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.

go away!" I hiss, my

look at each other with grim

— another week and we’d

"I’m sorry, child."

gravely, closing the

this if there

anything I’ve ever experienced before, takes

screaming at me to

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

isn’t anywhere

got a bolted door at my back and two attackers far larger and stronger than I am bearing down on me.I try

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

wrenches me away from the door,

legs, and

my screams muffled and garbled as the

seeps into my mouth, the metallic tang fanning the flames

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

to fight them — I’m powerless in their strong grips, and they

might as well be a feather swaying in the wind for all

distant keening pierces the air,

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

tinged with concern, joins the

"It’s too much."

"Just a little more."

voice, floating above me,

"We're so close."

are coming from, and the

nothing more than a pawn in their game —

onto the floor and pinned

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

it’s pearlescent

begin wrapping it around my body, it tightens around me with the unyielding

enclose me in the fabric, winding it round

arms are locked against my sides and my legs tightly

and soon they’re wrapping my head, as if they intend

my mouth, the priest finally removes his hand from

over my

to breathe, though I don’t understand

nightmares come to life - my mind is awake but I’m trapped in my own body, unable to move or

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

can hear the 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

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

crystals placed

cocoon, that foreign electricity in my veins warning

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

priests begin to chant then, speaking a language I do not

small room, carrying arcane power older than