The First Glader

25

"You promise?"

"I don't make promises I can't keep," she said. "I'm promising you this."

He swallowed hard, then nodded.

Ada rested her hand briefly on his shoulder. "Stay with Frypan after this, okay? Don't let him bully you into washing every dish alone."

"He already did," Chuck said.

"Tell him I said no."

Chuck brightened at that. "Really?"

"Really."

Minho clapped his hands once. "Alright, feelings circle is over. Time to work."

Ben smirked. "You were just whining five seconds ago."

"Whining with style," Minho corrected.

The great stone doors began to groan, grinding open with that deep, awful sound Ada felt in her bones. The air beyond was cooler, carrying the faint smell of stone and something sharp she tried never to name.

Ada's chest tightened—but only for a moment.

She'd been here a thousand times.

"Positions," she said.

Minho slipped into place ahead of them, rolling his shoulders. "Lead."

Ben moved to the middle, glancing around, every angle noted.

Ada took the rear, where she could watch both of them and the walls.

She glanced back one last time.

Chuck stood between Alby and Newt now, both older boys flanking him like guard rails. Nick watched from farther off, arms folded, gaze locked on Ada.

She nodded once.

He nodded back.

Then the three of them stepped into the Maze.

The temperature dropped instantly, the sun swallowed by the towering walls. Their footsteps echoed against stone, rhythmic and sure. Minho set the pace—fast enough to cover ground, slow enough to catch details.

"Section 2 looks the same," he called over his shoulder.

"Check the right wall," Ada said. "We thought it had a hairline shift last time."

"On it."

Ben ran his fingers briefly along the stone as they passed, eyes narrowed. "Feels the same as yesterday."

Ada marked it mentally. "Good. No reduction in width."

"You know that without measuring?" Ben asked.

"She's walked this corridor more than any of us," Minho said. "She probably knows how many pebbles are in the cracks."

"Forty-three," Ada said.

Ben glanced back at her.

She didn't smile.

They turned into another long passage, Minho calling out markers as they passed them. Ada's mind moved in patterns—distance, direction, angle—overlaying their surroundings onto the map that lived permanently behind her eyes.

It was almost... calming.

The Grievers slept during the day. The Maze moved, but slowly. The walls were still. The air was clear.

Here, she knew the rules.

"How's the leg?" she called to Ben.

"Good," he said. "Keeping pace."