The Language of Souls


Lena Goldfinch



SOLENA SAT ON her hands as old Korvanus droned on and on about verb tenses. Normally she sat in the front of the stone cathedral during Ancient Languages and Philosophies. The other students teased her about it, saying the prefect was going to engrave her name on that bench someday, but, she sat in the back. The cool marble beneath her seemed harder and more uncomfortable than usual, and she kept glancing up through the soaring, stained-glass windows above her to track the path of the sun. When the good teacher finally raised his hand, gave a brief benediction, and dismissed the class—a thousand thanks!—she bolted from her seat. She grabbed Theta by the arm and dragged her friend outside into the bright sunshine, ignoring the startled glares of two younger boys who were scrambling for the door.

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