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

look at each other with

timing was spot on — another week

"I’m sorry, child."

first priest professes gravely, closing

this if there was another

terror, unlike anything I’ve ever

instincts are screaming at me to

intend will be far worse than

there isn’t

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

my teeth into his palm, but

from the door, propelling me further into the

first man grabs my legs, and I’m lifted off the

against their hold, my screams muffled

mouth, the metallic tang fanning the flames in my

and I’m gagging, fighting for air

I’m powerless in their

well be a feather swaying in the wind for all

distant keening pierces the air,

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

voice, tinged with concern,

"It’s too much."

"Just a little more."

floating above

"We're so close."

no idea where these sounds are coming from, and the priests don’t seem to hear them at

nothing more than a pawn

the

other sits on my kicking legs, pulling

pearlescent sheen

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

me in the fabric, winding it round and round

my sides and my legs

soon they’re wrapping my head, as

silk falls over my mouth, the

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

though I

- my mind is awake but I’m trapped in my own

to do something - anything! But nothing happens because this isn’t a dream from which I can wake, this is real, and it’s only

I strain to identify the sounds: the clink of glass? The jostling

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

crystals placed in deliberate patterns on my head, chest,

in my

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

speaking

carrying arcane power older than the world