His gaze flickered toward her meaningfully. "You carry that dragon's curse, don't you?"
Ling Yu's eyes narrowed. "You can feel it?"
"How could I not?" The elder's voice was gentle, but his words were grave. "Its residue clings to your very essence. But do not mistake my words for condemnation. If anything… your burden is what might save us."
He looked down at his hands, as if remembering something long buried. "When a dragon dies, the balance of nature trembles. The elves have prayed since that day to keep the spirit of corruption from taking root in our forest. But lately, the prayers are faltering. The tree's light is dimming. Something, or someone, is drawing its life away."
Ling Yu's expression turned sharp. "Then the dungeon's core…"
"Most likely lies near the Tree of Oath," he confirmed.
