The girl had woken up to the sound of metal clanking together. There was a scent in the air as well. The girl had been waiting for this day for so long. For years.
She was so tired of everything, she could drop dead at any moment and still feel nothing. This moment however, this moment was something she would live for. No matter what. And she did. Or didn't?
She spent years in the underground prison, enduring all forms of torture, just for this moment. She had no will and was broken inside, but that didn't mean that she was dead inside. Well, maybe she was a little.
The sounds of footsteps drew closer, and with a soft thud, she felt a palm touch her face. It was a soft, gentle, and warm touch. It was her mothers touch.
How she had missed her touch.
Her mother had woken the girl up and walked with her to the table. They ate, smiled, and laughed at the table together.
She may have thought "what a wonderful dream this must be" at first, but she had already gone through this twenty times. After the first three times, she finally realized that her life was repeating itself.
She would always go back in time to this moment, and the requirement was her death at the altar. She wasn't sure if the date had to be the same or not, but it always seemed to happen on the same date, or at least after certain events transpired.
This moment was quite blissful. She loved dying at the altar because it would bring her back to this moment of peace and happiness. Even if it didn't, it would mean that she would finally die, never having to undergo that horrid torture ever again.
She did try to commit suicide a few times before, but it always ended in failure. It seemed her powers did not let her, and neither did the knights and priests.
This moment was her favourite, but it was doomed to end.
She waited.
And waited.
And waited.
And waited even more.
Then finally, the door was busted down with a loud thud, splintered off on the hinges and all over the ground.
Knights came rushing in, and as her mother ran to her child to protect her, a slash to the chest prevented her from reaching her daughter in time. Still, she reached for her. She reached with her hand, refusing to give up.
She laid in a pool of her own blood, her arm stretched out in a desperate plea to save her daughter, but as the light in her eyes slowly dimmed and her life faded away, she watched her poor helpless child be taken away, never to be seen again.
Not until the next cycle at least. But she would never know that.