Accidental Surrogate

#Chapter 179 — Bound Trigger warning — Assault (non-sexual)

Ella

"It’s all right, Ella."

The first priest says, approaching me as one might a skittish horse — with slow, measured movements and hands exposed to show he holds no weapon.

"We only want to protect you."

"Protect me from what?" I question shakily, my back flush against the locked door.

"You have a very powerful magic inside you, and if it's allowed to come out you’ll be exposed.We can’t let that happen." He explains, using a tone much too gentle to be trustworthy.

It’s as though he’s trying to trick me, to convince me he’s kind when he truly intends malice.

"I don’t have any magic." I insist, wishing that I did.

Maybe if I was magic I might be able to put a stop to the things happening here — to protect the others without bringing harm to myself.I was so preoccupied with this statement that I almost missed the second piece of information.

"Exposed to what?"

"You do, it just hasn't shown itself yet."

The second priest sighs, keeping his distance but watching me with sharp eyes.

"At least not in ways you understand.Tell me, have you never noticed how much stronger you are than your peers? That you can hear and smell things from much greater distances? That you can run faster, jump higher, suffer greater injuries with less pain?"

He inquires, his hawkish gaze searing into me, "do they not follow you? Gravitate to your side and obey you as a leader?"

My head spins, making me dizzy with the possibilities.He guesses correctly, but that can’t be because I have some sort of special power.It's just the way things are...isn’t it? "And exposed to a world you cannot yet join."

The first man adds.

"It must happen when the time is right - but that time is a very long way off."

"I don’t understand."

I squeak, a sense of pure dread settling in the pit of my stomach.

"We know, Ella."

The second man proclaims, "And I’m sorry that this must happen, it will not be pleasant, but it is necessary for the future of our people."I shake my head, fighting back tears.

Their words are triggering every alarm bell in my young mind.I know what men do to little girls under the guise of necessity, the pretense of helping or protecting.

And I know exactly how unpleasant things can get.

My blood runs cold, and my pulse races, triggering a strange new energy deep in my bones.

It pulses through me like a bolt of electricity, a wild thing writhes just beneath my skin, feral and rabid — begging to be free.

my body shuddering with

look at each other

on — another

"I’m sorry, child."

professes gravely, closing the

would not do this

unlike anything I’ve ever

are screaming at me to run, to get away at

that whatever these men intend will be far worse

there isn’t anywhere

I am bearing down on me.I try to scream, but the second priest clamps his hand over my mouth before the sound

my teeth into his

away from the door,

my legs, and I’m

my screams muffled and garbled as the priest continues to

the metallic tang fanning

gorge rises, and I’m gagging, fighting for air and struggling

I’m powerless in their strong grips, and they seem completely unaffected by my

be a feather swaying in the

keening pierces the air,

deeper than my own, thick with grief and pain more complex than the sheer fright in

with

"It’s too much."

"Just a little more."

voice, floating above me,

"We're so close."

no idea where these sounds are coming from, and the priests

with single-minded focus, and i’m nothing more than a pawn in their game — tiny and helpless

thrust onto the floor and

my wrists while the other sits on my kicking legs, pulling his tool bag to

cloth, it’s pearlescent sheen glimmering like moonlight, glowing

they begin wrapping it around my

the fabric, winding it round

arms are locked against my sides and my

the fabric’s punishing grip, and soon they’re

over my mouth, the priest

escapes before the moonlight closes over my gaping lips, locking my face into

though I don’t

my nightmares come to life - my mind is awake but I’m trapped in my own body, unable to move

muscles to move, to do something - anything! But nothing happens because this isn’t a dream from which I can wake, this

sounds: the clink of glass? The jostling of beads? novelebook A

nose is filled with some pungent, herbaceous fragrance a moment before drops of moisture seep

crystals placed in deliberate patterns on my head,

that foreign electricity in my veins warning me that I won't be able

know I’m running out of time, but

chant then, speaking a language

small room, carrying