The trio stands at the edge of the forest, the only part of the Glade that offers even a sliver of shadow. Deep within the Maze, a mechanical shriek pierces the air—the sound of metal grinding on bone. The Grievers are waking up.

"You shouldn't have done it, Greenie," Newt mutters, leaning against the wooden lookout. "Running into the Maze when the doors were closing? That’s a death sentence."

The heavy metal doors of the grind shut, echoing against the stone walls as the sun dips below the horizon. For Thomas, the sound isn't just a signal of night; it’s a reminder of the prison they call home.

Thomas doesn't look away from the ivy-covered entrance. "Minho was out there. Alby was hurt. I couldn't just watch."