ACT I SCENE II
EPIGONI

     AN INHUMAN scream pierced through the air and Cassandra shot out of the bed in a blind fright. She couldn't see. Only darkness surrounded her, suffocating her. Ragged gasps escaped her throat as panic coursed through her bloodstream, nervous system switching into fight or flight mode in an instant. She felt a hand grab hold of her wrist tightly, causing her to scream and struggle.

"Hey, easy! Easy!"

She barely recognised the voice calling out to her and stopped. Newt looked at her with his familiar brown eyes and she felt her muscles start to relax again. She lowered her arms and Newt slowly let go of her wrists, as if afraid she would lash out again. Her breathing evened out and her eyes started to adjust to the dimness. The room they were in had no windows and it made her feel claustrophobic.

"Easy..." he repeated soothingly.

"What was that sound?" she whispered.

She was sure that she'd heard it. The scream penetrated through the thick haze of her sleep like a shrill alarm from hell. It felt like someone had thrown a bucket of ice-cold water down her back, chilling her to the bone.

"You'll find out later," he said dismissively. "For now, you need to get something to eat. You've been unconscious for two days. Clint's been feeding ya soup and all that rubbish, but you need a proper meal."

At the thought of food, she could feel her stomach rumble in response. She had zero arguments against his suggestion and nodded her head slowly. Newt smirked in amusement at her reaction, then stood up and waited for her to get out of bed. Her movements were sluggish as she gingerly pushed herself to a stand. They exited the room and went down a narrow corridor of the building. It was strangely empty with only shadows to occupy it.

She followed him down a flight of creaky stairs and Newt held the front door open for her. It was probably sometime in the mid-afternoon but it was hard to tell because the sun was nowhere to be seen. There weren't any clouds in the sky for it to hide behind either; it was just absent.

Newt opened another door to a joint shack nearby. The smell of grease and food greeted her and she instantly knew that she was in the right place. The cook, called Frypan, gave her a huge serving of steak, mashed potatoes and vegetables. They sat on a bench outside and she dug in as if her life depended on it. Tasty savoury juice seeped out of tender flesh as she chewed slowly while letting out a satisfied sigh. After a moment, she gazed up at the blonde boy who was staring intently at her.

She cleared her throat and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. "So... um..." she uttered, grasping for a mundane topic. "This steak is really good."

"Good to see you have an appetite," he said with a low chuckle. "First Greenbean in a long time to act so normal."

"I just feel like I haven't eaten in months," she replied through another mouthful.

"I can tell." He gave her a moment to relish her food before breaking the uncomfortable silence. "So what is it with you and Minho?"

Her heart stuttered in her chest. She swallowed and paused in thought. "I don't know what you mean," she responded honestly.

"Uhuh..." he stuck his tongue in his cheek. "Cause it looked like you knew him pretty... intimately."

Her cheeks suddenly grew warm and she choked, launching into another coughing fit. "T-That's not—I don't even—!"

He raised a brow playfully. "Oh?"

"—know him!" she wheezed as she grabbed the glass of water and downed it.

Newt laughed at her, a pleasing sound that made him look even more boyish. "Steady on, I was just jokin'. Let's go on a tour after you're done."

Cassandra sighed in relief before her face scrunched in a disgruntled expression. "I'm going to remember that!" she remarked indignantly, eliciting another amused chuckle from the boy. Once she had scarfed down the remainder of her lunch, they started to walk out of the main building area.

Newt then led the way across the Glade, as he called the place. "You need to know one thing," he told her, pointing out towards the distance. "Never go beyond those Walls, you hear me?"

Her eyes drifted towards the near horizon and another jolt of fear struck her heart as she laid eyes on the towering stone walls surrounding them. It continued to unsettle her with its colossal structure. Newt went on ahead and she hurried to catch up with him. "W-Why?" she sputtered. "What's out there?"

"A Maze."

She stopped short to gape at him in confusion. Things just seemed to get worse and worse by the second around here. They walked across the entire Glade with Newt pointing out all the landmarks and areas to her. There were gardens with lush fruit trees and crops, then a slaughter house beside it that reeked of blood.

In the corner of the compound was a copse of trees that were shrouded in shadows. She was impressed at how they managed to make a life out there all on their own with ominous walls surrounding them like the jaws of a trap. They were foreboding and she could feel her pulse quicken whenever she set her eyes on them.

Newt stopped by a rough concrete building between the Deadheads and the animal pens with a submarine handle on the door. He ignored her questioning looks at first but relented when she finally asked. "That's the Map Room, Greenie, specially reserved for the Runners," he told her briefly. "And now, we're gonna talk about jobs. So—"

"What's a Runner?" she interrupted him, raising a sceptical brow.

"Never you mind what a Runner is," he said flatly.

"What do they do? Can I be a Runner?"

"No."

His blunt response caught her off-guard and she blinked dumbly at him. He seemed loathed to even talk about them but it piqued her curiosity. In her mind, she thought a Runner was someone who did errands. Judging from the stern look on Newt's face, it was nowhere near that.

"Why?" she questioned.

"Well, for one, you just got here," he pointed out with furrowed brows. "The Maze is no joke, alright? Only the best of us can be a Runner."

"What is a Runner?" she questioned once more with a frown.

Newt averted his eyes to the distance. "They run into the Maze to map it. Try to figure a way out of here."

"Oh." Her eyes widened in response. "So who's the best Runner?"

"Minho's the Keeper of the Runners."

"So... Minho's like the best of the best out of everyone here?" she asked slyly.

"You could put it that way but don't say it out loud in front of him, okay? His shucking ego is big enough as is."

She nodded to show her understanding then let her eyes wander about the field. If she had to pick a job, she would rather contribute to something sustainable. "I want to work in the gardens or kitchen, then," she proclaimed.

"That's not for me to decide," he said with a chuckle.

It was starting to get late as the sunlight dimmed to a dusky glow. The other Gladers looked like they were packing their equipment up, ready to retire for the day. Her gaze then turned towards one of the four openings in the Wall nearest to them.

"Yeah, you haven't seen the Doors close or open yet, have you?" Newt looked in the same direction. "The Runners should be back any second now."

An anxious feeling started to creep into her chest but it only lasted a brief moment when she spotted someone running through the South Door; a tall boy with blonde hair and an athletic figure. He bent over, resting his hands on his knees as he took several deep breaths. Two more came through the East Door. Then another boy ran up from the West side. They all took a moment to gather themselves before heading over to the concrete building with the submarine handle. One by one, the Runners started returning to the Glade.

"So... what happens if a Runner doesn't come back when the Doors close?" she asked nervously.

"He'll die. No one has ever survived a night out in the Maze."

She turned sharply to look at him just as he raised an arm to wave at a boy in the distance. It was Minho. Just as he waved back, there was a loud and deep rumble. Cassandra stared in awe as the Doors around the Glade started moving all at once, rod-like extensions from one side sliding into their matching locks on the other. The unfathomable large walls moved as one with great heaving force, the sound of stone grating against stone reverberating throughout her entire body.

As they slammed shut with a foreboding echo, a voice called out in greeting. Minho jogged to a halt in front of them with sweat-slicked skin. "Hey. Greenie's awake," he said.

"Yeah." Newt gave a nod. Just as he was about to say something, they heard someone call for him from the Homestead. "Duty calls. I'll see you shanks later."

He bade them farewell with a flick of his wrist over a shoulder, leaving Cassandra to her own devices. Minho stood by her side panting slightly and attempted to smile, only for it to come out as a slight grimace. "So... how're you feeling?" he started.

"Fine, I guess..." she responded uncertainly and hugged herself against the oncoming chill of the evening. She looked up with a frown as the sky started to deepen into an orange haze.

"What was your name again?" Minho asked.

"It's Cassandra, like the—"

"—Greek princess," he finished for her.

Their eyes widened in realisation and silence stretched between them. Cassandra sucked in a breath and let it out in disbelief. It had felt like an absurd habit to recite her namesake out loud. The mad prophetess who was cursed by the Gods. It seemed like an ill omen to have.

She stared at the boy before her. Remnants of distant memories danced before her eyes—the taste of blood on her tongue, the silhouette of a truck in the distance and the warmth of a hand grasped around hers. "Do you... remember me too?" she started hesitantly, voice wavering.

There was a flicker across his brown eyes that she couldn't discern. "No... I don't," he answered bluntly and she felt her heart drop to the soles of her feet. "I heard you could recognise everyone else too. You remember anything else? About the world outside? How to get out of this shuck place or something?"

Surprising even herself, Cassandra let out a bitter laugh. "I don't know how I know your names, I have no idea who you are. I don't even know who I am."

An indiscernible emotion clouded his face for a brief moment—empathy, perhaps, or pity—before he chuckled wryly. "Shuck. Well, there goes my bacon. Made a bet with Newt that I was a natural-born leader with perfect hair. It's hard being the hero around here all the time, y'know."

The edge of her lips twitched with amusement. Cassandra averted her gaze to the ground as she thought back to a memory she had dredged up in her sleep. "I remember my father singing to me..."

Minho turned to her with brows raised expectantly. "Yeah?"

She remembered hands clasped against her ears, sunlight streaming through a shattered window. Her heart thudding against her chest, fists balled tightly beneath her chin, and salted tears staining her cheeks.

Cassandra took a shuddering breath as she raised her eyes up to him. "I remember people dying."

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