You managed to get some sleep, at least. It wasn't the pleasant kind, and you regret wasting those few hours that you could have used to plan an escape on sleep. But why should you regret it? There is no hope for you anymore. Now she is here, and your death will soon follow. She is a priestess to the gods, tall and imposing. She does not know your name, nor does she need to. Her only purpose is to hold the knife to your throat. She tells you to follow behind her, and you do, but your legs are weak from disuse.
"Do you know why you must die?" she asks you calmly. It is obvious that she has repeated this question many times over to people just like you. You shake your head.
"No," you say in a voice so quiet it could have been just the wind echoing through the arches of the halls. You had known the answer once, but your memories have become muddled. She nods, unsurprised. You thought maybe she would tell you, but she leads you further without a word.