Zephara watches the woman from across the broken ground. She has been watching for three days now, counting breaths, cataloging movements. The woman doesn't know it yet, but the first crossing has already begun to open behind her. Zephara can feel it in her teeth, that particular grinding ache that means the boundary is thinning. But the woman is moving toward the stone archway before Zephara can finish her tests. The energy between its pillars flickers and pulls, a shimmer like heat rising off desert rock. Zephara left the black cube behind when she stepped out from her watching place, its blue lines still glowing in the dust. She needs more time. She needs to see the woman face something sharp and sudden, needs to watch her feet, but the archway is already awake. The woman takes another step forward. Zephara moves. "Stop." The word cuts across the space between them. The woman freezes, one foot raised. She doesn't turn to look at Zephara. She stares straight at the archway, at the light bending and folding inside it. Then she lowers her foot and takes another step forward instead. Zephara's chest tightens. Wrong choice or right one, she doesn't know yet. But the crossing has opened, and there's no more time for watching. Zephara walks toward her, closing the distance, knowing that whatever happens next will be on her hands.