IT STARTED WITH A MAZE - Newt x Reader (F)

- CONSEQUENCES OF CHANGING -

It's a new day.

Not the worst I've had, but far from the best. I didn't get to run this morning - not that I had a choice. Minho said, "One day on, one day off," as if my energy was something to be rationed. I'd argue, but apparently I still need to "build stamina."

Fine. I'll play by their rules. For now.

Instead, I'm with gardening duty. Normally something that I enjoy. The sun's only just climbed over the edge of the Maze, lighting the Glade with that early orange hue that makes everything look almost soft - but I don't feel soft. Not in this heat. Not in the dirt. Not with sweat clinging to the back of my neck as I crouch beside the carrot patch. Especially not with the palpable tension from Thomas and Newt.

Thomas is nearby, pulling weeds like someone who's never seen a weed before. Newt, as always, is leaning on something - a post, a shovel, a sigh. He's wrapping vines around a wooden trellis while tossing half-hearted glances at both of us.

"Has anyone tried climbing to the top?" Thomas asks suddenly. He's looking toward the Maze walls. I glance over at Newt.

"Tried it," Newt confirms. He says it in a way that makes me pause - like he knows. Not just secondhand stories, but firsthand experience. "The ivy doesn't go all the way to the top."

I nod. "I noticed that from inside the Maze. It stops a few meters short."

Thomas turns to me, eyebrows furrowed. "So what? You get halfway and drop?"

Newt wipes sweat from his brow with the back of his arm. "If the fall doesn't kill you, the Maze will. We had one kid who made it higher than the rest. Broke both legs on the way down. Never even made it to sundown."

Thomas chews on his lip, gaze still glued to the ivy-covered wall. "What about the Box? You know, it comes up. What if someone rides it back down?"

"We've tried that," Newt says sharply. "Box won't move if someone's inside. Won't even shudder. Just sits there. Dead still."

Thomas lifts his head. "But what if we-"

"No." Newt's voice cuts clean through the air. He turns, face suddenly hard. "We've tried, alright? Twice. We're not stupid. We've had three years to think this through." The silence that follows is heavy. Final. Newt leans against the post, as if the effort of speaking that clearly took more out of him than he expected. I glance up from where I'm crouched, hands deep in the soil. My fingers tighten around a cluster of carrots. Not ripe yet - still too early to pull - but I want to rip something out of the earth. I want it to fight back. "The only way out," Newt continues, quieter now, "is through the Maze."

His eyes flick toward Zart, who's down the row, methodically trimming away excess leaves like none of this matters.

Thomas looks to me for backup. But I can't give him what he wants. "It sucks," I admit, straightening up with a grunt. "But it's true." There's a bitter taste in my mouth. I hate how defeat sometimes tastes like truth around here.

Newt grabs a nearby bucket and tosses it toward Thomas. "If you want to be helpful, go dig up more fertilizer from behind the shed. Should be a new pile starting."

Thomas catches the bucket awkwardly. "Yeah. Sure." But he hesitates - just long enough that it feels like defiance. Then he turns and heads off.

I watch him leave, squinting toward the shadowy edge of the Glade. "I don't think he knows where to go," I say, brushing dirt from my knees.

Newt shrugs. "It's nearby. I'm sure he'll find it."

I glance toward the woods. The trees there are thick and overgrown. Stillness always lingers between them, like they're holding their breath. I've never liked it. The way shadows gather so easily. The way sound seems to fall away entirely once you step past the outer trunks. "If we want the job done," I say, grabbing a second bucket, "maybe we gotta do it ourselves."