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

each other

— another week and we’d be too

"I’m sorry, child."

first priest professes gravely, closing

would not do this if

ever experienced before,

at me to

intend will be far worse than anything the doctor or

isn’t anywhere to

than I am bearing down on

teeth into his palm, but he

wrenches me away from the door,

my legs,

my screams muffled and garbled as the priest

mouth, the metallic tang fanning the flames in my already sour

rises, and I’m gagging, fighting for air and

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

feather swaying in the wind for all the effort they expend to

keening pierces the air, sounding very

and pain more complex than the sheer

with

"It’s too much."

"Just a little more."

second voice, floating above me,

"We're so close."

have no idea where these sounds are coming from, and the priests don’t seem

task with single-minded focus, and i’m nothing more than

the floor and

my wrists while the other sits on

pearlescent sheen glimmering like moonlight, glowing in

soft and airy, but when they begin wrapping it around my body, it tightens around me with the unyielding force

it round and round like

sides and my legs tightly shut,

muscle in the fabric’s punishing grip, and soon they’re wrapping my head, as

my mouth, the

half second of my scream escapes before the moonlight closes over my

breathe, though I don’t

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

nerve endings and muscles to move, to do something - anything! But nothing happens because this isn’t a dream

the clink of glass? The jostling of beads? novelebook A bottle uncorking? For all the

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

my body, stones or crystals placed in deliberate patterns on

electricity in my veins warning me that I won't

out of time, but

chant then, speaking a language I do

small room, carrying arcane power