Glade Maze Runner Novels & Stories

“What’s your endgame, Cyrus?” His grin turned feral, his eyes gleaming with malice. “Oh, you’ll find out soon enough.” He gestured to the darkness beyond the crevice, his voice dripping with mockery. “You see, this isn’t just a cave. It’s a maze. A deadly one. Traps, deadfalls, pressure plates, explosives—you name it, I’ve got it. And you, Gaius, have just walked right into it.” My stomach dropped as his words sank in. Evelyn tensed beside me, her breath hitching as she processed the trap we had walked into.

She looked at Reese, fear sharp in her chest. “North,” she said. “We run.” Reese cursed, but he trusted her. He always did. They broke cover together, sprinting down a side corridor as bullets tore through the walls. The cube glowed like a beacon in Mara’s hands, pulling them deeper into the labyrinth. Behind them, the Consortium’s shouts echoed. And somewhere farther still, quieter but sharper, Mara swore she heard the woman’s voice again. “You can’t outrun the fractures, little mirror. Not from me.”

Its eyes opened. Coal-bright. The same hunger as the tracker. But smaller. Newer. A seed. Mara’s smile went serene. “Behold,” she whispered. “The Cageborn.” The runes on the walls flared so bright the chamber flashed copper-white. The cageborn shivered, then turned its head directly toward me. Toward my mark. It smiled. Not with a mouth. With intention. My pendant cracked again in my fist, and a thin line of light leaked out—like it was dying, or waking.

I was alone in the belly of the beast, fifty feet below the streets of Geneva. I had two choices: retreat into the night and lose the Second Cipher forever, or descend into the vault and face the man who shared Julian’s blood and none of his soul. I looked at the Glass Ledger shard in my hand. It was pulsing with that ghostly blue light, faster now, as if it were sensing a proximity to its source. I didn't turn back. I moved toward the vault. The vault door didn't look like a bank entrance; it looked like a cathedral of brushed titanium. It didn't have a handle or a keyhole. It had a neural-interface pad—the precursor to the very technology that had nearly consumed me.

Lexa The pack house of the Glade is remarkably similar to the ones in Silverhide and Endova. It’s a single wide, airy room with multiple entrances to the outside world but no windows. Long tables stretch in its center, but smaller tables and wobbly stools meant for moving around are scattered throughout the space. There’s a kitchen in the back–crude, however, with not much more than a few work tables and a wood-fired stove for cooking. But it’s the storeroom off the kitchen that takes my breath away, and not for the reason it should have.

Maze smiled awkwardly and anticipated a chance to scold him for choosing such an expensive kind of place to come. As soon as she stepped in the shimmering crystal chandelier dazzled her eyes. She shoved her eyes around, the interior almost left her astonished. The velvety carpet under her feet was so fluffy and rich. She was so busy praising her surrounding that she left behind. She tapped her head as she realized she was lagged behind. She rushed to match his pace. Ryan chuckled seeing Maze gasping for breath next to him,"Did you take part in the marathon? Why are you panting so much?"

The walkway begins to incline and Van knows that they are going higher. “We’re here,” Grizzlebark reminded. Like an automated door that opens when someone is entering, the leaves move to make a way for him. And from there Van now sees the whole place. There is actually a giant maze hidden in the forest. Due to the wall of trees blocking the view, the maze is not visible on the ground. In the middle of the maze is a large rotating hole, like a swirling eye of a vortex. A giant hourglass is suspended above the maze. “The hole will lead you out of this place,” Grizzlebark explained, “but you must cross the woods first to reach the maze. Just remember to keep going forward and do not look back.”

"If I step left, you step left. If I stop, you freeze. If you touch a glowing rock, you lose the hand." I led them into the maze. It was a surreal procession. Neoma the Rat leading the Unit Vanguard through the intestines of the world. We navigated piles of garbage that shifted and groaned under our weight. I guided them past pools of liquid that looked like water but smelled of acid and melted rubber. "Don't step there," I warned Barzil, grabbing his arm. He looked down. A patch of ground rippled. Not mud. Quicksand made of industrial sludge.

"Can you actually run, or are you going to be a problem?” "I can run." "You are already limping." "I said I can run." He turned left. I ran. The maze was three floors, connected by stairwells that were not marked on any visible map, so you either found them by moving or you died waiting. The walls were concrete panels on slow hydraulic tracks, moving inward at a rate that was almost imperceptible until suddenly it was not. A corridor that was eight feet wide became six feet, then four, and if you were still in it at two feet, the sensors registered you as eliminated, and the panels completed the job.

A massive board stood cloaked in enchanted fabric. “And now,” he said, “the purpose of your presence here: the Tournament Trials.” With a wave of his hand, the veil dropped. Four glowing categories emerged, etched in gold script across black stone: Combat Trials Strategy Challenges Tracking & Territory Exercises Alliance Building Events Gasps and murmurs rippled through the courtyard. But beneath the categories, in smaller, silver script, the most important words shimmered: Crafted to Build Connection. Designed to Reveal True Mates. Jade’s stomach tightened.