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.

hiss, my body shuddering with these new

men look at each other

another week and

"I’m sorry, child."

gravely, closing the distance

would not do this if there was

I’ve ever experienced

are screaming at me to run,

will be far worse than anything the doctor or dormitory matron

isn’t

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

teeth into his palm, but he

the door, propelling me

my legs, and I’m lifted

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

tang fanning the flames in my already sour

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

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

a feather swaying in the

distant keening pierces the air, sounding

deeper than my own, thick with grief and pain more complex than

with concern,

"It’s too much."

"Just a little more."

second voice, floating above

"We're so close."

idea where these sounds are coming from, and the priests

with single-minded focus, 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 legs, pulling his tool

cloth, it’s pearlescent sheen glimmering like

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

enclose me in the fabric, winding it round and round like

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

and soon they’re wrapping

mouth, the priest finally removes

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

breathe, though I don’t

of my nightmares come to life - my mind is awake but

endings and muscles to move, to do something - anything! But nothing happens because this isn’t a dream from which I can wake, this is real,

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

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

are laid over 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

but I refuse to give up

begin to chant then, speaking a language I

carrying arcane power older than the world