Chapter Text

Thomas had always been special, whether it was his intelligence or his personality, he always stood out like a bright colour on a blank canvas. But even with all that, there was one thing that made him really stand out. Thomas was nearing 17 and still had not presented, with no physical signs of anything happening, W.I.C.K.D had him tested and experimented but he still never presented. Not to mention there were no indications on what he would be when he presented. He did not have the overly strong personality of a traditional Alpha, but he was also tough and had a curious mind. He did not have the soft and weak personality of a traditional Omega, but he was very sentimental and compassionate. So everyone decided to assume he was a Beta like his friend, Teresa.

They had originally planned to send Thomas up to the maze once he presented but since he was clearly nowhere near a presentation, he was sent up without waiting.

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"Thomas, it’s time to go." A gruff voice echoed down the corridor. Thomas looked up to see one of the Alpha guards, his hand resting on the handle of a metal box that stood out starkly against the cold, grey walls. Thomas swallowed hard, his heart racing as he pushed himself to his feet. He knew what this meant; it was time to join the others.

As the guard approached, Thomas felt a strange warmth spread through his body, a sudden dizziness that seemed to swirl around him like a thick fog. The last thing he saw before the world went black? Was the sympathetic smile of the doctor who had administered the serum to wipe his memory clean.

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The next thing he saw? Darkness, Thomas was in pitch black.

Thomas tried to think of where he was, or where he was before this. Though that only led to more panic when he realized, he couldnt recall a single personal detail. Naturally, he went into a deeper panic, waking up with no memories had to be one of the most terrifying experiences he had ever endured. Unable to recall even the slightest detail about himself or his past, he was gripped by a paralyzing sense of fear and uncertainty.

Disoriented and confused, all he could focus on was the metal cage he found himself sprawled out in. Did he even have a name? He had no idea. Nothing was familiar and with growing panic, his body went into fight or flight mode. he began to shake the bars of the cage, screaming out in the hopes that someone might hear and come to his aid. But as the cage picked up speed, seemingly ascending like an elevator, his cries for help seemed increasingly futile. Tossed violently from side to side, he feared what lay ahead as the cage hurtled towards an unknown destination.

Thats when it finally came, a distant glow of a bright light, he knew it had to be the end of this horror show, so he braced himself for impact. Then, without warning, the cage came to an abrupt stop. The glow disappeared, plunging him into total darkness yet again. Alone in the suffocating blackness, all he could hear was the pounding of his terrified breaths, the thump of his heartbeat and the noises of animals somewhere around him.

It must of been hours until the silence was broken by yet another sudden clank, but this time the cage door opened. A cool, damp breeze brushed against his skin, as the rather bright light of the sun shone right into the pit he lay in, burning into his eyes. It was almost blinding after so long in the dark. His eyes adjusted, and he finally realized the crowd of boys who seemed to be laughing and talking amongst themselves.

Thomas squinted and tried to stand up, but his legs felt wobbly beneath him. The smell was overwhelming. It was a mix of sweat, earth, and something else entirely foreign to him. The laughter grew louder as a boy in brown clothes approached him, a smirk on his face.

"day one greenie," The boy said before jumping down into the cage, reaching out to grab Thomas’s arm.

Thomas recoiled, his heart racing. He had never felt so vulnerable. He didn’t know who these people were or what they wanted from him.

The boy in brown chuckled, leaning down to grip his arm more firmly. "Names gally, welcome to the glade."

The circle of people surrounded him. He lay on the ground looking around at the unfamiliar faces.The faces around him were alien, their intentions unclear and threatening. The air was thick with competing scents - sweat, dirt, testosterone, and something primal that triggered his fight-or-flight response. An alpha who the boys referred to as Alby stepped forward to look at him. "This greenies a bit shucking scrawny" Alby stated his facial expression unreadable.

"I’m not scrawny-" Thomas protested weakly. But the boys around him just laughed, teasing him about his build, saying he was small and weak, It was overwhelming.

With a sudden burst of adrenaline, he shoved the boy closest to him, his muscles coiled with desperate energy. The crowd shifted, momentarily surprised by his violent movement. He ran - not with purpose, but with pure animal instinct to escape, to find safety, to break free from this suffocating circle of strangers.

The sound of his bare feet pounding the dirt path grew faint as the crowd’s shouts and laughter grew distant. He didn’t know where he was going; he just knew he had to keep moving.

"We’ve got a runner!" he heard someone yell, But he wasnt paying attention the the crowd of boys behind him. Desperate to escape, he raced across the uneven terrain, but his foot caught on a hidden stone, sending him tumbling headfirst into the ground below.The pain was sharp but brief, and he pushed himself up into a sitting position. Only to stare up in shock at the towering concrete walls surrounding him, they were easily 100 feet tall. They closed in, creating an impossibly high, square-shaped prison that looked impossible to escape. The sky was a small patch of blue above, seemingly mocking him with its freedom.

The laughter of the boys behind him grew louder, and Panic coursed through his veins as he searched for any sign of a way out. He quickly noticed for each of the four walls, there was an opening, though it seemed to only led to more corridors, twisting and turning in a labyrinthine fashion. Thomas stumbled back to his feet, his eyes stinging from the dust kicked up in his haste.

The pressure on his leg’s so suddenly was too much. The weight of his confusion and fear made him limp. His legs wobbled, and suddenly, the world went black. He felt himself falling, the ground rushing up to meet him, and then there was nothing.

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When Thomas woke, the world had shifted again. The laughter and shouts had stopped, replaced by an eerie silence. He had been thrown into dirty pit with a bamboo barred door. He noticed that he had bruises around his arms and from what he could feel mostly likely his hips. He slowly pulled himself up, noticing that the barred door was quite high above him, with a lock of sorts closing him in. He was trapped.

But the solitude didn’t last long. A figure parched on the other side of the bar’s, and Thomas recognized the spicy herbal scent that had been in the crowd earlier. The Alpha looked at him with a mix of curiosity and pity. It wasnt until the boy started talking that thomas found out the boys name was Alby. Alby asked him multiple questions, such as what his name was (he didn’t know), how he got here (another thing he didnt know) and what his presentation was. (Yet another thing he did not remember) He explained a series of rules as well as what to expect and it was all a little overwhelming to be honest. When he finally finished he unlocked the door opening it a lending a hand to help pull him out.

"You’re free to go but remember, we have rules here," Alby said gently, his voice carrying an unmistakable authority. "Never hurt another Glader, never go beyond the walls, and always do your part."

He nodded his throat tight with fear. He had no idea what he was agreeing to, but he just wanted out of this murky pit. As Alby helped him up, a soreness in the back of his neck flared up, adding even more discomfort to his situation. "I’ll show you around the glade," Alby offered. The Alpha’s pheromones filled the air with a comforting yet dizzying scent of spice, It helped slightly with his nerves but the pain at the base of Thomas’s neck remained, an irritating throb that seemed to pulse with his heartbeat.

The Glade was a vast, square area surrounded by towering concrete walls, the top lost in the sky above. The sight was both awe-inspiring and terrifying. Now that he had more time to look around he noticed the walls had sections that were covered in vines or vines that lay at the base as if they had been cut/pulled off. Perhaps they tried to escape over the walls? As they continued to walk, the sounds of the glade grew clearer: the murmur of voices, the clank of metal on metal, and the distant sounds of animals.

Thomas’ eyes were drawn to the people around him. They were all young, all male, and all alphas or betas. He tried his hardest to distinguish if there was even one omega in this weird place, but couldn’t spot a boy that matched the physical attributes or the scent of one.

"Alby you’re an alpha, right? I can’t remember much... My memories are still foggy on second genders" Thomas asked with a puzzled look.

Alby’s warm, comforting smile accompanied his nod. "Yes, I am." Then, with a matter-of-fact tone, he observed, "And you’re a beta, though you seem quite fragile." Thomas looked up clearly offended "Fragile? Why would I be fragile?" Ever since arriving, all anyone had said was that he was scrawny or delicate, and it was getting quite annoying. Alby’s gaze swept over Thomas. "Well, just look at your arms. Betas don’t bruise that easily, and you’re rather short for a beta, aren’t you?" he noted pointedly. "I’m not that short," he muttered, crossing his arms defensively across his chest. "My height will catch up eventually." His words held a petulant whine. "But what about the other one, the third gender? The omegas?" Alby’s expression grew a little more serious. "We don’t have omegas here. The creators as we call them don’t send them, probably think we would go rabid” he said with disgust.

“Creator?” Thomas thought to himself, “what did that even mean?” Thomas’s mind raced with questions, but he kept them to himself. At the end of the tour, he saw Alby call over a boy named Chuck. Chuck was a chubby little kid, maybe the youngest one here. He looked only 12 to 13. He had a big smile plastered on his face, reaching out to Thomas to shake his hand. Alby ended up sending Thomas off with Chuck to get a sleeping arrangement set up, Alby on the other hand went to help set up the big bonfire they would be having tonight.

Thomas followed Chuck through the glade, the boy’s boundless energy and cheerfulness definitely helping him feel more comfortable. They approached one of the wooden buildings, one that alby named the sleeping hut. Chuck led Thomas to a surprisingly comfortable hammock, given their surroundings. "Here you go," Chuck said, with a proud smile, "This is where you’ll sleep. next to me"

Thomas nodded gratefully and watched as Chuck went off to do something else with the bedding, he looked around, and once again he was drawn to the massive doorways that pierced the giant walls. He felt a strange pull, something calling to him from beyond those gates. He knew he shouldn’t, but his curiosity grew stronger. He took a few steps towards the closest gate, getting closer and closer as time went by. Before he could get close enough to even think about touching the walls, he heard Chuck calling him back.

"Hey! Hey! You can’t go in there!" Chuck’s yelled before his voice became more panicked as he sprinted towards Thomas. When he finally reached Thomas, the boy’s round face was flushed red with exertion, his eyes wide with alarm.

He would have, maybe, listened to Chuck, had he not caught the sight of two boys coming out from the walls, jogging light on their feet.

The two boys had the muscular builds of grown men, despite their youthful, energetic faces. The Asian boy in blue, in particular, had an impressively developed physique that filled out the fabric of his clothing.

The Asian’s pheromones hit him like a brick, it was a mix of gasoline and something else and he felt a strange, inexplicable attraction to the blue-clad boy. The moment their eyes met, the back of Thomas’ neck burned again, with another sudden, intense heat.

"You’re the new greenie?" Minho said, his voice gruff but not unkind.

"How does it feel to be promoted, Chuckles?” Minho called out to Chuck as he approached. His grin was wide, and his eyes glinted with amusement.

Chuck rolled his eyes at Minho’s teasing and introduced Thomas, the tension between them grew as Minho’s gaze lingered on Thomas, the unmistakable curiosity in his eyes igniting a spark within Thomas. Thomas felt a connection to Minho, something more than just a mere attraction. It was as if he knew him from somewhere deep in his past, but the fog of his memories covered it up.

Minho couldn’t help but feel a sense of nostalgia looking at Thomas like he knew him from somewhere. Like there was something deeper, something that made him almost grasp a distant memory. He quickly looked away and walked past, not wanting to give away his confused feelings. But The boys’ gaze followed him.

When it fell dark, and the runners had come back and the doors closed. Chuck dragged Thomas to the clearing where the bonfire was roaring, boys of all ages (mainly 15-18) were gathered, laughing, talking and cooking food. The smell of the roasting meat made Thomas’s stomach growl, reminding him that he hadn’t eaten in what felt like ages.

He grabbed some food, his hands moving slightly as he tried to balance the skewered meat with a piece of bread. The conversations around him were a jumble of unfamiliar names and words, it was exhausting trying to understand so much and he just wanted to rest.

At some point, he found a secluded spot against a log in the corner of the bonfire, hoping to digest both his food and the overwhelming information presented to him today. As he chewed, he noticed a figure approaching from the edge of the crowd. It was Newt, the alpha boy who Alby introduced earlier. He sat down next to Thomas, a knowing smile playing on his lips as he observed Thomas’s expression. "You okay, Greenie?"

Thomas nodded in understanding. "Yeah, just thinking about those walls, the boys that came out of them. How do I-" But Newt cut him off, his eyes lowering as if he could read Thomas’ mind. "The maze is a dangerous place, no one goes out there greenie apart from the runners. We all have our jobs and duties within the Glade," Newt said, turning to gesture at the groups of boys around them. "For example, those are the Builders. They built everything we have here and they’re damn good at it. But they aren’t very clever - in fact, I’m pretty sure the goats are smarter than them." Newt let out a humorous laugh. "Then there are the Medics, who spend most of their time patching up the Slicers." “Slicers?”

“The ones who slaughter the animals for dinner.” Thomas decided that sounded horrible and gruesome and it wasn’t something he wanted to do.

Thomas’s eyes grew wide at the thought of the medics’ grisly task. He swallowed hard, trying to push the image out of his mind as he took another bite of the meat. Newt noticed his discomfort and chuckled, patting him on the shoulder reassuringly. " “Don’t worry, you won’t get assigned to that. Maybe you’ll be a good gardener, like me. You seem pretty good with your hands"

Thomas looked up, the last thing he wanted was to be a goddamn gardener. "What about the runners?" he asked, his voice low as he glanced over at Minho, who was chatting with a group of other boys. Newt’s smile dropped slightly. "The runners? The runners are the bravest and the fastest among us. They go into the maze every day to find a way out, map it, and come back.Its not a job you can just do, some dont even make it back"

"But that guy there just came from the maze," Thomas said, pointing at Minho.

Newt followed thomas finger before his eyes locked onto Minho., "Oh yeah, Minho.. He’s the Keeper of the Runners. He’s like the god of hope for the glade."

Thomas stared at the boy not really listening to what Newt was saying, his heart racing. The way he moved with such confidence, the way his muscles rippled beneath his blue shirt, it was mesmerizing. "What’s his story?" he asked, trying to keep his voice casual.

"the same as everyone else, wake up in the box without any memories and learn about the maze then get a job," Newt said, his eyes lingering on Minho for a moment before returning to Thomas. "But he’s got a knack for surviving, that one. Some say he’s got a map of the maze in his head."

“How long have they been looking?” Thomas questioned, his gaze never leaving Newts.

Newt shrugged, “three years.”

Thomas froze, “three years? And they haven’t found a way out”

Newt sighed “It’s not just about finding the way out. It’s about staying alive. The maze changes every night. And then there’s the Grievers..."

Thomas felt his stomach turn at the mention of the Grievers. The name itself sounded horrific. "What are the Grievers?"

Newt’s expression grew serious. "Big, metal monsters that come out at night. If they catch you, they’ll tear you apart, no questions asked. And they always catch you"

Thomas swallowed hard. "And Minho faces them?"

"No, he doesn’t face them," Newt corrected him quickly, "they only come out at night when the maze doors are closed. The runners are safe during the day. But they have to deal with other things."

Thomas’ curiosity about Minho grew even stronger. "What other things?"

Right!” Newt stumbled to his feet. “No more questions, up you get.”

“Uh, no I’m good here.” He insisted but the other boy didn’t seem to care.

“No, you are supposed to be the guest on honor so get your arse up.” And it wasn’t really like he could say no to one of his only friends. So Thomas reluctantly got up, brushing off the dust from his pants, and followed Newt through the crowd. The bonfire party was in full swing, the air thick with the smell of roasting meat and the sound of laughter.

Before he knew what was happening, a body slammed into him, knocking him off balance. He didn’t recognize the boy who had crashed into him, but he saw Gally standing nearby with a cruel, taunting grin. "Come on, Greenie, let’s see what you’re made of."

A warning growl, likely from Alby, came from the circle of boys, but Gally ignored it. The other Gladers were jeering and calling out, clearly eager for a show. And Thomas decided he might as well give them one, even if it meant dealing with the arrogant alpha.

"The rules are simple," Gally stated smugly, towering over Thomas. "I try to push you out of the circle, You try to last more than three seconds," Thomas growled bracing himself as he desperately wanted to wipe the smug look off Gally’s face.

Thomas charged at Gally, but the larger boy easily shoved him aside like a ragdoll. "Get up, Greenie," Gally sneered, the insult dripping with disdain. Thomas gritted his teeth, hating the condescending nickname.

Undeterred, Thomas launched himself at Gally again. This time, he managed to get a grip on the Alpha, pushing back against Gally’s strength. In a sudden move, Thomas twisted away, catching Gally off-guard and sending him tumbling to the ground. The Gladers erupted in shocked whispers and cheers - a Beta had taken down an Alpha.

Gally reacted with fury at being humiliated by the new arrival. His leg lashed out, knocking Thomas to the ground with a sickening crack as his head struck the dirt. Amist the pain, a name flashed in Thomas’ mind. "Thomas!" he shouted. "My name it’s Thomas!"

The Gladers cheered, gathering around Thomas and clapping him on the back, welcoming him. "Welcome home, Thomas," Frypan laughed, handing him a jar of the Glade’s version of alcohol.

Thomas took a swig, the burning liquid spreading warmth through his chest. He felt accepted, a part of something. The boys around the bonfire had all found a way to survive, to live, and now so would he. His eyes searched for Minho, wanting to share this moment with the one who had sparked something deep within him, but the alpha was nowhere to be seen.

As the days passed, Thomas grew accustomed to the daily rhythms of the Glade. Each morning, he observed the runners disappearing into the maze, he learned the new slang terms used by the Gladers, words like "shuckface" and "shank." and Thomas witnessed another Glader go crazy and get banished, and that brings us to present, where Alby and Minho ventured into the maze this morning to search for any sign of grievers during the day. Everything around him was in constant change, except for one thing - the worsening condition of his neck. The back of his neck stung to the touch and felt raw, it pulsed occasionally and only seemed to calm down when he was around alphas.

But there were bigger problems. When the sun dipped below the treeline, Thomas saw the other Gladers gathered around the west door, whispering about something that had occurred in the maze. He approached Newt, eager for information. "What’s going on?" he asked, his voice filled with concern.

Newt’s eyes searched the crowd before landing on him. "They should be back by now." His words were heavy with dread.

“Back by now, who?” Thomas started but quickly shut up realising he was talking about Minho and Alby. The crowd grew quieter, their eyes glued to the horizon as the shadows grew longer. The moment the wind blew out from the maze, Thomas swore he felt everyone’s pheromones spike.

Chuck’s simple, understated response - "Oh no." - captured the gravity of the situation pretty well as the metallic clanking filled the air and the walls began slowly closing in around them. Thomas’ attention was suddenly drawn to something in the distance.

"There!" Thomas exclaimed, relieved to finally spot Minho. But something was amiss - Minho appeared to be carrying Alby on his back.

“Something’s not right." Newt seemed to be edging as close to the maze as he could without actually bordering into the maze as everyone began screaming and shouting to Minho who seemed to stumble a little as Alby fell from his back.

"Minho, you gotta leave him!" someone yelled, but Thomas’ eyes never left minho who was staggering towards the closing maze gates. The deafening shouts were futile as the walls steadily closed in, leaving mere inches between them.

"They’re not going to make it," Newt said, his voice laced with dread - hearing Newt so hopeless weigh heavy on Thomas. Thomas had a choice to make - stand by and watch, or take action. The second was the only option he could stomach. With a deep breath, he hurled himself through the rapidly closing gap, ignoring the desperate cries of "Thomas, no!" - especially Chuck’s.

The Gladers looked on in a mix of horror and disbelief as the doors slammed shut behind Thomas, leaving them all stunned into silence - none more so than Newt and Chuck.

Thomas scrambled up from his knees taking in the surroundings, he looked down the corridor seeing more turns and more grey. It really was a maze. But his eyes soon landed on Minho, the other boy kneeling and panting heavily. He walk over going back into a kneeling position

"Good job, Greenie," Minho heaved, defeated. "You just killed yourself."

Thomas’ heart raced, his body trembling as the adrenaline rush subsided. The gravity of his actions sank in, causing him to pause and mutter, "Wait - what?"

Minho glared at Thomas. "everyone told you to stay out of the maze!"

"I couldn’t just let you die!" Thomas protested, his voice shaking with emotion. "If you and Alby die here, no one will ever want to explore the maze again! The glade will fall apart" Pushing himself up from his knees, he glanced over at Minho, who stared up at him, clearly taken aback by his words. Thomas’ gaze shifted his gaze to Alby’s motionless form on the ground. "What happened to him?" he asked.

Minho grits out, "What does it look like?" as if he had already come to terms with his fate like there was no hope at all. It made Thomas remember what Newt had said, that nobody ever survived a night in the maze. "He got stung," Minho adds grimly.

Thomas’ gaze once again shifts from the blood seeping through Alby’s shirt to the still-bleeding wound on his head. "And this?" he asks, concern evident in his voice.

Minho’s features contorted, his brow furrowing with agitation. "I did what had to be done," he stated firmly.

Thomas felt a bit helpless, he couldn’t tend to Alby’s wounds, who was likely struck by a rock from Minho’s hand and concussed. He couldn’t just magically get them out of the maze either. His eyes darted between the injuries, and trying to focus. That’s when he heard it a familiar, high-pitched screech pierced the air - the same sound he had heard the night he arrived at the Glade.

A griever.

"We have to go. Now." Minho said in a rushed tone pushing alby up against one of the wall. Thomas knew what that meant - the two of them had to leave Alby behind. But he couldn’t bring himself to do it, not when he ran into the , maze for the sole reason of saving them both. "Minho, we can’t just leave Alby here," But Minho had already started stumbling away.

Thomas’s eyes darted around the maze, trying to find something, anything to hide Alby in. The walls were bare and dead, and the distant sound of the approaching Grievers grew louder with every second that ticked by.

"Minho, we have to find a place to hide Alby before the Grievers get here!" Thomas urged, his voice laced with urgency. "Think fast - there has to be somewhere we can take cover!" Despite the dire situation, Thomas refused to let fear consume him. If both of them were scared they were practically dead. However, that fear soon came when a very furious Minho stormed back to him, hauling him up as if he were some kind of ragdoll to slam him against the stone walls of the maze. Immediately there was an instinct to submit, which was odd, but the thing that stood out the most was how his neck flared back up, and a pain shot through his body like lightning.

“Listen to me, you shucking Greenie.” He could see the teeth, bared to intimidate. “Look around you, just goddamn look. There is nowhere to go" He growled

Thomas gulped, his eyes wide and frantic as he looked around once again. Minho was right, the walls were too high to climb and there were no crevices big enough to hide Alby, let alone themselves. The sound of the Grievers was getting uncomfortably closer, the walls echoing with their monstrous snarls.

"Don’t you get it? We’re already dead." Minho sighed realeseing his grip.

Thomas being Thomas refused to believe they were already dead. He was determined to escape this place alive, with Minho and Alby by his side. They would make it back to the Glade no matter what.

Then, he saw them: vines stretching across many of the walls in the distance, thick and green. They looked sturdy enough to hold Alby’s weight, and they might just provide the cover they needed.

"Minho, there!" Thomas pointed at the vines. "We can use these to hide Alby!"

Minho followed thomas’s finger nodding hesitantly when he saw the vines, his eyes reflecting his concern in the flickering light. Once they carefully secured Alby among the vines, and ensured he was well-hidden, they began to pull him up. They heard the Grievers’ cries grow louder, their mechanical limbs clanking against the walls and knew they had to hurry. They pulled Alby up once more, getting Alby just that much higher and hoping it was enough.

They watched the maze’s walls, expecting the Grievers to appear at any moment. Thomas could practically feel his heart trying to rip out of his chest, and he swore he could hear Minho’s as well.

"Thomas, we need to tie the ends and get out of here." His voice was tight, a clear indication that danger was coming.

"A little further," Thomas panted, his muscles aching with the effort of holding Alby weight.. Each pull hurt worse than before, but he knew that if they didn’t get him high enough, their friend might never make it out of here.

Minho’s eyes darted around the corridor, searching for any sign of the approaching Grievers. The metallic clack of the maze’s ever-shifting walls grew louder, sending a shiver of fear down Thomas’s spine. "Thomas, we have to go now. Right now."

"Just a little further!" Thomas’s yelled as he watched Minho’s muscles flex with the effort of pulling Alby higher into the vines. The maze’s walls shifted and the sound of the Grievers grew too close for comfort. Thats when he saw something in the corner of his eye, a large shadow and he knew that it could only be one thing.

Thomas’s heart thudded in his chest as Minho whispered, "I’m sorry, Thomas." Before he could process the words, the hands helping hold Alby up disappeared. He stumbled forward, his grip on the vines slipping. "MINHO!" he called out, desperation tinging his voice. But there was only silence, the void where Minho had been standing.

He took a deep breath, forcing himself to focus. With trembling hands, he climbed up the vines, his legs shaking from fear and fatigue. He managed to pull himself and Alby into the narrow space just as the Grievers rounded the corner. The monsters’ eyes searched the area, glowing with a malevolent light that seemed to pierce through the darkness. Thomas held his breath, his heart racing in his chest. He squeezed his eyes shut and hoped that the concealment of the vines would be enough.

The beasts sniffed the air, their mechanical limbs clicking against the stone floor as it approached the spot Thomas had been mere minutes before. Thomas’s entire body went rigid, his mind racing with thoughts of what would happen and he found himself whispering a silent prayer for survival.

In a heart-stopping moment, the Griever’s gaze seemed to have locked onto him. Time seemed to slow down as Thomas realized the futility of his current position. He had to act, and he had to act fast. With a burst of strength, he pushed off the wall, his hands grabbing onto the thick vines above him. He climbed up, the roughness of the wall scraping against his body, but he ignored the pain. He had to get away from Alby so the griver wouldn’t spot him, and he had to do it now.

The Griever’s metallic eyes scanned the wall, tracking the path of Thomas’s escape. Climbing higher, Thomas felt pain everywhere burning inside him, but he had to keep going. Finally, he reached a small clearing of flat stones. He paused briefly to catch his breath, but the creature’s persistent growls left no time for rest. Without looking back, Thomas sprinted across the stones, his footsteps echoing in the maze. He ran until he couldn’t, reaching a ledge. Thomas took a deep breath and searched the wall for any sign of escape. He spotted another patch of vines that scaled the wall and quickly took off his heart pounding with each handhold and footstep. As he neared the top, the Griever’s deafening roars echoed through the clearing. The curved wall above him formed a natural arch, and Thomas’s eyes widened in horror as he felt himself slip, plummeting toward the ground. But just in time, he was caught by the thick vines hanging from the wall. He slid down, the green tendrils wrapping around him and cushioning his fall. Finally, his feet touched the ground, and he rolled away, panting heavily. For now, he had made it. But the Griever had not forgotten him. It had found the path he had taken and was now climbing down the vines, its mechanical limbs slicing through them with ease. Thomas knew he had to move again, to find some way to outsmart the creature that pursued him relentlessly. Then something unexpected occurred. A faint scent of gasoline mixed with the scent of freshly cut grass wafted toward him, and he paused, seemingly confused. It was Minho’s pheromones.

"Come on, there’s a place we can lose it!" Minho’s voice called out to Thomas through the corridor. His eyes snapped to where Minho was, His body ached, and the burning sensation that scorched his neck was growing increasingly worse by the minute. The Grievers had to be getting closer. He knew he had to move, but the pain was overwhelming.

Minho saw Thomas’s reluctance to move and made a split-second decision. He grabbed him and dragged him away from the vines. The Griever was upon them, its metal arms reaching out like the arms of an octopus. Thomas stumbled, his legs wobbly from the pain, but Minho’s firm grip kept him upright.

"What’s up with you greenie? now’s not the time to faint!" Minho’s voice was a mix of concern and urgency. He didn’t wait for a response, instead, he pulled Thomas harder, his eyes scanning the horizon for any signs of the approaching Grievers.

The smell of gasoline from Minho’s pheromones filled Thomas’s nostrils, giving him a strange sense of comfort amidst the chaos. He tried to focus on the feel of Minho’s firm grip on his arm, the only thing keeping him upright and moving forward.

As they ran further, Thomas’s heart skipped a beat as he realized the maze was shifting, a corridor threatening to close. He broke free from Minho’s grasp, his mind racing with the sudden understanding that this was his chance. His eyes met Minho’s, the panic and confusion in them clear as day.

"Run, Minho! Go!" Thomas shouted, his voice echoing. He stumbled away, his body weak but his determination unshaken. The Griever, drawn to the commotion, turned its monstrous gaze toward him, the light from its mechanical eyes flickering with malevolent intent.

Minho’s eyes widened. "What the hell are you doing, Thomas?" he yelled back, but Thomas had a plan already, his eyes fixed on the closing gap. He could feel the air compress around him, the walls of the maze inching closer with each heartbeat.

Summoning the last of his strength, Thomas staggered away, his legs barely supporting him. The Griever’s growl grew louder, its mechanical limbs thundering against the ground as it charged toward him.

"Run Thomas!, run!" Minho yelled from the other side of the closing gap, Thomas’ legs felt like jelly, his mind foggy with pain and fear. But he understood the urgency. He took one last look at Minho before he stumbled towards him, trying to keep his balance as the walls of the maze closed in with the griever following close behind.

The gap grew narrower, the walls of the maze inching closer together. Thomas felt the pressure of the situation, the weight of his decision bearing down on him. He knew failure wasn’t an option; he couldn’t let himself be crushed. So he sprinted faster, the space closing in around him until he felt the walls graze both shoulders. Just in time, he burst through the narrowing gap, stumbling out as the walls slammed shut behind him, the screech of the Griever echoing in his ears as it met its end.