The Glade had its routines, as unchanging as the towering stone walls around them. Every month, the Box delivered a new greenie—a confused, wide-eyed boy who fumbled to make sense of their strange, enclosed world. Minho, Newt, Thomas, Frypan, and the others had grown used to it, even relied on the routine to stay grounded in their ever-puzzling existence. But this time, everything changed.

When the Box rose with its usual groan of gears, the Gladers crowded around, expecting the usual. Instead, they found her—a girl, unconscious and pale, lying motionless amidst the supplies. The sight sent a ripple of unease through the crowd. A girl? That had never happened before. Whispers erupted, speculation flying like wildfire, but no one dared move until Newt stepped forward.

“All right, that’s enough,” he called, his voice steady despite the chaos in his mind. Why her? Why now? It didn’t make sense, but he didn’t have time for that. As second-in-command, it was his job to restore order. With the girl’s arrival, the Glade’s fragile balance was about to shatter, and Newt knew they needed answers—fast.