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

at each

— another week and we’d be

"I’m sorry, child."

priest professes gravely, closing the distance between

not do this if there

anything I’ve ever

instincts are screaming at me to run, to

whatever these men intend will be far worse than anything the doctor or dormitory matron have ever

isn’t anywhere

larger and stronger than I am bearing down on me.I try to scream, but the second priest clamps his hand over my mouth before the sound

his palm, but he doesn’t even

me away from the

grabs my legs, and I’m lifted

muffled and garbled as the priest continues

my mouth, the metallic tang

fighting for air and

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

in the wind for all the

distant keening pierces the air, sounding

than my own, thick with grief and pain more complex than the sheer fright in my

voice, tinged with

"It’s too much."

"Just a little more."

floating above

"We're so close."

where these sounds are coming from,

with their task with single-minded focus, and i’m nothing more than a

onto the

other sits on my kicking legs, pulling his tool bag

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

when they begin wrapping it around my body, it tightens

winding it round and

against my sides and my legs tightly

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

over my mouth, the priest

scream escapes before the moonlight closes over my gaping lips, locking

able to breathe, though I don’t understand

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

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

clink of glass? The jostling of beads? novelebook A bottle uncorking? For all the

pungent, herbaceous fragrance a moment before drops of moisture

objects are laid over my body, stones or crystals placed

my veins warning me

time, but I refuse to give up hope for

to chant then, speaking

small room, carrying arcane power older than the world