The air was thick with anticipation as Thomas stood at the edge of the Glade, the towering walls surrounding him both familiar and foreboding. The sun was beginning to set, casting long shadows that danced across the ground. He felt the familiar hum of the Box’s machinery rumbling beneath his feet, a sound that had become a part of his existence since he’d arrived in this mysterious place.

Suddenly, the Box jolted, its metal doors sliding open with a heavy creak. Thomas leaned forward, his heart racing. He had seen many boys come up before, each arrival a puzzle piece in the strange game they were forced to play. But today felt different. There was an unusual energy in the air, an electric tension that made his skin tingle.

As the dust settled, a figure began to emerge from the Box. Thomas’s breath caught in his throat. It wasn’t a boy. A girl. She looked up at the mass round of boys, tucked into the corner between two wooden crates. She was trembling and more, she had a large gash across her cheekbone, one she didn't seem to have noticed yet.

“Who…?” he started, but the words caught in his throat. The other Gladers began to gather, confusion and curiosity mingling in their expressions.

“Who are you?” Thomas finally managed to ask, his voice not much steadier than he felt.