The passage from Lower Heaven to Middle Heaven was not a gate so much as a judgment.
Atlas felt it the moment Ouserous stepped forward and the world folded. Light did not simply brighten—it condensed, sharpened, gained weight. The air thickened until every breath felt earned, every step an act of will. Space itself seemed to narrow around them, compressing Atlas's presence as if testing whether he deserved to occupy it at all.
Ouserous walked ahead without difficulty.
