At Spout Rises she crossed the Threshhold of Ashk. Her cowl was worn through at the knees. Her bones ached For The Stars. Two more bridges to traverse. Fool’s goddesses if I won’t!
She looked at the next lambent door less forbodingly.
“I have no wand, but maybe I have a key. Do I, Corvus?” Rubbing her thumb over the pulsar, she prayed, “Please be a key!”
Could she assume that the Dowser was overseeing. Or that she had overseen while she levitated above dead night? Was Iiq a Guardian Cherub as well as a teacher?
Apprehensive, she eased the stone against the hushed fiery pane. The pearly light was extinguished, leaving her facing a black hole in the lavender-hued rock. Before the entrance could relock itself, she ambled straight ahead into whatever awaited her.
(From ChaulE: Round of the Holy Well)