Formless Abandonment

By the time we pulled up to Roberto's house, the sun had dipped low in the sky, casting streaks of orange and pink across the horizon. I could faintly hear the singing of the Coquis in the distance.

As we stepped through the door, Roberto's mom was already bustling in the kitchen, her tired smile greeting us as she set plates of steaming rice, beans, and fried plantains on the table.

"Sit down, eat something," she said softly, gesturing toward the food with a slight nod. Even when she didn't have much to give, she always made sure we left her house with full stomachs and a little less weight on our shoulders.

Lucía gave her a warm smile, "It smells delicious. I'll just go upstairs quick and bring them all down to eat." she said as we continued up the stairs.

Upstairs, Oscar sat at the desk, hunched over the glowing screen, his fingers flying across the keyboard. Orlando stood next to him, fiddling with a phone, his brow furrowed in thought. Soleil and Roberto were sprawled on the bed, half-watching a movie on a tiny, battered television, while Enid sat quietly in the corner.

Lucía stepped into the center of the room, "Alright, guys, listen up," she said, her voice steady but urgent. "We have a new mission. Senator Molina just gave us some critical information."

Everyone in the room shifted, straightening slightly at her tone.

Lucía inhaled deeply, "What we feared about the USC interfering in the elections? It's real. They're backing Richard Roses' campaign. Fully."

That one sentence seemed to suck the air out of the room.

"They've even brought in some old man from the USC," she continued, her voice hardening. "They're calling him an 'advisor,' but it's clear he's the one running the show from behind the scenes. Senator Molina says Governor González doesn't make a move without his approval."

"I don't mind kicking some old guy's ass," Soleil quipped from the bed.

Lucía let out a soft chuckle despite herself, but her seriousness remained. "If only it were that simple," she said. "Since they're backing the governor's party, the USC has been given permission to bring voting machines from their mainland. Now, I'm sure you all know what that means."

"Rigged machines," Orlando and Oscar said in unison.

Lucía nodded, "It's just a rumor for now, but let's not pretend we don't know how the USC operates. There's no doubt they have something planned. If we can get our hands on one of those machines—or at least access their programs—we'll have the proof we need. Proof of Roses' intentions. Proof of the governor's betrayal. If we expose this to the island, we'll give people a reason to stand up and fight back. But we can't fail. Not on this."

Orlando glance at Oscar before turning back to Lucía. "We can try to track the USC's shipments," he said carefully. "Monitor every pier, check off what's already logged, cross-reference it with their records in the system." He hesitated, scratching the back of his neck. "But honestly? It's going to be nearly impossible. Their shipments don't go through the same channels as local cargo."

Oscar nodded in agreement, his frustration written plainly on his face. "Yeah. The USC keeps their cargo locked tighter than a vault. I'd have to hack into each shipment individually, and even then, there's no guarantee we'll find what we're looking for."

Another pause followed, the weight of their words settling over the room. It was clear this wasn't going to be as simple as we'd hoped.

The tension was broken, as usual, by Soleil. She leaned forward, her wild grin spreading wider as a spark of mischief lit up her eyes.

"There's an upcoming assembly for Richard Roses' campaign," she said, her voice practically vibrating with excitement. "Why don't we crash it? Infiltrate the place, get close to the rich people, because they obviously will know what's going on, and interrogate them. Force them to spill all their secrets! There's many techniques I saw online that will definitely get them to talk!"

I couldn't lie—there was a small, guilty part of me that liked the idea. It would feel good to strike back at them, to finally take some control. But before anyone could respond, Lucía cut in, her tone measured but firm.

"Infiltrating is a good idea," she said, casting a sharp look at Soleil, "but not the interrogation part. All the senators will be there, along with everyone supporting the USC. And there'll likely be plenty of USC participants as well. If we want to pull this off, we need to be smarter than that."

Oscar, who had been leaning back in his chair, suddenly straightened, his interest piqued. "I can help with that," he said, already reaching into his bag. He pulled out a small bundle of phones, their wires tangled together. "I've got a few hacked phones here. They've got short-range hacking capability. If you get close enough to someone's phone for a few minutes, these will extract everything we need—messages, emails, call logs, even encrypted files."

Lucía nodded, her expression focused. "Perfect. That's exactly what we need." She paused, her voice lowering slightly. "There's one more thing... We'll need Ivory to teleport us in. It's the only way to guarantee a quick, clean entry and exit without anyone noticing."

My chest tightened at the mention of her name.

The shift in my mood must have been visible, because all at once, the room seemed to grow heavier. My face hardened, my jaw locking instinctively. "Absolutely not," I said sharply, "I won't ask her for anything."

Lucía turned to me, her arms crossing over her chest as her gaze met mine head-on. "Ellion, this isn't about you," she said, her voice calm but firm. "It's about the plan. We need her. She's the only one who can get us in and out without getting caught. If we don't have her, this plan falls apart."

My fists clenched at my sides, my nails digging into my palms as my anger flared. "You don't know what she did to us!" I spat, my voice rising despite myself. "To The Sunspears. How she used us, how she ruined our lives. And now you want me to just... what? Ask her for help? Like none of it happened?"

I could feel everyone's eyes on me, but I couldn't bring myself to look at any of them. My pulse pounded in my ears, and I felt the heat of my anger rising like a tidal wave.

But Lucía didn't back down. She stepped closer, her voice dropping in volume but losing none of its weight. "I understand more than anyone else," she said, her tone unwavering. "But this isn't about Ivory, or The Sunspears, or me. This is about the island. About our people. If we don't do this, if we fail because we didn't use every resource we have, then we'll have no one to blame but ourselves. I know what she's done, Ellion. But we don't have the luxury of letting the past get in the way of what needs to be done now."

Her words hit me like a punch to the chest. I wanted to argue, to shout, to tell her she didn't understand, but deep down, I knew she did. She was right. It wasn't about me. It wasn't about Ivory. It was about the bigger picture. But knowing that didn't make it any easier.

Lucía's gaze softened, but only slightly, as she motioned toward the door. "Come outside," she said quietly. "Let's talk."

Reluctantly, I followed Lucía out onto the crumbling porch. The old wooden boards creaked under our weight, and the faint scent of damp earth hung in the cool night air. Above us, the first stars were beginning to pierce the darkening sky.

"Look," Lucía began, her voice lower, quieter now. It felt more personal, more deliberate. "I know you're angry. I know how you feel about Ivory. But you have to let it go."

The tightness in my chest flared instantly. I turned to her, my jaw tightening. "Let it go?" I repeated bitterly, the words laced with disbelief. "How am I supposed to just let go of what she did? She manipulated us, Lucía. She gave innocent people powers and then turned us into tools for her plans—she didn't care who died as long as it helped her cause!"

Lucía didn't interrupt, didn't try to calm me down. She simply stood there, watching me with steady eyes as my words poured out, letting the storm pass without resistance.

"I was nothing before the Sunspears," I continued, my voice losing its sharpness as it dropped into something quieter, "She created this... persona for me. The great underdog leader. The one who could rally a team of misfit rebels and give them hope. And I believed all of it. It gave me purpose. I thought I meant something." My voice faltered for a moment, but I forced myself to keep going. "But knowing it was all a lie? That it wasn't real? I don't even exist, Lucía. So why am I still here? Why do I still want to be here? Why do I still long to... linger?"

My words hung in the air. I didn't look at her, couldn't. The admission had clawed its way out of me, leaving behind a hollow ache I wasn't ready to face.

Lucía's gaze softened, but there was no pity in her eyes—only understanding. When she finally spoke, her voice was calm but firm, "I'm not saying what she did was right," she said softly, her tone carrying a quiet strength. "But what she did—what she wanted—doesn't define who you are. You're not just something created by Annabella's powers or a weapon for someone to use. You're someone, Ellion. You just have to find that person."

I shook my head, frustration curling in my chest,"So I should just go back to acting like nothing happened?" I snapped, "I could never trust her again, Lucía. I could never trust someone like that."

"It's not about trusting her," Lucía said firmly, stepping closer. Her dark eyes locked onto mine, making it impossible to look away. "It's about moving forward. About helping each other survive."

She drew in a slow breath before continuing. "I don't think Ivory is the monster you've made her out to be. What she did was cruel, but I can't help but pity her. Think about it, Ellion. She felt so desperate that she twisted the lives of others just to surround herself with people who would share her vision. It's clear she is deeply frustrated with this island, but more than that, I think she's lonely. Ivory isn't looking for power. She's looking for a leader. Someone who can guide this island."

I admit that I hadn't thought of it like that, and it made me look at Ivory a bit differently.

"She's always been searching," Lucía pressed on, "First with Macerio, then Valencia, my brother Lorenzo..." She paused for a beat. "And even Nicholas."

Nicholas, the ghost of his memory still ached.

"And yes, she looked for that in you too," Lucía said. "But here's the truth, Ellion, she's not leading. She's trying to find the person who can. You don't have to like her. Hell, I don't like her either. But this fight we're in? We can't win it without her."

I clenched my fists at my sides. I hated that no matter how much I wanted to hold onto my anger, to let it fester and define my choices, the bigger picture loomed over me. Vanity Island needed every advantage it could get.

And Ivory—for all her manipulations, for all the pain she had caused—was still an advantage.

I stood there in silence for a long moment, the distant sounds cars passing by filling the void between us. Slowly, I felt the tension draining from my body. My fists unclenched, the heat of my anger fading into a dull ache.

"I'll do it," I said finally, my voice low, almost grudging. "But don't expect me to forgive her."

Lucía nodded, "Never," she said. "Just do what needs to be done."

I swallowed the lump in my throat and turned away. No matter how much it pained me, I had to face this. We needed Ivory, whether I liked it or not.

On the drive back to the house to grab the key to the old Sunspears meeting place, my thoughts lingered. My fingers tightened on the wheel as I searched—desperately—for some other option. Some other way to make this work without needing her. But no matter how hard I tried to convince myself, I knew the truth: there was no better way to infiltrate a place than teleporting in.

With a heavy sigh, I pulled out my phone, my thumb hesitating over the screen before finally dialing Kyriah's number.

"Hey, Kyriah," I said when she picked up. My voice sounded hollow, even to me. "I... I need you to tell Ivory to meet me. At the old house. Like the last time."

A brief pause on the other end. Then, softly, Kyriah asked, "... Are you sure?"

There was curiosity in her voice, but also restraint. I knew she wouldn't ask why the sudden change of heart—not directly.

"I'm sure," I replied, though the words tasted bitter in my mouth. My grip tightened on the phone as my stomach churned. "Just... tell her to meet me. I'll be there in a few."

Another pause, then Kyriah's voice came back. "Alright. I'll tell her. Whatever you think you have to do, Ellion... just know that I'll always support you."

"Thanks," I muttered before we said our goodbyes.

As the house came into view, its familiar silhouette rising out of the dark, my shoulders tensed. The windows stared back at me like hollow eyes, and for a moment, I sat in the car with the engine idling, gripping the steering wheel as if it were the only thing tethering me to the moment.

You just need the key, I told myself. In and out. Don't overthink it.

The door creaked open, and I stepped inside. The house was quiet—too quiet. The kind of silence that settled like a weight in the air, pressing down on everything. Normally, it was an oppressive emptiness that greeted me, but tonight... tonight it felt different. Through the right after the entrance was the living room, as I entered I saw her.

I froze, my breath catching in my throat as my eyes landed on the figure sitting in the living room. Annabella. She sat motionless, her posture unnervingly still, her pale features illuminated by the dim light spilling in from the hallway. Her eyes were dark, distant, staring into some unseen void as though she hadn't noticed my presence.

She looked so small, so fragile, yet the air around her felt charged, thick with something I couldn't name.

"Annabella?" I said finally, my voice barely above a whisper.

At the sound of my voice, her head snapped toward me.

The movement was sharp, too sharp, and it sent a jolt through me. Her eyes locked onto mine, and in that instant, the air shifted. The room seemed darker somehow, colder.

And then I felt it.

Hate. Fear. Despair.

It radiated from her like a tidal wave, crashing over me and filling the room with a suffocating intensity. The shadows seemed to stretch farther, pulling at the edges of the light, and I could feel my breath hitch as my chest tightened.

My hands trembled at my sides as I stood there, frozen. My mind scrambled for something to say, something to do, but the way she looked at me... it wasn't her. Not the Annabella I knew.

It was as if the person sitting before me was someone else entirely.

I couldn't shake the feeling that I was in danger. That if I said the wrong thing, if I made the wrong move, something terrible would happen.

For the first time in a long while, I was scared.

Scared for my life.