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

at each other with

spot on — another week and we’d be too

"I’m sorry, child."

first priest professes gravely, closing the distance

not do this if there was another

anything I’ve ever experienced before, takes over my

instincts are screaming at me to run, to get away

will be far worse than anything

there isn’t anywhere

down on me.I try to scream, but the second priest clamps his hand over my mouth before the

his palm, but he doesn’t even

away from the door, propelling me

my legs, and

muffled

tang fanning the flames

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

them — I’m powerless in

as well be a feather swaying in the wind

distant keening pierces the air, sounding very

grief and pain

A deep voice, tinged with concern, joins the

"It’s too much."

"Just a little more."

second voice, floating above

"We're so close."

sounds are coming from, and the

and i’m nothing more than a pawn in

thrust onto the floor

while the other sits on my kicking legs, pulling his

cloth, it’s pearlescent sheen glimmering like moonlight,

when they begin wrapping it around my body, it tightens around me

winding it round

are locked against my sides and my legs tightly shut, I’m

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

falls over my mouth, the priest finally

closes over my gaping lips, locking my face into the contours of

able to breathe, though

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

my brain screaming at my nerve 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, and it’s only

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 me from feeling or

fragrance a moment before drops of moisture seep

stones or crystals placed in deliberate patterns on

in my veins warning

out of time, but

speaking a language I

room, carrying arcane power older