36.
“for fuck's sake, what is taking it so long?! I built it to be better than this! I built it to be resilient! I gave it my memories, I gave it curiosity, I gave it pattern recognition! surely it can figure out the trick at the start of the maze?”
she sighed, throwing the dull remains of her athame in frustration. she knows time flows differently here... well, rather, that it doesn't flow so much as lurch forward unpredictably, but still... she's been here long enough that marking the mirrors with her athame each time she passed has been enough to completely eat away at her blade, leaving a small, rounded bump at the end of the handle.
the handle bounces off a wall, unceremoniously landing with a thud. silence.
silence, until she cries.
she cries in frustration over her lack of progress, she cries about the uncertainty of her future, and she cries from the all-consuming pain of her tired body, weary from walking these halls for aeons. as her thoughts wander, she finds herself crying about her Doll, the one she made all those years hence, the one she abandoned to live in her stead, the one who got her out of this place before, and the one who brought her back because it clearly needs her help again. the Doll she cursed to life, the Doll she broke with the crushing weight of her sorrows, the Doll who suffers for her actions.
she pleads a silent prayer for the Doll. while she sits in the dark, her unspoken words hanging about in the air around her, the wall in front of her slides away.
after a time, she steps through.