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.

I hiss, my body shuddering with these new

at each other with

timing was spot on — another week and

"I’m sorry, child."

professes gravely, closing the distance between

would not do this if there was

unlike anything I’ve ever experienced before,

me to run, to get away

worse than anything the doctor or dormitory matron have

there isn’t anywhere

my 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 palm, but he

me away from the door, propelling me

my legs, and

against their hold, my screams muffled

into my mouth, the metallic tang

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

fight them — I’m

the wind for all

distant keening pierces the air,

pain more complex than the sheer fright in my

tinged with concern, joins

"It’s too much."

"Just a little more."

second voice, floating above

"We're so close."

from, and the priests don’t seem to hear

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

onto the floor

on my kicking legs, pulling his tool bag to

cloth, it’s pearlescent sheen glimmering like

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 a glittering

are locked against my sides and my

can’t move a muscle in the fabric’s punishing grip, and soon they’re wrapping

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

moonlight closes over my gaping lips,

to breathe, though I

is awake but I’m trapped in my

my brain screaming at my nerve endings and muscles to move, to do something - anything! But nothing happens

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 all the fabric’s strength,

moment before drops of

or crystals placed in deliberate patterns

to fight the cocoon, that foreign electricity in my veins

out of time, but I refuse to give up hope for

chant then, speaking a language I do

carrying arcane power older than the