The air inside the castle was heavy, almost alive, as the group wandered deeper into the maze of corridors. Shadows flickered unnaturally on the walls, stretching and twisting into menacing forms. Felix gripped his weapon tighter, his wolf senses on high alert. Sirela walked beside him, her eyes darting around cautiously, her hands glowing faintly with aquatic energy. Evelina trailed behind, her usual fiery confidence subdued by the oppressive atmosphere.

“Does anyone else feel like we’re being watched?” Lysandra whispered, her voice trembling.

“We are,” Isabella said firmly. “Stay close, and don’t lose focus. The maze will try to separate us.”

They turned a corner, and the walls suddenly closed in, narrowing the path. From the shadows ahead, figures began to emerge—tall and regal, but twisted and dark. Their faces were blurred, their eyes glowing with malice.

“Who are they?” Evelina asked, her voice shaking.

“Old kings and queens,” Isabella replied grimly. “Their souls are bound to the castle. They’re not just shadows—they’re memories of the throne’s past rulers.”

One of the figures lunged forward with a blade of shadow. Felix intercepted it, his claws glowing with supernatural energy. “They’re fast!” he growled.

“They’re not alive,” Sirela said, summoning a wall of water to block another attack. “They can’t be killed like normal enemies.”

“Then what do we do?” Evelina yelled, throwing a fiery blast that passed harmlessly through one of the figures.

“The throne,” Isabella said, her voice tight with pain as she clutched her chest. “It’s cursed. The closer we get, the worse this will get. But we need to push through.”

As they fought their way through the maze, every step toward the throne sent surges of pain through their bodies. They had to bite back cries of agony, knowing that sound would only draw more shadows.

After what felt like hours, they finally arrived at the edge of the throne room. The shadows hesitated, retreating slightly as the group stood in front of the cursed throne. It was a grand, ominous seat made of black stone, its surface etched with glowing red runes.

“I’m going to touch it,” Isabella said, stepping forward.

“Wait, are you insane?” Felix grabbed her arm. “That thing is cursed!”

“We have to understand what we’re dealing with,” Isabella replied firmly. She shook off his grip and placed her hand on the throne.

Her vision blurred, and she was no longer in the room. Instead, she stood in the past, watching Helena chant dark spells over the throne. Her voice was cold and sharp, filled with malice. “This throne will serve no one but me,” Helena declared, pouring her magic into it. “Anyone who dares claim it will suffer.”

When Isabella returned to the present, her knees buckled. Lysandra caught her.

“What did you see?” Sirela asked urgently.

“It’s cursed,” Isabella said, her voice shaking. “Helena cursed it herself. If we don’t break the curse, it’ll destroy anyone who tries to sit on it.”

“How do we break it?” Evelina asked.

“We need three things,” Isabella said, her mind racing. “The Heart of the Blood Lake from the vampire territory, the Dragon Tear Amulet from the ancient dragon lair, and the Song of Silence from the Fairy Kingdom.”

“Then we split up,” Lysandra said. “There’s no time to waste.”

Aurora joined them at the entrance of the maze as they prepared to part ways. She eyed Evelina disdainfully. “Who the ugly hell is she?” she sneered.

Isabella’s eyes flashed. “Mind your language, Aurora.”

Evelina raised an eyebrow. “Ugly hell? Really? You’ve got some nerve for someone who can’t even match my shoe game.”

“Enough!” Lysandra snapped. “We’re on borrowed time. If we don’t find these relics, Helena will have all the time she needs to attack us.”

The group split into teams. Felix and Sirela headed to the vampire territory to retrieve the Heart of the Blood Lake. Isabella and Evelina traveled to the dragon lair for the Dragon Tear Amulet. Aurora and Lysandra went to the Fairy Kingdom for the Song of Silence.

After hours of perilous searching, they regrouped in the throne room. Felix carried the glowing red Heart of the Blood Lake. Aurora handed over the Dragon Tear Amulet, and Evelina placed the forbidden book containing the Song of Silence on the ground.

“Let’s hope this works,” Sirela said, her voice trembling.

They formed a circle around the throne and began the ritual. Evelina chanted the ancient words while Isabella poured her dragon energy into the amulet. Felix held the Heart of the Blood Lake high, and Sirela sang the Song of Silence.

The shadows screamed, writhing as the curse began to break. The room shook violently, and the throne started to glow with a brilliant golden light.

“We’re almost there!” Isabella shouted.

Finally, the shadows dissipated, leaving the room eerily silent. The throne stood before them, no longer dark and cursed, but glowing with a golden hue.

“It’s done,” Isabella said, her voice filled with relief.

But as they stared at the throne, a faint laughter echoed through the room. Helena’s voice rang out, cold and mocking. “You’ve won this battle, little dragon. But the war is far from over.”

The group exchanged uneasy glances. The throne was cleansed, but their fight with Helena was just beginning.

The grand throne room stood in eerie silence, the walls etched with the stories of past rulers who had once wielded immense power. The air was heavy, alive with tension as Helena and Isabella’s group faced each other. The throne, massive and carved from obsidian, shimmered faintly under the dim light. It was the seat of ultimate power, and Helena’s gaze was locked onto it.

Helena smirked, her voice slicing through the silence. “Now,” she said coldly, “it’s time to sit on the throne.”

Isabella’s heart pounded in her chest. She felt the pull of destiny urging her forward. Without hesitation, she broke into a sprint, determined to reach the throne.

But Helena was faster. With a flick of her wrist, an invisible force struck Isabella like a tidal wave, sending her flying across the room. Isabella crashed into the marble floor, groaning in pain.

Felix and Sirela reacted instantly. Felix’s growl echoed as he lunged at Helena, his claws gleaming in the faint light. Sirela, her eyes shimmering like the ocean, summoned a wave of water from nowhere, attempting to drown Helena in its force.

Helena didn’t even flinch. She raised her hand, and with a flick of her fingers, Felix was slammed against a wall with a bone-crunching thud. Sirela followed, her body crashing into a pillar as Helena’s green flames danced ominously around her.

“Pathetic,” Helena sneered, her green eyes glowing with malice.

Evelina stepped forward, her hands blazing with fire. “You won’t win, Helena!” she shouted, unleashing a massive stream of orange flames. The fire roared through the throne room, threatening to engulf Helena.

But Helena only laughed. Raising her hands, she summoned her own flames, green and otherworldly, meeting Evelina’s fire with equal force. The clash of fire illuminated the room in a blinding light, and with a roar, Helena’s form began to shift.

Her laughter deepened, growing more guttural. Her body elongated, scales appearing as her arms turned into massive wings. In seconds, Helena transformed into a monstrous black dragon with glowing green eyes. The ground shook under her weight as her tail whipped through the air.

“You think you can stop me?” Helena roared, her voice reverberating through the chamber. She spread her wings, sending Evelina flying backward toward the throne.

But Isabella wasn’t done. Gritting her teeth, she forced herself to her feet. The dragon blood within her boiled, demanding release. Closing her eyes, she let the transformation take over. Flames engulfed her body, and when they faded, she stood as a mighty orange and black dragon, her eyes blazing with determination.

“Helena!” Isabella roared, her voice echoing with raw power.

She charged at Helena, her claws digging into Helena’s chest. The two dragons grappled, their roars shaking the walls of the throne room. Blood and fire filled the air as they fought, each trying to overpower the other.

Helena lashed out with her tail, striking Isabella, but Isabella didn’t let go. She sank her claws deeper into Helena’s scales, forcing the dark queen to falter. Evelina, now back on her feet, summoned another wave of fire, aiming it directly at Helena.

The flames struck true, causing Helena to roar in pain. Taking advantage of the moment, Isabella broke free and darted toward the throne.

“No!” Helena shouted, her voice filled with rage and desperation. She lunged at Isabella, but it was too late.

Isabella reached the throne and, without hesitation, sat down. The moment her body touched the obsidian seat, the entire room lit up in a brilliant golden light. Power surged through her, and Helena let out a deafening scream as the magic of the throne rejected her completely.

Helena’s dragon form began to crumble, her body turning to ash as the power of the throne consumed her.

“No!” Helena’s voice echoed one last time before fading into nothingness.

The room fell silent, the golden light fading as Isabella sat, now glowing with the power of the true ruler. She looked around at her friends, battered but alive, and let out a breath she didn’t realize she had been holding.

“It’s over,” she whispered, her voice trembling with exhaustion.

Isabella stepped toward the shattered throne, the air grew heavy, almost electric. The runes etched into the ancient stone began to glow faintly, a soft golden hue that quickly intensified. The ground beneath her feet trembled.

Lysandra stood at the edge of the ruin, her eyes wide. “Isabella... are you sure about this?” he called out, his voice laced with both awe and concern.

Isabella turned to her, her expression calm yet determined. “This is what I was born for, Lys. I can feel it calling me.”

She reached out her hand, her fingertips brushing the throne. The moment her skin made contact, a brilliant light erupted from the runes. The castle began to shake violently as the throne, piece by piece, reassembled itself, pulling together its broken fragments. The throne shimmered brighter with every passing second until it lifted off the ground, carrying Isabella with it.

The people of Mecatopia poured into the streets, shielding their eyes as the tower of light pierced the sky. Whispers turned into shouts as the glowing figure of Isabella rose above the ruins.

"Queen!" someone yelled.

"She's the one! The rightful heir!" others echoed, their voices blending into a single chant. “Queen! Queen!”

Phillip watched in awe, his usual composure shattered. Even he, a vampire of unshakable resolve, couldn’t help but bow his head slightly.

As Isabella rose higher, her body began to shimmer with a golden aura. Her long platinum hair flowed unnaturally in the wind, and her eyes burned with an intense light, brighter than the sun. The glowing runes on the throne projected symbols into the air, ancient words lost to time.

Suddenly, streams of fiery energy began to circle her, forming eight distinct orbs of light. Each orb glowed with a different hue, representing the souls of the eight dragons. One by one, the orbs shot into Isabella’s chest.

Her body convulsed slightly as the power surged through her. Her cheeks began to crack, glowing with molten lines of lava. Her voice, now resonating with a power that felt both ancient and eternal, echoed in the Draconian tongue.

"I am your queen. By the blood of my ancestors and the soul of the dragons, I'm the one who born after thousands of centuries with pure blood, I'm the one from valerian bloodline who can turn into full dragon form, I'm the one of my blood. I'll  will blood and ash, Mecatopia shall rise again."

The fiery orbs merged into her, and her gown transformed. It became a stunning, flowing garment of pure flame, glowing orange and gold. Its fabric looked alive, shifting like molten lava, and radiating heat. Behind her, a pair of massive dragon wings emerged, shimmering with the same fiery glow.

The people below fell to their knees, their voices rising in unison. "Queen! Queen Isabella!"

She spread her wings wide, and with a single beat, the air around her rippled with force. Her gaze swept over the crowd, her golden eyes piercing through every soul.

Phillip stepped forward, unable to resist the pull of her power. “Isabella,” he whispered, his voice barely audible against the roar of the shaking ground.

Isabella descended slightly, her voice calm yet commanding. “The throne has chosen, and so have the dragons. Mecatopia shall not fall again. This is our time, a new era of pure bloodline.”

The crowd erupted into cheers, their fear replaced by hope. The golden light from the throne spread across the land, illuminating the distant mountains, rivers, and forests.

But even as she stood radiant, Isabella’s expression carried the weight of responsibility. She raised her hands, and with a commanding tone, spoke once more in Draconian:

"For the future of Mecatopia, I shall protect this land, even if it costs me everything."

The people roared, their faith renewed. The Dragon Queen had risen, and Mecatopia would never be the same.