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 these

each other

timing was spot on — another week and

"I’m sorry, child."

gravely, closing the distance

would not do this if

terror, unlike anything I’ve ever

me to run, to get

men intend will be far worse than anything

there isn’t

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

teeth into his palm, but he

me away from the door,

first man grabs my legs, and I’m lifted off the

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

blood seeps into my mouth, the metallic tang fanning the flames in my

and I’m gagging, fighting for air and struggling

to fight them — I’m powerless in their strong

a feather swaying in the wind for all the

pierces the air, sounding very far

and pain more complex than the

tinged with concern,

"It’s too much."

"Just a little more."

floating above

"We're so close."

where these sounds are coming from, and the priests don’t seem to hear

and i’m nothing more than a pawn in their game — tiny

onto the floor and

priest restrains my wrists while the other sits on my kicking

cloth, it’s pearlescent sheen glimmering

wrapping it around my body, it tightens around me

fabric, winding it round and round like a

arms are locked against my sides and my legs tightly shut,

can’t move a muscle in the fabric’s punishing grip, and soon they’re wrapping my head, as if they intend

the priest finally removes his hand from my

scream escapes before the moonlight closes over my gaping lips, locking my face into the contours of a silent

able to breathe, though

my nightmares come to life - my mind is awake but I’m trapped in

anything! But nothing happens because this isn’t a dream from which I can wake,

can hear the priests 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

with some pungent, herbaceous fragrance a moment before drops of

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

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

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

begin to chant then, speaking a language I do

the small room, carrying arcane power older