A Teen Wolf and Maze Runner crossover that you've never seen before!! (At least, that's what my readers say...)
Previously known as: "When Worlds Collide"
The Pack defeats the Ghost Riders and Stiles returns from a world far different than the one w...
When Thomas first woke up, all he could see was white.
He came to the conclusion that he was dead. Oddly enough, he was at peace with that.
Despite wanting to live a meaningful life as a way to honor those he lost, Thomas was tired. Maybe not physically, but his thoughts and his feelings weighed down on him far more than he wanted. So maybe this was a new start; a new beginning.
Thomas sat up and tried to take in what could have possibly been his new reality. The first thing he noticed was the white. He couldn't really tell where he was but he definitely wouldn't describe it as a room.
The floor was completely white and there wasn't any furniture or objects in sight. The "room" seemed to stretch on endlessly and Thomas couldn't see where the walls were, if there were any, nor could he see where the ceiling began. His clothes were also white, and he lacked shoes. It was as if he was surrounded by a void of light.
For some reason, a memory surfaced in his mind and it made no sense. He thought of an art teacher he had— or maybe an art teacher from a movie— and she spoke of how the absence of color was black, not white.
Right then, Thomas begged to differ.
The second thing that Thomas noticed was that he didn't feel any pain when he sat up. He was still healing from being shot so it should have hurt still, or at least have been sore.
Thomas stood up, his heart beating erratically against his chest. He reached for the bottom of his shirt with shaking hands. He pulled it up slowly, only to find that there was no bullet wound— not even a scar to prove that it was ever there in the first place.
He was starting to panic; this was not normal.
Thomas worked to even his breathing as he tried to come up with a logical explanation for all of it.
Maybe I'm dreaming, he thought. For some reason, he felt the instinct to start counting his fingers. He wasn't sure why exactly, but he felt it would tell him whether or not he was dreaming.
"Okay..." he breathed out, shakily. "One... Two... Three..."
The more he counted, the more anxious he became.
"Four... Five..."
He started counting the other hand.
"Six... Seven... Eight..."
He just hoped that this was all a dream, that he was still laying in bed at the Safe Haven like everyone else.
"Nine..." Thomas swallowed nervously. "Ten."
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
That was it. Thomas couldn't ignore it; he didn't know where he was and he knew he wasn't dreaming. He would have settled on the idea that he was dead but... he didn't feel dead— not at all.
