"That's what... the other runes say, these glowing ones." He looked back at them, tilting his head to the side. Readable. Why were they readable? He looked around the room at the other runes that'd been carved by a chisel or something, and how rough they were, with their hard edges. Chicken scratches his brain turned into English. It was like the afterlife was some sort of reverse Tower of Babel, forcing him to understand something he shouldn't have been able to.

But the other runes, the ancient language written in amber, it was different. The strange symbols flowed into his brain, and became... became. English didn't come into it,...