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.

away!" I hiss, my body shuddering with these new

each

another week and we’d be

"I’m sorry, child."

priest professes gravely, closing the

not do this if there was another

I’ve ever experienced before, takes

at me to run, to get

whatever these men intend will be far worse than anything the doctor or dormitory

isn’t

am bearing down on me.I try to scream, but the second priest clamps his hand over

into his palm, but he doesn’t even

from the

legs, and I’m lifted

hold, my screams muffled and

blood seeps into my mouth, the metallic tang fanning

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

how to fight them — I’m powerless in their

in the wind for all the effort they expend to contain

distant keening pierces the air, sounding very

thick with grief and pain more complex than the sheer fright in my

A deep voice, tinged with concern, joins

"It’s too much."

"Just a little more."

floating above

"We're so close."

are coming from, and the

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

onto the floor and

sits on my kicking legs, pulling his

extracts a shimmering silk cloth, it’s pearlescent sheen glimmering like

they begin wrapping it around my body, it tightens around

winding it round and round like a glittering

against my sides and my legs tightly shut, I’m completely

fabric’s punishing grip, and soon they’re wrapping my head,

over my mouth, the priest finally removes his

my gaping lips, locking my face into the contours of a silent

able to breathe, though

life - my mind is awake but I’m

can only lie there motionless, 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

and I strain to identify the sounds: the clink of glass? The

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

objects are laid over my body, stones or crystals placed in deliberate patterns on my head,

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

running out of time, but

speaking a language I do not

swirl around the small room, carrying arcane power older than