Alma stood in the crowd, staring blankly ahead as she held her three babies tightly to her chest. Her eyes were empty and her face streaked with dried tears. Alma was surrounded by people, but had never felt more alone.
The miracle casita in front of them had appeared out of nowhere. The golden glow from Pedro's candle shimmered across the land to create a small town, casitas and shops rising up out of the ground. The mountains themselves rose around them too, the ground rumbling beneath their feet as the Encanto came to life.
While the people around her gasped and stared ahead in wonder, Alma stayed silent.
Her eyes stared ahead, but she did not see the miracle. Instead, Alma saw fire. She saw flames burning and flickering from torches. She saw men on horseback, their reflections dancing across the rippling surface of the river. She saw fire reflected on water, and the glint of metal as a sword swung down. She saw her Pedro's gentle hands, open and peaceful in the air. The same warm, strong hands that held her, that stroked her hair and touched her face. She saw them drop lifelessly down, his body following with a splash. She heard the screams and cries of the people around her as his blood flowed down the river.
Somebody's hand touched Alma's back and she gasped, quickly shielding her children from the attacker. Alma closed her eyes and braced herself for someone to hurt her, but no one did. Reassuring words were spoken all around her. Alma tried to listen, but her head was clouded with the sounds of horses, of splashing water, of metal hitting flesh. Alma shuddered, breathing hard. It was too much. There were too many people. Her chest was tight and it felt like she couldn't get enough air.
Gentle hands guided Alma inside of the casita. She moved with the crowd, the voices around her muted and muffled as Alma kept forgetting where she was. Everywhere she looked she saw the mountains, the horses, the blood in the river.
As the people led her into a room of the casita, Alma felt like a ghost, watching her own body from a distance. Somebody tried to help Alma sit on the bed, but she slid to the floor. Nothing felt real anymore.
One of the people noticed a crib in the room. They reached down to help Alma with the babies, but the moment they tried to touch one of them Alma screamed out like she was being attacked. She backed up against the bed and cowered, holding her babies protectively against her chest and as she glared up, her wide eyes gleaming in pain. The person backed away, apologising.
Alma breathed hard and fast, her chest heaving for breath as she hid her children against her shaking body. There were so many people standing over her. It still felt like she was suffocating. Alma felt the thundering of hooves and heard the screams around her. She heard the swoosh of metal and the splash of water. Alma buried her face against her children, whimpering in fear. She had to protect them, she had to.
"Let's give her some space." A townsperson spoke, encouraging everyone to leave the nursery.
Someone placed Pedro's candle down in front of Alma on their way out. As the room became empty, Alma slowly looked up at the glowing candle, her face resting against her children as she watched it's warm glow. She thought of Pedro holding the candle, how his eyes would glitter as the flame reflected against them. She tried to imagine he was still here, smiling comfortingly across at her as he held the candle in his hands. She remembered him holding a candle the day they had met, looking out across the crowd at her with a friendly wave. She remembered they way he'd laugh at her jokes, and stroke her hair. She remembered sitting together on the rooftop, her back against his chest and his breath in her hair as they watched the little lights of the festival twinkle below until the sun rose over them. She remembered the way his face looked in the golden light as they held eachother. Alma took a shaky breath. She would do anything to hold Pedro in her arms again.
