Gladers choice | TMR | Thomas | Minho

Chapter One

THE MAZE RUNNER

The soft rustle of leaves greeted Lyra as she stirred from her slumber, the faint glow of dawn filtering through the canopy overhead. Beside her, Minho was already awake, his silhouette illuminated by the dim light seeping through the trees. With a yawn, Lyra stretched and rose from her makeshift bed, careful not to disturb the sleeping forms scattered around the Glade.

As she tiptoed past Chuck, curled up in his sleeping bag, a fond smile tugged at Lyra's lips. Chuck always looked so peaceful when he slept, his carefree demeanor a welcome sight in the otherwise tense atmosphere of the Glade. With a gentle exhale, Lyra continued on her way, Minho trailing behind her with a groggy expression.

Together, they made their way to the heart of the Glade, where the cafeteria awaited them. The aroma of breakfast filled the air, mingling with the earthy scent of the surrounding forest. Lyra grabbed a tray of food and a few snacks for their upcoming run in the maze, her mind drifting to the day which lay ahead of them.

Today marked the arrival of a new Greenie, a fact that sent a ripple of anticipation through the Glade. Lyra couldn't help but feel a pang of nostalgia as she remembered her own arrival, something which felt so long ago but also not so long ago at the same time. The uncertainty, the fear, and the overwhelming sense of being lost still lingered in her memories, like echoes from a distant past.

** **

Flashback

The darkness was suffocating, wrapping around Lyra like a thick blanket as she huddled in the cramped confines of the moving box. The harsh metallic screech of the box against the rails reverberated through her bones, a constant reminder of her precarious situation. She clutched her knees to her chest, her breaths shallow and rapid, her heart hammering in her chest.

Time seemed to stretch endlessly in the darkness, each passing moment filled with uncertainty and dread. Lyra's mind raced with questions, her thoughts a tangled web of confusion and fear. Where was she? Why was she here? And most importantly, how would she escape this claustrophobic moving prison?

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the box shuddered to a halt, and the doors creaked open with a sharp grating sound. Light flooded the space, blinding Lyra momentarily as she squinted against the sudden brightness. Blinking away the spots dancing before her eyes, she peered out into the unknown.

A group of faces greeted her, their expressions a mix of curiosity and anxiety. Among them stood a blonde-haired boy with a warm smile, his presence a beacon of reassurance in the sea of uncertainty. He stepped forward, extending a hand to help Lyra out of the box.

"Welcome to the Glade," he said, his voice calm and steady despite the chaos around them. "I'm Newt."

Lyra hesitated for a moment, her fingers trembling as she reached out to grasp his hand. The warmth of his touch grounded her, easing some of the tension coiled in her chest. With a silent nod of gratitude, she allowed him to pull her to her feet and guide her out of the box.

As she emerged into the light, Lyra's senses were assaulted by a cacophony of sounds and smells. The air was thick with the scent of earth and sweat, the murmur of voices filling her ears. She blinked in the harsh sunlight, her eyes slowly adjusting to the unfamiliar surroundings.

As she took her time to take in her surroundings, she found herself enclosed by towering walls, stretching high into the sky like silent sentinels guarding the perimeter of this unknown place. The walls formed a tight barrier around the area, creating a sense of confinement that was hard to ignore. Looking around, she noticed the crude huts scattered in the distance, evidence of the boys' efforts to create a sense of home.

As Lyra's gaze drifted toward the towering maze doors, a chill ran down her spine. Vines cascaded over the walls, their tangled tendrils reaching toward the sky as if yearning for freedom. The sight was both beautiful and foreboding, a stark reminder of the dangers that lurked beyond.

Around her, she saw a motley crew of boys, their faces a mixture of curiosity and wariness. They watched her with guarded expressions, sizing her up as if assessing a threat. Among them, one caught her eye—an Asian boy with dark hair and piercing eyes, his gaze fixed on her with a mixture of intrigue and suspicion.

Lyra offered him a tentative smile, hoping to convey a sense of friendliness amid the uncertainty. To her relief, he returned the gesture with a nod of acknowledgment, his demeanor softening ever so slightly.

"This is the first time the Box has brought someone up with it, let alone a girl," the blonde-haired boy, Newt, clarified, his words carrying a mixture of astonishment and uncertainty.

He stepped forward, his voice cutting through the tension like a knife. "What's your name?" he asked, his tone gentle yet firm.

"Lyra," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. The word felt foreign on her tongue, a reminder of the life she had left behind.

The boys exchanged glances, their expressions unreadable as they absorbed her answer. Newt's gaze softened, a hint of sympathy flickering in his eyes.

"Well, Lyra," he said, his voice tinged with warmth, "you're among friends here. We'll take care of you."

With those words, a sense of relief washed over Lyra, a glimmer of hope amidst the uncertainty of her new reality. As she looked around at the faces of her newfound companions, she couldn't help but feel a flicker of optimism ignite within her. Maybe, just maybe, she would find a place to belong in this strange and mysterious world.

She then turned to see two approaching figures, who refered to themselves as Alby and Nick, their faces etched with determination. They introduced themselves as leaders among the Gladers, tasked with maintaining order in this unpredictable environment. As Lyra's gaze flickered with confusion and uncertainty, Newt noticed her puzzled expression. With a reassuring smile, he stepped forward to explain.

"We call ourselves Gladers," Newt began, his voice calm and steady. "It's short for 'maze dwellers,' as we've been living here in the Glade, surrounded by the maze, for the month we've all been here."

Lyra nodded, taking in the information. The term 'Gladers' seemed to fit, resonating with the sense of unity and shared purpose among the group. Lyra felt a surge of relief at their presence, knowing that she was not alone in this strange new world.

** **

"Hey, Lyra, you with me?" Minho's voice cut through Lyra's reverie, bringing her back to the present moment. He stood before her, his expression determined.

Lyra blinked, refocusing on Minho's face. "Yeah, sorry, just lost in thought for a moment," she replied, shaking off the remnants of her flashback.

Minho nodded, a sense of urgency in his demeanor. "We need to get going. The Glade doors will be opening soon, and we've got a job to do," he said, motioning for Lyra to follow him.

Lyra nodded, hoisting herself up from where she had been sitting. "Right, let's do this," she said, determination creeping into her voice as she fell into step beside Minho.

As they made their way towards the entrance of the maze, Lyra couldn't shake the feeling of anticipation building inside her. Another day, another run in the maze. It was routine by now, but the thrill of the unknown never seemed to fade.

Minho glanced at his watch, his brow furrowing slightly. "We've got about twenty minutes before the doors open," he said, his tone brisk. "We need to make every second count."

Lyra nodded in agreement, matching Minho's pace as they approached the looming entrance to the maze. The air crackled with energy, anticipation humming in the air as they prepared to embark on another journey into the unknown.