The walls of the Maze loomed overhead, cold and silent except for the occasional scuff of a Griever patrolling its paths. You’d been running and mapping sections for hours, notes scribbled in your journal, when you noticed her—Teresa—watching from the edge of the clearing.

She wasn’t just observing. She was analyzing. Every turn, every etched symbol on the walls, every pattern in the shifting doors—it all mattered to her. And apparently, she wanted you to notice.

“Hey,” she called, voice low, just enough so the others wouldn’t overhear. “I need your help.”

You blinked. “Me?”

Her eyes narrowed, sharp and calculating. “Yes, you. You’ve been paying attention. You notice details. You write things down. That’s exactly what we need.”

You swallowed, your stomach twisting. Helping her meant getting close to someone everyone else didn’t trust. But there was something in her tone—earnest, urgent—that made it impossible to say no.

She stepped closer, lowering her voice even further. “I’ve been tracking the Maze’s symbols, the changes in the paths. But I can’t do it alone. If we put our minds together… we could figure it out. We could actually survive this.”

Her gaze held yours, intense and unflinching. You could feel the weight of the trust she was placing in you, the way she needed someone to rely on without WCKD breathing down your neck.

“Alright,” you said finally. “I’m in. Let’s decode it.”

A ghost of a smile flickered across her lips. “Good. Just… don’t let anyone else see what we’re doing. This has to be between us.”