The walls had never opened like that before.

Not for anything other than the Runners.

Not for someone… coming in.

The stone doors grind apart with their usual thunderous echo, but this time, something’s wrong. The timing’s off. The air feels different—tense, sharp, like the Maze itself is holding its breath.

Thomas is near the edge of the Glade when it happens, mid-conversation cut short as every head turns toward the opening.

And then—

You stumble through.

Covered in dirt. Blood. Scratches that look too deep to be from just running. Your breathing is uneven, almost desperate, like your lungs haven’t known rest for hours—no, longer.

A whole night.

You survived a whole night in the Maze.

Gasps ripple through the Glade.

“No way—” “That’s impossible—” “She came from outside—”

You barely make it a few more steps before your legs threaten to give out beneath you, the adrenaline finally crashing. The echoes of the Maze still cling to you—the metallic screeching, the skittering of Grievers, the feeling of being hunted in endless stone corridors.

Thomas is the first to move.

He rushes forward, catching you just before you hit the ground completely, his grip firm but careful, like he’s not sure if you’re even real.

“Hey—hey, I got you,” he says quickly, eyes scanning your injuries, confusion and disbelief flashing across his face. “How did you—? You were out there?”

Behind him, the other Gladers crowd closer, forming a loose circle. Some look amazed. Others… uneasy.

Because no one survives the Maze overnight.

No one.

And yet—you did.

The massive stone doors begin to close behind you with a deafening rumble, sealing off the Maze once more. The sound makes your body flinch on instinct.

Thomas notices.

His expression shifts—softer now, but more intense.

“…What chased you?” he asks quietly.

Because something had to.

Your heart is still racing. Your body still remembers the terror. The darkness. The things that almost caught you.

And now all eyes are on you.

Waiting.

Demanding answers.