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

men look at each other

another week and we’d

"I’m sorry, child."

gravely,

would not do this if

I’ve ever experienced

instincts are screaming at me to run, to get

these men intend will be far worse than anything the doctor

isn’t anywhere to

and stronger than I am bearing down on me.I try to scream, but

sink my teeth into his palm, but he doesn’t

wrenches me away from the door, propelling me further

grabs my legs, and I’m lifted off the

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

mouth, the metallic tang fanning the flames in

for air and

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

a feather swaying in the wind for all the effort they

the

than my own, thick with grief and pain

tinged with

"It’s too much."

"Just a little more."

floating above me,

"We're so close."

coming from, and the priests don’t seem to hear them at

continue with their task with single-minded focus, and i’m nothing more than a pawn in

the floor

priest restrains my wrists while the other sits on my kicking legs, pulling his tool

it’s pearlescent sheen glimmering like

but when they begin wrapping it around

fabric, winding it round

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

grip, and soon they’re

the silk falls over my mouth, the priest finally

the moonlight closes over my gaping lips, locking

though I don’t

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

anything! But nothing happens because this isn’t a dream

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 me from feeling

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

are laid over my body, stones or crystals placed in deliberate

my veins warning me that I won't be able to fight

of time, but I refuse to give

priests begin to chant then, speaking a language I do

the small room, carrying arcane