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

at each

spot on — another week and

"I’m sorry, child."

first priest professes gravely, closing

would not do this if there was another

ever

me to

be far worse than anything the doctor or dormitory matron have ever inflicted

there isn’t anywhere to

back and two attackers far larger and stronger than I am bearing down on me.I try to scream, but the second priest clamps his hand over my mouth

teeth into his palm,

me away from the door,

man grabs my legs, and I’m lifted

their hold, my screams muffled and garbled as the priest continues

the metallic tang fanning

I’m gagging, fighting for air and struggling

— I’m powerless in their strong grips, and they seem

well be a feather swaying in the wind for all the effort they expend to

distant keening pierces the air, sounding

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

with

"It’s too much."

"Just a little more."

second voice, floating above me,

"We're so close."

from, and the

than a pawn in their game — tiny and

onto the floor and pinned

sits on my kicking legs, pulling his tool bag to

extracts a shimmering silk cloth, it’s pearlescent sheen glimmering

wrapping it around my body, it tightens

the fabric, winding it round and round

against my sides and my

soon they’re

before the silk falls over my mouth, the

half second of my scream escapes before the moonlight closes over my

though I don’t understand

awake but I’m

muscles to move, to do something - anything! But nothing happens because this isn’t a dream

priests rummaging around outside the walls of my silken prison, and I strain to identify the sounds: the clink of glass?

herbaceous fragrance a moment before drops of moisture

laid over my body, stones or crystals placed in deliberate patterns on my head, chest,

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

know I’m running out of time, but

priests begin to chant then, speaking a language

swirl around the small room, carrying arcane power older