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.

hiss, my

at each other with

— another week and we’d be too

"I’m sorry, child."

priest professes gravely, closing the distance

would not do this if there

unlike anything I’ve ever experienced

instincts are screaming at me to run, to get away at

worse than anything the doctor or dormitory

isn’t anywhere

door at 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 hand over my mouth before the sound can

his palm, but

simply wrenches me away from the door,

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

thrash violently against their hold, my screams muffled and

my mouth, the metallic tang fanning

for air and struggling to focus on

fight them — I’m powerless in their strong grips, and they

as well be a feather swaying in the wind for all

distant keening pierces the air, sounding very far

and pain more complex than the sheer fright in

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

onto the floor

other sits on my kicking legs, pulling

silk cloth, it’s pearlescent

begin wrapping it around my body, it tightens around

in the fabric, winding it

against my sides and

and soon they’re wrapping my head, as if

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

moonlight closes over my gaping lips, locking my face into

to breathe, though

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

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

around outside the walls of my silken prison, and I strain to identify the sounds: the clink of glass? The jostling of beads?

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

laid over my body, stones or crystals placed in deliberate patterns

fight the cocoon, that foreign electricity in my veins warning me that I won't be able to fight much

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

priests begin to chant then, speaking

the small room, carrying arcane