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

at each other with

on — another week and we’d

"I’m sorry, child."

priest professes gravely, closing the distance between

would not do this if there

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

screaming at me to run, to get away at any

be far worse than anything the

isn’t

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

his

wrenches me away from the door, propelling me further into the

grabs my legs, and I’m lifted off

against their hold, my screams muffled and

seeps into my mouth, the metallic tang fanning the flames

and I’m gagging, fighting for air and struggling to

know what to do or how to fight them — I’m powerless in their

a feather swaying in the wind for all the

pierces the air, sounding very far

own, thick with grief and pain

deep voice, tinged with concern, joins the

"It’s too much."

"Just a little more."

voice, floating

"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

thrust onto the floor and

priest restrains my wrists while the other sits on my kicking legs, pulling his tool

extracts a shimmering silk cloth, it’s pearlescent sheen glimmering

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

fabric, winding it round and round like

arms are locked against my sides and my legs

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

mouth, the

half second of my scream escapes before the moonlight closes over my gaping lips, locking my face into the contours

breathe, though I

- my mind is awake but I’m

there motionless, 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

of glass? The jostling

is filled with some pungent, herbaceous fragrance a moment before

laid over my body, stones or crystals placed in deliberate patterns on my head,

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

of time, but I refuse to give up hope for

priests begin to chant then, speaking a

room, carrying arcane