Gladers choice | TMR | Thomas | Minho

Chapter Two

The glade lay bathed in the ethereal glow of the early morning, a golden hue painting the world in shades of warmth and peace. As the first light of dawn kissed the heights of the Maze walls, casting long shadows across the vibrant landscape, the overgrown vines that lay across the walls seemed to come alive with newfound vibrancy. Each leaf dancing in the gentle breeze, a symphony of emerald and gold that whispered secrets of forgotten words.

Lyra and Minho stood side by side near the north entrance of the Maze, their movements fluid and practiced as they stretched in preparation for the day ahead. The soft light of dawn made each of their movements look graceful. They breathed in the cool air, preparing themselves for the day ahead. Together they shared a quiet bond, a newfound friendship built on their past relationship. Despite the trials they faced within the Maze, moments like these served as a reminder of the simple joys which still existed within their secluded sanctuary. With each stretch, Lyra felt the tension of the previous day melt away, replaced by a sense of determination and purpose. Beside her, Minho mirrored her movements, his expression softened by the gentle light of dawn.

Lyra's mind drifted momentarily, memories of their past flickering like shadows in the morning sun. She and Minho had once been more than friends, their relationship a steady anchor in the ever-shifting tides of the Glade. For a year, they had explored their feelings for each other, until circumstances led them down separate paths. Yet, despite the abrupt end to their romance, they stayed close friends, helping each other when times got tough.

As Lyra turned her attention back to the Glade, her eyes found Newt, who was emerging from his sleeping bag. He moved with causal grace, a familiar figure in the landscape of their shared existence. Their friendship ran deeper than simple friendship; it was a bond forged in shared trials and triumphs, a connection which was more than just ordinary friends. To Lyra, Newt was way more than just a friend—he was family. Like an older brother, he offered unwavering support and guidance, his presence a source of comfort in times of uncertainty. They had gone through a lot together, leaning on each other's strength when the weight of their burdens became too heavy to bear alone.

With a final glance exchanged between them, Lyra and Newt shared a silent understanding, a wordless testament to the unbreakable bond that bound them together. Then, as if on cue, the doors to the Maze started shifting, beckoning the two runners into the unknown. Without hesitation, Lyra fell into step beside Minho, a familiar sense of determination settling in her heart.

"Let's go," Minho declared, his voice steady and calm.

And with that, the two started jogging into the Maze.

As they started with a slow jog, their conversation flowed effortlessly, interspersed with observations about the maze. Lyra noted how the vines draped along the walls seemed almost intentional, adding an eerie beauty to the otherwise daunting structure. Minho agreed, commenting on the maze's intricate design and how it seemed to evolve subtly each day. The beauty of the maze was undeniable, but its repetitive nature had dulled their senses over the years. Still, they pressed on, their determination unwavering.

Their pace quickened after about 30 minutes, morphing into a spirited sprint as they navigated the maze's twists and turns. Despite the familiarity of their route, they remained vigilant, scanning for any anomalies or changes in the maze's layout.

"Think the Creators added any surprises today?" Minho quipped, a mischievous glint in his eye.

Lyra chuckled, "Wouldn't put it past them. But let's hope it's a quiet day for once."

As they paused for a break, they found themselves nestled against a particularly stunning section of the maze. The vines seemed to glow in the morning light, casting intricate shadows on the ground below.