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

- WHEN LIGHTENING STRIKES -

We start walking at sunrise, the sky a dull orange smear that barely cuts through the clouded horizon. The wind is crueler this morning - dry, sharp, as if scraping at our skin. No one says much. We're saving our voices, saving our energy, saving ourselves.

We just walk.

The conversation from last night - the markings, the labels, the secrets - we don't speak of it openly. Newt and I hang back when the others move ahead. Quietly, we whisper to Minho and Frypan, telling them only what they need to know: the tattoos exist. The words are strange. No, we haven't told Teresa. Yes, we will bring it up when the time feels better.

The sun climbs higher. The heat becomes oppressive, our steps slowing, our lips cracking. Each hour stretches thin like the frayed edge of a threadbare cloth. It's almost worse than running from Cranks - this slow, hopeless trek. The quiet is heavy. The truth is heavier.

That night, we stop. There's no shelter, just cracked earth and a few hunched stones. We sleep under a bruised sky, clouds thick and unmoving above us.

Then comes the next day.

And with it, the worst thing: the water runs out.

The bottles are emptied with the last dusty sips before noon. Jack's lips are bleeding. Minho keeps licking his own like he doesn't notice. Frypan stops complaining - probably because he's too dehydrated to.

When the sun sets again, we still haven't found shelter. No caves. No shade. Just the view of the desert's edge meeting the base of the distant mountain range, the place we've clawed toward for days. But there's no way to reach it tonight.

We collapse into the dust and gravel, sleeping under another grim, swollen sky. I drift in and out of sleep. My head feels detached from my body, light but heavy, like floating just below the surface of water. Dreams flicker in and out, unformed and panicked.

Then I see them. Lights.

At first, it doesn't register. A flicker. A movement.

I sit up, blinking. My throat burns from dryness, my back aching from the hard ground. I squint toward the horizon, and the lights flicker again - small, golden glows, nestled in the middle of the desert. "Guys?" I croak, barely a whisper. I rub my eyes. Then I see it clearly. Rows of soft yellow orbs. Electric light. My chest tightens. "Guys!" I say again, louder, this time pushing to my feet. "Guys, wake up!"

Newt is the first to stir, groggy, pushing himself up with trembling arms. "What is it?" he mumbles.

"Look!" I point.

Thomas sits up, following my line of sight. He blinks, then he sees. "It's lights," he says.

"We made it?" He whispers.

And for a fleeting second, that truth hovers in the air - like the world's about to right itself. We look at each other, the smallest sparks of hope appearing on dust-covered faces. But it doesn't wholly make sense. The mountains are still too far. This just seems like another long forgotten entrance to a city-?

Thunder rips through the sky behind us. A low, primal roar - like something ancient and angry being torn awake. We turn around. Behind us, the sky is a churning wall of chaos. Storm clouds the color of oil roll across the horizon, building height like mountains themselves. Flashes of white-hot lightning split through the darkness, jagged and hungry. The ground beneath us vibrates with every rumble.

It's not just a storm - it's a monster made of wind and static.

"Shuck no," Frypan breathes.

The storm surges closer, lightning cracking down and exploding against the sand. Sparks shoot across the ground like hot fingers. The air burns with charge, the hairs on my arms rising, my teeth clenching on instinct. "Run," I whisper. No one moves. "RUN!" I scream this time.