Sincerely, Yours│Ydris x reader; Sequel │

Dearest Us

Explanations for shortcuts:

Y/N- Your name

Dedicated to those who believed in a happy ending.

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Both sides surged forward.

The Guard's long spears jabbed, but the Druids took the point on their magic shields, shoved it aside, and bulled back, their hands flashing with pink lights. 

Your ears hurt from all the shouting, yet, without thinking, you stood up and ran to help.

There were already bodies on the ground. You spotted two laying next to each other, holding hands, their throats slit. 

You haven't used magic in quite a while, and you wondered if you even knew how. But you know what they say, what you learn in your youth, as if you found in old age.

You saw one of the Keepers about to attack a Guard, and without hesitation, you shot a bolt of shimmering light. That was all the distraction you needed to jump and tackle him.

Even though his arm seemed to be injured from the hit, he is stronger than you expected. He punched you right between the shoulder blades, giving him a chance to get away from your grip.

He shouted, a curse or a challenge you did not know. You waved your hand, casting spells as if it was a dream. This was someone who wanted to kill so many Pandorians, who wanted to tear so many hearts open.

There was no time to flee. With a simple hand movement, a pink cloud coming from your palm turned into the shape of a spear, and you gripped it hard. You imagined how the other trained guards would do it.

You saw your chance. There were lives of your familiars upon you. You cast the spear.

It hit his chest. The ground was uneven, and you put in all your strength. He recoiled in pain and slowly let go.

Your mind was blurry, not being able to fully focus on what was happening.

Standing up, you looked down at the motionless man on the ground. 

You have killed a Druid, but it was not enough.

There was a sting on your cheek from a wound the man managed to cause you in the process.

Your thoughts were tangled in themselves. A bullet of panic rose in your throat, the slow, dragging beat of your heart audible in your ears.

There was blood on the blade, running down your hand.

For a moment, you thought you saw a glimpse of Ydris in the middle of the battlefield, but he disappeared right after.

You felt a pair of hands close around your shoulder. Your fingers curled into a fist and aimed for his face, making the Druid fall to the ground. Everyone kept minding their own fight, and the crowd closed around him. All you heard were bones cracking in the distance.

You felt sick. Dizzy.

Looking around, you noticed that there were more Guards in sight than there were Druids. 

Were you actually winning?

Your breath was shallow gasps, you recognised some of the dead. 

There was a broken set of golden-framed glasses laying not too far, all you saw next to them was an unmoving female figure, her face almost completely covered with her black hair.

Fripp seemed to notice them too, for he shouted with torment in his tone.

"The Soul Riders have fallen,"