Chapter Text
Bruno held the glowing jade glass, his eyes desperately searching for its meaning. How? How could he not understand it? The magic in danger, his niece, Mirabel, standing in front of their casita with cracks in the building, breaking… but not? Her future undecided and uncertain. What would he tell Mama? What would he tell the family? There was no clear answer. His heart stopped as he looked up from the image. He couldn’t. He was Bruno. Everyone assumed the worst when it came to him and his visions. What would happen to Mirabel if he told them all what he saw? Everyone hated him, everyone saw him as creepy, he made bad things happen. It killed him when people avoided him, when they whispered, but Mirabel? She was a little girl. A sweet little girl who would already have a hard time in life being the only Madrigal without a gift, but to have to deal with his vision too? No, he couldn’t do that to her and he wouldn’t. But what could he do? Mama would be expecting an answer from him, an answer that he couldn’t give, he wouldn’t give, but he couldn’t avoid her forever. Or could he? He could leave. He could leave and no one would ever know what he saw. No one would ever know Mirabel’s future. She would be safe. But… he loved his family; he didn’t want to just suddenly disappear without saying goodbye. But Mirabel’s safety was far more important. Besides, it’s not like his gift was helping the family or community anyway, it was just ruining lives and upsetting everyone around him. No, he had to do this. Everyone would be better off if he was gone. Bruno clutched the vision in his hands. Getting to his feet he smashed the green glass slate, burying the shards in the sand. No one would ever see this vision. No one.
Bruno descended down the thousands of stairs from his vision cave. Why did his room have to have so many stairs? When had he become so unfit? The cramp in his side said a while ago, but finally, finally, he made it to the door. He cracked it open the slightest amount, peering into the night. No one could see him for this to work. He had to avoid everyone to prevent being asked about his vision of little Mirabel’s future. Clutching his satchel Bruno made his way to the kitchen. He had gathered his life savings, but he still needed food for the journey. It would be a long, strenuous trek over the surrounding mountains. He shoved as much food into his satchel as possible, enough to surely last him a few weeks, filled a canteen with water and filled a small sack with salt to ward away bad luck. He wished he could take more, more belongings, but his satchel was only so big and he had to prioritise the essentials.
Food, water, salt, money, matches to create a fire. He was ready. Bruno poked his head out of the kitchen. The coast was clear. As he began to creep towards the door, he passed the nursery, hearing soft sobs. He froze, quietly parting the door. Poor little Mirabel laid atop her bed facing the wall, weeping into her pillow. The sight broke his heart. This is why he was leaving; he couldn’t ruin her life any more than it already was. He desperately wanted to comfort her, to pull her in close and tell her everything would be alright, but he didn’t know if everything would be alright and he couldn’t lie to her. Besides, he was Bruno and everyone feared him, even his own family. He silently closed the door and descended down the stairs, leaving out the front door. He paused to gaze at casita for the last time before pulling on the hood of his poncho and throwing some salt over his shoulder to ward away bad luck. He made his way through the hushed, sleeping town, coming to the foot of the mountain. Don’t turn around. Don’t turn around. Taking a deep breath, he began to climb the steep incline.
The sun was beginning to rise by the time Bruno finally made it down the other side to the river. He paused, uncertain. What was he doing? He was running away but he had no idea where he was running to. Where could he go? The villagers had probably spread word of him far and wide, warning others to stay away, that he was nothing but bad news. He scuffed his shoe against the ground, leaving a mark in the dirt. It hit him. It wasn’t how he usually did things; he didn’t have the usual materials and he had never conducted a vision for himself, but… No, no, no, this was a bad idea. His visions caused pain, he made bad things happen… but what other choice did he have? It was an open space. He found a fallen branch and traced a circle in the dirt, forming a small pile of leaves and twigs in the centre. He created two small piles of dirt to help create the dome for his vision. Oil! He didn’t have oil. He needed oil to place in the centre of the two piles to burn. Okay, was there anything else he could use? Anything. Anything… Bruno noticed sap dripping from a nearby tree. Sap was flammable, right? He collected some on a leaf and poured it into the centre of each pile. Now he just had to light the fire. Thank goodness he had packed some matches. He threw salt over his shoulders and crossed his fingers. Once he had lit the fire, he took a small twig to light the sap which, luckily, caught fire instantly. He took a deep breath, his brown eyes glowing jade green as he was engulfed in a vision. It worked. It actually worked! Green lights began to form images before his eyes.
He saw… a plane? Wait, did he have to leave the country? Was it not enough that he had to leave his family and home behind? This is what happened. This is what he did. His visions hurt people, they hurt him. The plane landed in… where was that? Italy? He had to fly to Italy? He had to fly across the North Atlantic Ocean? Seriously? No. No, he couldn’t do this. A small town by the sea appeared as he tried to focus on the sign. Porto… Portorosso? He was shown a small island with an abandoned tower. No, he didn’t want this. He should just go back. The vision changed. It showed him going back. Mama would ask for the vision again, but she would watch it with him this time, see what he saw. Mirabel, oh poor little Mirabel. Bruno ended the vision, unable to watch anymore. He held the glass slate above his head as dirt and soil rained down. It showed the tower and it showed him going back and Mirabel… It was giving him a choice and these were the outcomes. Tears stung Bruno’s eyes. He didn’t want either future, but one hurt just him and the other hurt everyone. He used his green poncho to dry his eyes. He knew what he had to do, even if it wasn’t what he wanted to do.