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

said goodnight, so excited at the prospect of getting his memories back that he jogged most of the way back to his room and, for the first time in weeks, fell asleep immediately.
     
    He was so eager for lunch the following day that he was inattentive to the point of carelessness in his morning classes, with the result that Master Kilgore threatened to put him in detention and Master Dirqua suggested that he might be mentally ill.
    Laurren told him that the Mnemora might be safer on a full stomach, so Hayden bolted down his lunch as fast as humanly possible, ignoring the questions from his friends about where he was going and saying only, “Tell you later, gotta go!” before running off.
    He nearly crashed into Oliver Trout as he hurried from the dining hall, ducking under his arm as Oliver made to shove him out of the way and continuing on without apology. By the time he descended the stairs to the Abnormal Magic classroom he was nearly out of breath, and only now realized that Bonk must have stayed behind in the dining hall to enjoy a leisurely meal with the others. He clutched a stitch in his side, his stomach cramping from eating so fast and then running through the castle.
    Masters Asher and Laurren were already waiting for him, the former leaning casually against the wall with his arms folded across his chest, while the latter was busy moving any magical objects in the room out of the way.
    “Why are you moving those Absorbers and Siphons?” he asked curiously, taking a seat on the cold stone floor and folding his legs beneath him like a pretzel where the Master indicated.
    “In case there’s a problem. I don’t want you setting off anything magical in the room—it would be like throwing fuel on a fire,” Laurren explained casually.
    Hayden arched an eyebrow and asked, “Are you expecting me to explode or something?” He was suddenly much more worried than the night before.
    “No, but as you’ve pointed out before, you are a clear example of abnormal magic,” Master Asher interjected. “It’s just a precaution to secure any dangerous items, in case your magic is triggered in some way by the Mnemora. You’ll also be removing your circlet and tool belt until we’re certain you’re safe again.”
    Hayden nodded and unfastened his belt full of prisms, wands, and elixirs. He removed the level-two offensive amplifier he’d made only a week ago, but left his defensive charm on, figuring it couldn’t hurt to have some magical protection right now. Master Asher collected all of his things, including his circlet, and carried them into his colleague’s office for safekeeping.
    “Alright, I believe we’re ready to begin,” Laurren turned to Hayden, removing a phial of murky brown liquid from a pocket of his metallic green robes and passing it to him. “Drink this when you’re ready. We’ve got bandages and basic first-aid supplies on hand, but if something unexpected happens we’ll have to take you to Razelle.”
    Asher grimaced and said, “I’d rather avoid that if possible. She looks like someone’s sweet aunt, but I have a feeling she’d skin us alive if the mood struck her.”
    Master Laurren didn’t disagree with this, and the two of them turned to focus on Hayden as he uncorked the phial and tilted his head back, draining it in one gulp.
    Hayden couldn’t decide if the Mnemora tasted good or bad as he swallowed it: one second he was convinced that it was bitter, like something gone to rot; the next moment he thought it was sweet, like the strawberry tarts his mother used to bake for him.
    He shuddered and set the empty phial aside, still sifting through the onslaught of tastes in his mouth, like every memory he had was represented there in some way. The Masters were watching him curiously.
    “How do you feel?” Asher asked, after allowing him a moment to collect his thoughts.
    “My mouth tastes weird, but other than that I don’t feel any different,” Hayden replied.
    They stayed there