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.

away!" I hiss, my body shuddering with these new

at each other with grim

spot on — another week and we’d be too

"I’m sorry, child."

professes gravely, closing the

this if there was

I’ve ever

instincts are screaming at me to run, to get away at any

men intend will be far worse than anything the doctor

isn’t anywhere to

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

my teeth into his

the door, propelling me further

legs, and I’m lifted off

thrash violently against their hold, my screams muffled and garbled as the

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

fighting for

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

the

distant keening pierces the air, sounding very far

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

A deep voice, tinged with concern, joins

"It’s too much."

"Just a little more."

floating

"We're so close."

have no idea where these sounds are coming from, and

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

thrust onto the floor and

on my kicking legs, pulling his tool

a shimmering silk cloth, it’s pearlescent sheen glimmering

airy, but when they begin wrapping it around my body, it tightens around me with

fabric, winding it

my sides and my legs tightly shut,

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

the silk falls over my mouth, the priest

over my gaping lips, locking my face into the

able to breathe, though I don’t

of my nightmares come to life - my mind is awake but

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

of my silken prison, and I strain to identify the sounds: the clink of glass? The jostling of beads?

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

objects are laid over my body, stones or crystals placed in deliberate patterns

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

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

begin to chant then, speaking a language

carrying arcane power older than the world