Wynds of Acquaintance

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)

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