Page 116 of Academy of the Wicked: Year Three

But not just any nursery—this isournursery.

Mine and Gabriel's, from before Elena's jealousy shattered everything. I recognize it with certainty that transcends memory, each detail triggering recognition in parts of me I didn't know existed.

Books float everywhere.

Children's books with bright covers and simple stories, their pages fluttering like butterfly wings. They reorganize themselves as I enter, forming patterns that might be random or might be messages I'm not young enough to understand anymore.

One book floats directly to me, opening itself with purpose.

The pages show illustrations of two children playing—one with a crown of fire, one with a crown of shadows. They're happy in these pictures, laughing and running through halls that look like the Academy before it learned to be wicked.

"This is real," I whisper, understanding hitting like physical force. "This wasn't randomly implemented memory."

The books respond to my realization, more of them opening, showing variations of the same story. Two children who were meant to rule together. Two children who were separated byjealousy. Two children who became one through magic that should have killed them both.

Our memories were shifted,I realize with growing horror.We were merged into one…a spell gone wrong…I didn’t notice because was there anything “wrong” with me.

The thought makes me frown further because that means all this while, Gabriel has been trapped within her.

A larger book floats over, its pages already open to text that rewrites itself as I read:

"Survival is key in a world of cunning destruction, but it starts with understanding herself."

The words vibrate through me with truth that makes my bones ache.

Understanding myself—not just Gwenievere, not just the amalgamation of memories and powers I've become, but the fundamental truth of what I am.

Two souls forced to share space.

Two destinies tangled into one.

Two children who never got to grow up separate.

More books cluster around me, each one offering different pieces of information. Magical theory about soul-merging. Historical accounts of twins who shared power. Warnings about the price of forcing two into one.

Then a magazine floats over—completely out of place among the children's books.

It's open to a specific page, an advertisement for jewelry that should be in a vault somewhere, not casually displayed in glossy print. The necklace shown is impossibly beautiful—chains of silver and gold twisted together like DNA strands, meeting at a pendant that seems to shift between one shape and two depending on the angle.

The description makes my breath catch:

"The Anima Divide—legendary artifact capable of separating identities when placed in the right hands. Not for sale, merely displayed to show the heights of magical craftsmanship. Currently housed in the Eternal Collection section."

My eyes widen as implications cascade through my thoughts.

This could be it.

The key to helping separate Gabriel and me, giving us both the chance at independent existence we were denied. Even if it's not a permanent solution—even if it only works temporarily—it would be enough to prove we could exist separately.

"Gabriel?" I call out softly, hoping he might manifest in this space that's so fundamentally ours.

But there's no response.

No shift in the air that suggests his presence. He's been silent since we entered the labyrinth, and worry gnaws at me. Is he trapped in his own trial somewhere in our shared consciousness? Is the dimensional collapse affecting him differently?

My panic must resonate to Mortimer, because his voice hums in the depths of my mind.

Focus on what you can control,Mortimer's voice advises.One crisis at a time.