Happy new year everyone!

So sorry, but when I was looking back, I realised that I hadn't separated the text and edited it as I usually would have, so this is just the edited version of the chapter.

Not to worry, Chapter 24 is in the works and almost finished, so that'll be out soon!

Lots of love, thank you so much for your support, enjoy!

CHAPTER 23:

Adira growled with barely restrained frustration as she threw Jack and Ralph into the Slammer, their united shouts of pain only serving to quench her irritation slightly.

"This better teach you shuckfaces to fight again!" she yelled, shutting the door with incredible force, glaring all the while at the dirty, maimed boys. "One week!"

She turned and marched away, muttering curses under her breath as the visible fury on her face dissipated into tired irritation. Newt shook his head, trying not to laugh as she approached him in the Gardens, her reddened face slowly receding into her normal colour.

"Alright?" Newt asked, leaning against his long shovel, "Seem a little bit worked up?"

"These boys are so aggravating at times." she seethed, "I cannot understand why not fighting is so difficult for them."

Newt laughed lightly at her fury, returning to working on the harvest, "Cos they're all a bit hot headed today, right? Sun's out, blood's boiling…"

"Slim it, ya slinthead." Adira muttered, joining his efforts to get out all the good vegetables, ready for Frypan. Newt was right, as usual; the weather was static as always, hot and sweaty. She had no doubt that it was artificially controlled by the Creators and she couldn't deny the sadness she felt at the fact that she had never seen the stars in their true nature, the setting sun, rippling with its power across their atmosphere. In short, it sucked. But that wasn't news.

"Alright, Ad, alright. Slim it before lunch, I don't think anyone can stand looking at that face."

She huffed at his bluntness but heeded his advice, calming down as the rich earth coated her fingers, the scent of freshness invading her senses.

"See? You're all good and smiley now." Newt commented, laughing at her content face.

"I hate dealing with offenders." she mumbled, "It's not my fault everyone here's a shuckface."

"You just broke my bloody heart, girl." Newt said drily, brushing long strands of blonde hair out of his face.

"Oh hush." she replied, absentmindedly, "You know you're my favourite."

"Don't let Min hear you say that." Newt snorted, picking up the basket of potatoes, "Slinthead won't be happy."

She laughed aloud, imagining his fake hurt expression. Stepping forward, she allowed Newt to transfer the box of potatoes to her arms.

"He's never happy!" she relayed to Newt as she walked to the Kitchens, smiling as she heard Newt's bright laugh. Teasing Minho was one of her favourite pastimes, and she knew Newt would only back her up.

Delivering the potatoes to the Kitchens proved to be a difficult task, what with the weight, the heat and her undying thirst. Still, she had to get them to Fry in time for the cook to assess each individual vegetable, then peel, then cook for dinner, otherwise it would be cheese sandwiches for the Glade and everyone knew that was a tragedy.

"Hello, Fry." She greeted, running the back of her hand over her forehead to wipe of sweat, "How's it going?"

"Fine, fine." Fry replied jovially, "You don't look too great."

She gave him a wry grin, planting her hands on her hips, "Thanks, shank."

"Well don't leave me hanging." Fry chuckled, "What's bothering you?"

She watched as the cook piled up the potatoes he needed into a huge bowl, his trained eyes scanning for imperfections.

"Only just threw two boys into the Slammer. Had a good go at them while I was doing the job too. Quite tiring. All that screaming really takes it out of ya."

Frypan laughed deeply, "I know how it is. I yell for these shuckfaces every couple hours and they all seem to go deaf."

He shrugged then, "Either they come get their food or they starve. Like that, they either listen to you or they pay the price. Simple as."

She smiled, "Didn't take you for a motivational speaker."

"Oh hush, you're making me blush." Frypan enthused, passing the potatoes to Arden who barely glanced at her. He really was extremely quiet. "Now shoo, I know Calvin will be yelling at me if you don't go help him with his precious vegetables."

She waved goodbye, spending the rest of the afternoon collecting the vegetables needed for Fry, occasionally transferring the hoard to the Kitchens. It was long, tiring work, but the beating that the sun offered her back only fuelled her forwards, fighting back.

"How many days of Harvest d'you think we have left?" Newt asked, hands on his hips as he squinted at the sun. An hour more till the doors shut.

"Two at most." she replied, picking out a stray weed, "Though at the rate we're going, we'll be finished totally by the end of the day and Cal will make us go through everywhere again tomorrow to make sure we haven't missed anything."

Newt groaned, reaching for a water bottle. "At least he's thorough."

She shrugged. Personally, she figured Calvin was too thorough, but she couldn't blame the man. She bet he was still traumatised from the first days when they'd run out of food, losing one of them to the walls.

"Minho will be back soon." Newt said, screwing the lid back onto the bottle and pushing back fronds of hair.

"Better be." she muttered. Getting out of the uncomfortable squatting position she was in, she turned to Newt, "He still goes through the maps. Everyday."

Newt nodded lightly, "Yeah, I know."

She gave the blonde's back a look, "He knows the Maze is…well, you know?"

Newt sighed, pushing back his hair again. "He is how he is. And our Min…he's a stubborn shank, ain't he?"

"Yeah, I guess." she mumbled, kicking the dirt with the toe of her shoe, "It gives me hope, though. That maybe he's missed something."

Newt let out a pained bark of a laugh, "He never was wrong. Not when it comes to the Maze. S'like he's tuned in with the place, Ad, he knows what'll happen before it happens.

She nodded in agreement, "Right? Scares the klunk outta me."

"I mean, with the amount of time he spends in there, you get used to it. Then you get overfamiliar and then you've got yourself a Minho. Predicting cycles and shifts."

"Do you think there's a way out?" she asked, somewhat conversationally.

"Maybe. But if Minho says no, then I can't say I can back up my opinion." Newt said, "If we're stuck, Ad, we'll have to make the best of it and hope that we'll die peacefully and not cos of the Grievers. Cos that would be a pretty shuck way to die."

She could feel any remaining residue hope extinguishing within her chest, drowned by Newt's stark words.

Their goal had changed from finding a way out, to surviving.

"Adira."

She looked up from the makeshift desk she was sitting behind, her eyebrows stitched together as she saw Tristan's nervous form waiting nearly out of sight in the doorway.

"Come in." she said, trying to hide her confusion. Sure, he was an Original, but there wasn't much necessity for the two to communicate in the first place; he wasn't a Keeper, so interaction between them was usually limited to Bonfires and messages passed on from Minho.

"How can I help?" she asked politely, crossing her hands on the desk, leaning forward slightly.

Tristan smiled for a brief second, before the nervous grin vanished leaving behind a grim, nervous exterior. He seemed to be gathering courage to speak and she let him take his time.

"The Maze."

"Yes." she encouraged, feeling her heart stutter. Tristan was one of the few Runners that were allowed into the Outer Sections alongside Ben- meaning he had access to the entire Maze.

"I've run it all, Adira. But I don't see a shuck thing."

She contemplated his words, trying to figure out what course of action to take. She could lie, but she knew that would look stupid- if Tristan had run it all, then Minho would have too and everyone knew Minho would never hide anything from her. She could tell him the truth that she knew the entire time, but she was sure any trust between them would be completely and irreversibly shattered. And then word would leak out into the Glade and then everything would go to klunk.

Sighing loudly, she leaned backwards, arching her eyebrow as she decided to test the waters, "I was hoping you'd come up with a magic solution."

"You knew?" Tristan asked, but contrary to what she thought would have been his reaction, there was a heavy look of understanding.

"Course, I knew, Tristan. You know Minho's run the entire thing by now. He's the fastest shank in this place." shaking her head, she shrugged slightly, "What's your conclusion then?"

"There's no way out." Tristan said dully, "I haven't seen anything."

She ran a hand through her hair, "Well, I was expecting that. Don't take it too hard Tristan. I know it's…tough, to have information that important, but it cannot leak out to the Glade. Swear you won't speak a word, otherwise your title will be stripped and you will be Banished."

Tristan didn't even look fazed at her abrupt, harsh words, "Sure. Minho will lecture me too, right?"

She gave him a small smile, "Obviously. He loves his own voice."

Tristan gave her a ghost of a smile, before he nodded in farewell. "See you round."

She raised her hand as goodbye, watching as the nervous boy disappeared around the bend of the doorway.

Releasing a huge sigh, she buried her head into her hands, the hopelessness in her chest choking her as she tried to draw in breaths of oxygen. They were stuck and that was the cold hard truth.

Rubbing her forehead to reduce the pressure that was accumulating there, she stood up; ready to ask Minho as soon as he came flying back through the doors whether she could run the damn Maze.

Shuck it if it was unsolvable, she couldn't care less. Running made her feel better and she knew the air would do her good.

She hoped the walls wouldn't crush her.

"So?" she asked impatiently, "Can I?"

Minho breathed out lightly, his eyes amused as he took in her dishevelled frustration.

"Why?"

"Cos I haven't run in so long."

Minho shrugged, "Fine then. By yourself or with me?"

She copied his earlier movement, "With you?"

Minho smiled, pulling her under his arm and rubbing her hair much to her contempt, completely messing her entire look. She could barely part her hair correctly and yet here he was, ruining everything she had worked for. Honestly, boys.

"There was no need." She muttered, hurriedly trying to push the strands out of her face, "Do you understand the pains I go through to look presentable?"

Minho looked affronted, "Never mind you, woman, do you know what I go through?"

She looked at his perfect hair, rolling her eyes at the absolute unfairness of the situation- he always looked good, always had his hair perfect. And what need did he have? Man didn't even have a mirror (or maybe he did) and even then, he was away in the Maze most of the time.

"Oi chaps." Newt greeted, patting Minho's back and offering Adira a soft smile that she promptly returned, "Arguing already?"

Adira rolled her eyes, annoyed that the blonde was always so accurate, "Dunno what you're chatting on about."

"Alright then." Newt snickered, "If you say so. You're running out today, aren't you?"

She nodded somewhat guiltily, crossing her arms with a small smile, "You're the big bad leader for the day."

Newt hummed in agreement, before steering the two of them towards the Maze walls. "North Door today."

Adira looked at the East door, spying Tristan waiting for the doors to open, but unlike usual, he was motionless and quiet, not bothering to stretch his muscles in anticipation of the arduous run ahead. She frowned sharply, pursing her lips and turning to Minho, feeling his gaze on her.

Newt didn't notice their sudden worry, still steering them around, his head high above the both of them, allowing their silent communication. She'd pestered Tristan to take a break, even if it was just for a day, but he'd violently refused. Even Minho, with all his cool stares and threats of the dangers of overworking couldn't change the boy's mind.

"Have fun running from the Grievers!" Newt laughed, pushing the two of them forwards, a massive grin decorating his face, "Don't die shanks!"

She waved back at the retreating blonde, starting to stretch her muscles out. Minho copied her, his face still pinched in a thoughtful frown which she immediately knew was caused by Tristan. Besides, Minho, Tristan was the only other person to have run the Maze in its full entirety, the only other person that had lasted as long.

"Can you keep up with me?" Adira asked challengingly, jumping on the balls of her feet, a small smile spreading on her face at Minho's immediate reaction.

"I'm the shuck Keeper of Runners, woman, of course I can keep up with you." Minho smirked, his stance straightening, shoulders rolling back defiantly. She bit back a laugh at his aggression, crossing her arms as she sensed the tremors of the doors opening vibrate through the earth.

"If you say so, Min." she muttered, once the Doors had opened and they were weaving through the obstacles of maze walls, ivy and unpleasant stains.

"I do say so." Minho retorted, picking up his pace to aggravate her. He knew she'd speed up to beat him; she'd come as close to death to compete with him, to win. But that was her downfall.

She huffed behind him, urging her legs faster as the familiar musty smell of the Maze permeated her nose. Based on the Keeper's speed, she knew they were heading to the Outer Sections that day, the sections that were synonymous with death. Somehow, the word of the Outer Sections leaked into the Glade, and although there was no uproar, it had the completely opposite conclusion to the truth she, Minho, Newt and now Tristan knew. Gladers were rejuvenated by the idea, thinking it was a way out, there was hope!

It wasn't an exit though. It was death.

"Stop."

She stopped immediately. The command in his voice was unmistakeable, sharp and demanding of attention and she couldn't help but obey; he was the leader out here, in the Maze.

"Griever." Minho said tensely, turning back to look at her, the faint clicking filling in the silence that stretched between them. The clicking increased in volume, hovering over them. She looked up slowly, Minho following her actions, just catching sight of the Griever's claw like mechanical arms crawling up over the surface of the wall. It was far up, but it was still close- those things could move like the lightning.

"We're going to run." Minho said calmly, grabbing hold of her hand, "Don't fall back."

"I should be telling you that." she whispered, her hand tightening around his as the two of them edged away from danger as slowly and undetectably as they could.

"Slim it." Minho responded, his eyes focused on the creature above them, "You know I'm faster."

She squeezed his hand in return, "I took you down on your first day, Min. Don't get all haughty with me."

"Shucks, woman, I thought we agreed to never bring that up again." Minho gritted out, edging closer and closer to the turning of the corridor. She swallowed nervously; the Griever was still.

"Did I injure that ego of yours?" she questioned tauntingly, just as Minho reached the turning.

His eyes darted down from the Griever to her face, a small smirk appearing as he replied, "My ego's too strong to get hurt, Ad. Better luck next time."

And with that, he leaped to the left, dragging her with him as they raced away in the opposite direction. Their running was frenzied as they battled against exhaustion to save themselves, their limbs aching as they relentlessly pounded onwards to reasonable safety. Minho slowed slightly, frowning again.

"It didn't even bother chasing us." he muttered, jogging lightly.

Adira brushed away hair from her face, pulling her hand out of his grasp, not noticing the momentarily deepened frown on his face.

"It's strange." she responded, "They're always out to kill. I've never seen one do that."

Minho shook his head, signifying that he too, had never noticed such peculiar activity before. "It can't be having a shucking nap up there, can it?"

Adira shrugged, mouth opening to reply, before a horrible thought struck her. What if it wasn't chasing them, but someone else?

"Who was running Section 4 today?" she asked sharply, and Minho turned back to face her, hearing the bite in her tone.

"Tristan, I think. He was by East Door." Minho nodded, his eyes widening as he understood the sudden worry in her eyes. "Shuck."

"Shuck's right." Adira said grimly, her muscles tending suddenly as adrenaline poured through her body, "Let's go help the guy."

Minho barely had time to nod before she set off, legs like lightning, heart beating gratefully for his companionship as he kept pace with her. Surprise wasn't something he showed often, but right now, watching her legs fly, he was definitely surprised- she hadn't run this fast since before her knee injury.

In no time, they were back by the corridor where they had just escaped, their eyes drawn immediately to the previous position of the metallic claw. It wasn't there.

And as ice cold fear plunged its destructive path through their blood, and the dust swirled by their pounding feet creating twirls and curls of particles, sweat beading on their foreheads, they heard an eerie, high pitched scream, the metallic grinding of the monster and then silence.

Silence that they wished was not so quiet.

"How long do we have left?"

"Four hours."

She sighed deeply, avoiding direct contact with the corpse. He was barely recognisable- an arm and leg missing, his face lacerated and bloody, a gaping hole in his chest. Minho leaned down, his profile hard as he checked the damage inflicted upon him.

"It took his heart." Minho said, standing up and brushing off dust from his knees, "Shucking hell, that's gross."

Adira grimaced, feeling as if her own heart had been ripped out, "We'll take him back?"

"No way." Minho disagreed, looking up at her, "I'm not doing it."

She shrugged at his blatant disapproval, knowing that he wouldn't budge on his opinion, not when he was like this. Blooms of blood surrounded the boy, his pitiful corpse already covered in a fine layer of dirt- clearly he'd put up a fight.

She knew why Minho didn't want to carry him back to the Glade. Being a Runner may have been the most physically taxing job in the Glade, but the mental efforts required were far greater. Running back home with a dead body on your shoulder, their lifeless body thumping against your back, blood staining your shirt? It would break even the strongest man.

"Home?" she asked, wrapping her arms around herself.

Minho didn't answer for a while, his eyes concentrated on a single trickle of blood that sourced from Tristan's mouth, shoulders slanted forwards in sadness. She knew he'd be taking this hard. Walking over to him, she stood next to him, looking at his face, the troubled frown, downward turn of his lips and his shuttered eyes. Leaning her head on his shoulder and tightening her arms around herself, they stood in silence, watching as the stream of blood flowed down, down, down and dampened the grey silt on the floor.

"You shouldn't have let him go out." Minho said and she would have felt hurt if she hadn't detected the emptiness of the words.

"Do you really mean that, Min?" she asked softly, looping her arm through his, "Cos you're shucked if you do."

He looked down at her, rolling his eyes as he pushed her hair back, tucking it behind her ear, "No. No, I don't."

She gave him a sad smile as she detached herself from his warm side, tugging him away from the site of murder, gently coaxing him to run back home.

Of course, breaking the news to the Glade was no better than being out in the Maze next to the Griever's fresh kill. But some things had to be done.

Politics over the heart, of course.

"Bloody hell." Newt said, his face buried in his hands as they relayed the news to him. Understandably, he wasn't happy. "Mike only just passed."

Adira shrugged and Minho busied himself with assorting maps into their allocated boxes, avoiding the blonde carefully. She would have to do the storytelling as per usual; so reminiscent of the dream she had had.

"You didn't bring him back?" Newt asked, finally looking up at her, his eyes redder- not with tears, but with anger.

"No." she replied, shaking her head, "We didn't."

Newt only nodded absentmindedly, raking his fingers through his hair thoughtfully, his mind going back to the sickening days of endless running- he understood, there was no doubt about it. How would they break the news to the Glade? A second death, so soon? It took him back to the first days, when Nick had died and Stephen had followed soon after, his black veined body collapsing into the grave they had dug out for him, sanity lost and a mere mortal remain of a once lively boy.

"Who's breaking the news?" Minho asked, serving as a mediator- he wouldn't announce it, it was between Newt and herself and Newt's pointed glare made the Runner turn back around to his maps.

"I'll do it." Adira sighed, lazily reaching up to retie her hair, the loose strands irritating her skin, "Better me anyway, since I was with Min."

Newt looked up at her, "Look, I don't mind-"

She gave him a small smile, holding her hand up, "Really, Newt, it should be me anyways. I was there, and I'm the Leader anyway- they'll expect news from me."

Newt examined her face for a moment before he sighed our a breath of relief, "Right. Fine, but I'll come up with you, yeah?"

Minho slung his arm around Newt's shoulders, giving her a cheesy smile, "You've got our full support, love."

She rolled her eyes, cracking a larger, more satisfactory smile for their benefit thought in all honesty, she admired their will to stick by her, the will to protect, defend and love her. It was something she would be eternally grateful for in the long run.

"Off we go then." Newt said, shattering her happy daydream, "Let's go tell the poor chaps."

"It's always Newt that gets us to do the unpleasant stuff." Minho said, his face solemn the second the trio had stepped out of the Map room. It wouldn't do for the Glade to see smiling and laughter and then be hit with tragic news.

"What's that meant to bloody mean?" Newt muttered under his breath, glaring at Minho.

Minho put his hands up in a sign of surrender, "Just that you always break the ice, tell us to do the right thing even if it sucks."

"It's a compliment shank." Adira added for Minho's safety, "I think."

Minho face whipped into her line of vision with a glower, before it was gone, comforting Newt with backhanded compliments and lies. He was convincing when he wanted to be, his dimpled smile and his coaxing expressions were enough to convert anyone to the dark side.

"Tell everyone to meet in the Gathering Hall in two minutes." Adira instructed and the men straightened, immediately recognising the edge in her voice.

"Kay." Newt replied, and Minho followed him, both yelling at the Gladers to meet immediately in the Gathering Hall and if the strictness in Newt's tone didn't spur a reaction, the blood staining Minho's shirt certainly did.

"Right. We're all here." Adira said, clasping her hands behind her back, her voice loud and clear and ringing in the room. There was complete silence, a rare sight amidst the troubles and tumult of the normal day of the Glade- it didn't help ease her nerves in the slightest, the eager but apprehensive eyes of the boys staring at her and the sudden realisation pouring into Calvin, Gally and Kasper.

"We've lost another to the walls." she announced, and contrary to what she had predicted, the silence only continued, "Tristan. He…was attacked by a Griever. He's dead."

The silence conquered.

Until it was broken. Gally's slow clap and cynical laugh filled the air with a sound similar to the cracking of a whip on a horse's back, harsh and violent.

"Right. You probably watched him die, didn't you? How many more, Adira? How many more people are going to die out there?"

She scowled at Gally, "I'm not playing the blame game with you Gally."

"Yes you are." Gally growled, banging his fist onto the table, "Tell me why you keep risking lives out there everyday?"

"Because we need to get out." She hissed back at the boy, her eyes practically lasers as they sought out their target.

"Out? Out, where?" Gally laughed again, and suddenly they were talking about the outside world, "There is nothing there, Adira, how many shuck times do I need to tel-"

"That's enough." she barked, raising her voice at a Gathering for the first time in the Gladers' memories. The newer boys shrunk.

"Keep your shuck opinions to yourself, Gally!" she thundered, slamming her hands on the table in front of her, "You need to sort out your priorities- we need a way out."

"A way out? It's been two years and more, Adira, get your head out of the clouds!"

She pressed her lips together to avoid saying anything she would regret, feeling as if Gally was trying to stir a mutiny among the Gladers.

"You have no grounds to insult the Runners." She ground out finally, "They work day in, day out to ensure our future security and if you think you can do better than them, be my guest and take a walk through the walls."

She looked around, her head high, voice hard, face deathly serious, "It's hard out there, and none of you will ever know just how hard, because you haven't shucking run it. So shut your klunk holes up, and pay respect to Tristan. That's what we're here for. Not for some comments that undermine two years' worth of work."

Gally only sneered in response, his eyes flickering around the room where boys were openly staring at him with hints of disgust on their faces. Saying something could equal to a riot.

"He was an Original." She spoke, the sadness in her voice discernible despite her recent flare of anger, "He was hard working, ran the Maze even though he was shuck terrified of it, just so we could get out."

It was like a ball was lodged in her throat, the lies catching on and blocking her airway as she fed the Gladers hope for an exit. She hated doing it, but she really did not want to see their faces collapse in anguish, for them to feel the same claustrophobic anxiety she felt every second of the day.

"The body?" Kasper asked, his voice small and stunned, "For the burial?"

He never spoke much in Gatherings but when he did, it was always important. She swallowed.

"We didn't bring him back."

And the silence was deafening.