The dome of sand slowly broke over top of Bruno's head, emerald green streaks fading until the temporary structure collapsed, leaving a circular pile of sand around him. The dark-haired seer's hands dropped to his waist, the jade tablet that had been meagerly clenched between his fingers shattering against the floor, as he doubled over and dropped to his knees, gritting his teeth as he fought off waves of nausea. He squeezed his eyes shut before opening them again, the green glow in his iris lingering. The ground below him was blurred and, when Bruno lifted his chin to look for his mamá, his vision swarmed with black dots to the point where she practically blended in with the stony background.
The only reason he knew Abuela was approaching was because the patter of her sandals against the floor grew louder. If she could tell that her son was drained because of his vision, then she didn't make it known audibly. This was far from the first time Abuela had told her son to look into the future for her, but rarely did she make the demanding climb to his vision cave to watch his gift in action. Dire situations called for drastic measures. She had never seemed to notice the physical toll his gift burdened him with in recent months.
"Brunito!" She exclaimed, Bruno figuring that she stood directly in front of him from the louder volume of her voice. His eyelids had drooped closed, and he had to practically pry them open to look up. For a split second, a sense of relief began to soothe his senses. Surely she noticed the way his eyes remained a glowing green, even though the prophecy had since manifested on the freshly broken tablet. Surely mamá had seen the way he dropped to his knees without warning, or the pale complexion of his skin. Mothers were supposed to notice these things. But, the raw clarity of what Abuela was upset about washed over Bruno with a chill that clashed with the sweltering heat of nausea. His vision still hadn't refocused, but he could hear the gentle clatter of a glass-like material being plucked from the ground. His mamá only had eyes for the shattered tablet. Notably, the third shattered tablet.
"Bruno, you must not be so careless! We must be able to show the town that the magic is strong. It will be far more convincing if they can see the vision with their own eyes!"
Two days ago, a handful of the townspeople claimed that they had seen cracks in their casita's outer walls. By the time Abuela and the rest of the Madrigals were able to dash outside, there was no sign of such blemishes on their magical home. Abuela, horrified over the possibility that rumors would spread about their magic weakening, had ushered Bruno to his bedroom immediately, insisting she join him.
It was the same vision every time. The cracks in their casita multiplied with frightening speed, until the entire house faded from the vision. This wouldn't be the prophecy that Abuela was willing to hear. It wasn't a prophecy that Bruno was willing to speak into existence; after all, once the future was read from his lips, its occurrence was solidified.
The first two times Bruno held his prophecy ritual, Abuela standing near the entrance to the feebly lit room, he had purposefully dropped the tablets. The jade slab was etched with the vision of their casita cracked, destined to topple over completely.
The alarming nature of the prophecy wasn't the only downside to Bruno's gift. Months back, he began to notice these side effects in the aftermath of his fortune telling. He would often find himself on all fours after a vision was completed, his heart racing and his stomach taut with queasiness. This time was no different, with these negative aftereffects worsening the longer he used his gift.
The glass shard dropped back to the ground with a crystalline crack after falling from Abuela's fingers. Dust and sand particles thickened the air, making it considerably harder to catch his breath. Furthermore, the primal anxiety of not being able to see his surroundings had a grip on Bruno's chest, making it more strenuous to breathe.
"Yes, si, mamá." Bruno grimaced with a shaky inhale, pressing a hand to the floor so that he could get back on his feet. His eyesight was still blurry, but he could make out the jade-hued blobs of his visions scattered across the floor. "I-I'm sorry. It… just slipped out of my hands."
It wasn't entirely a lie, after all. His hands felt clammy, damp with sweat that he weakly began to rub off on his ruana.
"Bruno, what am I going to do with you?" Abuela muttered with a shake of her head. The tone she used harbored a sense of exasperation that only made Bruno feel sicker. His posture was slouched as he looked down towards the floor with a familiar sense of guilt. He knew that he would never be enough for her. Her expectations were set sky high, and Bruno consistently missed the mark compared to his sisters and their children. The whole family knew of how the town spoke of Bruno, and the bleak rumors surrounding him only solidified his belief that his "gift" was nothing more than a curse. He had to live with seeing the dark parts of the future, including the future of his own family, and found himself unable to speak of what was destined to occur. Whispers of the awful things he caused by telling someone their prophecy always reached Bruno's ears. And, now, his own "miracle" was physically deteriorating his body, leaving him feeling all the more powerless over his own fate, his own future. "Have another vision, Brunito. I must leave to make sure it isn't chaos downstairs. We cannot have the town begin to lose hope in us. You must be able to show them that we are strong."
Bruno ducked his head shamefully. "Yes, mamá," came the soft-spoken answer, a light grimace twisting his lips.
Abuela nodded, satisfied with her son's answer, before she strode out from the rocky chamber. Bruno's hand curled against the back of his neck with a dizzied sigh, subconsciously rocking back and forth as he waited for the patter of Abuela's sandals against the stone stairs to dissipate.
His gaze flitted to the scattered jade pieces around the ground, a fresh wave of shame pooling into his stomach. All he had done was drop the physical manifestation of the prophecy and mamá had spoken to him with nothing but disappointment. Fleeting moments like this were where he felt like his mistakes added up, amounting to the point where he felt like he was more of a burden than a blessing to his community. It surely wouldn't bode well for him if he came back with the image of their magic dying. Rumor had it that Bruno Madrigal made bad things happen, like he was some maniacal troublemaker. How could he escape being blamed for their casita cracking when such rumors existed?
Bruno shuffled over to the doorway where he had left a jug of sand, stooping down to take the hardened clay in his hands. The vault-like door creaked as he leaned against it, an exhale rattling in his chest. His body was fatigued, but he had to keep pushing. His role as the family disappointment was already solidified. He had to do his part to make up for his failures. He would stay here until something, anything, in his vision changed.
His feet dragged along the stony ground as he tilted the jar forward, pouring out a stream of sand in a circular pattern. His legs quivered with each step, as if they were an extension of Bruno's anxiety about having back-to-back prophecies. He was going to run his body to the ground but, if it would change the fate of his family, it would be worth it.
The sound of sand falling to the ground hummed in the seer's ears. "Help the family. You have to be good for the family." His tone was dry, his words sounding rehearsed. He obviously shouldn't hold concern for his physical wellbeing; that would be selfish. After all, Abuela wanted, no, required, a vision to prove their strength to the community. Abuela's need would be fulfilled, even if Bruno had to exhaust himself to satisfy her. He wouldn't let her down, and he longed to deliver a prophecy that wouldn't paint him as the villain.
Bruno lowered himself to the ground after setting the jar of sand to the side, shakily lighting a match before extending his hand forward to light four small twig piles. "Alright. Y-you can do this, easy peasy…" He murmured after tossing the match in one of the piles. A breeze suddenly whipped into the room, stirring Bruno's curly black hair and ruffling the edges of his ruana. His eyes resumed their signature emerald green color as the dome of sand reformed over his body.
Immediately, Bruno's lips twisted into a pained grimace, his back going rigid as the nauseous sensation returned with full force. He held his hands out in front of him, struggling to push down the discomfort and focus on carrying out his prophecy-telling ritual. He stared ahead with feigned composure, watching the same fortune begin to play out before him in the sand.
Bruno watched owlishly as the image of casita in his vision began to flicker, shattering before his very eyes. "N-no, why?" His words were hissed out frantically, reeking with the growing pain that engulfed his body. The vision suddenly grew distorted, turning into mottled green streaks, with parts of the thinly veiled sand dome beginning to crumble. "Please, it can't be the same thing…"
Hands were thrust forward forcibly, the seer desperately trying to salvage his prophecy so that the tablet could be created in the end. Bile began to fill in his mouth as he slowly sunk to the floor, his breath heaving between his lips. It felt as though his eyes were burning, the color of his irises flickering between his natural eye color and an unsettling emerald glow. Even as he was on his knees, his entire body fighting against his own gift, Bruno kept one hand out, straining to catch the jade slab. Sand whipped against his grimacing face. Coupled with temporary blindness, Bruno wasn't able to open his eyes to see when the prophecy was completed, forced to rely on physical touch. Bruno rarely prayed anymore, but he was pleading with God to change their fate, his fate, so that his prophecy would illustrate a different outcome.
"P-please… come on, please!" What likely only lasted a minute dragged on for a decade in Bruno's mind. The tips of his fingers would grasp at empty air, longing to feel the solid form of the tablet manifest in front of him. A groan bubbled at his lips every time his stomach lurched with discomfort, his mouth salivating as a precursor to Julieta's cooking threatening to come back up. Bruno spat on the floor every few seconds, his forehead growing sticky with sweat the longer he was forced to keep up his fortune telling.
Just a little bit longer. "Dios mío," he groaned fitfully, gagging as his body sagged from a revolting internal heat. Sand began to stick to his forehead and cheeks, latching on to the patches of skin that gleamed with sweat.
Then, he felt it. The coolness of crystal brushing against his fingertips, contrasting with the burning temperature his body bore. Immediately, fingers curled against the tablet. Bruno gripped the prophetic object with what was left of his drained energy, his chest heaving in distress, before hugging it to his body to minimize the risk of dropping it once again. His mouth hung open, his tongue lolling out like a hound's, panting with heaving breaths.
Bruno's eyes were crazed, still blinded from the overexertion of his power, as he held his arm out in front of him, waving it from side to side until his knuckles hit the clay jar he set aside earlier. He gripped the lip of the jug and dragged it over, his mouth hovering over the opening with the full expectation of throwing up.
The tablet was pushed feebly against his abdomen as Bruno retched, the sound of sporadic breathing filling the air between intermittent gagging. He spat bile into the jug as the worst of the nausea slowly rolled over, weakly lifting an arm to drag the sleeve of his murky green ruana over his forehead and lips.
Bruno didn't lift his head even after the soft, familiar patter of his rats scurrying towards him came to his attention. He could feel the cool padding of their feet against the skin of his arm, as two of the rodents wormed their way up his sleeve, nestling against his collarbone, as if offering up their silent support.
"You guys gonna tell me how proud you are of me?" Bruno mumbled apathetically, rubbing his eyes tiredly. His vision was starting to clear up, though still wobbly from lightheadedness. A quavering sigh was exhaled. "Eh, who am I kidding?" The dark-haired seer chuckled dryly, half-heartedly lifting a finger to brush the top of one rat's head. "If you could talk, I'm sure you would say that."
His gaze dropped down to the tablet in his lap. The remaining black spots floating in his vision danced and swayed across the bright green object. A part of Bruno didn't want to flip the tablet over to see what was crafted on the other side. He swallowed hard before quickly flipping the tablet around, his eyes raking the carving to see what his prophecy foretold.
Frustrated tears welled in Bruno's eyes as his eyes beheld the outcome of the future. Cracks. Their casita was still marred with cracks, still destined to crumble. With what scrapped strength he possessed, Bruno chucked the tablet at the wall, flinching as green shards flew about the room. He didn't even notice that he was hyperventilating until the rats curled against his ruana suddenly scattered.
Bruno looked down at his hands in shame, watching bitter tears fall between his trembling fingers. "H-heh, it really is true. I really don't help my family," he whispered, his eyes wide and glassy with unshed tears. The seer flinched abruptly as the sound of rocks cracked above him, his mouth falling open as he watched long, spiderweb cracks form in the top of his vision cave. He stood still, frozen in alarm. Nothing more happened. The cracks didn't disappear, but they didn't fade.
A shaky inhale rattled Bruno's chest as he forced himself to sit up straight, dully looking around at the cave. Fragmented tablet shards littered the floor, and pale-colored sand was starting to blot out the darker stone floor. He leaned forward to pluck one of the translucent pieces from the ground, holding it out. He could see his reflection in the glass-like shard, his breath catching in his throat as he observed his ruffled appearance. His hair was mussed, eye bags accentuated his face, and his eyes still possessed a faint emerald glow.
But, none of that mattered. "Again. I have to do it again." Bruno loved his family. If he loved his family, he should be willing to make sacrifices for them. If he wanted to be useful, good, then having another vision was the only way. He wasn't going to disappoint his family, even if it took him a thousand tries.
Forcing himself to his feet, Bruno briefly stumbled with dizziness until he caught himself on the wall. His vision blurred, but he pushed himself to walk forward anyway. He needed to grab a new jar of sand, and some more matches. He would force the future to change for the sake of his family, their encanto, even if his vision permanently faded to black.