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 body shuddering with these new

each other with grim

spot on — another week

"I’m sorry, child."

priest professes gravely, closing

do this if there was another

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

at me to run, to

men intend will be far worse than anything the doctor or dormitory matron have ever inflicted

isn’t

and two attackers far larger and stronger than I am bearing down on me.I try to scream, but the second priest clamps his hand over my

his palm, but he doesn’t

wrenches me away from the door,

grabs my legs, and I’m lifted off the

muffled and garbled as the priest

tang fanning the flames in my already

fighting for air and struggling to focus on

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

in the wind for all the effort they expend to contain

keening pierces the

own, thick with grief and pain more

deep voice, tinged with concern, joins the

"It’s too much."

"Just a little more."

second voice, floating

"We're so close."

these sounds are coming from, and the priests don’t seem to hear them

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

thrust onto the floor and pinned

wrists while the other sits on my kicking legs,

silk cloth, it’s pearlescent sheen glimmering

it around my body, it tightens

winding it round

my arms are locked against my sides

and soon they’re wrapping my head,

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

closes over my gaping lips, locking

to breathe, though I don’t understand

life - my mind is awake

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

priests rummaging around outside the walls of my silken 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

moment before drops

placed in deliberate

trying to fight the cocoon, that foreign electricity in my veins warning me that I won't be

I’m running out of time, but

then, speaking a language I do

words swirl around the small room, carrying arcane