Page 292 of Light Leech

I had forgotten about Ralia but saw her on the precipice of passing through. I had never doubted her. If anyone deserved to pass through this sick test of will that masqueraded as a test of “intelligence,” it was her. Knowing her, she might have faced the same doubts I had and wanted to complete the exam out of nothing more than spite.

I read ahead, finishing the history of the Republic. A few paces of emptiness led me to a new section.

“Knowledge is–” next to the word I saw a character unlike any Arabasian or other foreign language I had seen.

The next like was in the same form.

“Exhaustion is–” a new character.

“Falsehood is–” a new character.

“Please memorize the following pronouns: I–”

The line continued to provide every pronoun I knew, followed by a new character for each.

This process repeated until I met a line consisting solely of characters. Some I recognized, though I recalled fewer. Among these characters, I saw some that I knew I had never seen. Even those that I recognized had been altered with additional signs and what looked like italics in certain portions.

Looking up, I saw that I was a few feet away from the end. I could almost touch the veil of light but could not step any farther than the final character in the sequence. More people were approaching from behind, standing in line with me and Ralia, who paced while reading the characters at her feet with scrutiny.

If she couldn’t understand this, how could I?

“Holy Light save!” a woman shouted as she stepped beyond the line of characters and through the veil.

It was possible.

But that did not mean that it was possible for me.

I turned to Ralia again, hoping that I might see some sign of understanding, but her pensive gaze looked to be nothing more than frustrated concentration.

Other competitors cried out, demanding an explanation or a hint. Their doubts strengthened mine and inhibited the little concentration I had left.

I might lack the wisdom of the finishers possessed, but I had one tool they did not.

Help?

Zhu snorted, laughing at me.

Please.

“Humble now, are you?”

I need to pass through. Does any of this make sense to you?

“It is not a sentence you can understand.”

Yeah, I get that. I would appreciate some help rather than an insult.

“It was never meant to be an insult.”

Fact or not, you’re not helping.

“Do not try to understand it as a sentence.”

What?

“It is not a translatable sentence. It is a concept. This is the language of cognition. It cannot be spoken. The translations are guidelines, though they are far from direct. You cannot translate a language that cannot be translated. Leave Amerikese. Try to let the words guide you.

I rubbed my face, feeling everything but physical exhaustion. Pressing my hand against my face did not provide the relief it did outside the core.