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

each other with grim

another week and we’d

"I’m sorry, child."

professes gravely,

not do this if there

terror, unlike anything I’ve ever experienced before, takes over my

to run, to get away at

worse than anything the doctor or dormitory matron have ever inflicted on

there isn’t anywhere

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

sink my teeth into his palm, but he

simply wrenches me away from the door, propelling

grabs my legs, and I’m lifted

screams muffled and garbled as the priest continues to

metallic tang

gagging, fighting for air and

— I’m powerless in their strong grips, and they seem completely unaffected by

in the wind for all the effort

keening pierces the air, sounding

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

tinged with concern, joins

"It’s too much."

"Just a little more."

second voice, floating above

"We're so close."

sounds are coming from,

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

thrust onto the

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

silk cloth, it’s pearlescent sheen glimmering

soft and airy, but when they begin wrapping it around my body, it tightens around me

me in the fabric, winding it round

locked against my sides and

the fabric’s punishing grip, and soon they’re wrapping my head, as if they intend to mummify me

the silk falls over my mouth, the priest

moonlight closes over my

though

is awake

and muscles to move, to do something - anything! But nothing happens because this isn’t a dream from which I can wake,

the sounds: the clink of glass? The jostling of beads? novelebook A bottle uncorking?

a moment before drops of moisture seep through

body, stones or crystals placed in deliberate

fight the cocoon, that foreign electricity in my veins warning

know I’m running out of time, but I refuse

begin to chant then, speaking a language I

swirl around the small room, carrying