HERE COME DOTS If you rearrange the above letters, In a particular way. You will discover a form of communication, That was popular back in the day. What am I?

I never grow old and I never decay, I was even found where the pharaohs once lay. A term of endearment your sweetheart might say, made by small gatherers that work hard all day. I'm stored in waxy hexagons, perfectly aligned, a geometric treasure that’s one of a kind.

my golden oil can be considered a sacrifice in a volcano, cultivated by the gods of olympus. What am I?

Before your kind, I ruled the sky. My beak can wound you, sharp, not meek. Millions of years, my line won't die. Bird and reptile, which do you seek?

I house the past for all to see, In halls of quiet history. From ancient times to modern view, I keep the past preserved for you.