You step forward and grab the Emerald Crown from the table. "This is what you get for stealing," you snap. "You deserve bad luck." The gnomes cry out in alarm. As you turn to leave, the Crown slips. Time seems to slow as it hits the stone floor. The Emerald Crown shatters into a million pieces. The green light flashes once—then goes dark. The cavern falls silent. The gnomes stare at the fragments in horror. The Mark of Balance in your palm goes cold. There is no way to repair the Crown. Across Iredale, luck collapses completely. Crops fail. Paths twist. Chance turns cruel. The land itself seems uncertain how to continue. Your anger did more damage than the theft did. The End.