The First Glader

3

Ada screamed—raw and panicked—and burst free of the narrow space just as the creature tore through the wall, its claws slashing out at her.

She sprinted down the next corridor, her breath wheezing, her body shaking with terror. Sweat slicked her palms. Feeling something drip off of her fingers, she spared a glance down.She hadn't been quite lucky enough. The creature's claws had left a gnarly gash down her bicep to her forearm. Her legs threatened to buckle. Every instinct screamed faster.

Another turn. Another sprint. Another scrape too close behind her.

She threw herself around a corner and collided hard with the opposite wall, sparks bursting across her vision. Pain tore through her shoulder, but she kept moving, pushing off and launching into another sprint.

The creature shrieked—an unearthly, mechanical howl that shook the Maze. Ada clapped her hands over her ears, teeth gritted, running blind for three agonizing seconds before forcing her hands forward again.

The corridors blurred. The cold bit at her lungs. Her breaths became sharp sobs.

She turned another corner and nearly fell—the ground dropped into a slight slope. She stumbled, caught herself on tearing fingernails, and ran downhill as fast as her trembling legs could carry her.

The hum behind her deepened.
It was gaining.

"NO!" Ada sobbed, pushing herself harder. "Go AWAY!"

The Maze didn't listen.

She bolted into a long hallway she didn't recognize—tall, narrow, the floor patterned with cracks she didn't have time to memorize. The air felt different here—thicker, colder, like the Maze itself was watching her.

Her legs were giving out.
Her breath came in tearing gasps.
The creature's scraping claws echoed closer—closer—

A shadow lunged at the end of the corridor.

Ada threw herself sideways through the nearest turn, barely avoiding the snapping metal limbs that scraped past her shoulder and gouged the wall. She slammed into the corner, her body screaming in pain.

She forced herself upright.
She ran again.

The Maze blurred past her—stone, darkness, breathless terror. At one point she tripped, fell to one knee, hands scraping bloody against the ground, but she shoved herself up and kept going.

Her body didn't matter.
Her fear didn't matter.
Stopping meant dying.

Hours bled together—frantic sprints, desperate gasps, moments of hiding pressed into shallow indents only to run again when the creature drew close. Shadows shifted. Echoes played tricks on her ears. At times she could have sworn the Maze itself was moving beneath her feet.

Her legs were shaking violently by the time the mechanical shriek behind her began to fade. She didn't trust it—not at first. She slowed only when her lungs burned so badly she thought she might collapse. She slid into a nook at the corner of two walls, hugging her knees, sobbing through clenched teeth.

She had to stay awake.
She had to listen.
She had to survive until dawn.

Every minute dragged like a lifetime.

The Maze groaned around her—walls shifting slightly, stone settling, cold air drifting through unseen cracks. Once, she heard the creature scraping somewhere far off, and she froze entirely, breath held until stars danced in her vision.

But it didn't find her again.

Not that night.

When the faint hum of the Doors beginning to open reached her ears—soft at first, then growing into the familiar grinding roar—Ada's breath caught in her throat.