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

at each

another week and we’d be too

"I’m sorry, child."

gravely, closing

do this

ever experienced before,

are screaming at me to run, to get

worse than anything the doctor

there isn’t

than I am bearing down on me.I try to scream,

into his palm,

away from the door, propelling me further

legs, and I’m lifted off the

muffled and garbled as the priest

blood seeps into my mouth, the metallic tang fanning the

for air and

how to fight them — I’m

swaying in the wind for all

keening pierces the air, sounding very

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

voice, tinged with

"It’s too much."

"Just a little more."

voice, floating above

"We're so close."

sounds are coming from, and the priests

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

thrust onto the floor and

other sits on

shimmering silk cloth, it’s pearlescent sheen glimmering

and airy, but when they begin wrapping it around my

winding it

arms are locked against my sides and

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

the silk falls over my mouth, the priest finally removes his

scream escapes before the moonlight closes over my gaping lips, locking my

though

my mind is awake but I’m trapped in my

to do something - anything! But

my silken prison, and I strain to identify the sounds: the clink of glass? The jostling of beads? novelebook A bottle uncorking? For

herbaceous fragrance a moment before drops of moisture seep

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

my veins warning me that I won't be able

I’m running out of time, but I refuse to give up hope for

priests begin to chant then, speaking a language

room, carrying arcane power older than