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 grim

on — another

"I’m sorry, child."

gravely, closing

not do this if there was another

anything I’ve ever experienced before, takes

to run,

will be far worse than anything

there isn’t anywhere

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

my teeth into his palm,

simply wrenches me away from the door, propelling me further

my legs,

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

the metallic tang fanning the flames in my already

fighting for air and struggling to focus on my

don’t know what to do or how to fight them — I’m powerless in their strong

well be a feather swaying in the wind for all the effort

pierces the air, sounding

cries are deeper than my own, thick with grief and pain

deep voice, tinged with concern, joins the

"It’s too much."

"Just a little more."

voice, floating above me,

"We're so close."

have no idea where these sounds are coming from,

i’m nothing more than a

the floor

my wrists while the other sits on my kicking

it’s pearlescent sheen

it around my body, it tightens around me with the unyielding

it round and round

are locked against my sides and

punishing grip, and soon they’re wrapping my head, as if they intend to

the silk falls over my mouth, the priest finally removes his hand from my

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

able to breathe, though I

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

muscles to move, to do something - anything! But nothing happens because this isn’t a dream from which 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 me from feeling or

filled with some pungent, herbaceous fragrance a moment before drops of

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 to fight

running out of time, but I

begin to chant then, speaking a

swirl around the small room, carrying