I find the doorway he took and throw it open with a word so I can run straight through, but I skid to a stop once I’m inside the room.

I didn’t look at the sign as I passed, but one quick glance at my new surroundings tells me everything I need to know.

I’ve entered a mirror maze.

It’s nearly pitch-black in here, my eyes needing a moment to adjust. When they do, I see that there are blue lights in vertical lines along the edges of the mirrors, causing the illusion surrounding me to be even more confusing.

Me, me, me, me, me. That’s all I see—different versions of me. Some normal, some taller, some wider, some shorter, some skinnier. Some with big heads and little bodies, some with little bodies and big heads. Some where my features are warped and blurred. It’s disorienting enough that it takes me a few seconds to figure out which way to go. But even then, as I try to limp my way along, I keep hitting dead ends in the maze and have to change direction.

The only thing that keeps me going is the echoing footsteps I hear ahead of me. I’m so close. If only I can lay eyes on him, I’ll be able to stop him.

But I can’t see him—because all I see is me. Over and over again.

And I keep finding more dead ends. Over and over again.

Growling with frustration—and from the rising urgency I feel to leave this place—I finally lose enough patience to chance using my ability.

“Show me the way,” I say, light flaring.

While I had intended for some kind of illuminated pathway to appear and reveal which corners I should take, my attention wandered at the last second, my frustration creeping into my thoughts. And that’s why I suddenly find myself crying out and shielding my face when the mirrors around me explode.

Glass shatters, the distorted versions of my reflection tumbling in lethal shards to the ground, some flying through the air and cutting through the thin gloves covering my hands, others scratching the exposed flesh on my neck and face. My clothes tear as larger pieces nick through the material to graze the skin of my arms and torso.

Finally, the glittery crinkle of sound fades until there is silence around me.

I slowly lower my hands and take in the devastation that I caused, the room now lit by a few solitary blue bulbs that survived the demolition, along with the sparks of electricity from shredded wires.

I’m horrified by what I’ve done. I can barely feel my new wounds, too shocked by the damage I’ve caused and the reminder that, while I might now have control of my Creator power, I still have to be careful—so careful. One slip of my mind, one wandering thought, and everything can crumble.

Within me, I have the power to make or break the world. I can never allow myself to forget that.