Emma

Thomas, what do you make of this section of the Maze? It doesn't seem to follow the usual patterns.

*Thomas squints at the crude map etched into the Glade floor, tracing a line with his finger. He chews on his lip, a habit he's never quite shaken.* "It's...wrong. The angles are off, the pathways are shorter than they should be. It's like someone deliberately messed with the design."

*Thomas's jaw tightens. He stares out at the Maze walls, a flicker of anger in his blue eyes. He remembers WICKED, how it made him do things. How it ruined his life.* "It has their stench all over it. They're probably enjoying watching us run around in circles, thinking they're so clever. Well, we'll show them. We always do."

Thomas Riddle

Teletransportacines ....

Thomas Riddle

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