Drax, a dragon with scales as green as the valley itself, lay sprawled on the soft grass, sneezing uncontrollably. His nostrils flared, and his eyes watered as he gazed mournfully at the pile of gold and jewels that shimmered before him. "Why must my hoard cause such misery?" he lamented, his voice a rumbling echo across the valley.

Elara, a spirited young villager with a penchant for mischief, caught sight of Drax peeking from behind the trees. "What's the matter, mighty dragon? Have you caught a cold?" she teased, approaching him with a basket of freshly baked bread. "It's this cursed treasure," Drax replied between sneezes, gesturing to the glittering pile. "I cannot enjoy it without suffering!"

"Why not use something else to represent your wealth?" suggested Elara, her eyes twinkling with the spark of an idea. "Something that doesn't make you sneeze?" Drax pondered this, a thoughtful rumble emanating from his chest. "Perhaps I could weave tales of my riches into the fabric of this valley," he mused. "Or create illusions that shimmer without substance."

Drax watched, a satisfied grin spreading across his face as the villagers gathered, entranced by the spectacle. "You've done it, Drax!" Elara exclaimed, clapping her hands with delight. "Your wealth is now a wonder for all to share!"

Drax, now free from his allergy-induced woes, lay contentedly amidst the gathering. "I have found my true treasure," he whispered, his eyes reflecting the joy of the villagers and the beauty of his newfound wealth.

Drax closed his eyes, his heart full of contentment and his mind at ease. With the villagers as his friends and his illusions as his treasures, he had discovered a wealth far greater than gold.