyes glinted hungrily, locked on Julieta.