The bonfire roars to life as flaming spikes are thrown into the towering pile of wood, casting sparks up into the night sky. The Galders cheer and leap around the blaze, their faces lit up with the excitement of celebration. Laughter rings out, and some boys attempt flips in the air, their shadows dancing across the Glade. The atmosphere is alive with movement, but as Katherine scans the scene, she catches sight of a boy sitting alone, his back against a fallen tree trunk, his gaze fixed on the Maze walls. His expression is blank, and she recognizes that lost, haunted look. She’s felt it herself.

For reasons she can’t explain, there’s something about him that pulls at her—a connection that runs deeper than a shared title of Greenie. She feels it in her bones. It’s not romantic; it’s something else, something familiar. Without hesitation, she makes her way over and sits beside him, the crackle of the fire barely reaching their ears.

“Hey.” she greets, nudging him gently.

He turns to her, eyes wide and uncertain, like a deer caught in a hunter's sights. “How are you dealing with this? Everything?”

Katherine sighs, her shoulders slumping. “Honestly? I have no clue. I’m just trying not to freak out.”

The boy nods as if that’s the most relatable thing he’s heard all day. His gaze drifts back to the Maze, and she follows his line of sight, sensing what’s on his mind. There’s something raw and open in his expression, like he’s a book she can read without even trying.

“If you’re thinking about getting into the Maze, we can break in together,” she says, her tone casual but serious.

The boy’s head snaps towards her as if she’s just suggested they sprout wings and fly away. “What?” he blurts out, eyes wide.

“Come on,” she replies, rolling her eyes. “You’re planning it already, right? I get it. I do. But Newt said it’s dangerous, and they won’t just let us waltz through those walls. We’d need a solid plan to make it out alive.”

He stares at her, bewildered, his eyes narrowing like he’s trying to solve a puzzle. “Why do I feel like I know you?” he asks, catching her off guard.

She’s about to answer when a familiar voice interrupts them.

“Hell of a first day, Greenies,” Newt calls out as he saunters over, holding a jar filled with some murky liquid. He drops down beside Katherine and extends the drink to the boy. “Here. Put some hair on your chest.”

The boy takes the jar, eyeing it warily before bringing it to his lips. One sip is enough, and he coughs violently, the drink burning his throat. “Oh, my God!” he gasps, shoving the jar away like it’s poison.

Katherine snatches it from his hands with a smirk. “I don’t want hair on my chest, but I could use something strong.” She takes a long swig, grimacing at the taste but managing not to cough. She notices Newt watching her, his expression caught between amusement and surprise. “Not that bad. What is this stuff?”

Newt shrugs, grinning. “Gally’s brew. He’s not keen on sharing the recipe.”

“Still an asshole,” the boy mutters.

“Maybe so, but he saved your life today,” Newt retorts. He takes a sip and looks out toward the Maze. “Trust me, mate. That place is a bloody death trap.”

The boy shifts uncomfortably. “We’re trapped here, aren’t we?”

“For the moment,” Newt replies, his gaze flicking to a group of boys gathered near the fire. “See those guys? The ones there, by the flames? Those are the Runners. That one in the middle, that’s Minho, the Keeper of the Runners. Every day, they head out into the Maze, mapping it, memorizing it, trying to find a way out.”

Katherine’s brow furrows. “How long have they been at it?”

“Three years,” Newt answers, his voice tinged with something she can’t quite place—weariness, maybe. Or resignation.

“And they’ve found nothing?” she asks, incredulous.

“It’s not as simple as it sounds,” Newt says. “You hear that?” He tilts his head, and the clattering of metal grinds faintly from the distance, almost lost amidst the shouts and cheers. “The Maze. It changes every night.”

“How is that even possible?” the boy asks, his voice barely audible.

“You’ll have to ask the people who put us here, if you ever get the chance,” Newt replies with a shrug, his tone nonchalant but edged with bitterness. “Listen, mate, the Runners are the only ones who really know what’s out there. They’re the strongest, the fastest. And they’d better be—because if they don’t make it back before those doors close, they’re stuck out there.”

The boy's eyes widen. “What happens to them?”

Newt’s expression darkens. “We call them Grievers. No one’s ever seen one and lived to tell about it. But they’re out there.” He pauses, his gaze drifting to the fire as if remembering something he’d rather forget. “All right, enough questions for one night. Come on, you two. You’re supposed to be the guests of honor.”

Katherine rises, dusting off her pants. “You coming?” she asks, glancing back at the boy, who reluctantly gets to his feet. They follow Newt across the Glade, weaving through clusters of boys who greet them with nods and shouts.

“That’s Gally and his lot—the Builders,” Newt says, gesturing to a group. “They’re good with their hands but not much going on upstairs.” He points to another group near the slaughterhouse. “And those are the Slicers. Winston’s their Keeper.”

As they continue walking, Newt motions toward two boys nearby. “Those are our Med-jacks, Clint and Jeff,” he adds. “Hey, what’s up?” he calls out to them.

“Yo, Newt,” Clint responds with a grin, his hands stained with blood from a freshly bandaged wound.

The boy beside Katherine is quiet, taking it all in. “What if I want to be a Runner?” he suddenly asks, stopping in his tracks.

Newt turns to him, one eyebrow raised. “Have you listened to a word I’ve said? It’s not something you just decide to do. You have to get chosen.”

“Chosen by who?” the boy shoots back.

Before Newt can answer, Gally comes barreling into view, nearly knocking the boy off his feet. “What do you say, Greenie? Wanna see what you’re made of?” Gally taunts, a grin spreading across his face.

Katherine's eyes narrow as she watches the scene unfold. The crowd gathers in a circle, their faces alight with the promise of entertainment.

“Greenie! Greenie! Greenie!” they chant.

The boy looks back at Katherine, a flicker of hesitation in his eyes. There’s a strange protectiveness rising inside her, a need to keep him safe. “Are you serious?” she says, but he only gives her a determined nod and steps into the ring.

“Rules are simple, Greenie,” Gally says, cracking his knuckles. “I try to push you out of the circle. You try to last more than five seconds.”

Before the boy can brace himself, Gally charges, grabbing him by the shoulders and shoving him out of the ring. The crowd shoves him back in, and Gally knocks him down again, his laughter loud and obnoxious.

Katherine shakes her head. “This is ridiculous,” she mutters, but her voice is drowned out by the cheers.

“Come on, Greenie!” Newt shouts, encouraging the boy as he struggles to get back on his feet. “Don’t let him knock you around like that.”

Gally circles him like a predator. “What’s wrong? You scared?”

The boy's eyes flicker to Katherine, and she gives him a sharp nod. “Use your head!” she calls out.

A new determination sets in his gaze, and as Gally lunges at him again, the boy ducks, slipping under his arm and shoving him to the ground. The crowd gasps, and a flicker of surprise crosses Gally's face.

“There you go, Greenie!” Katherine cheers, her voice cutting through the noise.

The boy stands tall, dusting the dirt from his shirt. “Not bad for a Greenie, huh?” he shouts, but his victory is short-lived. Gally sweeps his leg out from under him, sending him crashing to the ground with a dull thud.

“Tommy!” Katherine rushes into the ring, ignoring Newt’s shouts to stay back. She drops to her knees beside him, her heart hammering in her chest. “Hey, are you okay?”

The boy blinks up at her, his expression dazed, and then, with a sudden clarity, he mutters, “Thomas.”

She freezes. “Huh?”

“Thomas,” he repeats, pushing himself up on unsteady legs. “My name… it’s Thomas.”

Silence erupts in the air for a few seconds before Alby points at the boy and exclaims, “Thomas!”

Cheers and applause ripple through the Glade, replacing the heavy atmosphere with exhilaration.

Katherine nudges the boy with a grin, and he responds with a sudden embrace. She wraps her arms around him instinctively, a rush of relief flooding her.

“Thank you.”

“For?”

“Your existence.” Thomas says, a light in his eyes, and she can’t help but smile back.

“Welcome home, Thomas.” A dark-skinned boy she recognizes as Frypan says, handing him a jar of Gally's drink. Thomas takes it, gulps it down, and keeps it down this time.

Gally approaches, nodding at the boy. “Good job… Thomas.”

Suddenly, a piercing shriek cuts through the night, the menacing cry of a creature lurking in the Maze.

“What the hell was that?” Thomas asks, eyes darting nervously to the maze walls.

“That, my friend, was a Griever,” Gally explains, and the two Greenies look back at him, eyes wide with fear. “But don’t worry, you’re safe here with us. Nothing gets through those walls.”

“All right, guys. Let’s tuck it in for the night.” Alby announces, earning a chorus of groans from the Galders. “Come on. It was a good night.”

As the Galders disperse, Newt calls out, “She-Greenie.” He catches Katherine's attention. “Follow me.”

She glances back at Thomas one last time before rushing after the limping blond boy, trying to keep up with his pace.

Walking beside Newt, she notices the haphazard structures looming in the distance as they make their way into the homestead. The silence stretches until Newt breaks it.

“What’s your name?”

“What?”

“Your name? You still haven’t told us—and I know you remember that much.”

“Katherine.” The name feels strange and foreign as it leaves her lips, her thoughts drifting back to the Maze. Will they ever escape this place? Or will they remain prisoners of its creators?

“Alby ordered me to keep an eye on you for safety reasons.” Newt says, pulling her from her spiraling thoughts. “Since you’re the only girl in the Glade… that means you’re stuck with me.”

She turns to him, crossing her arms defiantly. “Well, Alby should know that I can take care of myself.”

Newt leads her down the hallway until they reach a door. He grabs the doorknob and looks back at her. “How are you so sure about that?”

“I just do.” She shrugs, trying to mask her uncertainty.

“Whatever you say, Katherine. Alby asked me to share my room with you unless you’d prefer to stay with the other boys.” He opens the door, revealing a small but tidy space.

She glances around, realizing this is Newt’s room. “What makes you different from the others?”

“Alby trusts me,” he replies, stepping inside.

Katherine leans against the doorframe, crossing her arms. “Can I trust you, Newt?”

“Guess you’ll have to figure that out for yourself, Kat.” He offers a wry smile as he starts to arrange a pillow and blanket on the floor.

“Newt?”

“Hmmm?”

“Do you have a shirt or something I can wear for the night?”

“Yeah.” He nods, rifling through his sparse wardrobe. “I heard you screaming ‘Tommy’ the moment he hit the ground. So, did you know Thomas before?”

“I don’t know,” she admits, feeling a pang of nostalgia at the mention of the boy.

Newt finds a shirt and hands it to her. “This is the smallest I have.”

“Thank you.”

He nods and turns around, granting her the privacy she needs to change.

Katherine swiftly changes into his shirt, which falls to her thighs, enveloping her in his scent—a mix of wood and mint. “You can turn around, Newt.”

When he does, his cheeks flush with color at the sight of her. He scratches the back of his neck nervously. “Uh… You can sleep on the bed, and I’ll sleep on the floor.”

“What? No! I can’t kick you out of your bed.”

“Oh, please. You’re my guest.”

“No—”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“Fine.” She finally concedes, exhausted and ready for sleep. “Only for tonight.”

A triumphant grin spreads across Newt's face, and he turns down the flame of the lamp as she slides under the covers.

“Night, Kat.”

“Night.” She whispers, closing her eyes and wishing to wake from this terrible dream. Instead, her mind drifts into strange dreams—mostly flashbacks.

She stands in a sterile white lab, bright lights glaring down. A boy stands beside her, brown hair falling over his forehead, wearing the same white coat she has on. Thomas. His presence is a comforting heartbeat beside her, familiar even in this strange place. They both stare at another girl across the room, her features blurred and lost in the haze of Katherine’s memory.

“Some girls make me question my sexuality twice. And she’s definitely one of them.” Katherine tells Thomas, locked in their gaze on the girl.

Thomas shoots her a look, followed by a playful scowl. “Hey!”

“Okay, don’t worry, twin boo. She’s all yours.” She nudges him with a wink, and they burst into laughter, the sound echoing in the sterile lab.

But then, the lab dissolves, replaced by a different scene. A woman stands before them, her face shrouded in darkness, her voice demanding attention. “Wicked is good.”

The surroundings swirl, and Katherine finds herself in a training room, clad in black, fighting against a muscular opponent. The fight is intense, the thrill of the challenge coursing through her as she gains the upper hand, delivering a final punch that sends him crashing to the ground.

“Is that all you can do?” a male voice yells from the background. “Again!”

The scene fractures and dissolves into a cacophony of voices echoes around her.

“Everything is going to change.”
“She’s insane!”
“Thomas!”
“Let him go!”
“This shouldn’t have gone this way if you and your twin brother didn’t betray us, Katherine.”

Katherine gasps awake, eyes wide as she meets Newt’s gaze, which is filled with concern. Relief washes over her, but then memories of Thomas slam back, reigniting her panic. “Thomas! Where is Thomas? Thomas!”

“Hey. Hey, slim it. Thomas is downstairs, sleeping.” Newt cups her face, forcing her to focus on him, his grip gentle yet firm, a lifeline pulling her back to reality. “It’s a nightmare. Just a nightmare. You’re safe.”

She processes his words, slowly feeling the tension in her body ease. Her breathing steadies, and her eyes trail down to his shirtless chest, a rush of heat blooming in her cheeks.

If it weren’t for the dim flame of the lamp, he would definitely see her blush. She mentally sighs, thankful for this small favor.

“Everything alright?” Newt asks softly, concern etched in his features.

She nods slowly, but her eyes linger on his, pleading. “Please stay.”

“Okay,” he replies, settling on the floor beside her, his presence a comforting reassurance in the darkness.

As she drifts back to sleep, she hopes for a moment that her memories of Thomas will return, that the bond they share will become clear again. She clings to the thought, drawing strength from Newt’s steady presence beside her.