𝐓 𝐑 𝐄 𝐀 𝐒 𝐔 𝐑 𝐄 - ᴍᴀᴢᴇ ʀᴜɴɴᴇʀ, ᴛʜᴏᴍᴀꜱ ➀

²³, ˡᵒᵛᵉ ʷᵃˢ ᵃ ᵈᵘᵐᵇ ⁱᵈᵉᵃ ᵃⁿʸʷᵃʸˢ

The Glade is unusually quiet the next morning. The air feels thick with tension, the kind that sticks to your skin and makes it hard to breathe. My muscles ache from the previous day's run, but the unease in my gut is more pressing. The Maze is changing faster, becoming more hostile, and we're running out of time.

I slip out of my hut, trying to shake off the lingering fatigue. The other Gladers are already up, their faces mirroring my own anxiety. The sun barely peeks over the horizon, casting long shadows across the Glade, making everything feel slightly off.

As I head toward the Map Room, I spot Newt and Minho deep in conversation near the entrance. Their expressions are grim, and I quicken my pace to join them.

"Morning," I mutter, rubbing the sleep from my eyes.

Newt looks up, offering a tight smile. "Morning, Es. How are you feeling after yesterday?"

"Like I got hit by a griever," I admit, leaning against the wall. "But I'm fine. What's the plan today?"

Minho glances at Newt before turning to me. "We need to go over the new sections you mapped. The Maze is shifting quicker than we thought, and we need to be ready for whatever it throws at us next."

I nod, trying to push down the apprehension gnawing at my insides. "Let's get to it, then."

We head into the Map Room, where the rest of the Runners are already gathered around the table. The maps are spread out before us, lines and patterns that seem to shift and blur the longer you look at them. It's like the Maze is alive, constantly adapting, trying to outsmart us at every turn.

We spend the next hour poring over the maps, discussing possible routes and strategies. The tension in the room is palpable, every slight movement filled with an underlying urgency. We all know what's at stake—one wrong move could mean the difference between life and death.

As the meeting wraps up, Minho catches my eye, his expression serious. "You up for another run today? We need to keep mapping, no matter how dangerous it's getting."

I hesitate for a moment, the memory of yesterday's close call flashing through my mind. But then I nod. "I'm up for it. I'll go in after breakfast."

"Good," he says, a hint of relief in his voice. "We'll meet at the entrance in an hour."

I make my way to the kitchen area, hoping to grab a quick bite before the run. As I sit down with a plate of food, I notice Thomas approaching, his face unreadable.

"Esmerelda," he starts, hesitating for a moment as if choosing his words carefully. "Can we talk?"

I look up at him, my stomach twisting. I'm still hurt, still angry about how he's distanced himself, how he chose Teresa over me. But I don't have the energy for another confrontation. Not today.

"What is it?" I ask, my tone flat.

He shifts uncomfortably, glancing around before speaking. "I just... I'm worried about you. After what happened yesterday—"

I cut him off, my voice sharper than I intended. "Don't. I'm fine. You don't need to worry about me, Thomas."

His expression falters, and for a moment, he looks like he wants to argue. But then he sighs, nodding slightly. "Alright. Just... be careful out there."

"I always am," I reply, turning back to my food. "You should worry about Teresa. She's the one you say 'I love you' to and care for now. Right?"

There's a beat of silence before he quietly walks away, leaving me alone with my thoughts. I exhale, the tension in my chest easing slightly as I finish my meal.

An hour later, I meet Minho at the entrance. The Maze looms before us, its walls towering and oppressive. We exchange a brief nod before stepping inside, the familiar sound of grinding stone echoing as the doors close behind us.

Today's run is like any other—grueling, dangerous, and exhausting. But something about it feels heavier, like the Maze is watching, waiting to see if we'll slip up.

By the time we return to the Glade, the sun is dipping low, casting long shadows across the ground. The day has taken its toll, but the sight of the walls closing behind us brings a small sense of relief.

As I walk back to my hut, I catch a glimpse of Thomas and Teresa talking near the Map Room. I force myself to look away, focusing instead on the path ahead. I can't afford to get distracted, not when everything is hanging by a thread.

But as I settle in for the night, the unease lingers, gnawing at the edges of my mind. The Maze is changing, growing more dangerous, and we're running out of time. Whatever happens next, I know one thing for sure: we're not getting out of here without a fight.