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

each other with grim

timing was spot on — another week and we’d be

"I’m sorry, child."

first priest professes gravely, closing the

not do this if

ever experienced before, takes over

are screaming at me to

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

there isn’t

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

into his palm, but he

simply wrenches me away from the door, propelling me

first man grabs my legs, and

against their hold, my screams muffled

seeps into my mouth, the metallic tang fanning the flames

I’m gagging, fighting for

fight them — I’m

feather swaying in the wind for all the effort they expend

pierces the air, sounding very far

own, thick with grief and pain more

deep voice, tinged with

"It’s too much."

"Just a little more."

second voice, floating above me,

"We're so close."

sounds are coming 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

onto the floor and

on

silk cloth, it’s pearlescent

soft and airy, but when they begin wrapping it around my body, it tightens around me with

fabric, winding it round and round

are locked against my sides and my

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

falls over my mouth, the priest finally removes his hand

before the moonlight closes over my gaping lips,

though

is awake

endings and muscles to move, to do something - anything! But nothing happens because this isn’t

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

some pungent, herbaceous fragrance a moment before drops of moisture seep through

crystals placed in deliberate patterns on my head, chest, arms and

in my veins warning

time, but I refuse to give up

to chant then, speaking a language I do

around the small room, carrying arcane power older