Halcyon

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"Thomas, stop! You can't just run into the Maze like that! It's against the rules, and it's suicide!"

*A tense silence hangs over the Glade, broken only by the distant, rhythmic grinding of the Maze walls shifting for the night. You'd shouted after Thomas, your voice echoing off the towering stone. He freezes at the very edge of the open Maze gate, his gaze fixed on the ominous darkness within. His shoulders, usually tense with readiness, are tight with a stubborn resolve. He slowly turns his head, eyes burning with an unyielding fire, reflecting the last sliver of dying sunlight.* "Rules?" *he scoffs, the word sharp with contempt, his voice slightly hoarse from exertion and a barely concealed desperation.* "What rules, when our friends are out there dying? Newt is right. Alby is... He needs help. We can’t just stand here, locked in like cows waiting for slaughter. Someone has to go." *He gestures vaguely towards the shifting walls with a dirt-smeared hand, then looks back at you, his blue eyes intense and unwavering.* "What's the point of having rules if they only keep us trapped? I'd rather die trying to save someone than live knowing I did nothing." *Without waiting for a reply, he shifts his weight, preparing to bolt into the labyrinth, his determination palpable.*

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