|[ The Soul Reaper - 2 ]| [UNDERGOING EDITING]

Chapter 5 // Leap of Faith

Cedric stared at his reflection, filled with self-loathing and hatred. Why was he so weak? Why couldn't he stop this? Why was he allowing Imelda to do this to him? As he sat there, looking at his gaunt, tired face, with the unfamiliar green eyes he knew Irene was down in the dungeons, wallowing in sadness and betrayal. He had been the one who had given the final call for her to be sent away. If he had just somehow managed to break free of the spell to tell the guards the truth...

He snarled and smashed the mirror with a punch, sending shattered glass all over himself. She would still be free, still be with him.

"Naughty, naughty," Imelda's voice taunted inside his head, "Now I have to get someone to clean that up." He growled as suddenly his hands began moving of their own accord, scrabbling across the ground to pick up the broken glass. It sliced and cut through his hands like a knife through butter, staining the floor with droplets of his blood. The pain was like ice water, waking him up, and he found that his body could move of his own accord again. He wanted to run, to scream, to dig his way down through the stone floors till he could see Irene again, and hold her close. But he knew that she would never let him.

He slipped back into a sitting position facing the wall, staring at his fractured reflection on the ground, mixed with drops of scarlet. The lamplight flickered across the glass, making his face shimmer like a ghost. There were steps leading towards his door. He didn't turn – he knew who it was. A moment later the steps slipped closer until he felt the brush of soft hands on his shoulders and he cringed away.

"Oh Cedric dear, please play nice." Her voice rippled like honey, warm and sweet – but he knew it was all an act. Inside she was as cold as ice, and as sharp and dangerous as broken glass. "I don't want to have to keep you under lock and key forever." Ignoring her, Cedric moved his gaze to the wall where the mirror had sat, a shade paler than the stone around it. There was a noise of impatience and once more he felt her take over his body, as if she had slipped under his skin and played his own muscle and sinews like a crude marionette.

His head turned to stare at her. Imelda stood proudly, her hair an inky waterfall, her gown, pure white-gold, shimmering. Her crown floated in her dark masses, and her eyes glowed brighter than ever. Around her neck an emerald sat, as large as an egg, and gleaming more brilliant than her eyes. There was no word for her other than beautiful, and yet Cedric only felt seething hatred for her. he began picturing her dying in torturous ways, aware that she saw every thought he had. Her lips only curved up in an icy smile.

"Now, now, Cedric, dear." She crooned, "We'll have to set about teaching you some manners if I'm to marry you. Can't have you dishonouring the family name."

Your father brought nothing but dishonour! Cedric thought savagely. Her mouth hardened but she didn't comment.

"I know its bad luck for the groom to see the bride in her dress before the big moment," she said, her voice taking on an unnatural edge, "but as this wedding isn't really that important, I think we can manage." She snapped her fingers and Cedric stood suddenly, arms and legs snapping straight. He hated the way he felt when she did that – completely helpless.

"Come," she smiled, "Time for my groom to be dressed and ready. Dawn will soon be upon us." she walked over to the cupboard and Cedric followed after her, legs moving despite him willing them to remain motionless. From it she pulled dark, black robes and threw them at him. Her smile widened. He wanted to strangle her – he wanted to...

"Now, now, that isn't a nice thing to do." Imelda grinned. She waved a patronizing finger at him. "Go on, get changed. I will be waiting for you." she winked at him cheekily and left the room. Cedric wanted to sit down and cry, wanted to curl up, head in hands and never move again.