You follow the tunnel once sealed by the iron gate. The passage curves gently, and the walls glow with etched symbols that grow clearer the farther you walk. Unlike the druid markings, these carvings are small and crowded—spirals, numbers, and tiny diagrams scratched into the stone. You begin to hear voices. Low. Rapid. Arguing. The tunnel opens into a broad chamber lit by lanterns filled with glowing moss. Stone tables are scattered with tools, maps, and half-finished machines. And moving among them are the cave gnomes. They are shorter than you expected, with earth-stained clothes and bright, watchful eyes. Their hands move constantly—adjusting levers, measuring stones, scribbling notes. At the center of the chamber, resting on a raised stone platform, is the Emerald Crown. Its green light flickers unevenly, as if confused. The gnomes freeze when they see you. One steps forward, clutching a measuring rod. "We didn't steal it," he says quickly. "We borrowed it." Another nods. "Luck never reaches the deep caverns. We thought… maybe it should. Please give us a chance to explain." The Mark of Balance grows warm in your palm—not warning you, but urging you to listen. But you are also running out of time to get the crown back to its rightful resting place.