Confronting the Lament

The air in Elder Bai’s study was thick with the scent of aged paper and dried ink, a comforting perfume that always settled Li Xian’s restless heart. Dust motes danced like tiny spirits in the slivers of sunlight that managed to pierce the heavy silk curtains. Elder Bai himself sat hunched over a scroll, his fingers, gnarled like ancient roots, tracing characters that seemed to shimmer with forgotten power. He looked up as Xian entered, his eyes, usually sharp and bright, held a weary kindness.

“Xian,” he said, his voice a soft rustle of parchment. “I felt you coming. The weight of your questions presses upon the very air.”

Xian bowed, the respectful gesture feeling inadequate against the immensity of his quest. “Elder Bai, I have come seeking knowledge. The wound on the Celestial Dragon… it is the same. The same mark that took my father.” He paused, the memory a familiar ache in his chest. “The Bureau believes it is the Jade Eater. But what *is* the Jade Eater? They speak of a monster, a force of destruction. But my father’s case, and this dragon… it feels like more than just a beast’s hunger.”