Aletia honestly wasn't sure if she was dreaming or not. Usually, her world is an expanse of nothing. Her eyes, in a normal sense, aren't able to register normal values of light. It had been like that forever. But when she uses her power, she is able to see something no one else can.

All beings, through her eyes, are white outlines. This bright color depicts one's life, and how much of it they have. Naturally, it becomes dimmer as one becomes older. The brighter it is, the longer one's life expectancy.

Aletia calls Emil "Mi Luz" partially due to this fact. To her, no other is brighter. To her, no other is more precious. He, in every sense of the word, is her light.

Within this white glow were other colors that depicted intentions and thoughts. Emotions. No matter how much someone wished to hide these from her, she would always see them clearly. Some call it aura, some call it life energy. Her Abuela, Juliet, simply called it "the truth".

Pink was 'affection' in the lightest sense. When one is among people, places, or objects that one likes, this color is always present. The deeper their 'like', the darker it gets, until it becomes red.

Red is a passionate color; 'like' becomes 'love'. More often than not, this is the color seen amongst close family and friends. When one falls into romantic love with someone, red evolves into purple.

Purpleis often an elusive and frustrating color. Discovering and maintaining this love is a complicated task. It completely depends on one's devotion to it. Her father was a prime example of devotion. There wasn't a doubt in her mother's mind that he loved her to the moon and back.

There were many other colors that Aletia could see within someone. They would appear in many sequences and depths which told her many things. She could sometimes tell what they were going to do before even they did, which was why they thought of her as a seer.

Those who'd been close with their family knew that this wasn't true, but there were many who didn't. It didn't help that when she used her power, unlike her grandmother, her eyes gave off a glow. Her family and their friends thought it pretty, but the ignorant many thought otherwise. They thought that she was casting a spell on them when her eyes lit up, especially when something bad happened.

The more she 'predicted', the more of an omen they saw her as. People avoided her, they were wary. Wariness became fear, fear grew into hate. and that hate had washed away the vibrant colors of her world and turned it into an abyss.

It was the first and only time learning about a new color had been something horrible.

It was the first time she ever recognized that inky, murky black.

The people who hurt them, chased them, and scorned them had flecks of this black scattered in their souls. It was a color that her grandmother warned her to always avoid, no matter what. It didn't matter how little of it she saw. Once she saw it, even a speck, her grandmother told her to run.

It was glaring, gritty, vile, evil.

'It was the color of a demon.'

The people who burned their homes and killed her family were purely this inky color. They stuck out against the empty confines of her sight; a color so dark that even a starless night was brighter. She came to call them El Vacío, things that were void of reason, of compassion, of a soul.

Those with the black flecks of their inky disease could not be saved or persuaded. Once they gave in to their sweet temptation, that was the day they ceased to be humans in her eyes.

'Beyond the Encanto, the world was filled with vacío.'

Yet here, there was none of that. The Madrigals... their color was so unique and bright. That wasn't even adding the overwhelming entity known as La Casita. Passionate vermillions, playful oranges, love-filled pinks, joyful yellows, and that magical, sparkling gold; their vibrant souls painted a clear picture of who they were.

There wasn't a speck of darkness in sight.

'So why do I still feel this anxiety?'

They had just reached the top of the stairs, leading them to the dining room where the others were preparing breakfast. Her feet planted themselves there, refusing to go further. She could feel everyone scurrying about below, anticipation and love fueling every movement. Being loved and cared for like this after so long felt like a dream.

'Ah, I know why.'

Things that were too good to be true often were, and Aletia had lost hope in them long ago. The moment this felt like her deepest wish was granted, she was unconsciously waiting for reality to cruelly wash it away.

It had done so three times before.

First, with the murder of her Abuela.

Second, with the following death of her mother.

And third, with the sacrifice of her father.

Now all she had left to hold on to was Emil, her only light left in this dark, lonely world. Who's to say it would not do it again and take Emil from her, too? At the bottom of the stairs lie a dream she hopes is real, but what if it isn't? What if her illness finally caught up to her on that mountain and she was in the throws of a cruel, unattainable dream?

So, she dared not take another step.

Happiness was something fleeting, and she was immersed in it right now. Surely, this had to be a cruel dream she'd wake from. Surely, hope was lying to her yet again.

But even so, even if she knew, there was a tiny voice in her heart wailing for her to trust in it just one last time.

So the hand that held on to Dolores' let go, instead cupping the side of the older girl's face. Fleeting, feather-like touches drifted from the curly tuffs of her hair to her forehead, the cuffs of her ears to her chin, the tip of her nose to her lips, memorizing her features.

"Leti..." What Aletia was feeling wasn't lost on the little boy in her arms. He may have been young, but he understood her thoughts the moment she stopped walking. He had been with her all his life, she had taken care of him for most, if not all of it, with their Papi. He could sense her change in mood, and could only hug her silently, hoping she felt better.

The warmth that graced her fingertips from the patiently waiting Madrigal wasn't something a dream could replicate. The steady beat of Dolores and Emil's hearts wasn't a sound she could mistake.

So again, in a voice the older girl could just barely hear herself, she asked, "Is this a dream, too?"

Dolores gently grasped Aletia's trembling hand. She brushed Aletia's curly black hair away from her face, revealing her eyes.

Candlelight. Her eyes were softly aglow like warm candlelight. Those beautiful eyes were full of worry and uncertainty, which Dolores wished she could wipe away with the few tears that fell. Slowly, carefully, she pulled the siblings into her embrace, "I promise, chiquita," She whispered, "This isn't a dream."

While Aletia's ears listened to her voice, her eyes read her heart.

'You're here now. You're home, now. And we'll make it our mission to help you feel that way.'

Aletia's eyes calmed, giving the taller girl a small nod. She'd meant it, every word, so she'd trust it, as much as she could.

After another second, Emil tapped her gently on her shoulder. Sensing what he wanted, she carefully put him down beside her. Not a second later did he grab her free hand, leading her down the stairs with Dolores.

'Leti always carried me and held my hand when I was scared. I can hold her hand and chase all of her fears away!'

"E-Everyone's really nice, Leti!" Emil exclaimed. "I'm sure they'll love you, because I love you. You're the best." The steps were a little hard for him to climb, but Casita made them smaller for the child, much to his delight. "Thank you, Casita!" Casita drummed a happy beat in reply, eliciting a giggle from the child.

With a smile beaming and bright, he gently tugged on her larger hand, "Come on, Leti!"

Her candlelight gaze found her little brother. He was trying to help her feel better with his positivity. How could she remain sad and uncertain when her light was shining so brightly?

Truly, he was her guiding light in the dark.

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The Madrigals were a chaotic flurry of nerves and anticipation.

Julieta was making her best dishes, though she was making sure not to overwhelm them. While her session of steady healing did wonders for their immediate health, she didn't want to put too much on them. But she wanted to spoil them too, they deserved to be, after all they must have been through.

Her mother was also in the kitchen, a rare occurrence that surprised her.

"Mama? Is something wrong?"

"No, mija. Quite the opposite," She smiled, "Did you know that your tía loved to cook, too?"

"She did?" The eldest of the triplets was even more surprised. What was even rarer than her mother being in the kitchen was for her to speak about Tía Juliet. It was a subject that always hurt too much to speak more than a few scarce sentences of, though they knew that their mother loved her sister dearly.

"Yes, dear. You know that cookbook you reference every now and then?" She pointed to the old cookbook that sat on the shelf. Julieta had memorized every recipe inside, especially her favorite: arepa con queso.

"Of course! You know it's my favorite one." Julieta grabbed the book from its home, flipping through the pages as she reminisced. "You gave it to me after I got my gift and I didn't put it down for at least a week."

What made it just a bit more special to her was that it had been her aunt's. That was the main reason that she always read it, tried its recipes, and eventually added her own to the book. When she did that, she felt like she was spending time with her aunt. As if she was over her shoulder giving her advice.

Alma smiled, it was one that was both sad and happy, "Juliet told me that the moment one of my future children showed an interest in cooking I was to give them her cookbook. Her boy was "too much like his musician father to truly study cooking", she had said." The older woman could see her daughter's eyes light up. "When you got your gift, I just knew. It was like she wrote it just for you, even before she met you."

Juliet's intuition was rarely wrong. That cookbook was one of the many gifts and advice she'd given to Alma before that dreaded day. Before, it hurt too much to speak about them, but now? Now, she felt like she could.

"I have many stories to tell you all." She felt like she was breathing again after years of holding her breath.

Julieta smiled warmly at her mother. When had she seen her so... happy? Content? It seemed to have been a lifetime since she was. She was glad that her grief was finally beginning to wash away, allowing all of her happy memories to come forth.

"But for now, come on!" Alma almost laughed, giddy as if she were twenty years younger, "We have new Madrigals to welcome!"

"Yes!" Both of them got to work, sifting through the beloved cookbook for the perfect recipes to use. When she found one, she called for her husband while she busied herself prepping other ingredients, "Amor, can you get me the corn meal?"

"Corn meal? It's the one on the top shelf, right?" Agustin called.

"Yes, honey, that's the one. I had to move a few things around since the rebuild." She told him.

"I got it..." Agustin reached for the ingredient, "I got it!" He had it in his hand. Things were going surprisingly well. No slip-ups, no trips, and no falls! He was on a roll! Happy to not be a walking disaster, he readily made his way to his lovely wife.

"Here you go, mi cora"—He tripped, the powdery corn meal painting his face—"zón..."

Julieta took the corn meal from his outstretched hands, pulling him up and wiping his face clean. She planted a kiss on his cheek, giggling at the silly, love-struck smile it resulted in. "Thank you, amor."

"Anything for you." He answered immediately.

Alma could only shake her head. They were just like she and her Pedro used to be, completely in love, hopelessly so. Those were such blissful, simple days.

When her gaze wandered to the dining room, it wasn't a surprise that Pepa and her husband were dancing together as they set the table. An array of rainbows adorned her second eldest as she and her love moved to the rhythm of Casita's merry tunes. Their happiness was contagious, spreading to the grandchildren as they passed the dinnerware and set the chairs, making sure to have a place for Aletia and Emil to sit together.

Alma's smile brightened at the sight.

"Everything looks wonderful." Alma picked up a plate and headed out, breaking the lovebirds from their moment as they moved to grab food too. When she turned to her youngest son, who was also in the kitchen, she could see he wasn't as in sync as the others.

'10 years of hiding away would do that to anyone.'

And she was right, that's exactly how Bruno was feeling. As much as he loved this family, as much as he sacrificed for this family, he still felt slightly out of place. What if he did something wrong? What if he said something wrong? What if he did and said something wrong? That'd be a disaster, like Pepa's wedding. He'd been a nervous mess trying to not mess up.

It helped that his family was being so supportive since he came back. Well, not that he ever really left, but still, it was nice. With that thought, he took a casual glance at the stairs.

He has been doing that since they started getting breakfast ready, waiting for the kids to come down. He'd been checking in on them after they exhausted themselves crying, tucking them under the blankets, and fluffing their pillow. He wiped the stray tears that fell from their eyes every now and then, too. He didn't want them to be sad, even in their sleep.

"Ah, they're finally coming down the stairs," Bruno said with a hum before getting back to his job of getting the food from point A to point B. It was nice to see them awake again.

'...Wait a minute.'

It took all of two seconds for him to realize what he'd just seen. "They are coming down the stairs?!" Cue an anxious Bruno, "T-the food! We gotta put it on the table! How are they gonna eat if nothing's there? The chairs! Are their chairs together? W-What if they get nervous and panic? Don't panic! Oh no, I'm pretty sure I'm panicking—"

"Brunito," Alma gently took his hands into her own and gave him a dish. She watched his eyes widen as she smiled softly at him. This time, she was going to do her job right. This time, she was going to be the support that he needed, "Come on, let's help set the table, mijo."

The smile that Bruno gave her was something she spent a decade missing. She never wanted it to disappear again. He was just as much one of her treasures as the rest of them were.

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Hi... Please don't kill me. I'm sorry this took so long. I was working on an original book I'd like to publish and ended up with a whole lot on my plate. Hopefully, this long wait will never happen again.

Thank you for your patience.

-Jenna