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final 𝒃𝒂𝒕𝒕𝒍𝒆 ...
"EVERYBODY THIS WAY!" Thomasinstructedthegroup of Gladers as they navigated their way through the complicated labyrinth. Thankfully, the sun's profound rays were captured by the thick ivy so only a thin layer of sweat clung to Ria's skin.
They sprinted down the corridors, their heavy breaths and footsteps reverberating and bouncing off the stone walls. Ria gripped her blade tightly, the handle creating an indent in her palm. Newt was beside her, his sandy blonde hair falling recklessly over his eyes as he ran. Ria noticed his limp was more noticeable and again she questioned how he had got it.
Ivy was strung up high, decorating the gaps between walls. The quivering, deep emerald leaves were holding hands, as if they were terrified of the events that were about to take place beneath them.
They made their way out of the ominous corridors and out into a more spacious area — though it was still surrounded by towering walls. Ria perceived numbers written on some of the faces of the walls. The number three was painted in a deep crimson as she glanced upwards. Minho was at the back of the group, his countenance dominated by concentration.
"Keep it up guys!" Thomas encouraged, turning to look behind him as he lead from the front. "We're almost there."
Relief blossomed in Ria's chest at his words and for the first time, she felt almost content. They neared an extremely unfamiliar section to Ria. It almost looked like a series of mirrors lined up, though they were metal and aged with rust. However, they did not pass through them. Thomas motioned for the Gladers to back against a wall as he peered fearfully around the corner. Ria fell against the stone, heavy pants escaping her lips as she awaited further instructions in apprehension. She gave Chuck a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder and he managed a smile back.
Thomas turned back towards the group, panic suddenly scintillating within his eyes. Ria's heart rate escalated in fear.
"Is it a griever?" Chuck asked quietly, trepidation lacing his words.
"Yeah," Thomas replied in a hushed whisper, both hands wrapped around his spear tightly.
"Shit," Chuck hissed as he exhaled.
Minho turned his attention to the boy. "You take this, Chuck. Stay behind us." The runner handed Chuck what Ria was told to be an essential part of the griever — a key. It was what would lead them to their escape. Ria mentally prepared herself to face the grievers again, trying desperately to push the fleeting sentiment of panic far away.
