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

look at each other with grim

was spot on — another

"I’m sorry, child."

gravely, closing the distance between

not do this if there was

I’ve ever experienced before, takes over my

at me to run,

will be far worse than anything the doctor

isn’t

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

into his

away from the door, propelling me

legs, and I’m lifted off

hold, my screams muffled and

into my mouth, the metallic tang fanning

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

or how to fight them — I’m powerless in their strong

might as well be a feather swaying in the wind for all the effort

the air, sounding very

deeper than my own, thick with grief and pain

voice, tinged with

"It’s too much."

"Just a little more."

voice, floating

"We're so close."

from,

and i’m nothing more than a pawn in

thrust onto the floor

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

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

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

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

locked against my sides and my

muscle in the fabric’s punishing grip, and soon they’re wrapping

before the silk falls over my mouth, the priest finally removes his hand from

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

breathe, though I don’t understand

is awake but I’m trapped in

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

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

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

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

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

running out of time, but I refuse to

then, speaking a language I do

swirl around the small room, carrying arcane