The sky

New life... Looking back, everything feels like a distant dream—the maze, the Glade, the vile Grivers, the Scorch... the Cranks. As if those horrors befell someone else, not them. But they did, and it will stay with all of them—with those who survived—until their final days. All they can do is hope that the memories will trail off one day, that they will loosen their painful grip, that they will stop torturing them in nights, in their dreams, in their minds. But for now, the wounds are way too fresh and raw. For the moment, they can find peace in something else to continue to live in this new place. Thomas often wanders to the cliff to sit on its edge and gaze into the distance, at the endless expanse of ocean—or sea, whatever it may be; he doesn't much care—and catch a brief moment of something akin to quietness, serenity, and equilibrium. He likes to feel the freedom in the air, in the power of the wind, in the roar of the deep water, in the steadiness of the ground. Now, it's something that brings him a sense of constancy—a reassuring one, knowing that tomorrow will be as quiet and peaceful as today, just as yesterday was. No more forever fights creeping up, no more bracing for something or someone to suddenly ambush and attack. But now, it's something all of them must grow accustomed to. They have to accept their new life. What seems strange and almost unfamiliar is the sky. While trapped inside the maze, the Gladers saw the sky as a symbol of freedom, something like a home they'd never had. They never knew they had one before. It was something unreachable—they belonged to the maze, and the maze controlled their lives. And when they tore from those rock walls, when they saw the true vastness of the sky for the first time, they understood the price of it, the price of their freedom: the lives of their friends. They were grateful to their friends for that chance, for their fearless fighting. Later, WICKED happened again, sending them into another round of trials. They were forced to find an escape, to leave the base and navigate through the Scorch. In the Scorch, during those agonizing day and nights, Thomas often compared the sky and the desert—the same endless desperation for even a fleeting moment of peace, the same hope for it all to come to an end. The weight of the width of the sky pressed down on him, offering nothing but a feeling of being lost in the middle of hell. And he sensed that everyone felt it too. They just didn't want to voice it; otherwise, those thoughts would have turned out to be way too real. Something that once represented freedom had become another cage. Then, they met many different people with the same foe and plight—most perished along the way. Many were friends, and even more than that. They came through all the frightening times, all the countless fights, all the losses of the closest people, all the rare good moments; throughout it all, they became almost like a family. And the sky took on a roof for them, a dome that held their joy, victories, and silence, spreading across the entire Earth to remind it of the past—blooming and alive. Even though the open sky wasn't a safe place—there was always a risk of being discovered by a berg. The stars served as something worth continuing surviving to see their glow once more. In Denver, everything like that lost its significance. They had too much on their plates to notice anything else. Yet Thomas didn't stop to steal quick glances upward. He didn't know what he was trying to see there, not really; perhaps he wanted to feel something close to tranquility, something to drown out his buzzing thoughts and constant worries. The concerns from the ground always called out, demanding his full attention and alertness. No one cared about the sky and the stars; this all stepped back to the background, becoming unimportance amidst the horror happening all around. The sky was reduced to a mere color stain above their heads. Meaningless. When the crucial moment of their lives arrived, it was something they were not prepared for—not as much as they thought. The deaths of their friends, family members, and just good people cut everyone deep down, leaving wounds upon wounds without mercy. The night sky, in flames and smoke, in screams and scary lights, etched itself into their minds, into their souls, offering no chance to erase or forget it forever. For Thomas, the events of those days were the pinnacle of agony—he lost the girl he had known for his entire life and the best friend he couldn't save. It would... will never ease the weight on his heart. Time won't heal; won't help to handle. Thomas knows they managed to save, managed to escape from WICKED, but at what cost? Too much. Way too much. Was it worth it? Thomas couldn't answer this question even if he had to. His life has changed, he has changed, and so has everyone else. All they have is each other, and now they must focus on their own future—on building their own future. But first, they need to accept their new life—one without WICKED, fights, and fear—to move forward and live by their own rules. Now, they try to savor their freedom, even if it might be another illusion—the brief moment of freshness and the feeling of being unchained feels worth it. Yet, Thomas finds it hard to feel this so-called freedom to the full because of actually this reason and... because everything seems colorless, emptier... different. With all losses, with missing places where loved ones should be, with each change within him. It creates a new prism through which he views the world—and its lenses are far grayer than they ever could have been. Thomas no longer looks at the sky: it reminds him of the deep scars and bleeding wounds in his heart.