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.

my body

each other

another week

"I’m sorry, child."

priest professes gravely, closing the

this if there was

ever

at me to run, to get away at any

far worse than anything the doctor or

there isn’t anywhere

bolted door at my back 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 mouth before

my teeth into his palm, but

wrenches me away from the

first man grabs my legs, and

hold, my screams muffled and

seeps into my mouth, the metallic tang fanning the flames in my already sour

gagging, fighting for air and struggling to focus on

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

might as well be a feather swaying in the wind

distant keening pierces the air,

pain more complex than the sheer fright in

A deep voice, tinged with concern, joins the

"It’s too much."

"Just a little more."

floating

"We're so close."

no idea where these sounds are coming from, and the priests don’t seem to hear them at

i’m nothing more than a pawn in their game — tiny

thrust onto the

wrists while the other sits on my kicking legs,

silk cloth, it’s pearlescent sheen glimmering like moonlight, glowing in

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

me in the fabric, winding it round and round like a glittering

are locked against my sides

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

falls over my mouth, the priest

the moonlight closes over my gaping lips, locking my face into the contours of

breathe, though I

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

move, to do something - anything! But nothing happens because this isn’t

sounds: the clink of glass? The jostling of beads? novelebook A bottle uncorking? For all the fabric’s strength, it does not stop me

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

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

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

of time, but I refuse to give

to chant then, speaking a language I do not

the small room, carrying