A confined space. Pitch black. That’s all she notices when she snaps her eyes open, a pounding headache blurring her senses. The sound of metal grinding and clashing fills her ears without end, echoing in the darkness. She reaches out, but her hands only meet cold, unforgiving steel.

Groaning, she forces herself up, her body sore and sluggish. The dim light flickers at the edges of her vision as she struggles to focus. Through the haze, she realizes she’s in a freight elevator, large enough to hold a dozen people but empty except for one other occupant. She’s moving upwards, fast, the walls vibrating as if hurtling toward an unknown destination.

She isn’t alone. In the far corner, another figure lies still—a boy, or at least she thinks it’s a boy. The shadows make it difficult to tell.

“Hello?” Her voice is rough and unsteady as she moves toward him, half-expecting an answer that might explain where they are or where they’re going. But then, with a dramatic gasp, the boy’s eyes fly open, his expression wild and terrified.

The suddenness of it makes her stumble back, her head smacking into the metal behind her. Pain flares as she cradles her aching skull, but she barely has time to recover before the boy scrambles to his feet, shouting at the top of his lungs.

“Hey! Hey! Help! Get us out of here!” His gaze falls on her, and pity softens his features. “Are you okay?”

“No,” she mutters, leaning back against the wall, pressing a palm to her temple. “Not really.” Her limbs feel like lead, and the raw panic in his voice isn’t helping.

“Where are we?” he demands, his breathing rapid. “Where’s this thing taking us?”

“I dunno,” she starts, but her voice trails off as the entire space fills with a high-pitched hum. Her attention snaps upward just in time to see a thin line of light appear in the ceiling, expanding and splitting open like a door into another world. With a violent lurch, the elevator shudders to a stop, and blinding light floods in, forcing her to shield her eyes.

As her vision adjusts, dozens of faces come into view—young men, teenagers mostly, crowding around the edge of the container, staring down at them with a mixture of curiosity and amusement. They’re caked in dirt, their expressions as rough and unyielding as the Glade itself.

“Look at that shank,” one of them jeers.

“Looks like a klunk in a T-shirt.”

“Hope you enjoyed the one-way trip, Greenie.”

Snickers and taunts break out as they take in the sight of the boy standing wide-eyed beside her, but no one seems to notice her cowering in the corner.

“Go get him, Gally,” someone calls out.

“Day one, Greenie. Rise and shine.”

A boy jumps over the edge of the container with a loud thud, landing in front of the boy. But when he glances in her direction, his eyes widen in shock. “There’s a girl, too!”

Instantly, the air shifts, and the crowd’s attention snaps toward her.

“A girl?”

“Why’s there a girl here?”

“This is so jacked up.”

“Back off, you klunkheads,” a boy with a square jaw and tousled blond hair jumps into the box, shooting the others a warning look before offering her a hand. His voice is calm, his smile disarming. “No one’s gonna hurt you. Let me help you up.”

Katherine’s body protests as she moves, her muscles stiff, her vision still swimming. Despite the nerves prickling through her, she lets him guide her out of the container, clutching the rough rope as they climb. As soon as they reach the ground, the crowd closes in, forming a ring around them.

The boy who helped her—Newt, she catches someone calling him—hovers nearby, as if trying to shield her from the worst of their scrutiny. But the jabs keep coming, voices poking and prodding at the edges of her fraying nerves.

“She looks cute,” someone smirks. “Might be able to use her in the kitchen.”

“At least we’ve got something to look at now.”

The laughter stings, raw and mocking, and she shrinks back, half hiding behind the boy who arrived with her. He seems just as overwhelmed, his eyes darting from face to face, chest rising and falling with frantic breaths. She decides to stick close to him—at least he’s just as lost as she is.

Suddenly, the boy bolts, shoving through the line of teenagers and sprinting away with a burst of adrenaline.

“Hey, we got a runner!”

The Gladers cheer, but Katherine’s stomach twists as she watches him stumble and crash into the thick grass. The laughter grows louder as he lays there, dazed, while Katherine’s attention drifts beyond the crowd to the massive walls in the distance. Her breath catches. The walls are impossibly tall, stretching up to touch the sky, their stone faces smooth and featureless, like the barriers of some ancient, forgotten world.

The sight sends a fresh wave of panic surging through her. Everything spins, her vision darkening at the edges as the ground beneath her feet seems to tilt. She hears the boy’s voice distantly, something about the walls, but the words don’t quite make it through. Her knees buckle, and then the world goes black.

Katherine wakes with a jolt, the darkness fading away as her senses come alive. She’s lying on a bed, staring up at the ceiling of a wooden building. It’s crudely built, the walls and roof held together by long branches and sticks. The air smells of fresh wood and sweat. Her head throbs, the same pounding headache from before, but less intense. She pushes herself upright, looking around the room. It's cluttered with supplies and equipment—medical tools, buckets, linens. It screams of a place meant for tending to the injured, a makeshift infirmary.

She’s still trying to gather her thoughts when footsteps approach. She tenses as a figure enters, his head topped with a mop of unruly brown curls. He smiles as soon as their eyes meet. “You’re awake. How are you feeling?”

She blinks, still groggy. “Fine, I guess.” Her voice is hoarse, like she hasn’t used it in a long time. “Who are you?”

“Relax,” he says, hands raised in a calming gesture. “I’m Clint. I look after the new arrivals.”

Before she can ask anything else, another figure strides into the room. A boy with dark skin, short-cropped hair, and an air of authority about him. “Hey there, Greenie,” he greets. “Name’s Alby.”

She opens her mouth, but the words seem trapped in her throat. She strains to remember something—anything. Her name suddenly surges back to the forefront of her mind. “I’m... Katherine,” she manages.

Alby nods, pulling up a stool and sitting down beside the bed. “Welcome to the Glade, Katherine.”

Her brow furrows. “The Glade? What is this place?” She sweeps a hand through the air, gesturing vaguely. “Who are you people? Do I know you?”

Alby’s expression softens, though there's a hint of frustration, like he's had to answer these questions a thousand times before. “Katherine, I look after everyone here. As soon as we're done, we’ll get you settled.”

She meets his gaze, the warmth of his voice cutting through the fog in her mind. “Please,” she whispers, almost desperately, “I just want to know what’s happening.”

Alby nods again. “What’s the last thing you remember?”

Katherine tries to think, but every attempt feels like hitting a brick wall. Her mind is a blank slate, wiped clean of everything except for her name. She shakes her head, helpless.

“Besides your name, can you remember anything?” Alby continues, undeterred. “Friends? Family? Any familiar faces?”

Her throat tightens as she draws another blank.

“What about where you live?” Alby presses. “A city? A street name?”

The emptiness in her mind is suffocating. Katherine feels the world closing in, the realization hitting her like a punch to the gut. “I—I can’t remember,” she chokes out.

Alby’s expression shifts to a resigned calm. “Do you even know what year it is?”

Katherine’s heart pounds in her chest, the questions piling up with no answers in sight. She feels panic swelling, a crushing weight that makes it hard to breathe.

Clint steps in, his voice lower, as if trying to ease her distress. “Same as all the others.”

Alby glances at him before turning back to Katherine, his tone measured but firm. “That doesn’t mean we stop trying.”

Standing up, he looks at Clint, who shrugs noncommittally. “Frankly, pretty unimpressive,” Clint says, not unkindly.

Katherine’s confusion deepens, frustration mixing with dread. “Why can’t I remember anything?” she asks, her voice trembling.

Alby offers a reassuring smile. “It’s okay. That’s normal. It happens to us all.” He gestures towards the door. “You’re free to look around. Just... try not to run off like the other Greenie.”

“I won’t,” she says quietly, though her stomach twists at the thought of being stuck in this strange place.

“Good,” Alby replies, his smile widening a fraction. “Now, let’s get you out of here.”

Katherine steps outside with Alby, the sunlight blinding after the dimly lit infirmary. The air is warm, buzzing with life. As her eyes adjust, she sees the vast space of the Glade stretch out before her—primitive shelters, patches of cultivated crops, and groups of boys working on various tasks. Her gaze sweeps across the open fields, but it’s the towering walls surrounding the place that make her breath catch. They rise impossibly high, casting long shadows over the ground.

“Where’s the boy who came up with me?” she asks, glancing sideways at Alby.

“Don’t worry about him,” Alby replies, his tone casual. “He’s fine.”

“Am I supposed to be okay with that?” she snaps, frustration boiling over.

Before Alby can respond, a voice calls out behind them, breaking the tension. “Everything alright here, Alby?”

Katherine turns to see a blond boy approaching, his features sharp and striking. He looks familiar, and then it clicks—he’s the one who helped her up from the Box.

“Greenie, meet Newt,” Alby says, gesturing to the blond boy. “He’s second-in-command. When I’m not around, he’s the one to follow.”

Newt chuckles, a soft, almost friendly sound. “Good thing you’re always around, then.”

Alby claps Newt on the shoulder. “Why don’t you show Katherine around while I deal with the other Greenie?”

“Sure thing,” Newt replies, and Katherine catches a glimmer of warmth in his eyes as he turns to her. “Come on then, Greenie. Let’s give you the grand tour.”

She follows him through the bright afternoon light, taking in the sights and sounds of the Glade. The ground is a mix of packed dirt and patches of grass, and there are clusters of trees providing shade. Everywhere she looks, boys are working—hoisting supplies, tending gardens, chopping wood. But the walls loom on all sides, a constant reminder of their enclosure.

“We eat here, sleep here, grow our own food,” Newt explains as they walk. “The Box brings up supplies once a month—along with a new Greenie, like you. The rest, we figure out ourselves.”

“The Box?” Katherine echoes. “You mean the elevator?”

“Yeah,” Newt says with a nod. “It’s how we all got here. Comes up once a month, never more, never less.” He pauses, glancing at her. “But you’re the first girl they’ve ever sent. That’s new.”

“Who’s ‘they’?” she asks, a chill prickling down her spine. “Who put us here?”

Newt’s expression darkens slightly. “We don’t know.”

They reach a massive treehouse, nestled among the branches of a thick tree. Newt gestures for her to climb up. “Hope you’re not afraid of heights.”

She hesitates, looking up at the ladder made of wooden slats and rope. Newt grins, a teasing glint in his eyes. “Come on, Greenie. I’ll go first.”

Katherine watches him climb, and then follows, pulling herself up with effort. When she reaches the top, the view nearly takes her breath away. The Glade stretches out below, a maze of activity, but it’s the sight beyond the walls that catches her attention—four massive stone openings in each direction. The scale is overwhelming, almost dizzying.

“We call it the Maze,” Newt says, leaning against the wooden railing. “This is our world. It’s all we’ve got.”

She stares out at the walls, trying to wrap her mind around it. “What’s out there?”

Newt’s jaw tightens as he looks into the distance, his gaze unreadable. “We have three rules. First, do your part—no freeloaders. Second, never harm another Glader. We have to trust each other.”

“And the third?” she asks.

“Never go beyond those walls,” he says, voice dropping lower. “Unless you’re a Runner.”

Katherine’s brow furrows. “A Runner?”

“They’re the ones who explore the Maze,” Newt explains. “The strongest and fastest of us, trying to find a way out.”

She studies his face, catching a hint of something—pain, maybe regret. “Were you one of them?”

He hesitates, then nods. “Used to be.”

“And?”

Newt’s eyes shift away from hers. “Not anymore.”

Before she can dig deeper, they both notice the other Greenie running towards the Maze’s entrance, his figure small against the towering walls.

“Bloody hell,” Newt mutters, and then he’s off, moving with surprising speed for someone who limps.

Katherine follows, her pulse quickening. She arrives just in time to see a burly boy tackle the Greenie to the ground, pinning him there.

“Get off me!” the Greenie yells, struggling beneath the larger boy.

“Take it easy!” Newt shouts, stepping closer. “Calm down, alright?”

“What’s wrong with you people?” the Greenie demands, panic in his voice. “Why won’t you tell me what’s out there?”

“We’re trying to protect you,” Alby says as he joins the crowd, his tone firm. “It’s for your own good.”

But before anyone else can speak, the ground beneath them shakes violently, and an earsplitting crack echoes through the air. Katherine’s eyes snap to the Maze’s entrance, where the massive stone walls suddenly begin to slide shut. The sound is thunderous, like boulders grinding against each other, and it drowns out everything else. The crowd of boys falls into an uneasy silence, watching as the opening to the Maze slowly closes, sealing off the path.