Shapes
Elphaba squinted at the ancient book, trying to decipher the language.
"What funny writing."
It wasn't writing, really, or at least not the way she thought of it. It was a jumble of silvery shapes, twisting before her gaze.
Madame Morrible interjected.
"It's a lost language, dear. The language of spells."
And suddenly the shapes writhed again, forming into symbols she could understand. They seemed to speak inside her, telling her what it meant and what it said.
She could understand it!
Elphaba started to chant…