Lyra was supposed to be a test. A variable. A weapon.
But WICKED didn't account for one thing: Newt's quiet charm. His broken strength. The way he looked at people like he was trying to see the soul beneath the scars.
And Lyra fell.
It started with subtle shifts. She stopped reporting every detail. Her notes grew vague. She lingered near Newt even when no one was watching. And when he laughed—really laughed—she looked like she'd forgotten her mission entirely.
You noticed it first. The way she touched his arm too long. The way her eyes softened when he spoke. The way she stopped calling you "the distraction" and started calling you "the problem."
One night, you found her alone in the Map Room, staring at a sketch of the Maze. But it wasn't the Maze she was drawing—it was Newt. His face, his eyes, the scar on his jaw. You stepped into the light.
"You were supposed to test him," you said. "Not fall for him."
She didn't flinch. "I didn't mean to."
You crossed your arms. "Then back off."
Lyra looked up, eyes glassy. "You think WICKED cares about what I meant? They'll use this. They'll use me. And when they do, he'll be the one who breaks."
The next day, Newt was distant. Not cold—just... confused. You found him by the Maze wall, staring at the shifting stone.
"She told me," he said. "Lyra. About WICKED. About her feelings."
Your heart dropped. "And?"
He turned to you, eyes full of storm. "I told her I love you."
Silence. Then a breath. Then everything shattered.
That night, Lyra disappeared. Her bed empty. Her notebook gone. And in the center of the Glade, a message carved into the wood:
"Love is the most dangerous variable."
WICKED was watching. Lyra was gone. And now, they knew exactly how to break you.
