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.

away!" I hiss, my body shuddering with these new

each other

another week and we’d be too

"I’m sorry, child."

priest professes gravely, closing

this if there was

unlike anything I’ve ever experienced

instincts are screaming at me to run, to get

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

there isn’t

stronger than I am bearing down on me.I try

teeth into his palm, but he doesn’t

wrenches me away from the

grabs my legs,

hold, my screams muffled and garbled as the priest

mouth, the metallic tang

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

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

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

keening pierces the air, sounding very far

thick with grief and pain more complex than the sheer fright

deep voice, tinged with concern, joins

"It’s too much."

"Just a little more."

second voice, floating above me,

"We're so close."

are coming from, and the priests don’t seem to hear them

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

onto the floor

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

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

begin wrapping it around my body,

winding it round and round like

my sides and my legs tightly shut, I’m completely

soon they’re wrapping my head, as if

the silk falls over my mouth, the priest finally removes his

over my

to breathe, though I don’t understand

awake but I’m trapped in my own body, unable to

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

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, it does not stop me from feeling or

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

or crystals placed in deliberate patterns on my head,

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

I’m running out of time, but I

speaking a

carrying arcane