I, the Primordial Dragon!

After letting out an inadvertent dragon's roar, Drake cautiously opened his draconic eyes. He had to be careful; this was an unknown world, one he knew only as a realm of magic from the AI's brief descriptions. As a 'weak' fledgling dragon, any amount of caution seemed prudent.

Yet, as Drake surveyed his surroundings, he couldn't help but be stunned. The scene before him was nothing like he had anticipated.

First to greet his vision was a colossal tree reaching for the heavens, so awe-inspiring it seemed a tower bridging the gap between the mortal realm and the divine. Drake found himself upon a broad platform woven from the tree's massive branches, surrounded by lush foliage and crystalline structures, as if he were nestled in an ethereal fairyland.

Taking a deep breath, Drake savored the sweet air, rich with an intoxicating energy that he was utterly obsessed with. This was the magical energy, unique to this world, that he required for his evolution, according to the AI. As it coursed through him, Drake felt an urge to moan in delight. Almost involuntarily, his innate knowledge began to awaken, and in an instant, he understood the languages of many races of this world, including the draconic tongue he was born to speak.

'These are... elves?!'

Drake assessed his immediate vicinity and, noticing a group of beings with pointed ears, instinctively recognized their race. Dragon instincts proved quite handy indeed.

'Are these elves drunk? Why are they all staggering around?'

Except for the female elf in front of him, who was dressed in exquisite leather armor and a verdant robe, holding a sword and a longbow while warily watching him, the other elves seemed to be in a state of collapse, as if intoxicated or drained of their very essence.

Drake's gaze fell upon the elf's sword and bow, noting the intricate patterns and the mysterious aura they emitted, glinting with an emerald hue that signified their extraordinary nature.

The elf before him had a face delicate as a blossom, her figure alluring even beneath her armor. Drake's eyes gleamed with admiration at her tense yet beautiful visage and the deadly aura she exuded. 'So the stories are true, elves truly are a beautiful race,' he thought, grateful that his dragon eyes could not betray his awe.

The older elves sprawled on the ground no longer piqued his interest, his attention focused on the female elf who stood protectively in front of another, despite appearing weak herself. The elf behind her bore a crown and a gown that spoke of high nobility, and Drake felt an inexplicable connection to her.

As his gaze swept over her cloaked form and caught a glimpse of her bare feet and delicate fingers clutching a wooden staff, Drake's soul stirred. The divine crystal within him quivered, snapping him back to full alertness. The realization that he, a mighty dragon, had nearly succumbed to the mere sight of exposed elven skin made him inwardly exclaim, 'Damn, this elf is intoxicating!'

Not toxic in a venomous sense, but addictive like a drug, knowing the danger yet desiring another look, to be submerged in her incomprehensible beauty.

Ariella, her eyes concealed behind the mystic veil, was taken aback; this 'fledgling' dragon was not ordinary. Beyond being the Elven Queen, she harbored another, more mysterious identity. A normal young dragon would have been beguiled by her, but this one stood firm.

She quickly intervened, preventing her Chief Guard from showing any aggression. Dragons were a proud species, regarding all others as inconsequential. Nimue's hostility could easily be misconstrued as a challenge to the dragon's dignity, and no one wanted to face a dragon driven by pride.

'This could be an ancient dragon with strange habits or even a primordial dragon from a time long past,' Ariella mused, alarmed by the portal that evoked a forbidden history.

Elegantly, she performed an ancient elven gesture, "I am Ariella, founder of the Silver Moon Kingdom, spokeswoman of the Moon Lady upon this land. Oh, mighty and honorable dragon, please grace us with your name so we may bask in your glory."

The respect in her voice was palpable; dragons were known for their capricious temperaments. Unless one could instill fear in a dragon with superior might, any perceived disrespect could provoke a deadly confrontation.

The other elves watched their queen, surprised by the language she spoke. It was neither elven nor familiar to even the most erudite among them.

Ariella was testing the dragon, speaking in the 'Ancient Draconic,' a precursor to the modern draconic language, now understood by only the oldest of dragons.

Drake felt a sense of familiarity with the language, responding naturally in Ancient Draconic. As he prepared to announce his name, he hesitated—was 'Drake' grandiose enough?

Brushing aside his doubts, he took inspiration from famous stories and declared confidently, "Remember my name, elf. It is your honor—Drake Marigos Alexstrasza Nozdormu Ysera Nelasarion Galakrond!"

Once spoken, doubt crept into Drake's mind—had he chosen a sufficiently impressive and draconic name?

Ariella was stunned. Fortunate was the veil of mystery, for it hid her shock as the 'fledgling' dragon indeed understood the Ancient Draconic and responded in kind. Yet, this glorious name was unfamiliar to her, leading her to conclude this dragon must hail from a distant plane—a primordial dragon of lore.

'So the ancient dragons, those who have lived for tens of thousands of years, still exist in the cosmos...' Ariella pondered, awed by the vast and incomprehensible universe.