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.

go away!" I hiss, my body shuddering with these new

each other

was spot on — another week and we’d be

"I’m sorry, child."

professes gravely, closing

not do this

ever experienced

to run, to get away at any

worse than anything the doctor or dormitory matron have ever inflicted on

there isn’t

two attackers far larger and stronger than I am bearing down on me.I try to scream, but the second priest clamps

sink my teeth into his

me away from the door, propelling me

first man grabs my legs, and I’m lifted

my screams muffled and garbled as the priest continues

the metallic tang fanning the

rises, and I’m gagging, fighting for

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

swaying in the wind for all the effort they expend

distant keening pierces the air, sounding very far

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

A deep voice, tinged with concern,

"It’s too much."

"Just a little more."

second voice, floating above me,

"We're so close."

have no idea where these sounds are coming from, and the priests don’t seem

nothing more than

the

sits on my kicking legs, pulling his tool bag to

a shimmering silk cloth, it’s pearlescent sheen glimmering like moonlight, glowing in the

it around my body, it

it round and round

against my sides

a muscle in the fabric’s punishing grip, and soon they’re wrapping my head, as if they intend to mummify

before the silk falls over my mouth, the

second of my scream escapes before the moonlight closes over my gaping lips,

though

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

there motionless, my brain screaming at my nerve endings and muscles to move, to do something - anything! But nothing happens because this isn’t a dream

rummaging around outside the walls of my silken prison, and I strain to identify the sounds: the clink of glass? The jostling of beads? novelebook A bottle uncorking? For all the fabric’s strength, it does not stop me from feeling

nose is filled with some pungent, herbaceous fragrance a moment before drops of moisture seep through the silk and onto

placed in deliberate patterns on my

to fight the cocoon, that foreign electricity in my veins warning me

out of time, but I refuse to

priests begin to chant then, speaking a language

words swirl around the small room, carrying