Every word that escaped Electra's lips carried the weight of accumulated knowledge—a reservoir of insights gathered from the vast expanse of her existence. Her voice, when it resonated in the throne room, echoed with the echoes of ages past, turning her utterances into more than mere communication but a conduit for the ancient wisdom she carried.
As an ancient ice drake, Electra had witnessed the passage of eons—the rise and fall of civilizations, the dance of celestial bodies, and the cyclical patterns of nature. Her wisdom was not theoretical; it was born from a firsthand experience that spanned epochs. The eons of existence had sculpted her into a repository of knowledge, a living library of the cosmic narrative.
