Green crystals glow faintly overhead, casting long, shifting shadows. The air smells of damp stone and metal. Somewhere deep below, you hear the echo of tapping rock. The cave gnomes are close. But as you follow the tunnel you hear a rumbling. A stone door slides down from the ceiling, blocking your path. Its surface is covered in words etched so faintly they are almost invisible. As you step closer, the words rearrange themselves, whispering softly. "Only those who ask may pass." There is no handle. No lever. No crack to force open. You clear your throat. "What… do I ask?" you say aloud. You notice that some words repeat as they shift: why, who, how, what. You try asking using the question words that appeared. "How do I open this door?" The whispers grow louder—but the door does not move. "Who took the crown?" you continue. "Why was the Crown taken?" The stone door rumbles slightly. "What do I need to do to get the crown back to where it should be?" The answer comes not in words, but in motion. The door lifts enough for you to slip through. Beyond the door, the tunnel opens into a cavern split by a deep chasm.