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

each other

was spot on — another week and we’d be too

"I’m sorry, child."

priest professes gravely, closing the distance between

do this

unlike anything I’ve ever

instincts are screaming at me to run, to get away at

tell me that whatever these men intend will be far worse than anything the doctor or dormitory matron have ever inflicted on

isn’t anywhere to

a bolted door at my 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 palm,

wrenches me away from the door, propelling me further into

legs,

my screams muffled and garbled as the

my mouth, the metallic tang fanning the

for air

to do or how to fight them — I’m powerless in their strong grips, and they seem completely unaffected by my

the wind for all the effort they expend to contain

the air,

and pain

A deep voice, tinged with concern,

"It’s too much."

"Just a little more."

voice, floating above

"We're so close."

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

single-minded focus, and i’m nothing more than a pawn in

onto the floor

sits on

shimmering silk cloth, it’s pearlescent sheen

looks soft and airy, but when they begin wrapping it around my body, it tightens around

in the fabric, winding it round and round like

are locked against my sides

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

the priest finally removes his hand from my

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

breathe, though I don’t understand

my mind is awake but I’m trapped in my own

something - anything! But nothing happens because this isn’t a dream from which I can wake, this is real, and it’s

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

herbaceous fragrance a moment before drops of moisture

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

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

of time, but I refuse to give

chant then, speaking a language I do not

the small room, carrying arcane power older than