Then the tear sealed.

Then the world tore .

> Are you still controlling this story, or is it controlling you?

The rogue's hand became porcelain.

And the DM looked down at their keyboard to see the words they had not typed:

And in the middle of their half-eaten stew sat a small, ticking wooden frog. Its brass eyes rotated once, twice. Its clockwork mouth opened.

" Ran gm command, " it said. " Create piece. "

The rogue reached for her dagger. The frog's gaze snapped to her.

Her dagger became a chess pawn.