You let the glowing path to the Fairy Realm fade. Instead of stepping into magic, you turn back toward the familiar roads of Iredale. At first, everything looks normal. Stone houses still line the streets. Market stalls creak open. Smoke curls from chimneys. But the longer you walk, the more you notice the small wrong things. A signpost points in two directions at once. A clock tower chimes the wrong hour. A baker drops a tray—and every loaf lands upside down. People mutter apologies to no one in particular, shaking their heads as if luck has simply slipped through their fingers. You stop at the edge of the town square and think. If the Emerald Crown was taken, someone must have noticed something. Or perhaps the answer lies not in people, but in the past. You could search old records, maps, and legends written before anyone thought they mattered.