The change in the air pressure was almost imperceptible.
A hat was the first thing to go flying. Harmless, a slight inconvenience that forced some laughter from the person who had been struck with such misfortune.
Then, a tarp, stretched incredibly thin above one vendors stall, began billowing angrily, causing the merchant below it to raise his eyebrow in concern. When the produce, neatly stacked in crates before him, began rolling back and forth, threatening to spill out, his eyes widened.
The smallest and lightest of Encanto's residence all at once found it more difficult to set one step before the other. And then, impossibly, one of them floated upward, only for a brief instant, but long enough to cause the boy to scream in panic.
That scream was what it took for the town to finally take notice.
The weather had turned on them something fierce.
What had started as a joyous summer day had begun spinning itself into an onslaught of wind and rain. Adults scrambled through the village, shielding children from gusts sharp enough to knock them off their feet, wind that felt all too eager to carry someone away. Carts were hastily covered, donkeys tugged toward the shadows of stone arches and storage sheds, and the market stalls left behind in a blur of fluttering cloth and forgotten goods.
Naturally, before the town could be swallowed up by dread and disorder, a handful of familiar faces emerged from the chaos, faces that calmed hearts simply by being seen.
A teen boy sprinted across the plaza toward a wooden support stake, half-torn from the earth, straining under the pull of the howling wind. Just before the tether could snap free, the boy's entire body shifted in the blink of an eye, suddenly longer, older, with limbs built for reach and strength. In his new form, he dove forward, just managing to seize the tether and hold the stake firm, if only for a few seconds longer.
"Little help!" he shouted, his voice deep, belonging to a man decades older.
A broad-shouldered woman burst from the crowd. "On my way, primo!"
With one arm, she grabbed the boy's shoulder to steady him. With the other, she drove her fist into the ground beside the stake, up to her wrist. Earth and dust exploded around her knuckles as she buried it deep, wrapping the loosened rope around her forearm like a bracer.
"Thing ain't going anywhere," she muttered. "Are you able to undo the canopy Camilo?"
The boy returned to his original shape, staring at the stall's set up as he ran his tongue over the back of his teeth in contemplation. "In this hurricane? I try to remove any of these pieces and they'll be blowing across town, taking somebody's head off. And there is only one Luisa to anchor this whole thing."
"Yeah," the woman huffed. "And she's only got so many hands."
As if on cue, thick liana vines erupted from the earth beneath the stall, winding their way around the remaining stakes. They coiled tightly, pulsing with strength, and held fast against the shrieking wind.
"Don't need hands," a velvety voice rang out. "You got my vines."
A picturesque beauty of a woman had joined them in their efforts. Smiling with calm confidence, the new arrival gestured for Luisa to lift her arm from the dirt. She did, allowing Isabela Madrigal to secure the entire stall with her vines alone.
"That'll hold." Isabela turned on a dime, scanning the shifting crowd for any new trouble. "Luisa, lift me."
Luisa playfully rolled her eyes, a tiny smirk tugging at her lips as she obliged. Isabela could comfortably stand on in Luisa's hands as if they were a platform built for her. There were people attempting to shout at each other over the wailing of the weather, people pushing one another in frantic panic and-
Oh no.
"Smoke!" Isabela shouted, pointing toward a row of houses further into town.
"¡Carajo!" Camilo breathed. "The wind must've knocked over some lanterns. But how's it still burning? This is like a monsoon!"
"Worry about the 'how's' later!" Luisa barked as Isabela swiftly hopped back onto solid ground. "We have to put it out!"
They didn't get the chance to move toward the area, where they smoke had now begun drifting above the rooftops, before they spotted a giant cloud forming right above the fire, covering it in a precise down pour.
"Guess mamá's on it," Camilo smirked.
Across town, in an alley that was being choked by black smoke originating from a handful of lit lanterns kicked over by a frightened donkey, Pepa Madrigal was using her powers to create a downpour. Her weather controlling abilities, tied intrinsically to her emotions, required her to recall a moment of acute concern: the night her husband, Félix, fell ill after consuming undercooked food, waking her with violent retching. The blend of worry and irritation was precisely the emotional cocktail needed to conjure the necessary rain.
It also helped that she had people bumping into her left and right in their blind panic.
A little ways down the road, beneath the stone arch entrance to a church, Julieta Madrigal was handing out food to people, even if only to calm their nerves. As she took a head count of all the people sitting on the stone steps leading into the church interior, wrapped in blankets, holding each other steady, she spotted a young woman with a red headband, tied into her signature bow. Following close behind was a far younger boy, riding a jaguar, an image that most certainly would seem odd in any other part of the world.
"Mamá," the young woman called, skidding to a halt beside Pepa. "I hear people calling for help in that house over there! They can't get out!"
Pepa's eyes snapped toward the building, the downpour started above them growing more intense. "Where's Luisa?"
"I'll get her!" the boy declared from atop his wildcat before taking off.
"Be careful, Antonio!" Pepa shouted after him, her voice being drowned out by the raging storm.
Antonio felt no fear. The young boy, no more than eight at this point, was flanked on all sides by the people of the town he loved, as well as his family ahead and behind him, that would never let him fall.
As Parce shifted beneath him, Antonio scanned the crowd for his cousin Luisa. The boy's gaze lifted. A woman clutched her child in a third-story window, wind ripping at her shawl as she cried out, unheard.
"Parce, go!"
The jaguar bounded through the flooded street as Antonio cupped his hands around his mouth. Not to shout, no voice could rise above this storm, but to whistle. A long, trilling note, soft and familiar.
Seconds later, wings sliced through the curtain of rain. A hawk, soaked but unbothered, circled overhead. Antonio raised his hand, pointing toward the house.
The hawk banked and soared across the plaza, arcing wide, toward wherever Luisa had gone.
"Hang on!" Antonio called up to the woman. "We're coming!"
Without hesitation, Antonio and Parce approached the groaning building ahead of them. The wooden support beams out front had broken apart and fallen, blocking the entrance. Eyes flicking around, searching for another route, Antonio spotted a stack of crates in an alley beside the house.
"Up there!" Antonio motioned for Parce.
The animal let out a sound of acknowledgment, a low growl that pulsed with understanding, then lunged forward. Paws splashed through the waterlogged street as Parce turned into the alley and scaled the pile of crates with feline grace, barely disturbing them beneath his weight.
Antonio clung tightly to his fur as they reached the top. From here, they had a clearer line to the second story windows. Almost there. The storm pressed hard against them, the wind tugging at Antonio's clothes, but he leaned low, steadying himself.
"Hello?" he called, peering up at the floor above. "Señora! Can you still hear me?"
The woman in the third floor window turned her head at the sound. She was pale, frightened, holding her child so tightly that the little girl's feet were nearly off the ground.
"We're going to get you out," Antonio shouted. "Luisa is coming. Please, stay away from the edge!"
He glanced at the crates behind him, judging the distance. It wasn't far, but the rain made everything slick, treacherous. They couldn't risk jumping, not with the building groaning like it might give way at any moment.
"Please Luisa," Antonio whispered. "Hurry."
"Yo! Bird," Camilo shouted, pointing up at the hawk circling the three of them.
"Is he with Antonio?" Isabela wondered aloud. As if in response, the hawk let out a cry and then shot back the way it seemed to have come from.
"After it!" Luisa growled, rain whipping her in the face.
The three Madrigals took off, their feet pounding against the soaked cobblestones. Luisa pushed ahead first, her stride devouring distance in seconds, while Isabela's vines whipped across the ground behind them, curling around debris to clear the path as they ran. Camilo lagged slightly, shapeshifting mid stride into someone leaner and taller, with longer legs, just enough to keep up with their pace.
"I skipped cardio," Camilo groaned. "Guys. Please. Going to barf."
As they rounded the corner, the wind surged again, nearly throwing them off balance. The hawk reappeared overhead, circling tighter now above a narrow street where Antonio and Parce stood perched precariously on wooden crates.
"DUDE," Camilo yelped, heart stalling in his chest. "Get down from there, Antonio!"
The boy grinned wide, rain dripping from his curls, and waved down at them like it was just another sunny afternoon. "There are people stuck in the house!"
Now that they were close, Luisa and Isabela spotted the woman rushing out onto a sagging balcony. The instant she raised her child into view, Isabela's vines snapped up from between the cobblestones and coiled around the girl like a cradle, lifting her carefully into Luisa's waiting arms.
But the second the mother turned to follow, the final beam beneath the balcony gave out with a crack like thunder. She stumbled back, crying out, as the floor beneath her pitched sideways and collapsed into the dark.
Isabela moved to send another vine, but the angle was wrong. Parts of the roof were coming down, blocking her vision. The woman was gone.
"No, no, no," Camilo muttered, running forward. He looked at the front door, half buried under debris, just a sliver of space left open.
Camilo didn't hesitate. He turned toward the others, eyes narrowing with sudden focus. "If I'm not back in two minutes, send Luisa through the wall."
Then, with a deep breath, he shrank—his limbs folding, face softening, until he was no taller than a toddler, not sure which his mind had subconsciously chosen.
"Okay," he squeaked, adjusting his proportions again, just enough to get through the gap. "Wish me luck."
And then he slipped into the smoke.
"Tía Pepa is going to kill us," Luisa sighed.
Inside, the house was roaring and groaning under the weight of the storm. Camilo shifted back into his regular form as soon as he cleared the gap. From the entrance alone, he could tell the place had been in rough shape long before Mother Nature decided to play a cruel joke. The walls themselves seemed to bend with each gust of wind.
He had minutes at most.
Taking the stairs two at a time, Camilo rushed toward the third floor.
"¡Hola!" he called out, voice sharp with urgency. "Is anyone there?"
Nothing came.
Camilo took a shot, estimating which room it would have been that they had seen the woman be forced to retreat into and morphed this time into the sturdier build of a broad shouldered young man he'd copied more times than he cared to count over the last couple of years. Armed with a much sturdier frame, he rammed into the door ahead of him, pain shooting through his muscles.
"Ow!" Luisa always made this look so easy.
Another attempt did the trick and the brittle wood gave way to the room behind it. Camilo's eyes instantly fell onto the woman, splayed out on the floor, blood pooling beneath her head. Evidently, a plank in the ceiling had come loose and struck her in the head.
"¡Mierda!"
Camilo rushed to her side, dropping to his knees as he fumbled to find a pulse.
"Please, please, please... oh, thank god."
The moment he felt the faint rhythm beneath his fingers, he exhaled sharply and scrambled back to his feet. He approached what was left of the window as cautiously as he could. Shards of glass glittered on the floor beside his boots.
"Antonio!" he shouted. "Luisa! Isabela! Anyone hear me!?"
"Yeah!" the muffled voice of his brother barely managed to reach him.
"The woman in here is out cold! She's hurt! I can't get her out by myself. Tell Luisa to clear out the front door rubble!"
"On it!" Antonio replied quickly.
Camilo, still in the form of Mariano Guzmán, hefted the unconscious woman over his shoulder and hurried toward the stairs. She was heavier than she looked, or maybe it was that his strength was only borrowed, not the real deal, but he gritted his teeth and pressed on. He had just hit the steps between the second and first floor, when his foot went through the floor boards.
"Oh, come on-"
He tried to wrench his leg free, but the more he pulled, the more the wood splintered and bowed. The house gave a low groan, as if warning him.
One more impatient tug, and the boards gave out entirely. His lower body dropped through the floor, wedging him between two buckling beams. He nearly lost hold of the woman.
"Seriously?" he hissed, bracing her against the wall with one arm while he fought to free himself with the other.
His gaze snapped upward in horror as he heard more structure give above him. He spotted cracks forming in the beams, wood bending at frightening angles. The entire thing was about to crash down on him.
Fear began flooding his system.
Above him, the beams groaned again. A jagged crack tore across the ceiling, and a chunk of plaster dropped beside his head. He ducked instinctively, teeth clenched, still holding the woman steady against the wall.
"No, no, no-"
Camilo shifted. His limbs shortened for the briefest moment, his entire frame shrank in on itself. Instantly finding himself in free fall now, he shifted right back to Mariano's form to catch the woman. Unfortunately, he had not account for the jagged edge of a splintered beam beneath them, which dug into his shoulder the moment it grew with his form.
Pain flared. He cried out.
"Somebody! I need help in here!"
A vibration rolled through the walls. He heard something give way, and then, from the front of the house, a crack, followed by a crash.
Camilo looked up.
The front door was gone. And standing in the wreckage, soaked to the bone and furious at the house itself, was Luisa.
"Camilo!" she shouted, concern mixing with rage at the situation they had found themselves in. "Can you move?"
"Y-Yeah!" Camilo assured her. He shifted the unconscious mother to his other, uninjured shoulder and rushed down the remaining steps and past Luisa.
Not a moment too soon either. The second Luisa stepped back, out into the open, the entrance hall of the building began completely collapsing on itself.
"¡Mi cielo!" Pepa cried out as Camilo assumed his own form again, the wound his shoulder had received bleeding freely through his clothes. "Julieta!"
"Ya voy, hermana," Julieta assured gently, rushing to Camilo's side and pressing a warm arepa into his trembling hands.
The two mothers had hurried to the scene as soon as they could, only to learn that one of their children had plunged headfirst into danger to save someone in peril. Pepa's heart had been a whirlwind of pride and fear, and now, as she enveloped her son in a tight embrace, the tension released in a flood of relief.
"Mami"
The little girl Isabela had saved from the balcony was now sobbing beside her mother's side, clutching her to her still form with trembling hands.
"Shhh," Julieta tried to comfort the little one. "Your mother will be alright."
With no effort at all, Luisa eased the woman onto her back and opened her mouth to allow her mother to pour a small amount of a healing tonic past her lips. For a moment, nothing happened. Then the woman jerked, her body lurching forward as she began to cough violently, rolling onto her side and struggling weakly to rise.
"Rest," Julieta spoke softly.
Luisa placed a firm but careful hand on the woman's back, steadying her.
"Mami!" the girl cried out again, relieved to see her mother save.
Camilo let out a long breath. The tension slipped from his body all at once, leaving him weightless.
"Think I'll pass out right here," he managed to quip before his knees buckled and the exhaustion overtook him.
Pepa caught him in an instant, scooping him into her arms with ease. The adrenaline flooding her veins made him feel light as air.
"Antonio!" she shouted, eyes snapping upward to where her youngest was still perched on a rooftop, astride Parce, both of them peering down at the aftermath. "Down from there, now!"
"Coming, Mamá!" Antonio called out, gently nudging Parce into motion.
But the jaguar's paw slipped.
Pepa's heart seized in her chest. A scream caught in her throat and rose like lightning.
Isabela moved before anyone else could blink. Her vines shot upward, catching both boy and beast mid movement and curling around them protectively. Neither of them had fallen more than an inch.
"Gracias, Isa," Pepa gasped, clutching Camilo tighter. "They're going to be the death of me."
The storm had scattered the villagers, but here, beneath the cracked tiles of the old church, a young woman, Mirabel Madrigal, held the line.
Children huddled beneath blankets at her feet. A parchment list of names fluttered in her hand, half of them checked off. Her curls stuck to her forehead, soaked from running messages between groups.
"Abuela's group is safe. The east bridge held. Dolores says the others are on their way."
She wasn't gifted with strength, weather control or healing. But the village didn't need miracles right now. It needed direction.
And that, Mirabel could give.
"Mirabel," Señor Flores called out, his voice tight with worry. "There are still so many people unaccounted for. Do we have any idea where they might be? Where are the rest of the Madrigals?"
"Don't worry, Señor," Mirabel said, steady despite the chaos. "My family's out there right now, doing everything they can. But they can't do it alone. That's why we need eyes here. Ears. Lists. We need you."
She held up a damp, folded piece of parchment and pointed to a row of names.
"The Morales family was last seen heading toward the river. Pepa and Camilo are covering that quadrant. If anyone sees smoke or hears shouting, Dolores will catch it. We just have to keep tracking, keep calm, and keep moving people here, one family at a time."
She turned to a pair of teens pacing by the church doors.
"You two. Blankets and food, now. Don't wait for someone to ask."
Then, softer, to a little girl crying into her abuela's skirts:
"Hey, I promise, if there's someone you're waiting for, we're going to find them. Okay? You're not alone."
The girl nodded through her tears.
Mirabel gave her a warm, comforting smile before turning back to ensure one last time her head count had been accurate. Despite strongly believing in her own message, she could not shake the dread creeping up on her.
This day had turned into such a nightmare in record time, it was honestly somewhat impressive. It felt like only a moment had passed since Mariano had announced the idea for a wedding anniversary celebration for all the Madrigals, including himself and Isabela. The sun had been positively beaming down at them.
Then, as if to laugh at the very idea of such a display of affection, the sky itself had threatened to come crashing down on them. It was powerful. Petty. Mirabel could respect that about mother nature.
"Mirabel!"
Thinking of the devil, Mariano barreled toward her, his usually flawless hair in soaked disarray. "Mirabel, where is Isabela?"
"Out with the others," Mirabel said, keeping her voice steady as she pointed over her shoulder toward the open church doors. "It's been about half an hour since I last saw them."
"Have you seen my mamá?" he asked quickly, eyes wide.
Mirabel's heart sank. "N-No. Did she not come here with you?"
"No!" Mariano cried, wringing his hands. "I- I do not know where she went. Isabela, my mamá and I were supposed to meet up at the market to look for produce for the celebration. But we never got to make it there before this all happened. I haven't seen her since."
He scanned the room with growing desperation. "She's not in here? She's not on your list? Are you sure? Please."
Mirabel didn't need to check again.
Señora Guzmán hadn't arrived. But in that moment, she dared to hope otherwise.
Another head count.
No.
One more.
Negative.
Another one.
Damn it.
"I am sorry Mariano," Mirabel sighed as she added his mother to the list of those unaccounted for.
Mariano's expression became crestfallen as he gripped the edge of a wooden pew, afraid his wobbling knees would give out beneath him.
"Dios mío, por favor," he whimpered into his hands. "Let her be safe."
Mirabel chewed on her lip in distress.
Señora Guzmán was not her mother in law.
But she was still a member of the family Madrigal.
And now she was out there.
Alone.
Possibly in danger.
"M-Mirabel, do you thin-"
Mariano gazed up in confusion.
She was gone.
Mirabel burst through the backdoor of the church, a heavy ruana tightly wrapped around her. A strong gust almost instantly fought against her decision as if to urge her to step back into safety. But she refused.
Gritting her teeth, the young woman pushed on through, each step a struggle, as her shoes consistently sank into the muddy ground beneath them.
"Come- on-" she groaned. "Give me a break nature."
The moment she found a rhythm in her struggle against wind and rain, Mirabel felt herself growing comfortable with calling out into the storm.
"Señora Guzmán!" Mirabel shouted once, as if it would do any good.
Howling wolves is what the storm reminded her off. It felt like no sound she could produce would pierce that veil. Part of her doubted that even Dolores could hear her out here.
"Luciana!" Mirabel tried again, louder and more painfully this time. "Where are you!?"
It took so much of her strength to simply push through the monsoon surrounding her. Spotting anyone in this chaos seemed like a futile undertaking. But she couldn't give up.
The Encanto was relying on the Madrigals.
And she was one of them.
"Luciana!"
"Over here!"
Mirabel froze and turned toward the voice that had responded. It was a man's voice. "Who's there? Where are you?"
It had become truly impossible to make anything out through the thick mixture of sand, rain and debris flying through the air.
"We're over here!" the man shouted again, straight ahead of her. "This old lady- She's hurt."
Mirabel felt her blood run cold.
Bracing herself, she pressed forward, shielding her face with one arm as she forced her way into the howling gale. The storm lashed at her like it wanted her gone, rain striking her cheeks like needles, grit and debris biting at every exposed inch of skin.
But she didn't stop.
She shoved her foot into the sludge, then the next, trudging toward the voice with a strength born not of magic, but of sheer, exhausted determination.
The wind shrieked in her ears, drowned her heartbeat, but she followed the voice like a thread in the dark.
"Keep talking!" she shouted. "I'm coming to you!"
Through the storm's veil, two shapes finally took form; one slumped low against a collapsed cart, the other crouched beside them, waving both arms.
"Here! She's barely conscious!" the man yelled. "I don't know what to do!"
Mirabel didn't hesitate. She dropped to her knees beside the figure, Luciana, soaked to the bone, barely breathing, her gray curls matted with mud and blood.
"M-Mirab-" a horrible cough forced its way out of her. Blood splattered onto Mirabel's ruana.
"Don't talk," Mirabel urged, voice low and firm. "Please, save your strength."
"W-w-where is my- my boy?" Luciana whispered, her eyelids fluttering.
Mirabel's throat tightened. "He's okay. He's in the church, safe. We'll get you right to him."
"Oh…" Luciana let out a breath, long and fragile. "I- I am so... happy…"
"Stay with me," Mirabel demanded sternly. "Hold on, okay?"
She quickly turned to the man who she, now that she got a look at him, did not recognize. Young, early twenties, dark, shoulder long, curly hair, which was absolutely drenched, like everything else out here.
"Help me carry her."
"Right," he nodded quickly.
Together, they each slung one of Luciana's arms over their shoulders, bracing her weight between them.
Once Mirabel felt she was stable enough, she began walking, the stranger following each of her steps with one of his own.
"Haven't seen you before," she muttered, glancing sideways through her soaked curls. "You live on the outskirts?"
"No," he said. Quiet.
Great.
Mirabel loved conversation that felt like pulling teeth.
This would be easier if he talked. Or harder. Honestly, she didn't know anymore.
"So... do you live anywhere?" she tried again, the fatigue and strain within causing her to have more bite than she anticipated.
"In the present, mostly."
Was he joking with her? At this, of all moments?
As she was about to call him out for the bad taste, he shifted more of Luciana's weight onto his own shoulder and away from hers, having realized that Mirabel was sinking further and further into the mud as she continued taking point. The release of pressure on her back allowed her a deep breath and instantly the displeasure that had flared up was gone.
Good guy, this stranger.