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.

I hiss, my body

men look at each other with grim

another

"I’m sorry, child."

gravely, closing the distance between

this

ever experienced before,

screaming at me to run,

these men intend will be far worse than anything the doctor or dormitory matron have ever inflicted

there isn’t anywhere

back and two attackers far larger and stronger than I am bearing down

my teeth into his palm, but

wrenches me away from the door, propelling me further into

man grabs my legs, and I’m lifted off

screams muffled and garbled

the metallic tang fanning the flames in

rises, and I’m gagging, fighting for air and struggling to focus

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

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

distant keening pierces the air,

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

tinged with concern,

"It’s too much."

"Just a little more."

floating

"We're so close."

coming from, and the priests don’t

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

thrust onto the

sits on my kicking legs,

it’s pearlescent

around my body, it tightens around me

the fabric, winding it round and

arms are locked against my sides and my legs

move 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

before the moonlight closes over my gaping

able to breathe, though I

- my mind is awake but I’m

at my nerve endings and muscles to move, to do something - anything! But nothing happens because this

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

with some pungent, herbaceous fragrance a moment before drops of moisture seep through

stones or crystals placed in deliberate patterns on my head,

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

know I’m running out of time, but I refuse to

speaking

swirl around the small room, carrying arcane power