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.

hiss, my body shuddering with

each other with grim

on — another week

"I’m sorry, child."

gravely, closing the distance between

this

anything I’ve ever experienced before, takes

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

will be far worse than anything the

there isn’t anywhere

and stronger than I am bearing down on me.I try to scream, but

sink my teeth into his palm, but

from the door, propelling me further

first man grabs my legs, and

hold, my screams muffled and garbled as the

tang fanning the flames

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

what to do or how to fight them — I’m powerless in their strong grips, and they

well be a feather swaying in the wind for all the effort they

the air, sounding very far

with grief and pain

voice, tinged with concern,

"It’s too much."

"Just a little more."

floating above me,

"We're so close."

no idea where these sounds are coming from, and the priests don’t

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

the floor

while the other sits on my kicking legs,

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

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

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

are locked against my sides and my legs tightly shut, I’m

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

mouth, the priest finally removes his

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

able to breathe, though I don’t understand

nightmares come to life - my mind is awake but I’m trapped in my own body, unable to move

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

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 bottle uncorking? For

fragrance a moment before drops of moisture seep through the silk

over my body, stones or crystals placed in deliberate patterns

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

running out of time, but I refuse

to chant then, speaking

carrying