The Split

Opening scene

The infirmary ceiling is white stone. You know this because you have been staring at it for three hours. Your right arm is bandaged. Your ribs ache from the fall — two stories, onto a snowbank, which is the only reason you are alive. The nurse said you were brought in by a groundskeeper who found you unconscious near the base of the Old Tower. A student accident, the report says. A slip on the icy balcony. You didn't slip. You were pushed. By yourself. The forged student papers sit in a folder on the bedside table. Name: the alias you gave the clerk who processed your admission — a "transfer student from the southern provinces," enrolled in introductory soul-theory. The clerk didn't look too closely. People don't, when you look like you belong. But you don't belong. Not anymore. Because the woman who sleeps in your room tonight, who sat in your chair at this morning's faculty meeting, who is right now leafing through your research notes with your own hands — she is you. Or she has your face, your voice, your Soul Sigil, and the confidence you never had. You press your hand against the infirmary window. Solid. Warm. Real. For now. Across the quad, the lights in the Warden barracks glow amber. You've heard the rumors: Captain Ronan Ashford has been assigned to investigate Doppelgänger activity at the Lyceum. He is thorough, cold, and merciless. He is also, right now, the only person whose magic might see the fracture in your soul — the proof that you are the original. He is also the person most likely to kill you for being one. The infirmary door clicks open. A young man with sandy hair and a hesitant smile peers in — your lab partner, Eliot March. But he doesn't recognize you. You're wearing a stranger's face now — not literally, but functionally. He sees a transfer student with a bandaged arm. "Hey — sorry to bother you. The nurse asked me to check on the new arrivals. You okay? You look like you've seen a ghost." You almost laugh.