Forest of Illusions (The Broken Prism) by V. St. Clair

blinked in confusion, turning in all directions. He was still standing in the arena world, he was certain of that, but where had everyone else gone? Enemies and allies alike had just…vanished. A strange moment of lightheadedness overtook him, and he closed his eyes and breathed deeply until he felt steady on his feet again.
    When he opened his eyes he was no longer alone, but the other person with him was…him. Now seriously concerned for his sanity, Hayden took a step closer to the other Hayden, noticing subtle differences between them now that he looked closer. The other version of himself was younger by several years, wearing an outfit he hadn’t seen in a long time. In fact, the last time he’d seen that shirt was…
    The day his mother died.
    Eyes widening, he studied his younger self more closely, trying to figure out what was going on and why he was seeing this. Where were his teammates? Had they already left the arena without him, or were they still fighting for their lives?
    The younger Hayden was hiding behind a tree, peering around the side of it as though afraid of being seen, though present-day Hayden was standing in his line of sight and was being ignored completely. Then he heard his mother’s voice from somewhere in front of him, and he startled so badly that he nearly fell over.
    “You!” she cried out in surprise, and Hayden heard the sound of a dish breaking against the floor. He could almost imagine her dropping it…a yellow ceramic plate, his mind supplied helpfully, though he still couldn’t see anything except his past self, still peeking around the tree trunk.
    I was in my room that day. I heard the noise in the kitchen and was trying to watch without getting caught.
    “What—what do you want from me?” his mother’s voice shook horribly this time. He would give anything to be able to see her right now, but all he could hear was her voice, echoing from somewhere in front of him.
    “You know why I am here,” a male voice answered evenly, almost lazily. “I have come for the boy.”
    “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” his mother lied terribly; she had always been bad at it. “There’s no one here but me.”
    “ He is in the house; I feel his presence. Call him here,” the man replied calmly, as though he hadn’t said anything unusual.
    “No, please. He’s just a boy—he doesn’t know anything about magic, or about you. Please just leave us be…”
    A loud slap caused both Haydens to jump and then tense their jaws in anger, and present-day Hayden knew that his mother’s body had just hit the floor.
    “I will go when I have seen the boy. Bring him here or don’t, but I will not leave without him.”
    Ten-year old Hayden darted out from behind the tree and ran into what would be the kitchen of his childhood home if he could see it. He pulled a knife from thin air as though picking it up off of the kitchen counter and held it with shaking hands.
    “You leave us alone or I’ll hurt you!” he shouted, though his voice pitched high with fear as he faced down an invisible foe. Present-day Hayden watched in fascination, wishing he could see the entire scene instead of just himself.
    A moment of silence and then, “Do you know who I am, boy?” The Dark Prism didn’t sound condescending when he asked it, merely curious.
    “You’re the one everyone talks about…” Hayden ventured carefully, “the one who wears the evil diamond on his head.”
    He assumed that ten-year old Hayden was looking at his father’s prism circlet with the infamous Black Prism in it.
    I was probably the last person to ever lay eyes on the Black Prism…
    “Correct in essentials,” Aleric Frost conceded mildly. “Do you really believe that you can hurt me with that knife?”
    Ten-year old Hayden’s hands gripped the hilt tighter. “I don’t know, but I’m not going to let you hit my mom again.”
    “I do not discount the courage it takes to face me like this, knowing you cannot