Gladers choice | TMR | Thomas | Minho

Chapter Five

The low hum of anticipation reverberated through the Glade as the Box ascended, its metallic groans signaling the arrival of yet another day fraught with uncertainty. Newt and Alby stood poised on either side, their hands hovering over the mechanism that would unveil the contents of the mysterious contraption. But this time, there was an air of apprehension, a palpable tension that hung heavy in the air, foreshadowing the unforeseen events about to unfold.

As the hatch creaked open, Newt's keen eyes scanned the interior, his breath catching in his throat as he beheld the unexpected sight before him. There, lying motionless at the bottom of the Box, was a girl, her form eerily still, as if suspended in the realm between life and death. Her pallid complexion and limp posture sent a shiver down Newt's spine, a sense of foreboding settling over him like a suffocating blanket.

"What the," Newt muttered under his breath, his voice tinged with disbelief. "What in the bloody world..."

Lyra, unable to see clearly from her vantage point, pushed forward until she was almost leaning on Thomas, her frustration evident in the roll of her eyes and the downward cast of her gaze. The word "girl" echoed through the Glade, drawing the attention of every Glader present, their eyes fixated on Lyra, awaiting her reaction.

With a quizzical expression, Lyra questioned them with a simple "What?" Her incredulity was met with uneasy silence as the other Gladers averted their gaze, a collective discomfort settling over them like a dark cloud.

Newt, undeterred by the unsettling atmosphere, approached the girl cautiously, his every movement calculated as he assessed the situation before him. Alby's voice cut through the tension like a knife as he demanded, "Is she okay?"

Newt hesitated, his brow furrowing in concern as he knelt beside the girl, his fingers gingerly probing for signs of life. "I...I think she's dead," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

Alby's eyes widened in shock, his gaze flickering towards Thomas as suspicion clouded his features. "Do you know her?" he asked, his tone laced with accusation.

Thomas shook his head adamantly, his expression a mask of bewilderment. "No, I've never seen her before," he insisted, his voice tinged with urgency.

But before the interrogation could continue, the girl stirred, her eyelids fluttering open to reveal eyes that seemed to hold the weight of the world within their depths. She mumbled incomprehensibly, her words barely audible over the hushed murmurs of the Gladers. Then, with startling clarity, she uttered a prophetic proclamation that sent a chill down the spine of every witness.

"Everything is going to change."

A collective gasp escaped the lips of the assembled Gladers, their hearts pounding with fear and uncertainty. But before they could react, the girl's strength seemed to falter, her body collapsing once more, her fist raised defiantly towards the heavens.

In her hand, she clutched a crumpled piece of paper, Newt gently taking it from her grasp and opening it up, its message ominous in its simplicity: "She's the last one. Ever."

All eyes turned towards Thomas, their accusatory glares piercing through the veil of his innocence. He gulped audibly, his eyes darting frantically around the Glade until they landed on Lyra, a silent plea for understanding evident in his panicked gaze.

With a resigned shrug, Lyra met his gaze, a flicker of sympathy softening her features amidst the chaos that engulfed them. Despite the uncertainty that loomed on the horizon, one thing was clear: the arrival of the girl had irrevocably altered the course of their fate, plunging them into a maelstrom of chaos and uncertainty from which there could be no escape.