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

- THE FIRST ANOMALY -

Newt stops for a moment, watching me. "You're brave. Reckless, maybe. But brave."

I glance at him. "Maybe a little of both."

He gives a short laugh. The sound makes me feel a little bit better and I relish the easy conversation as we reach the Maze's edge. Minho and Alby are already there, waiting. Minho's stance is rigid, arms crossed. His eyes lock onto mine. "You can still back out."

I shake my head. "No."

Alby steps forward, his voice firm but encouraging. "Three brains are better than two," he says. I nod, the weight of their words settling over me like armor.

We exchange brief looks, a silent pact sealed without further speech.

Then without another word, we turn toward the Maze, and start running.

~~~

Running through the Maze still isn't easy.

My body hasn't fully adjusted, not yet. Every pounding step sends a jolt up my legs. My lungs burn. My shirt clings to my back with sweat, and my feet slip slightly on the damp stone. But even with the pain - something in me clicks. The rhythm of my feet, the measured breathing, the precise turns - I feel it.

It's like I've done this before. Trained for it.

Like somewhere, deep in muscle memory, this path is known to me.

Minho leads the way, his eyes sharp as he follows the invisible trail in his head. He doesn't speak much while we run. He just... moves. Confident. Smooth. Like his body is on autopilot.

Alby runs behind him, glancing back occasionally to make sure I'm still with them. I am.

We've already covered two sections, and the sun's still barely broken through the mist. But as we enter the third one - Section Seven, Minho mutters - it happens.

The first fat droplet of rain hits my cheek. Then another. Then dozens. Within moments, the sky seems to open up. Rain lashes down, soaking through my clothes, plastering my hair to my forehead. My boots splash through deepening puddles as the Maze starts to feel even more alive, like it's feeding off the storm. "Here," Minho finally says. He slows, then stops completely near the edge of a corridor. Alby and I approach, and that's when I see it.

The Griever.

I freeze. My stomach twists in a way I've never experienced. A clenching, twisting horror that wraps its fingers around my spine and squeezes. It's worse than any nightmare.

The creature lies in a tangled mess of limbs and machinery, its massive body half-slumped against the wall. Its skin - if it can even be called that - is a slick mixture of rubbery flesh and black metal. Thick tubes run across its sides like veins. Joints jut out awkwardly, where bladed weapons seem to grow from it like thorns. Its mouth is a horrifying mash of jagged teeth and mechanical pincers, half open like it died mid-snarl. The eye - just one visible - glows with a faint red hue, as if it's still watching, even in death. Its sheer size is enough to tower over me, easily the length of the Slicer's Hut. The rain pelts its body, washing blood - black and oozing - down the cracks in the stone. I can't move. I can barely breathe. "What the hell..." I whisper.

"This is it," Minho says, breathless. He crouches near the thing, his face tight with disgust and fascination.

"This is where you found it yesterday?" Alby asks, kneeling slowly.

Minho nods. "It was deeper in then, but it hasn't moved."

I scan its body, taking in the impossible anatomy. It's like a creature that couldn't decide what it wanted to be. Part animal. Part machine. All nightmare. "Are those... the needles?" I murmur, pointing to the spike-like tail.