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 shuddering with these new

men look at each other

was spot on — another week and we’d

"I’m sorry, child."

professes gravely,

not do this if there was

anything I’ve ever experienced before, takes

are screaming at me to

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

there isn’t

I am bearing down

teeth into his palm, but he doesn’t even

wrenches me away from the door, propelling me

my legs, and I’m lifted

screams muffled and garbled as the priest continues to smother

blood seeps into my mouth, the metallic tang fanning the

for air and struggling to focus

or how to fight them — I’m powerless in

the wind for all the

keening pierces the

than my own, thick with grief and pain more complex than the sheer fright in

with

"It’s too much."

"Just a little more."

floating above

"We're so close."

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

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

thrust onto the

my wrists while the other sits on my kicking

silk cloth, it’s pearlescent

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

the fabric, winding it round and round like a

arms are locked against my sides and

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

the priest

over my gaping lips, locking my face into the contours of a silent

breathe, though

come to life - my mind is awake but

something - anything! But nothing happens because

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

with some pungent, herbaceous fragrance a moment before drops of

crystals placed in deliberate patterns on

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

out of time, but I refuse

begin to chant then, speaking

around the small room, carrying arcane power older than the