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)