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“Mirabel!” Camilo’s shout could be heard even over the celebrations of the town and had his sister covering her ears. With the upper half of his body precariously leaning out over the landing to look down on them he waved to his cousin, features flickering between hers and his own. “Mirabel, come quickly, you have to see this!”
Apparently Casita agreed, their tiles lifting beneath her heels and propelling her forwards so quickly that she had to grasp at her Tío Bruno’s shoulder to keep her balance, pulling him with her. Laughing, the rest of the family joined them, drawn by Camilo’s excitement, up the stairs and along the corridor to a new Door.
Blank but glowing, the magic shifting over its surface, the Door stood where the nursery would once have been.
“Oh,” Mirabel froze only a few steps away as she realised exactly who this Door was for, her eyes widening. “This is…?”
“For you,” Camilo bounced on the balls of his feet, impatient to see what would happen. “You get a miracle after all, Mirabel.”
Mirabel remained frozen and staring, unable to process the clamour that broke out around her over her own thoughts.
In her mind she was five years old, barely able to contain her excitement and nerves as she walked through the gathered townsfolk. Taking hold of the candle that would only reject her, not gifting her with an ability as it had the other Madrigals. Touching the door and feeling its handle tingle beneath her fingers and then begin, slowly, to fade with the Door until there was nothing.
The whole town were there, below, watching. Her family, who had only truly recognised her value, gift or none, when the house fell, were so very excited to see what gift she would be given.
In that moment, after all the years, she did not want a gift.
It did not matter to her what the candle would give her. She was very happy with who she was right then, without a gift. She had seen what the gifts had done to her sisters before they let themselves simply be.
As the images of the last time she had stood before a Door that was meant for her faded, so did the sounds of the villagers below. Her pulse beat in her ears, echoing deafeningly over everything but the sound of her own rapid breathing as she was consumed by the urge to run.
Just as she took a miniscule step backwards, a hand gently grasped her own, loose enough that she could easily pull away if she wanted to. She almost did, jolting, but the contact was grounding, drawing her back to the reality around her.
“Mirabel?” Camilo had stopped bouncing, looking worried instead. She scanned over her family, all similarly quiet now, until her eyes settled on the one who had grasped her hand.
“Mi preciosa sobrina,” Bruno smiled encouragingly. “We’re here kid.”
There was just a hint of green glowing in his eyes, and for the first time since the return of Casita, Mirabel realised what the return of their gifts would mean for Bruno. Without them her mother had mentioned that he was happier than she had ever seen him; their return could not be as welcomed by him as it was by the rest of the family. Yet here he was, comforting and encouraging her, putting aside his own fears.
She squeezed his hand, managing a small smile of her own.
“Together?” she asked him, realising how small her voice sounded in the silence that otherwise held sway.
“This is for you, Mirabel,” he took a step forwards, but not enough to pull her towards the door, not putting any pressure on her. “We’re here, but this is yours.”
Mirabel forced herself to take a deep breath before she could hyperventilate again, reminding herself of how long she had wanted this and that her family would love her no matter what. She reached out, her fingers hovering over the doorknob, and found herself stuck there, unable to close her hand.
A tearful sniff was her only warning before she was winded by the grasp of magically strong arms lifting her off her feet. Luisa, almost forgetting her strength after so long without her gift, was only the first of the family to surround her in a hug. With the tension broken the others also surrounded her, leaving her at the centre of them all with a very uncomfortable looking Bruno trying to squirm his way out of the crush of bodies.
“Okay, okay, can’t breathe!” she managed to gasp out, unable to supress a laugh as her family struggled to untangle themselves enough to let go and realising even her dignified Abuela had joined into the mess.
This wasn’t the same as when she was five years old, carrying the weight of the family’s expectations as surely as Luisa, trying to live up to the perfection of Isabela. This time, as she reached out to the Door, the family were not waiting for her gift for their sake; Bruno was right. They wanted this for her.
Her hand closed around the doorknob, and the door began to glow bright, brighter perhaps than any she had seen before, but lines did not begin to spread across its surface, and for a moment her breath caught, terrified that it was about to fade again.
“Look,” Bruno whispered softly from behind her, his hand reaching over her shoulder to point to the top corner of the door where a shape was beginning to form, hardly larger than a coin. She followed it as it began to shift, forming into a pair of translucent golden wings that began to trace lines over the wood before settling into the palms of her drawn hands. A shining golden butterfly.
Almost a minute passed as she waited, expecting to feel something changed within her.
“I don’t…” she finally spoke, looking to her family. “I don’t feel any different.”
Although the others looked concerned, Bruno simply smiled knowingly at her. “Did you want to?”
“I…” Mirabel glanced to the others, momentarily still afraid to disappoint them, but her Tío’s smiles were terribly contagious and she couldn’t stop her own features settling into a small smile as well. “No, I don’t think I do.”
“Well then,” he clapped his hands once, the sharper sound acting like a signal to the room as the villagers began to talk again below, some of them starting a round of applause for her. “Shall we see your room?”
The door opened effortlessly with the soft sound of the wood brushing against carpet. Mirabel stepped inside, unable to take it all in at once as the magic spread, expanding as far as Isabella’s room. The carpet caught her eye right away, butterflies seemingly embroidered into the threads moving magically, taking wing and soaring up onto tapestries covering every wall, settling in the branches of embroidered foliage to one side of the room. To the other, their new home was depicted. Unlike in many of the other rooms, the ceiling here was not impossibly high, giving an impression that the room was cosy, even despite its size.
“What do you think?” Bruno asked, stepping in beside her.
“It’s perfect,” Mirabel beamed.