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 body shuddering with these new

at each other with

on — another week

"I’m sorry, child."

professes gravely,

would not do this if there was another

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

me to

tell me that whatever these men intend will be far worse than anything the doctor or dormitory matron

there isn’t anywhere to

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

into his palm, but he

the door, propelling me further

grabs my legs, and I’m lifted

muffled and garbled as the priest continues to smother

blood seeps into my mouth, the metallic tang fanning the

fighting for air and struggling to focus

to fight them — I’m powerless

swaying in the wind for all the effort they expend

distant keening pierces the air, sounding very far

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

voice, tinged with concern,

"It’s too much."

"Just a little more."

floating above me,

"We're so close."

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

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

onto the floor

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

it’s pearlescent sheen glimmering like moonlight, glowing in

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

enclose me in the fabric, winding it round and round like

my sides and my

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

the priest finally removes

before the moonlight closes over my gaping

able to breathe, though I

is awake but I’m trapped in my

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

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

moment before drops of moisture seep through the silk

over my body, stones or crystals placed in deliberate

desperately trying to fight the cocoon, that foreign electricity in my veins warning me

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

begin to chant then, speaking a language

carrying arcane