A Language of Dragons

by S.F. Williamson

Every act of translation requires sacrifice—it is this harsh truth that made me fall in love. There exists no direct correlation between the words of one language and another, and no translation can be entirely faithful to its original. So, while a person can more or less bridge the gap between languages using words, there is always some deeper meaning left unsaid, a secret invisible to those who only have one language with which to navigate the world. A translator, on the other hand, is a creature that flies with several pairs of wings.

“People shouldn’t fear their prime ministers, Vivien,” he says. “Prime ministers should fear their people.”

“I’ve heard the rumors,” I say, thinking of the hushed conversations about secret clauses and a rigged voting system I’ve heard on campus. “And, quite frankly, I’m surprised you’ve let the fearmongering get to you.” “And I’m not surprised to hear you call something fearmongering just because you don’t understand it,” Marquis retorts.

“I’m saying,” Atlas says pointedly, “that when you oppress a community for centuries you can’t exactly be surprised when it rises up against you.”

“To control languages, to control words, is to control what people know.”

“I have no interest in political debates—” “Only because you are privileged enough not to be concerned by them.”

“Every time we shed, we leave an old self behind. Every time we shed, it is a chance to be someone new. A chance to change our minds.”

“But how can we choose a good life for ourselves and not for everyone else?”

“You’re right that what the rebels are trying to achieve will take years, because inequality is so deeply entrenched in the foundations of our society that it’s going to need to be dug out, rock by prejudiced rock.”

“Peace isn’t peace if it’s only given to some,”

But she broke her end of the deal by trying to escape. My Guardians did what was necessary.” “Killing a defenseless girl is never necessary.”

Fear breeds hatred, the kind that oppresses dragons and humans alike.”

But if I can offer myself a second chance then maybe I can do things differently. I can choose to live a life where what’s important isn’t what I can achieve—grades, social class, career—but the type of person I can be.

“Remissio dolor redemptus est,” Chumana says. “Forgiveness is suffering redeemed.”

Love is the finest form of torture.”