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Chapter 7 - Chapter 7: The Split Heart

The chamber vibrated, the Heart's two cores—gold and shadow—pulsing in rhythm. Mark's Seal burned, the Numen from their shared solution still coursing through him. Lyra stood rigid, her gaze flicking between the cores and the scholar, whose staff now glowed with an eerie light.

"Choose," the scholar repeated. "The gold core grants creation. The shadow core grants control. One Scholar, one power."

Mark's mind raced. Creation could rebuild Numina's broken streets. Control could protect it from those who'd exploit Numen. He glanced at Lyra, her fists clenched. "What happened to your brother?" he asked, voice low.

Her eyes flashed with pain. "He chose the shadow. Thought he could control the Tower. It consumed him—turned him into one of those." She nodded at the scholar, whose smile didn't waver.

Mark's stomach churned. The scholar raised his staff, and a new problem appeared, its symbols jagged:

Solve: |2x – 4| = 6

Absolute value. Mark split it: 2x – 4 = 6 or 2x – 4 = -6. So, 2x = 10, x = 5, or 2x = -2, x = -1.

"x = 5 or x = -1," he said.

The gold core pulsed, Numen flooding him with warmth. Lyra stepped forward, her own problem glowing:

|x + 3| = 7

"x = 4 or x = -10," she said, voice steady.

The shadow core flared, and Numen surged into her Seal, dark and cold. The scholar's eyes gleamed. "Opposites again. Choose your core, or the Tower will bind you to its will."

Mark's heart pounded. Lyra's warning about her brother echoed—it consumed him. He couldn't let that happen to her. Or himself. "What if we don't choose?" he asked.

The scholar's smile vanished. "Then you face the Final Equation."

The Heart's cores merged, and a massive problem appeared, its symbols sprawling across the chamber:

Solve: x³ – 8 = 0

Mark's breath caught. Cube roots. x³ = 8, so x = 2. But Lyra whispered, "It's a trick. Cubics can have three roots. Check the negatives."

She was right. He factored: x³ – 8 = (x – 2)(x² + 2x + 4). The quadratic x² + 2x + 4 had no real roots (discriminant: 4 – 16 = -12). So, x = 2.

"Two," Mark said.

The Heart roared, and the chamber split, one half gold, one half shadow. The scholar vanished, and a voice—ancient, vast—spoke: "One choice remains. Take the Heart, or break it."

Lyra grabbed his arm. "Break it, Mark. It's the only way."

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