Gladers choice | TMR | Thomas | Minho

Chapter Thirty Two

Lyra sat beneath her favourite tree, the rough bark cool against her back as she drew her knees up to her chest. The Glade's air was thick with tension after everything that had happened, and she found herself waiting for the Keepers' meeting to end with a strange mix of anticipation and dread. Part of her had wanted to sneak over and eavesdrop, to catch any information that might spill out early, but something stopped her. Maybe it was better this way—hearing it all at once instead of agonizing over snippets of conversation.

Beside her, Chuck sat cross-legged, filling the silence with his usual rambling. Lyra tried to listen, nodding along when appropriate, but when Chuck brought up Teresa, she couldn't help but roll her eyes. It wasn't Chuck's fault, but every mention of Teresa stung a little more than it should. Lyra forced herself to smile at Chuck's enthusiasm, though her mind was elsewhere.

Finally, the meeting ended, and Minho, Newt, and Thomas approached, their expressions tense, heavy with whatever had been discussed behind those closed doors. Lyra straightened up, her body instinctively preparing for whatever bad news was coming. Minho caught her eye, but there was no smirk, no sarcastic remark—just a quiet seriousness that made her stomach twist.

Newt sat down first, running a hand through his hair before nodding at Thomas. "Go on, Tommy. Tell her what you told us in the meeting."

Thomas took a deep breath, looking more exhausted than she'd ever seen him. Lyra watched him carefully, her heart thudding in her chest as she waited for him to speak. When he finally did, his words hit her like a punch to the gut.

Thomas inhaled deeply, his eyes flicking toward Lyra before settling on the ground in front of him. "During the Changing, I... I saw things. Things about the Maze, about us. All of us." His voice was quiet but steady, and Lyra could feel her pulse quicken.

"We were taken by the Creators," Thomas began, his gaze fixed on the grass, as if avoiding their eyes made it easier. "As orphans. Raised in these... special schools. The Creators were preparing us for this." He paused, and Lyra's breath hitched. She couldn't help but glance at Minho, who looked just as tense.

"They named us after famous scientists... well most of us." Thomas continued. "But it wasn't just that. They put us in the Maze as a test. One without a solution. To see who would survive, who would keep trying even when there was no way out."

Lyra felt her stomach drop. The Maze had never been meant to be solved? Her mind reeled at the thought, but she kept her face neutral, refusing to show just how much it was affecting her.

homas continued, his eyes scanning their faces, landing on her for a fraction of a second before he looked away. "The Maze... it's a test. A test without a solution. The Creators wanted to see who would survive and who would keep trying, no matter how hopeless it seemed."

The word "hopeless" echoed in Lyra's mind. It all made sense, in the worst possible way. They were lab rats in a maze with no way out. Her fingers tightened around the blade of grass she'd been playing with, the sharp edge cutting into her skin, though she barely noticed.

"I know the way out," Thomas said, his voice stronger now. "Because I helped design it."

Lyra's heart dropped. She stared at him, trying to keep her face neutral, but the shock was too much. Thomas, the boy who had stumbled in here, scared and confused like the rest of them, had been a part of it the whole time? Her thoughts spiraled, the betrayal stinging even though she knew it wasn't truly his fault.

"And Teresa," Thomas added, his gaze shifting briefly. "We... we were manipulated into creating the Maze together. We can talk to each other in our minds."

Lyra froze. She stared at Thomas, her insides burning with a mixture of disbelief and jealousy. Teresa could talk to him in his mind? No wonder they were so close, so in sync. Their connection went beyond anything Lyra could ever compete with. A knot formed in her stomach, and she swallowed hard, trying to push the bitterness away.